“I shall not be at home again, perhaps for some time; I wish youwould write to me—say once a fortnight, every alternateCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 377Monday—to the General Post Office in London. Will you?”“Oh! certainly, sir; I shall be proud to do it,” exclaimed Oliver,greatly delighted with the commission.“I should like to know—how my mother and Miss Maylie are,”said the young man; “and you can fill up a sheet by telling mewhat walks you take, and what you talk about, and whether she—they, I mean—seem happy and quite well. You understand me?”“Oh! quite, sir, quite,” replied Oliver.“I would rather you did not mention it to them,” said Harry,hurrying over his words; “because it might make my motheranxious to write to me oftener, and it is a trouble and worry to her.Let it be a secret between you and me; and mind you tell meeverything! I depend upon you.”Oliver, quite elated and honoured by a sense of his importance,faithfully promised to be secret and explicit in hiscommunications. Mr. Maylie took leave of him, with manyassurances of his regard and protection.The doctor was in the chaise; Giles (who, it had been arranged,should be left behind) held the door open in his hand; and thewomen-servants were in the garden, looking on. Harry cast oneslight glance at the latticed window, and jumped into the carriage.“Drive on!” he cried, “hard, fast, full gallop! Nothing short offlying will keep pace with me, today.”“Hallo!” cried the doctor, letting down the front glass in a greathurry, and shouting to the postillion; “something very short offlying will keep pace with me. Do you hear?”Jingling and clattering, till distance rendered its noiseinaudible, and its progress only perceptible to the eye, the vehiclewound its way along the road, almost hidden in a cloud of dust,Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 378now wholly disappearing, and now becoming visible again, asintervening objects, or the intricacies of the way, permitted. It wasnot until even the dusty cloud was no longer to be seen, that thegazers dispersed.And there was one looker-on, who remained with eyes fixedupon the spot where the carriage had disappeared, long after itwas many miles away; for, behind the white curtain which hadshrouded her from view when Harry raised his eyes towards thewindow, sat Rose herself.“He seems in high spirits and happy,” she said, at length. “Ifeared for a time he might be otherwise. I was mistaken. I am very,very glad.”Tears are signs of gladness as well as grief; but those whichcoursed down Rose’s face, as she sat pensively at the window, stillgazing in the same direction, seemed to tell more of sorrow than ofjoy.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 379Chapter 37In Which The Reader May Perceive A Contrast, NotUncommon In Matrimonial Cases.Mr. Bumble sat in the workhouse parlour, with his eyesmoodily fixed on the cheerless grate, whence, as it wassummer time, no brighter gleam proceeded, than thereflection of certain sickly rays of the sun, which were sent backfrom its cold and shining surface. A paper fly-cage dangled fromthe ceiling, to which he occasionally raised his eyes in gloomythought; and, as the heedless insects hovered round the gaudynetwork, Mr. Bumble would heave a deep sigh, while a moregloomy shadow overspread his countenance. Mr. Bumble wasmeditating; it might be that the insects brought to mind somepainful passage in his own past life.Nor was Mr. Bumble’s gloom the only thing calculated toawaken a pleasing melancholy in the bosom of a spectator. Therewere not wanting other appearances, and those closely connectedwith his own person, which announced that a great change hadtaken place in the position of his affairs. The laced coat, and thecocked hat, where were they? He still wore knee-breeches, anddark cotton stockings on his nether limbs; but they were not thebreeches. The coat was wide-skirted; and in that respect like thecoat, but, oh, how different! The mighty cocked hat was replacedby a modest round one. Mr. Bumble was no longer a beadle.There are some promotions in life, which, independent of themore substantial rewards they offer, acquire peculiar value andCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 380dignity from the coats and waistcoats connected with them. Afield-marshal has his uniform; a bishop his silk apron; a counsellorhis silk gown; a beadle his cocked hat. Strip the bishop of hisapron, or the beadle of his hat and lace; what are they? Men. Meremen. Dignity, and even holiness too, sometimes, are morequestions of coat and waistcoat than some people imagine.Mr. Bumble had married Mrs. Corney, and was master of theworkhouse. Another beadle had come into power. On him thecocked hat, gold-laced coat, and staff, had all three descended.“And tomorrow two months it was done!” said Mr. Bumble,with a sigh. “It seems a age.”Mr. Bumble might have meant that he had concentrated awhole existence of happiness into the short space of eight weeks;but the sigh—there was a vast deal of meaning in the sigh.“I sold myself,” said Mr. Bumble, pursuing the same train ofreflection, “for six tea-spoons, a pair of sugar-tongs, and, a milk-pot; with a small quantity of second-hand furniture and twentypound in money. I went very reasonable. Cheap, dirt cheap!”