Works of Charles Dickens - Charles Dickens [4650]
'Why, so I should,' said Nicholas, 'should I not?'
'Yes, yes,' replied the little woman, 'and bless you for a good creature! but this does seem at first to a simple soul like me--I know it's wrong to say so, and I shall be sorry for it presently--this does seem such a poor reward for all you have done.'
'Nay,' said Nicholas gently, 'what better reward could I have, than the knowledge that his last days were peaceful and happy, and the recollection that I was his constant companion, and was not prevented, as I might have been by a hundred circumstances, from being beside him?'
'To be sure,' sobbed Miss La Creevy; 'it's very true, and I'm an ungrateful, impious, wicked little fool, I know.'
With that, the good soul fell to crying afresh, and, endeavouring to recover herself, tried to laugh. The laugh and the cry, meeting each other thus abruptly, had a struggle for the mastery; the result was, that it was a drawn battle, and Miss La Creevy went into hysterics.
Waiting until they were all tolerably quiet and composed again, Nicholas, who stood in need of some rest after his long journey, retired to his own room, and throwing himself, dressed as he was, upon the bed, fell into a sound sleep. When he awoke, he found Kate sitting by his bedside, who, seeing that he had opened his eyes, stooped down to kiss him.
'I came to tell you how glad I am to see you home again.'
'But I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, Kate.'
'We have been wearying so for your return,' said Kate, 'mama and I, and--and Madeline.'
'You said in your last letter that she was quite well,' said Nicholas, rather hastily, and colouring as he spoke. 'Has nothing been said, since I have been away, about any future arrangements that the brothers have in contemplation for her?'
'Oh, not a word,' replied Kate. 'I can't think of parting from her without sorrow; and surely, Nicholas, YOU don't wish it!'
Nicholas coloured again, and, sitting down beside his sister on a little couch near the window, said:
'No, Kate, no, I do not. I might strive to disguise my real feelings from anybody but you; but I will tell you that--briefly and plainly, Kate--that I love her.'
Kate's eyes brightened, and she was going to make some reply, when Nicholas laid his hand upon her arm, and went on:
'Nobody must know this but you. She, last of all.'
'Dear Nicholas!'
'Last of all; never, though never is a long day. Sometimes, I try to think that the time may come when I may honestly tell her this; but it is so far off; in such distant perspective, so many years must elapse before it comes, and when it does come (if ever) I shall be so unlike what I am now, and shall have so outlived my days of youth and romance--though not, I am sure, of love for her--that even I feel how visionary all such hopes must be, and try to crush them rudely myself, and have the pain over, rather than suffer time to wither them, and keep the disappointment in store. No, Kate! Since I have been absent, I have had, in that poor fellow who is gone, perpetually before my eyes, another instance of the munificent liberality of these noble brothers. As far as in me lies, I will deserve it, and if I have wavered in my bounden duty to them before, I am now determined to discharge it rigidly, and to put further delays and temptations beyond my reach.'
'Before you say another word, dear Nicholas,' said Kate, turning pale, 'you must hear what I have to tell you. I came on purpose, but I had not the courage. What you say now, gives me new heart.' She faltered, and burst into tears.
There was that in her manner which prepared Nicholas for what was coming. Kate tried to speak, but her tears prevented her.
'Come, you foolish girl,' said Nicholas; 'why, Kate, Kate, be a woman! I think I know what you would tell me. It concerns Mr Frank, does it not?'
Kate sunk her head upon his shoulder, and sobbed out 'Yes.'
'And he has offered you his hand, perhaps, since