Oliver Twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-25

Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 244deliberately kissed the matron.“Mr. Bumble!” cried that discreet lady in a whisper, for thefright was so great, that she had quite lost her voice: “Mr. Bumble,I shall scream!” Mr. Bumble made no reply; but in a slow anddignified manner, put his arm round the matron’s waist.As the lady had stated her intention of screaming, of course shewould have screamed at this additional boldness, but that theexertion was rendered unnecessary by a hasty knocking at thedoor; which was no sooner heard, than Mr. Bumble darted, withmuch agility, to the wine bottles, and began dusting them withgreat violence; while the matron sharply demanded who wasthere. It is worthy of remark, as a curious physical instance of theefficacy of a sudden surprise in counteracting the effects ofextreme fear, that her voice had quite recovered all its officialasperity.“If you please, mistress,” said a withered old female pauper,hideously ugly, putting her head in at the door, “old Sally is a-going fast.”“Well, what’s that to me?” angrily demanded the matron. “Ican’t keep her alive, can I?”“No, no, mistress,” replied the old woman, “nobody can; she’sfar beyond the reach of help. I’ve seen a many people die; littlebabies and great strong men; and I know when death’s a-coming,well enough. But she’s troubled in her mind; and when the fits arenot on her; and that’s not often, for she is dying very hard—shesays she has got something to tell, which you must hear. She’llnever die quiet till you come, mistress.”At this intelligence, the worthy Mrs. Corney muttered a varietyof invectives against old women who couldn’t even die withoutCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 245purposely annoying their betters; and, muffling herself in a thickshawl which she hastily caught up, briefly requested Mr. Bumbleto stay till she came back, lest anything particular should occur;and bidding the messenger walk fast, and not be all night hobblingup the stairs, she followed her from the room with a very ill grace,scolding all the way.Mr. Bumble’s conduct on being left to himself, was ratherinexplicable. He opened the closet, counted the teaspoons,weighed the sugar-tongs, closely inspected a silver milk-pot toascertain that it was of the genuine metal, and, having satisfied hiscuriosity on these points, put on his cocked hat corner-wise, anddanced with much gravity four distinct times round the table.Having gone through this very extraordinary performance, hetook off the cocked hat again, and, spreading himself before thefire with his back towards it, seemed to be mentally engaged intaking an exact inventory of the furniture.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 246Chapter 24Treats Of A Very Poor Subject—But Is A Short One,And May Be Found Of Importance In This History.It was no unfit messenger of death, who had disturbed thequiet of the matron’s room. Her body was bent by age; herlimbs trembled with palsy; her face, distorted into amumbling leer, resembled more the grotesque shaping of somewild pencil, than the work of Nature’s hand.Alas! How few of Nature’s faces are left alone to gladden uswith their beauty! The cares, and sorrows, and hungerings, of theworld, change them as they change hearts; and it is only whenthose passions sleep, and have lost their hold for ever, that thetroubled clouds pass off, and leave Heaven’s surface clear. It is acommon thing for the countenances of the dead, even in that fixedand rigid state, to subside into the long-forgotten expression ofsleeping infancy, and settle into the very look of early life; so calm,so peaceful, do they grow again, that those who knew them in theirhappy childhood, kneel by the coffin’s side in awe, and see theangel even upon earth.The old crone tottered along the passages, and up the stairs,muttering some indistinct answers to the chidings of hercompanion; and being at length compelled to pause for breath,gave the light into her hand, and remained behind to follow as shemight; while the more nimble superior made her way to the roomwhere the sick woman lay.It was a bare garret-room, with a dim light burning at theCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 247farther end. There was another old woman watching by the bed;the parish apothecary’s apprentice was standing by the fire,making a toothpick out of a quill.“Cold night, Mrs. Corney,” said this young gentleman, as thematron entered.“Very cold, indeed, sir,” replied the mistress, in her most civiltones, and dropping a curtsey as she spoke.“You should get better coals out of your contractors,” said theapothecary’s deputy, breaking a lump on the top of the fire withthe rusty poker; “these are not at all the sort of thing for a coldnight.”“They’re the Board’s choosing, sir,” returned the matron. “Theleast they could do, would be to keep us pretty warm; for ourplaces are hard enough.”The conversation was here interrupted by a moan from the sickwoman.