“Cheap!” cried a shrill voice in Mr. Bumble’s ear, “you wouldhave been dear at any price; and dear enough I paid for you, Lordabove knows that!”Mr. Bumble turned, and encountered the face of his interestingconsort, who, imperfectly comprehending the few words she hadoverheard of his complaint, had hazarded the foregoing remark ata venture.“Mrs. Bumble, ma’am!” said Mr. Bumble, with sentimentalsternness.“Well?” cried the lady.“Have the goodness to look at me,” said Mr. Bumble, fixing hisCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 381eyes upon her. (“If she stands such a eye as that,” said Mr. Bumbleto himself, “she can stand anything. It is a eye I never knew to failwith paupers. If it fails with her, my power is gone.”) Whether anexceedingly small expansion of eye be sufficient to quell paupers,who, being lightly fed, are in no very high condition; or whetherthe late Mrs. Corney was particularly proof against eagle glances;are matters of opinion. The matter of fact is, that the matron wasin no way overpowered by Mr. Bumble’s scowl, but, on thecontrary, treated it with great disdain, and even raised a laughthereat, which sounded as though it were genuine.On hearing this most unexpected sound, Mr. Bumble looked,first incredulous, and afterwards amazed. He then relapsed intohis former state; nor did he rouse himself until his attention wasagain awakened by the voice of his partner.“Are you going to sit snoring there, all day?” inquired Mrs.Bumble.“I am going to sit here, as long as I think proper, ma’am,”rejoined Mr. Bumble; “and although I was not snoring, I shallsnore, gape, sneeze, laugh, or cry, as the humour strikes me; suchbeing my prerogative.“Your prerogative!” sneered Mrs. Bumble, with ineffablecontempt.“I said the word, ma’am,” said Mr. Bumble. “The prerogative ofa man is to command.”“And what’s the prerogative of a woman, in the name ofgoodness?” cried the relict of Mr. Corney deceased.“To obey, ma’am,” thundered Mr. Bumble. “Your lateunfortunate husband should have taught it you; and then,perhaps, he might have been alive now. I wish he was, poor man!”Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 382Mrs. Bumble, seeing at a glance, that the decisive moment hadnow arrived, and that a blow struck for the mastership on one sideor other, must necessarily be final and conclusive, no sooner heardthis allusion to the dead and gone, than she dropped into a chair,and with a loud scream that Mr. Bumble was a hard-heartedbrute, fell into a paroxysm of tears.But tears were not the things to find their way to Mr. Bumble’ssoul; his heart was waterproof. they were less troublesome than amanual assault; but she was quite prepared to make trial of thelatter mode of proceeding, as Mr. Bumble was not long indiscovering.The first proof he experienced of the fact, was conveyed in ahollow sound, immediately succeeded by the sudden flying off ofhis hat to the opposite end of the room. This preliminaryproceeding lay bare his head, the expert lady, clasping him tightlyround the throat with one hand, inflicted a shower of blows (dealtwith singular vigour and dexterity) upon it with the other. Thisdone, she created a little variety by scratching his face, and tearinghis hair; and, having by this time inflicted as much punishment asshe deemed necessary for the offence, she pushed him over achair, which was luckily well situated for the purpose, and defiedhim to talk about his prerogative again, if he dared.“Get up!” said Mrs. Bumble, in a voice of command. “And takeyourself away from here, unless you want me to do somethingdesperate.”Mr. Bumble rose with a very rueful countenance—wonderingmuch what something desperate might be. Picking up his hat, helooked towards the door.“Are you going?” demanded Mrs. Bumble.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 383“Certainly, my dear, certainly,” rejoined Mr. Bumble, making aquicker motion towards the door. “I didn’t intend to—I’m going,my dear! You are so very violent, that really I—”At this instant, Mrs. Bumble stepped hastily forward to replacethe carpet, which had been kicked up in the scuffle. Mr. Bumbleimmediately darted out of the room, without bestowing anotherthought on his unfinished sentence, leaving the late Mrs. Corneyin full possession of the field.Mr. Bumble was fairly taken by surprise, and fairly beaten. Hehad a decided propensity for bullying; derived no inconsiderablepleasure from the exercise of petty cruelty; and, consequently, was(it is needless to say) a coward. This is by no means adisparagement to his character; for many official personages, whoare held in high respect and admiration, are the victims of similarinfirmities. The remark is made, indeed, rather in his favour thanotherwise, and with a view of impressing the reader with a justsense of his qualifications for office.But the measure of his degradation was not yet full. Aftermaking a tour of the house, and thinking, for the first time, thatthe poor-laws really were too hard on people; and that men whoran away from their wives, leaving them chargeable to the parish,ought, in justice, to be visited with no punishment at all, but ratherrewarded as meritorious individuals who had suffered much, Mr.Bumble came to a room where some of the female paupers wereusually employed in washing the parish linen, whence the soundof voices in conversation, now proceeded.