Stories from Dickens Page 7

  *II. HOW SMIKE WENT AWAY FROM DOTHEBOYS HALL*

  Nicholas was of a naturally optimistic temper, however, and he lost aslittle time as possible brooding over his difficulties. Instead hebegan at once to try to make the school something more than a farce. Hearranged a few regular lessons for the boys, and he treated the poor,half-starved pupils with such gentleness and sympathy that they passedfrom dumb amazement at the first to blind devotion. Indeed, there wasnot one of them who would not have lain down cheerfully and let him walkover his body; and the most devoted of them all was Smike.

  Nicholas was the one ray of sunlight that had ever come into thiswretched creature's life. And in return, Smike now followed him to andfro, with an ever restless desire to serve or help him; anticipatingsuch little wants as his humble ability could supply, and content onlyto be near him. He would sit beside him for hours, looking patientlyinto his face; and a word would brighten up his careworn visage, andcall into it a passing gleam, even of happiness. He was an alteredbeing; he had an object now; and that object was, to show his attachmentto the only person--that person a stranger--who had treated him, not tosay with kindness, but like a human creature.

  Needless to say, Squeers speedily took a dislike to Nicholas. He knewof the scarcely concealed disdain with which his assistant regarded hismethods. Squeers was jealous, also, of the influence which Nicholas hadso soon acquired with the boys. Smike's slavish affection was speedilydiscovered, and the crafty master was mean enough to strike at Nicholasthrough him.

  Upon this poor being all the spleen and ill-humor that could not bevented on Nicholas were unceasingly bestowed. Drudgery would have beennothing--Smike was well used to that. Buffetings inflicted withoutcause would have been equally a matter of course; for to them also hehad served a long and weary apprenticeship; but it was no soonerobserved that he had become attached to Nicholas, than stripes andblows, stripes and blows, morning, noon, and night, were his onlyportion. Nicholas saw it, and ground his teeth at every repetition ofthe savage and cowardly attack. But at present he saw no way to aid theboy, for a protest would mean his own dismissal, and the lot of Smikeand the others would become that much harder.

  One day, after especially harsh treatment, the boy sat huddled in a darkcorner by himself, sobbing as though his heart would break. The room wasdark and deserted, when Nicholas entered, but he heard the sound ofweeping and went over and laid his hand on the drudge's head.

  "Do not, for God's sake!" said Nicholas, in an agitated voice; "I cannotbear to see you."

  "They are more hard with me than ever," sobbed the boy.

  "I know it," rejoined Nicholas. "They are."

  "But for you," said the outcast, "I should die. They would kill me,they would; I know they would."

  "You will do better, poor fellow," replied Nicholas, shaking his headmournfully, "when I am gone."

  "Gone!" cried the other, looking intently in his face.

  "Softly!" rejoined Nicholas. "Yes."

  "Are you going?" demanded the boy, in an earnest whisper.

  "I cannot say," replied Nicholas. "I was speaking more to my ownthoughts than to you."

  "Tell me," said the boy, imploringly, "oh, do tell me, _will_ yougo--_will_ you?"

  "I shall be driven to that at last!" said Nicholas. "The world isbefore me, after all."

  "Tell me," urged Smike, "is the world as bad and dismal as this place?"

  "Heaven forbid," replied Nicholas, pursuing the train of his ownthoughts; "its hardest, coarsest toil were happiness to this."

  "Should I ever meet you there?" demanded the boy, speaking with unusualwildness.

  "Yes," replied Nicholas, willing to soothe him.

  "No, no!" said the other, clasping him by the hand. "Should I--shouldI--tell me that again! Say I should be sure to find you!"

  "You would," replied Nicholas, with the same humane intention, "and Iwould help and aid you, and not bring fresh sorrow on you as I have donehere."

  The boy caught both the young man's hands passionately in his, andhugging them to his breast, uttered a few broken sounds which wereunintelligible. Squeers entered, at the moment, and he shrank back intohis old corner.