“Oh!” said the young man, turning his face towards the bed, asif he had previously quite forgotten the patient, “it’s all U. P. there,Mrs. Corney.”“It is, is it, sir?” asked the matron.“If she lasts a couple of hours, I shall be surprised,” said theapothecary’s apprentice, intent upon the toothpick’s point. “It’s abreak-up of the system altogether. Is she dozing, old lady?”The attendant stooped over the bed, to ascertain; and noddedin the affirmative.“Then perhaps she’ll go off in that way, if you don’t make arow,” said the young man. “Put the light on the floor. She won’tsee it there.”The attendant did as she was told, shaking her head meanCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 248while, to intimate that the woman would not die so easily; havingdone so; she resumed her seat by the side of the other nurse, whohad by this time returned. The mistress, with an expression ofimpatience, wrapped herself in her shawl, and sat at the foot of thebed.The apothecary’s apprentice, having completed themanufacture of the toothpick, planted himself in front of the fire,and made good use of it for ten minutes or so; when, apparentlygrowing rather dull, he wished Mrs. Corney joy of her job, andtook himself off on tiptoe.When they had sat in silence for some time, the two old womenrose from the bed, and crouching over the fire, held out theirwithered hands to catch the heat. The flame threw a ghastly lighton their shrivelled faces, and made their ugliness appear terribleas, in this position, they began to converse in a low voice.“Did she say any more, my dear, while I was gone?” inquiredthe messenger.“Not a word,” replied the other. “She plucked and tore at herarms for a little time; but I held her hands, and she soon droppedoff. She hasn’t much strength in her, so I easily kept her quiet. Iain’t so weak for an old woman, although I am on parishallowance; no, no!”“Did she drink the hot wine the doctor said she was to have?”demanded the first.“I tried to get it down,” rejoined the other. “But her teeth weretight set, and she clenched the mug so hard that it was as much asI could do to get it back again. So I drank it; and it did me good!”Looking cautiously round, to ascertain that they were notoverheard, the two hags cowered nearer the fire, and chuckledCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 249heartily.“I mind the time,” said the first speaker, “when she would havedone the same, and made rare fun of it afterwards.”“Ay, that she would,” rejoined the other; “she had a merryheart. A many, many, beautiful corpses she laid out, as nice andneat as wax-work. My old eyes have seen them—ay, and those oldhands touched them, too; for I have helped her, scores of times.”Stretching forth her trembling fingers as she spoke, the oldcreature shook them exultingly before her face, and fumbling inher pocket, brought out an old time-discoloured tin snuff-box,from which she shook a few grains into the outstretched palm ofher companion, and a few more into her own. While they werethus employed, the matron, who had been impatiently watchinguntil the dying woman should awaken from her stupor, joinedthem by the fire, and sharply asked how long she was to wait?“Not long, mistress,” replied the second woman, looking up intoher face. “We have none of us long to wait for Death. Patience,patience! He’ll be here soon enough for us all.”“Hold your tongue, you doting idiot!” said the matron sternly.“You, Martha, tell me; has she been in this way before?”“Often,” answered the first woman.“But will never be again,” added the second one; “that is, she’llnever wake again but once—and mind, mistress, that won’t be forlong!”“Long or short,” said the matron snappishly, “she won’t find mehere when she does wake; take care, both of you, how you worryme again for nothing. It’s no part of my duty to see all the oldwomen in the house die, and I won’t—that’s more. Mind that, youimpudent old harridans. If you make a fool of me again, I’ll soonCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 250cure you, I warrant you!”She was bouncing away, when a cry from the two women, whohad turned towards the bed, caused her to look round. The patienthad raised herself upright, and was stretching her arms towardsthem.“Who’s that?” she cried in a hollow voice.“Hush, hush!” said one of the women, stooping over her. “Liedown, lie down!”“I’ll never lie down again alive!” said the woman, struggling. “Iwill tell her! Come here! Nearer! Let me whisper in your ear.”She clutched the matron by the arm, and forcing her into achair by the bedside, was about to speak, when looking round, shecaught sight of the two old women bending forward in the attitudeof eager listeners.