The sky had been lowering and dark for some time, and the commencement of a violent storm of rain drove Ralph for shelter to a tree. He was leaning against it with folded arms, still buried in thought, when, happening to raise his eyes, he suddenly met those of a man who, creeping round the trunk, peered into his face with a searching look. There was something in the usurer's expression at the moment, which the man appeared to remember well, for it decided him; and stepping close up to Ralph, he pronounced his name.
Astonished for the moment, Ralph fell back a couple of paces, and surveyed him from head to foot. A spare, dark, withered man, of about his own age, with a stooping body, and a very sinister face rendered more ill-favoured by hollow and hungry cheeks, deeply sunburnt, and thick black eye-brows, blacker in contrast with the perfect whiteness of his hair; roughly clothed in shabby garments, of a strange and uncouth make; and having about him an indefinable manner of depression and degradation;—this, for a moment, was all he saw. But he looked again, and the face and person seemed gradually to grow less strange; to change as he looked, to subside and soften into lineaments that were familiar, until at last they resolved themselves, as if by some strange optical illusion, into those of one whom he had known for many years, and forgotten and lost sight of for nearly as many more.
The man saw that the recognition was mutual, and beckoning to Ralph to take his former place under the tree, and not to stand in the falling rain, of which, in his first surprise, he had been quite regardless, addressed him in a hoarse, faint tone.
"You would hardly have known me from my voice, I suppose, Mr. Nickleby?" he said.
"No," returned Ralph, bending a severe look upon him. "Though there is something in that, that I remember now."
"There is little in me that you can call to mind as having been there eight years ago, I dare say?" observed the other.
"Quite enough," said Ralph, carelessly, and averting his face. "More than enough."
"If I had remained in doubt about you Mr. Nickleby," said the other, "this reception, and your manner, would have decided me very soon."
"Did you expect any other?" asked Ralph, sharply.
"No!" said the man.
"You were right," retorted Ralph; and as you feel no surprise, need express none."
"Mr. Nickleby," said the man, bluntly, after a brief pause, during which he had seemed to struggle with an inclination to answer him by some reproach, "will you hear a few words that I have to say?"
"I am obliged to wait here till the rain holds a little," said Ralph, looking abroad. "If you talk, sir, I shall not put my fingers in my ears, though your talking may have as much effect as if I did."
"I was once in your confidence—," thus his companion began. Ralph looked round, and smiled involuntarily.
"Well," said the other, "as much in your confidence as you ever chose to let anybody be."