  The next morning--a cold, gray day in January--Nicholas was awakened byhearing the voice of Squeers roughly demanding, "Where's that Smike?"

  Nicholas looked over in the corner where the boy usually slept, but itwas vacant; so he made no answer.

  "Smike!" shouted Squeers.

  "Do you want your head broke in a fresh place, Smike?" demanded hisamiable lady, in the same key.

  Still there was no reply, and still Nicholas stared about him, as didthe greater part of the boys, who were by this time roused.

  "Confound his impudence!" muttered Squeers, rapping the stair-railimpatiently with his cane. "Nickleby!"

  "Well, sir."

  "Send that obstinate scoundrel down; don't you hear me calling?"

  "He is not here, sir," replied Nicholas.

  "Don't tell me a lie," retorted the schoolmaster. "He is."

  "He is not," retorted Nicholas, angrily. "Don't tell me one."

  "We shall soon see that," said Mr. Squeers, rushing upstairs. "I'llfind him, I warrant you."

  With which assurance Mr. Squeers bounced into the dormitory, and,swinging his cane in the air ready for a blow, darted into the corner.The cane descended harmlessly upon the ground. There was nobody there.

  "What does this mean?" said Squeers, turning round. "Where have you hidhim?"

  "I have seen nothing of him since last night," replied Nicholas.

  "Come," blustered Squeers, "you won't save him this way. Where is he?"

  "At the bottom of the nearest pond, for aught I know," rejoinedNicholas, in a low voice, and fixing his eyes full on the master's face.

  "Confound you, what do you mean by that?" retorted Squeers. Withoutwaiting for a reply, he inquired of the boys whether any one among themknew anything of their missing schoolmate.

  There was a general hum of anxious denial, in the midst of which oneshrill voice was heard to say (as, indeed, everybody thought):

  "Please, sir, I think Smike's run away, sir."

  "Ha!" cried Squeers, turning sharp round. "Who said that?"

  And, pouncing suddenly, he seized a small urchin, who was rewarded forhis suggestion so soundly that he howled with pain.

  "There," said Squeers. "Now, if any other boy thinks Smike has runaway, I shall be glad to have a talk with him."

  There was, of course, a profound silence, during which Nicholas showedhis disgust as plainly as looks could show it.

  "Well, Nickleby," said Squeers, eyeing him maliciously. "_You_ think hehas run away, I suppose?"

  "I think it extremely likely," replied Nicholas, in a quiet manner.

  "Oh, you do, do you?" sneered Squeers. "Maybe you know he has?"

  "I know nothing of the kind."

  "He didn't tell you he was going, I suppose, did he?" continued Squeers.

  "He did not," replied Nicholas; "I am very glad he did not, for it wouldthen have been my duty to have warned you in time."

  "Which no doubt you would have been devilish sorry to do," said Squeers,in a taunting fashion.

  "I should indeed," replied Nicholas.

  Meanwhile Mrs. Squeers, who had been hunting elsewhere for the boy,bustled in with great excitement.

  "He is off!" said she. "The cow-house and stable are locked up, so hecan't be there; and he's not downstairs anywhere, for the girl haslooked. He must have gone York way, and by a public road too."

  "Why must he?" inquired Squeers.

  "Stupid!" said Mrs. Squeers, angrily. "He hadn't any money, had he?"

  "Never had a penny of his own in his whole life, that I know of,"replied Squeers.

  "To be sure," rejoined Mrs. Squeers, "and he didn't take anything to eatwith him; that I'll answer for. So, of course, he must beg his way, andhe could do that nowhere but on the public road."

 
"That's true," exclaimed Squeers, clapping his hands.

  "True! Yes; but you would never have thought of it, for all that, if Ihadn't said so," replied his wife. "Now, if you take the chaise and goone road, and I borrow Swallow's chaise and go the other, what withkeeping our eyes open and asking questions, one or other of us is prettycertain to lay hold of him."

