Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
||||
1001 While Ralph bent upon his trembling friend a keen look, which showed that he perfectly understood the reason of this great consideration and regard, a footstep was heard upon the stairs, and Bray himself came into the room on tiptoe, and holding up his hand with a cautious gesture, as if there were some sick person near, who must not be disturbed. ‘Hush!’ he said, in a low voice. ‘She was very ill last night. I thought she would have broken her heart. She is dressed, and crying bitterly in her own room; but she’s better, and quite quiet. That’s everything!’ ‘She is ready, is she?’ said Ralph. ‘Quite ready,’ returned the father. ‘And not likely to delay us by any young-lady weaknesses-- fainting, or so forth?’ said Ralph. ‘She may be safely trusted now,’ returned Bray. ‘I have been talking to her this morning. Here! Come a little this way.’ He drew Ralph Nickleby to the further end of the room, and pointed towards Gride, who sat huddled together in a corner, fumbling nervously with the buttons of his coat, and exhibiting a face, of which every skulking and base expression was sharpened and aggravated to the utmost by his anxiety and trepidation. ‘Look at that man,’ whispered Bray, emphatically. ‘This seems a cruel thing, after all.’ ‘What seems a cruel thing?’ inquired Ralph, with as much stolidity of face, as if he really were in utter ignorance of the other’s meaning. ‘This marriage,’ answered Bray. ‘Don’t ask me what. You know as well as I do.’ Ralph shrugged his shoulders, in silent deprecation of Bray’s |