uld by no
means be made to comprehend the necessity of such hurried proceedings.

'Why don't you ask your uncle, my dear Nicholas, what he can possibly
mean by it?' said Mrs Nickleby.

'My dear mother,' returned Nicholas, 'the time for talking has gone
by. There is but one step to take, and that is to cast him off with the
scorn and indignation he deserves. Your own honour and good name demand
that, after the discovery of his vile proceedings, you should not be
beholden to him one hour, even for the shelter of these bare walls.'

'To be sure,' said Mrs Nickleby, crying bitterly, 'he is a brute, a
monster; and the walls are very bare, and want painting too, and I have
had this ceiling whitewashed at the expense of eighteen-pence, which is
a very distressing thing, considering that it is so much gone into your
uncle's pocket. I never could have believed it--never.'

'Nor I, nor anybody else,' said Nicholas.

'Lord bless my life!' exclaimed Mrs Nickleby. 'To think that that Sir
Mulberry Hawk should be such an abandoned wretch as Miss La Creevy says
he is, Nicholas, my dear; when I was congratulating myself every day on
his being an admirer of our dear Kate's, and thinking what a thing it
would be for the family if he was to become connected with us, and use
his interest to get you some profitable government place. There are
very good places to be got about the court, I know; for a friend of ours
(Miss Cropley, at Exeter, my dear Kate, you recollect), he had one, and
I know that it was the chief part of his duty to wear silk stockings,
and a bag wig like a black watch-pocket; and to think that it should
come to this after all--oh, dear, dear, it's enough to kill one, that it
is!' With which expressions of sorrow, Mrs Nickleby gave fresh vent to
her grief, and wept piteously.

As Nicholas and his sister were by this time compelled to superintend
the removal of the few articles of furniture, Miss La Creevy devoted
herself to the consolation of the matron, and observed with great
kindness of manner that she must really make an effort, and cheer up.

'Oh I dare say, Miss La Creevy,' returned Mrs Nickleby, with a petulance
not unnatural in her unhappy circumstances, 'it's very easy to say cheer
up, but if you had as many occasions to cheer up as I have had--and
there,' said Mrs Nickleby, stopping short. 'Think of Mr Pyke and Mr
Pluck, two of the most perfect gentlemen that ever lived, what am I too
say to them--what can I