Oliver Twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-18

attention and respect, into the house.“Mrs. Mann,” said Mr. Bumble, not sitting upon, or droppinghimself into a seat, as any common jackanapes would, but lettinghimself gradually and slowly down into a chair; “Mrs. Mann,ma’am, good-morning.”“Well, and good-morning to you, sir,” replied Mrs. Mann withmany smiles; “and hoping you find yourself well, sir!”“So—so, Mrs. Mann,” replied the beadle. “A porochial life is nota bed of roses, Mrs. Mann.”“Ah, that it isn’t indeed, Mr. Bumble,” rejoined the lady. And allthe infant paupers might have chorused the rejoinder with greatpropriety, if they had heard it.“A porochial life, ma’am,” continued Mr. Bumble, striking thetable with his cane, “is a life of worrit, and vexation, andhardihood; but all public characters, as I may say, must sufferprosecution.”Mrs. Mann, not very well knowing what the beadle meant,raised her hands with a look of sympathy, and sighed.“You may well sigh, Mrs. Mann!” said the beadle.Finding she had done right, Mrs. Mann sighed again, evidentlyto the satisfaction of the public character; who, repressing acomplacent smile by looking sternly at his cocked hat said:Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 175“Mrs. Mann, I am a-going to London.”“Lauk, Mr. Bumble!” cried Mrs. Mann, starting back.“To London, ma’am,” resumed the inflexible beadle, “by coach.I and two paupers, Mrs. Mann! A legal action is a-coming on,about a settlement; and the Board has appointed me—me, Mrs.Mann—to dispose to the matter before the quarter-sessions atClerkinwell. And I very much question,” added Mr. Bumble,drawing himself up, “whether the Clerkenwell Sessions will notfind themselves in the wrong box before they have done with me.”“Oh! you mustn’t be too hard upon them, sir,” said Mrs. Manncoaxingly.“The Clerkinwell Sessions have brought it upon themselves,ma’am,” replied Mr. Bumble; “and if the Clerkinwell Sessions findthat they come off rather worse than they expected, theClerkenwell Sessions have only themselves to thank.”There was so much determination and depth of purpose aboutthe menacing manner in which Mr. Bumble delivered himself ofthese words, that Mrs. Mann appeared quite awed by them. Atlength she said:“You’re going by coach, sir? I thought it was always usual tosend them paupers in carts.”“That’s when they’re ill, Mrs. Mann,” said the beadle.· “We put the sick paupers into open carts in the rainy weather,to prevent their taking cold.”“Oh!” said Mrs. Mann.“The opposition coach contracts for these two; and takes themcheap,” said Mr. Bumble. “They are both in a very low state, andwe find it would come two pound cheaper to move ’em than tobury ’em—that is, if we can throw ’em upon another parish, whichCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 176I think we shall be able to do, if they don’t die upon the road tospite us. Ha! ha! ha!”When Mr. Bumble had laughed a little while, his eyes againencountered the cocked hat; and he became grave.“We are forgetting business, ma’am,” said the beadle; “here isyour porochial stipend for the month.”Mr. Bumble produced some silver money rolled up in paper,from his pocket-book; and requested a receipt; which Mrs. Mannwrote.“It’s very much blotted, sir,” said the farmer of infants; “but it’sformal enough, I dare say. Thank you, Mr. Bumble, sir, I am verymuch obliged to you, I’m sure.”Mr. Bumble nodded, blandly, in acknowledgement of Mrs.Mann’s curtsey; and inquired how the children were.“Bless their dear little hearts!” said Mrs. Mann, with emotion,“they’re as well as can be, the dears! Of course, except the two thatdied last week. And little Dick.”“Isn’t that boy no better?” inquired Mr. Bumble.Mrs. Mann shook her head.“He’s a ill-conditioned, wicious, bad-disposed porochial childthat,” said Mr. Bumble angrily. “Where is he?”“I’ll bring him to you in one minute, sir,” replied Mrs. Mann.“Here, you Dick!”After some calling, Dick was discovered. Having had his faceput under the pump, and dried upon Mrs. Mann’s gown, he wasled into the awful presence of Mr. Bumble, the beadle.The child was pale and thin; his cheeks were sunken; and hiseyes large and bright. The scanty parish dress, the livery of hismisery, hung loosely on his feeble body; and his young limbs hadCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 177wasted away, like those of an old man.Such was the little being who stood trembling beneath Mr.Bumble’s glance; not daring to lift his eyes from the floor; anddreading even to hear the beadle’s voice.“Can’t you look at the gentleman, you obstinate boy?” said Mrs.Mann.The child meekly raised his eyes, and encountered those of Mr.Bumble.