  The worthy lady's plan was put into action without delay; while Nicholasremained behind in a tumult of anxiety. He realized the bitterconsequences of Smike's rash act. The boy was liable to freeze orstarve to death on the roadside--which could not, perhaps, be much worsethan to fall again into the clutches of Mr. and Mrs. Squeers.

  All that day there was no tidings of the runaway. But at daybreak thesecond morning the sound of wheels was heard. Nicholas hardly dared tolook out of the window; but he did so, and the very first object thatmet his eyes was the wretched Smike: so bedabbled with mud and rain, sohaggard and worn and wild, that, but for his garments being such as noscarecrow was ever seen to wear, he might have been doubtful, even then,of his identity.

  "Lift him out," said Squeers, after he had literally feasted his eyes,in silence, upon the culprit. "Bring him in; bring him in!"

  Smike, to all appearance more dead than alive, was brought into thehouse and securely locked up in a cellar until such time as Mr. Squeersshould deem it expedient to operate upon him in presence of theassembled school.

  After a hasty breakfast of very thin porridge, the boys were summoned tothe schoolroom by resounding whacks on the desk from an ugly-lookingwhip in the hands of the master.

  "Is every boy here?" asked Squeers, in a tremendous voice.

  Every boy was there, but every boy was afraid to speak; so Squeersglared along the lines to assure himself; and every eye drooped, andevery head cowered down, as he did so.

  "Each boy keep his place," said Squeers, administering his favorite blowto the desk, and regarding with gloomy satisfaction the universal startwhich it never failed to occasion. "Nickleby! to your desk, sir!"

  It was remarked by more than one small observer that there was a verycurious and unusual expression in the usher's face; but he took his seatwithout opening his lips in reply. Squeers, casting a triumphant glanceat his assistant and a scowl on the boys, left the room, and shortlyafterwards returned, dragging Smike by the collar.

  In any other place the appearance of the wretched, jaded, spiritlessobject would have occasioned a murmur of compassion and remonstrance.It had some effect, even there; for the lookers-on moved uneasily intheir seats, and a few of the boldest ventured to steal looks at eachother, expressive of indignation and pity.

  They were lost on Squeers, however, whose gaze was fastened on theluckless Smike, as he inquired, according to custom in such cases,whether he had anything to say for himself.

  "Nothing, I suppose?" said Squeers, with a diabolical grin.

  Smike glanced round, and his eye rested, for an instant, on Nicholas, asif he had expected him to intercede; but his look was riveted on hisdesk.

  "Have you anything to say?" demanded Squeers again, giving his right armtwo or three flourishes to try its power and suppleness. "Stand a littleout of the way, Mrs. Squeers, my dear; I've hardly got room enough."

  "Spare me, sir!" cried Smike.

  "Oh! that's all, is it?" said Squeers. "Yes, I'll flog you within aninch of your life, and spare you that."

  "Ha, ha, ha," laughed Mrs. Squeers, "that's a good 'un!"

  "I was driven to do it," said Smike, faintly, and casting anotherimploring look about him.

  "Driven to do it, were you?" said Squeers. "Oh! it wasn't your fault; itwas mine, I suppose--eh?"

  Then he caught the boy firmly in his grip. One desperate cut had fallenon his body--he was wincing from the lash and uttering a scream ofpain--it was raised again, and again about to fall--when NicholasNickleby, suddenly starting up, cried "_Stop!_" in a voice that made therafters ring.

  "Who cried stop?" said Squeers, turning savagely round.

  "I," said Nicholas, stepping forward. "This must not go on."

  "Must not go on!" cried Squeers, almost in a shriek.

  "_No!_" thundered Nicholas.

  Aghast at the boldness of this interference, Squeers released his holdof Smike, and, falling back a pace or two, gazed upon Nicholas withlooks that were positively frightful.

  "I say _must not_!" repeated Nicholas, nothing daunted; "_shall not_! Iwill prevent it!"

  Squeers continued to gaze upon him, with his eyes starting out of hishead; but astonishment had actually, for the moment, bereft him ofspeech.