“Turn them away,” said the woman drowsily; “make haste!make haste!”The two old crones, chiming in together, began pouring outmany piteous lamentations that the poor dear was too far gone toknow her best friends; and were uttering sundry protestations thatthey would never leave her, when the superior pushed them fromthe room, closed the door, and returned to the bedside. On beingexcluded, the old ladies changed their tone, and cried through thekeyhole that old Sally was drunk; which, indeed, was not unlikely;since, in addition to a moderate dose of opium prescribed by theapothecary, she was labouring under the effects of a final taste ofgin-and-water which had been privily administered, in theopenness of their hearts, by the worthy old ladies themselves.“Now listen to me,” said the dying woman aloud, as if making agreat effort to revive one latent spark of energy. “In this veryCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 251room—in this very bed—I once nursed a pretty young creetur’,that was brought into the house with her feet cut and bruised withwalking, and all soiled with dust and blood. She gave birth to aboy, and died. Let me think—what was the year again!”“Never mind the year,” said the impatient auditor; “what abouther?”“Ay,” murmured the sick woman, relapsing into her formerdrowsy state, “what about her?—what about—I know!” she cried,jumping fiercely up, her face flushed, and her eyes starting fromher head—“I robbed her, so I did! She wasn’t cold—I tell you shewasn’t cold, when I stole it!”“Stole what, for God’s sake?” cried the matron, with a gestureas if she would call for help.“It!” replied the woman, laying her hand over the other’smouth. “The only thing she had. She wanted clothes to keep herwarm, and food to eat; but she had kept it safe, and had it in herbosom. It was gold, I tell you! Rich gold, that might have saved herlife!”“Gold!” echoed the matron, bending eagerly over the woman asshe fell back. “Go on, go on—yes—what of it? Who was themother? When was it?”“She charged me to keep it safe,” replied the woman, with agroan, “and trusted me as the only woman about her. I stole it inmy heart when she first showed it me hanging round her neck;and the child’s death, perhaps, is on me besides! They would havetreated him better, if they had known it all!”“Known what?” asked the other. “Speak!”“The boy grew so like his mother,” said the woman, ramblingon, and not heeding the question, “that I could never forget itCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 252when I saw his face. Poor girl! poor girl! She was so young, too!Such a gentle lamb! Wait; there’s more to tell. I have not told youall, have I?”“No, no,” replied the matron, inclining her head to catch thewords, as they came more faintly from the dying woman. “Bequick, or it may be too late!”“The mother,” said the woman, making a more violent effortthan before—“the mother, when the pains of death first cameupon her, whispered in my ear that if her baby was born alive, andthrived, the day might come when it would not feel so muchdisgraced to hear its poor young mother named. ‘And oh, kindHeaven!’ she said, folding her thin hands together, ‘whether it beboy or girl, raise up some friends for it in this troubled world, andtake pity upon a lonely, desolate child, abandoned to its mercy!’”“The boy’s name?” demanded the matron.“They called him Oliver,” replied the woman feebly. “The gold Istole was—”“Yes, yes—what?” cried the other.She was bending eagerly over the woman to hear her reply; butdrew back instinctively, as she once again rose, slowly and stiffly,into a sitting posture; then, clutching the coverlid with both hands,muttered some indistinct sounds in her throat and fell lifeless onthe bed.*****“Stone dead!” said one of the old women, hurrying in as soon asthe door was opened.“And nothing to tell, after all,” rejoined the matron, walkingCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 253carelessly away.The two crones, to all appearances, too busily occupied in thepreparations for their dreadful duties to make any reply, were leftalone, hovering about the body.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 254Chapter 25Wherein This History Reverts To Mr. Fagin AndCompany.While these things were passing in the countryworkhouse, Mr. Fagin sat in the old den—the samefrom which Oliver had been removed by the girl—brooding over a dull, smoky fire. He held a pair of bellows uponhis knee, with which he had apparently been endeavouring torouse it into more cheerful action; but he had fallen into deepthought; and with his arms folded on them, and his chin resting onhis thumbs, fixed his eyes, abstractedly, on the rusty bars.At a table behind him sat the Artful Dodger, Master CharlesBates, and Mr. Chitling, all intent upon a game of whist; the Artfultaking dummy against Master Bates and Mr. Chitling. Thecountenance of the first-named gentleman, peculiarly intelligent atall times, acquired great additional interest from his closeobservance of the game, and his attentive perusal of Mr. Chitling’shand; upon which, from time to time, as occasion served, he

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