uous emphasis; 'don't you know that I couldn't have
such a court under my bedroom window, anywhere, but in London?'

With which inquiry, Tim turned his back, and pretending to be absorbed
in his accounts, took an opportunity of hastily wiping his eyes when he
supposed Nicholas was looking another way.

Whether it was that Tim's accounts were more than usually intricate that
morning, or whether it was that his habitual serenity had been a little
disturbed by these recollections, it so happened that when Nicholas
returned from executing some commission, and inquired whether Mr Charles
Cheeryble was alone in his room, Tim promptly, and without the smallest
hesitation, replied in the affirmative, although somebody had passed
into the room not ten minutes before, and Tim took especial and
particular pride in preventing any intrusion on either of the brothers
when they were engaged with any visitor whatever.

'I'll take this letter to him at once,' said Nicholas, 'if that's the
case.' And with that, he walked to the room and knocked at the door.

No answer.

Another knock, and still no answer.

'He can't be here,' thought Nicholas. 'I'll lay it on his table.'

So, Nicholas opened the door and walked in; and very quickly he
turned to walk out again, when he saw, to his great astonishment and
discomfiture, a young lady upon her knees at Mr Cheeryble's feet, and Mr
Cheeryble beseeching her to rise, and entreating a third person, who
had the appearance of the young lady's female attendant, to add her
persuasions to his to induce her to do so.

Nicholas stammered out an awkward apology, and was precipitately
retiring, when the young lady, turning her head a little, presented
to his view the features of the lovely girl whom he had seen at the
register-office on his first visit long before. Glancing from her to the
attendant, he recognised the same clumsy servant who had accompanied
her then; and between his admiration of the young lady's beauty, and
the confusion and surprise of this unexpected recognition, he stood
stock-still, in such a bewildered state of surprise and embarrassment
that, for the moment, he was quite bereft of the power either to speak
or move.

'My dear ma'am--my dear young lady,' cried brother Charles in violent
agitation, 'pray don't--not another word, I beseech and entreat you! I
implore you--I beg of you--to rise. We--we--are not alone.'

As he spoke, he raised the young lady, who staggered to a c