“Hem!” said Mr. Bumble, summoning up all his native dignity.“These women at least shall continue to respect the prerogative.Hollo! hollo, there! What do you mean by this noise, you hussies?”Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 384With these words, Mr. Bumble opened the door, and walked inwith a very fierce and angry manner; which was at onceexchanged for a most humiliated and cowering air, as his eyesunexpectedly rested on the form of his lady wife.“My dear,” said Mr. Bumble, “I didn’t know you were here.”“Didn’t know I was here!” repeated Mrs. Bumble. “What do youdo here?”“I thought they were talking rather too much to be doing theirwork properly, my dear,” replied Mr. Bumble, glancingdistractedly at a couple of old women at the wash-tub, who werecomparing notes of admiration at the workhouse-master’shumility.“You thought they were talking too much?” said Mrs. Bumble.“What business is it of yours?”“Why, my dear—” urged Mr. Bumble submissively.“What business is it of yours?” demanded Mrs. Bumble again.“It’s very true, you’re matron here, my dear,” submitted Mr.Bumble; “but I thought you mightn’t be in the way just then.”“I’ll tell you what, Mr. Bumble,” returned his lady. “We don’twant any of your interference. You’re a great deal too fond ofpoking your nose into things that don’t concern you, makingeverybody in the house laugh, the moment your back is turned,and making yourself look like a fool every hour in the day. Be off;come!”Mr. Bumble, seeing with excruciating feelings the delights ofthe two old paupers, who were tittering together most rapturously,hesitated for an instant. Mrs. Bumble, whose patience brooked nodelay, caught up a bowl of soap-suds, and motioning him towardsthe door, ordered him instantly to depart, on pain of receiving theCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 385contents upon his portly person.What could Mr. Bumble do? He looked dejectedly round, andslunk away; and, as he reached the door, the titterings of thepaupers broke into a shrill chuckle of irrepressible delight. Itwanted but this. He was degraded in their eyes; he had lost casteand station before the very paupers; he had fallen from all theheight and pomp of beadleship, to the lowest depth of the mostsnubbed henpeckery.“All in two months!” said Mr. Bumble, filled with dismalthoughts. “Two months! No more than two months ago, I was notonly my own master, but everybody else’s, so far as the porochialworkhouse was concerned, and now!”It was too much. Mr. Bumble boxed the ears of the boy whoopened the gate for him (for he had reached the portal in hisreverie); and walked, distractedly into the street.He walked up one street, and down another, until exercise hadabated the first passion of his grief; and then the revulsion offeeling made him thirsty. He passed a great many public-houses;but, at length paused before one in a byway, whose parlour, as hegathered from a hasty peep over the blinds, was deserted, save byone solitary customer. It began to rain, heavily, at the moment.This determined him. Mr. Bumble stepped in; and orderingsomething to drink, as he passed the bar, entered the apartmentinto which he had looked from the street.The man who was seated there, was tall and dark, and wore alarge cloak. He had the air of a stranger; and seemed, by a certainhaggardness in his look, as well as by the dusty soils on his dress,to have travelled some distance. He eyed Bumble askance, as heentered, but scarcely deigned to nod his head in acknowledgementCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 386of his salutation.Mr. Bumble had quite dignity enough for two, supposing eventhat the stranger had been more familiar; so he drank his gin-andwater in silence, and read the paper with great show of pomp andcircumstance.It so happened, however, as it will happen very often, whenmen fall into company under such circumstances, that Mr.Bumble felt, every now and then, a powerful inducement, whichhe could not resist, to steal a look at the stranger; and thatwhenever he did so, he withdrew his eyes, in some confusion, tofind that the stranger was at that moment stealing a look at him.Mr. Bumble’s awkwardness was enhanced by the very remarkableexpression of the stranger’s eye, which was keen and bright, butshadowed by a scowl of distrust and suspicion, unlike anything hehad ever observed before, and repulsive to behold.When they had encountered each other’s glance several timesin this way, the stranger, in a harsh, deep voice, broke silence.“Were you looking for me,” he said, “when you peered in at thewindow?”“Not that I am aware of, unless you’re Mr.—” Here Mr. Bumblestopped short; for he was curious to know the Like washablebeaver hats that improve with rain, his nerves were renderedstouter and more vigorous, by showers of tears, which, beingtokens of weakness, and so far tacit admissions of his own power,pleased and exalted him. He eyed his good lady with looks of greatsatisfaction, and begged, in an encouraging manner, that sheshould cry her hardest; the exercise being looked upon, by thefaculty, as strongly conducive to health.“It opens the lungs, washes the countenance, exercises theCharles Dickens ElecBook Classics