Ralph Nickleby, who was proof against all appeals of blood
and kindred--who was steeled against every tale of sorrow and
distress--staggered while he looked, and went back into his house, as a
man who had seen a spirit from some world beyond the grave.



CHAPTER 20

Wherein Nicholas at length encounters his Uncle, to whom he expresses
his Sentiments with much Candour. His Resolution.


Little Miss La Creevy trotted briskly through divers streets at the
west end of the town, early on Monday morning--the day after the
dinner--charged with the important commission of acquainting Madame
Mantalini that Miss Nickleby was too unwell to attend that day, but
hoped to be enabled to resume her duties on the morrow. And as Miss La
Creevy walked along, revolving in her mind various genteel forms and
elegant turns of expression, with a view to the selection of the very
best in which to couch her communication, she cogitated a good deal upon
the probable causes of her young friend's indisposition.

'I don't know what to make of it,' said Miss La Creevy. 'Her eyes were
decidedly red last night. She said she had a headache; headaches don't
occasion red eyes. She must have been crying.'

Arriving at this conclusion, which, indeed, she had established to her
perfect satisfaction on the previous evening, Miss La Creevy went on
to consider--as she had done nearly all night--what new cause of