Leaving it to pursue its journey at the pleasure of the conductor afore-mentioned, who lounged gracefully on his little shelf behind, smoking an odoriferous cigar; and leaving it to stop, or go on, or gallop, or crawl, as that gentleman deemed expedient and advisable; this narrative may embrace the opportunity of ascertaining the condition of Sir Mulberry Hawk, and to what extent he had, by this time, recovered from the injuries consequent on being flung violently from his cabriolet, under the circumstances already detailed.
With a shattered limb, a body severely bruised, a face disfigured by half-healed scars, and pallid from the exhaustion of recent pain and fever, Sir Mulberry Hawk lay stretched upon his back, on the couch to which he was doomed to be a prisoner for some weeks yet to come. Mr Pyke and Mr Pluck sat drinking hard in the next room, now and then varying the monotonous murmurs of their conversation with a half-smothered laugh, while the young lord -- the only member of the party who was not thoroughly irredeemable, and who really had a kind heart -- sat beside his Mentor, with a cigar in his mouth, and read to him, by the light of a lamp, such scraps of intelligence from a paper of the day, as were most likely to yield him interest or amusement.
`Curse those hounds!' said the invalid, turning his head impatiently towards the adjoining room; `will nothing stop their infernal throats?'
Messrs Pyke and Pluck heard the exclamation, and stopped immediately:
winking to each other as they did so, and filling their glasses to the brim, as some recompense for the deprivation of speech.
`Damn!' muttered the sick man between his teeth, and writhing impatiently in his bed. `Isn't this mattress hard enough, and the room dull enough, and pain bad enough, but they must torture me? What's the time?'
`Half-past eight,' replied his friend.
`Here, draw the table nearer, and let us have the cards again,' said Sir Mulberry. `More piquet. Come.'
It was curious to see how eagerly the sick man, debarred from any change of position save the mere turning of his head from side to side, watched every motion of his friend in the progress of the game; and with what eagerness and interest he played, and yet how warily and coolly. His address and skill were more than twenty times a match for his adversary, who could make little head against them, even when fortune favoured him with good cards, which was not often the case. Sir Mulberry won every game; and when his companion threw down the cards, and refused to play any longer, thrust forth his wasted arm and caught up the stakes with a boastful oath, and the same hoarse laugh, though considerably lowered in tone, that had resounded in Ralph Nickleby's dining-room, months before.
While he was thus occupied, his man appeared, to announce that Mr Ralph Nickleby was below, and wished to know how he was, tonight.
`Better,' said Sir Mulberry, impatiently.
`Mr Nickleby wishes to know, sir --'
`I tell you, better,' replied Sir Mulberry, striking his hand upon the table.
The man hesitated for a moment or two, and then said that Mr Nickleby had requested permission to see Sir Mulberry Hawk, if it was not inconvenient.
`It is inconvenient. I can't see him. I can't see anybody,' said his master, more violently than before. `You know that, you blockhead.'
`I am very sorry, sir,' returned the man. `But Mr Nickleby pressed so much, sir --'
The fact was, that Ralph Nickleby had bribed the man, who, being anxious to earn his money with a view to future favours, held the door in his hand, and ventured to linger still.
`Did he say whether he had any business to speak about?' inquired Sir Mulberry, after a little impatient consideration.
`No, sir. He said he wished to see you, sir. Particularly, Mr Nickleby said, sir.'
`Tell him to come up. Here,' cried Sir Mulberry, calling the man back, as he passed his hand over his disfigured face, `move that lamp, and put it on the stand behind me. Wheel that table away, and place a chair there -- further off. Leave it so.'
The man obeyed these directions as if he quite comprehended the motive with which they were dictated, and left the room. Lord Frederick Verisopht, remarking that he would look in presently, strolled into the adjoining apartment, and closed the folding door behind him.
Then was heard a subdued footstep on the stairs; and Ralph Nickleby, hat in hand, crept softly into the room, with his body bent forward as if in profound respect, and his eyes fixed upon the face of his worthy client.
`Well, Nickleby,' said Sir Mulberry, motioning him to the chair by the couch side, and waving his hand in assumed carelessness, `I have had a bad accident, you see.'
`I see,' rejoined Ralph, with the same steady gaze. `Bad, indeed! Ishould not have known you, Sir Mulberry. Dear, dear! This is bad.'
Ralph's manner was one of profound humility and respect; and the low tone of voice was that, which the gentlest consideration for a sick man would have taught a visitor to assume. But the expression of his face, Sir Mulberry's being averted, was in extraordinary contrast; and as he stood, in his usual attitude, calmly looking on the prostrate form before him, all that part of his features which was not cast into shadow by his protruding and contracted brows, bore the impress of a sarcastic smile.
`Sit down,' said Sir Mulberry, turning towards him, as though by a violent effort. `Am I a sight, that you stand gazing there?'
As he turned his face, Ralph recoiled a step or two, and making as though he were irresistibly impelled to express astonishment, but was determined not to do so, sat down with well-acted confusion.