"Stay," said the old man, beckoning him into a bye street, where they could converse with less interruption. "What d'ye mean, eh? What d'ye mean?"
"Merely that your kind face and manner—both so unlike any I have ever seen—tempted me into an avowal, which, to any other stranger in this wilderness of London, I should not have dreamt of making," returned Nicholas.
"Wilderness! Yes it is, it is. Good. It is a wilderness," said the old man with much animation. "It was a wilderness to me once. I came here barefoot—I have never forgotten it. Thank God!" and he raised his hat from his head, and looked very grave.
"What's the matter—what is it—how did it all come about?" said the old man, laying his hand on the shoulder of Nicholas, and walking him up the street. "You're—Eh?" laying his finger on the sleeve of his black coat. "Who's it for—eh?"
"My father," replied Nicholas.
"Ah!" said the old gentleman quickly. "Bad thing for a young man to lose his father. Widowed mother, perhaps?"
Nicholas sighed.
"Brothers and sisters too—eh?"
"One sister," rejoined Nicholas.
"Poor thing, poor thing. You're a scholar too, I dare say?" said the old man, looking wistfully into the face of the young one.
"I have been tolerably well educated," said Nicholas.
"Fine thing," said the old gentleman, "education a great thing—a very great thing—I never had any. I admire it the more in others. A very fine thing—yes, yes. Tell me more of your history. Let me hear it all. No impertinent curiosity—no, no, no."
There was something so earnest and guileless in the way in which all this was said, and such a complete disregard of all conventional restraints and coldnesses, that Nicholas could not resist it. Among men who have any sound and sterling qualities, there is nothing so contagious as pure openness of heart. Nicholas took the infection instantly, and ran over the main points of his little history without reserve, merely suppressing names, and touching as lightly as possible upon his uncle's treatment of Kate. The old man listened with great attention, and when he had concluded, drew his arm eagerly through his own.
"Don't say another word—not another word," said he. "Come along with me. We mustn't lose a minute."
So saying, the old gentleman dragged him back into Oxford Street, and hailing an omnibus on its way to the city, pushed Nicholas in before him, and followed himself.
As he appeared in a most extraordinary condition of restless excitement, and whenever Nicholas offered to speak, immediately interposed with—"Don't say another word, my dear sir, on any account—not another word," the young man thought it better to attempt no further interruption. Into the city they journeyed accordingly, without interchanging any conversation; and the further they went, the more Nicholas wondered what the end of the adventure could possibly be.
