you so, because I vainly thought I could conquer my weaker feelings, and render every consideration subservient to my duty to you.'

`Mr Nickleby,' said brother Charles, `you did not violate the confidence I placed in you, or take an unworthy advantage of it. I am sure you did not.'

`I did not,' said Nicholas, firmly. `Although I found that the necessity for self-command and restraint became every day more imperious, and the difficulty greater, I never, for one instant, spoke or looked but as I would have done had you been by. I never, for one moment, deserted my trust, nor have I to this instant. But I find that constant association and companionship with this sweet girl is fatal to my peace of mind, and may prove destructive to the resolutions I made in the beginning, and up to this time have faithfully kept. In short, sir, I cannot trust myself, and I implore and beseech you to remove this young lady from under the charge of my mother and sister without delay. I know that to anyone but myself--to you, who consider the immeasurable distance between me and this young lady, who is now your ward, and the object of your peculiar care--my loving her, even in thought, must appear the height of rashness and presumption. I know it is so. But who can see her as I have seen,--who can know what her life has been,--and not love her? I have no excuse but that; and as I cannot fly from this temptation, and cannot repress this passion, with its object constantly before me, what can I do but pray and beseech you to remove it, and to leave me to forget her?'

`Mr Nickleby,' said the old man, after a short silence, `you can do no more. I was wrong to expose a young man like you to this trial. I might have foreseen what would happen. Thank you, sir, thank you. Madeline shall be removed.'

`If you would grant me one favour, dear sir, and suffer her to remember me with esteem, by never revealing to her this confession--'

`I will take care,' said Mr Cheeryble. `And now, is this all you have to tell me?'

`No!' returned Nicholas, meeting his eye, `it is not.'

`I know the rest,' said Mr Cheeryble, apparently very much relieved by this prompt reply. `When did it come to your knowledge?'

`When I reached home this morning.'

`You felt it your duty immediately to come to me, and tell me what your sister no doubt acquainted you with?'

`I did,' said Nicholas, `though I could have wished to have spoken to Mr Frank first.'

`Frank was with me last night,' replied the old gentleman. `You have done well, Mr Nickleby--very well, sir--and I thank you again.'

Upon this head, Nicholas requested permission to add a few words. He ventured to hope that nothing he had said would lead to the estrangement of Kate and Madeline, who had formed an attachment for each other, any interruption of which would, he knew, be attended with great pain to them, and, most of all, with remorse and pain to him, as its unhappy cause. When these things were all forgotten, he hoped that Frank and he might still be warm friends, and that no word or thought of his humble home, or of her who was well contented to remain there and share his quiet fortunes, would ever again disturb the harmony between them. He recounted, as nearly as he could, what had passed between himself and Kate that morning: speaking of her with such warmth of pride and affection, and dwelling so cheerfully upon the confidence they had of overcoming any selfish regrets and living contented and happy in each other's love, that few could have heard him unmoved. More moved himself than he had been yet, he