had a shelving roof; high in one part, and at another descending almost to the floor. It was towards the highest part that Ralph directed his eyes; and upon it he kept them fixed steadily for some minutes, when he rose, and dragging thither an old chest upon which he had been seated, mounted on it, and felt along the wall above his head with both hands. At length, they touched a large iron hook, firmly driven into one of the beams.

At that moment, he was interrupted by a loud knocking at the door below. After a little hesitation he opened the window, and demanded who it was.

`I want Mr Nickleby,' replied a voice.

`What with him?'

`That's not Mr Nickleby's voice, surely?' was the rejoinder.

It was not like it; but it was Ralph who spoke, and so he said.

The voice made answer that the twin brothers wished to know whether the man whom he had seen that night was to he detained; and that although it was now midnight they had sent, in their anxiety to do right.

`Yes,' cried Ralph, `detain him till tomorrow; then let them bring him here--him and my nephew--and come themselves, and be sure that I will be ready to receive them.'

`At what hour?' asked the voice.

`At any hour,' replied Ralph fiercely. `In the afternoon, tell them. At any hour--at any minute--all times will be alike to me.'

He listened to the man's retreating footsteps until the sound had passed, and then, gazing up into the sky, saw, or thought he saw, the same black cloud that had seemed to follow him home, and which now appeared to hover directly above the house.

`I know its meaning now,' he muttered, `and the restless nights, the dreams, and why I have quailed of late--all pointed to this. Oh! if men by selling their own souls could ride rampant for a term, for how short a term would I barter mine tonight!'

The sound of a deep bell came along the wind. One.

`Lie on!' cried the usurer, `with your iron tongue! Ring merrily for births that make expectants writhe, and marriages that are made in hell, and toll ruefully for the dead whose shoes are worn already! Call men to prayers who are godly because not found out, and ring chimes for the coming in of every year that brings this cursed world nearer to its end. No bell or book for me! Throw me on a dunghill, and let me rot there, to infect the air!'

With a wild look around, in which frenzy, hatred, and despair were horribly mingled, he shook his clenched hand at the sky above him, which was still dark and threatening, and closed the window.

The rain and hail pattered against the glass; the chimneys quaked and rocked; the crazy casement rattled with the wind, as though an impatient hand inside were striving to burst it open. But no hand was there, and it opened no more.

`How's this?' cried one. `The gentleman say they can't make anybody hear, and have been trying these two hours.'

`And yet he came home last night,' said another; `for he spoke to somebody out of that window upstairs.'