“What’s the matter with you, porochial Dick?” inquired Mr.Bumble, with well-timed jocularity.“Nothing, sir,” replied the child faintly.“I should think not,” said Mrs. Mann, who had, of course,laughed very much at Mr. Bumble’s humour. “You want fornothing, I’m sure.”“I should like—” faltered the child.“Heyday!” interposed Mrs. Mann, “I suppose you’re going tosay that you do want for something, now? Why, you little wretch—”“Stop, Mrs. Mann, stop!” said the beadle, raising his hand witha show of authority. “Like what, sir, eh?”“I should like,” faltered the child, “if somebody that can write,would put a few words down for me on a piece of paper, and fold itup and seal it, and keep it for me, after I am laid in the ground.”“Why, what does the boy mean?” exclaimed Mr. Bumble, onwhom the earnest manner and wan aspect of the child had madesome impression, accustomed as he was to such things. “What doyou mean, sir?”“I should like,” said the child, “to leave my dear love to poorOliver Twist; and to let him know how often I have sat by myselfCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 178and cried to think of his wandering about in the dark nights withnobody to help him. And I should like to tell him,” said the child,pressing his small hands together, and speaking with greatfervour, “that I was glad to die when I was very young; for,perhaps, if I had lived to be a man, and had grown old, my littlesister, who is in heaven, might forget me, or be unlike me; and itwould be so much happier if we were both children theretogether.”Mr. Bumble surveyed the little speaker from head to foot, withindescribable astonishment; and, turning to his companion, said,“They’re all in one story, Mrs. Mann. That outdacious Oliver hasdemogalised them all!”“I couldn’t have believed it, sir!” said Mrs. Mann, holding upher hands, and looking malignantly at Dick. “I never see such ahardened little wretch!”“Take him away, ma’am!” said Mr. Bumble imperiously. “Thismust be stated to the Board, Mrs. Mann.”“I hope the gentlemen will understand that it isn’t my fault,sir?” said Mrs. Mann, whimpering pathetically.“They shall understand that, ma’am; they shall be acquaintedwith the true state of the case,” said Mr. Bumble. “There; take himaway, I can’t bear the sight on him.”Dick was immediately taken away, and locked up in the coal-cellar. Mr. Bumble shortly afterwards took himself off, to preparefor his journey.At six o’clock next morning, Mr. Bumble, having exchanged hiscocked hat for a round one, and encased his person in a bluegreatcoat with a cape to it, took his place on the outside of thecoach, accompanied by the criminals whose settlement wasCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 179disputed; with whom, in due course of time, he arrived in London.He experienced no other crosses on the way, than those whichoriginated in the perverse behaviour of the two paupers, whopersisted in shivering, and complaining of the cold, in a mannerwhich, Mr. Bumble declared, caused his teeth to chatter in hishead, and made him feel quite uncomfortable; although he had agreatcoat on.Having disposed of these evil-minded persons for the night, Mr.Bumble sat himself down in the house at which the coach stopped,and took a temperate dinner of steaks, oyster sauce, and porter.Putting a glass of hot gin-and-water on the chimney-piece, hedrew his chair to the fire; and, with sundry moral reflections onthe too prevalent sin of discontent and complaining, composedhimself to read the paper.The very first paragraph upon which Mr. Bumble’s eye rested,was the following advertisement.“FIVE GUINEAS REWARD”“Whereas a young boy, named Oliver Twist, absconded, or wasenticed, on Thursday evening last, from his home, at Pentonville;and has not since been heard of. The above reward will be paid toany person who will give such information as will lead to thediscovery of the said Oliver Twist, or tend to throw any light uponhis previous history, in which the advertiser is, for many reasons,warmly interested.”And then followed a full description of Oliver’s dress, person,appearance, and disappearance, with the name and address of Mr.Brownlow at full length.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 180Mr. Bumble opened his eyes; read the advertisement, slowlyand carefully, three several times; and in something more thanfive minutes was on his way to Pentonville; having actually, in hisexcitement, left the glass of hot gin-and-water untasted.