  "You have disregarded all my quiet interference in the miserable lad'sbehalf," said Nicholas; "you have returned no answer to the letter inwhich I begged forgiveness for him, and offered to be responsible thathe would remain quietly here. Don't blame me for this publicinterference. You have brought it upon yourself; not I."

  "Sit down, beggar!" screamed Squeers, almost beside himself with rage,and seizing Smike as he spoke.

  "Wretch," rejoined Nicholas, fiercely, "touch him at your peril! I willnot stand by, and see it done. My blood is up, and I have the strengthof ten such men as you. Look to yourself, for by Heaven I will not spareyou, if you drive me on!"

  "Stand back," cried Squeers, brandishing his weapon.

  "I have a long series of insults to avenge," said Nicholas, flushed withpassion; "and my indignation is aggravated by the cruelties of this foulden. Have a care; for if you rouse me farther, the consequences shallfall heavily upon your own head!"

  He had scarcely spoken, when Squeers, in a violent outbreak of wrath,struck him a blow across the face which raised up a bar of livid fleshas it was inflicted. Smarting with the agony of the blow, andconcentrating into that one moment all its feelings of rage and scorn,Nicholas sprang upon him, wrested the weapon from his hand, and pinninghim by the throat, beat the ruffian till he roared for mercy.

  Then Nicholas left the astounded boys and the crestfallen master, andstalked out of the room. He looked anxiously around for Smike, as heclosed the door, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  There was nothing left for him to do. He must face the world again; but_anything_--he told himself--would be better than this. So he packed upa few clothes in a small valise, and, finding that nobody offered tooppose him, he marched boldly out by the front door and struck into theroad which led to Greta Bridge.

  He did not travel far that day, as there had been a heavy fall of snowwhich made the way toilsome and hard to find. He lay, that night, at acottage, where beds were let at a cheap rate to the more humble class oftravellers; and, rising betimes next morning, made his way before nightto Boroughbridge. Passing through that town in search of some cheapresting-place, he stumbled upon an empty barn within a couple of hundredyards of the roadside; in a warm corner of which he stretched his wearylimbs, and soon fell asleep.

  When he awoke next morning, and tried to recollect his dreams, which hadbeen all connected with his recent sojourn at Dotheboys Hall, he sat up,rubbed his eyes, and stared--not with the most composed countenancepossible--at some motionless object which seemed to be stationed withina few yards in front of him.

  "Strange!" cried Nicholas; "can this be some lingering creation of thevisions that have scarcely left me! It cannot be real--and yet I---I amawake! Smike!"

  The form moved, rose, advanced, and dropped upon its knees at his feet.It was Smike indeed.

  "Why do you kneel to me?" said Nicholas, hastily raising him.

  "To go with you--anywhere--everywhere--to the world's end!" repliedSmike, clinging to his hand. "Let me, oh, do let me! You are myhome--my kind friend--take me with you, pray!"

  "I am a friend who can do little for you," said Nicholas, kindly. "Howcame you here?"

  He had followed him, it seemed; had never lost sight of him all the way;had watched while he slept, and when he halted for refreshment; and hadfeared to appear before, lest he should be sent back. He had notintended to appear now, but Nicholas had
awakened more suddenly than helooked for, and he had had no time to conceal himself.

  "Poor fellow!" said Nicholas, "your hard fate denies you any friend butone, and he is nearly as poor and helpless as yourself."

  "May I--may I go with you?" asked Smike, timidly. "I will be yourfaithful, hard-working servant, I will, indeed. I want no clothes,"added the poor creature, drawing his rags together; "these will do verywell. I only want to be near you."

  "And you shall," cried Nicholas. "And the world shall deal by you as itdoes by me, till one or both of us shall quit it for a better. Come!"

  With these words he strapped his valise on his shoulders, and, takinghis stick in one hand, extended the other to the delighted boy; and sothey passed out of the old barn together.

  And in the days to come--through thick and thin--Smike and Nicholasfought their battles together--and _won_!

  *THE STORY OF LITTLE NELL*