“Is Mr. Brownlow at home?” inquired Mr. Bumble of the girlwho opened the door.To this inquiry the girl returned the not uncommon, but ratherevasive reply of “I don’t know; where do you come from?”Mr. Bumble no sooner uttered Oliver’s name, in explanation ofhis errand, than Mrs. Bedwin, who had been listening at theparlour door, hastened into the passage in a breathless state.“Come in—come in,” said the old lady. “I knew we should hearof him. Poor dear! I knew we should! I was certain of it. Bless hisheart! I said so, all along.”Having said this, the worthy old lady hurried back into theparlour again; and seating herself on a sofa, burst into tears. Thegirl, who was not quite so susceptible, had run upstairsmeanwhile; and now returned with a request that Mr. Bumblewould follow her immediately; which he did.He was shown into the little back study, where sat Mr.Brownlow and his friend Mr. Grimwig, with decanters and glassesbefore them. The latter gentleman at once burst into theexclamation:“A beadle! A parish beadle, or I’ll eat my head.”“Pray don’t interrupt just now,” said Mr. Brownlow. “Take aseat, will you?”Mr. Bumble sat himself down, quite confounded by the oddityof Mr. Grimwig’s manner. Mr. Brownlow moved the lamp, so as toobtain an uninterrupted view of the beadle’s countenance; andCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 181said, with a little impatience:“Now, sir, you come in consequence of having seen theadvertisement?”“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Bumble.“And you are a beadle, are you not?” inquired Mr. Grimwig.“I am a porochial beadle, gentlemen,” rejoined Mr. Bumbleproudly.“Of course,” observed Mr Grimwig, aside to his friend; “I knewhe was. A beadle all over!”Mr Brownlow gently shook his head to impose silence on hisfriend, and resumed:“Do you know where this poor boy is now?”“No more than nobody,” replied Mr. Bumble.“Well, what do you know of him?” inquired the old gentleman.“Speak out, my friend, if you have anything to say. What do youknow of him?”“You don’t happen to know any good of him, do you?” said Mr.Grimwig caustically, after an attentive perusal of Mr. Bumble’sfeatures.Mr. Bumble, catching at the inquiry very quickly, shook hishead with portentous solemnity.You see?” said Mr. Grimwig, looking triumphantly at Mr.Brownlow.Mr. Brownlow looked apprehensively at Mr. Bumble’s pursed-up countenance; and requested him to communicate what heknew regarding Oliver, in as few words as possible.Mr. Bumble put down his hat; unbuttoned his coat; folded hisarms; inclined his head in a retrospective manner; and, after a fewmoments’ reflection, commenced his story.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 182It would be tedious if given in the beadle’s words, occupying asit did, some twenty minutes in the telling; but the sum andsubstance of it was, That Oliver was a foundling, born of low andvicious parents. That he had, from his birth, displayed no betterqualities than treachery, ingratitude, and malice. That he hadterminated his brief career in the place of his birth, by making asanguinary and cowardly attack on an unoffending lad, andrunning away in the night-time from his master’s house. In proofof his really being the person he represented himself, Mr. Bumblelaid upon the table the papers he had brought to town; and foldinghis arms again, awaited Mr. Brownlow’s observations.“I fear it is all too true,” said the old gentleman sorrowfully,after looking over the papers. “This is not much for yourintelligence; but I would gladly have given you treble the money, ifit had been favourable to the boy.”It is not improbable that if Mr. Bumble had been possessed ofthis information at an earlier period of the interview, he mighthave imparted a very different colouring to his little history. It wastoo late to do it now, however; so he shook his head gravely, and,pocketing the five guineas, withdrew.Mr. Brownlow paced the room to and fro for some minutes;evidently so much disturbed by the beadle’s tale, that even Mr.Grimwig forbore to vex him further.At length he stopped, and rang the bell violently.“Mrs. Bedwin,” said Mr. Brownlow, when the housekeeperappeared; “that boy, Oliver, is an impostor.”“It can’t be, sir. It cannot be,” said the old lady energetically.“I tell you he is,” retorted the old gentleman. “What do youmean by can’t be? We have just heard a full account of him fromCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 183his birth; and he has been a thorough-paced little villain, all hislife.”“I never will believe it, sir,” replied the old lady firmly. “Never!”“You old women never believe anything but quack-doctors, andlying story-books,” growled Mr. Grimwig. “I knew it all along. Whydidn’t you take my advice in the beginning; you would, if he hadn’thad a fever, I suppose, eh? He was interesting, wasn’t he?