Oliver Twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-56

her heart, as she had done before—and then ran on, wildly, in thesame words, over and over again, as if he had gone distracted. Ibelieve he had.”“The will,” said Mr. Brownlow, as Oliver’s tears fell fast.”Monks was silent.“The will,” said Mr. Brownlow, speaking for him, “was in thesame spirit as the letter. He talked of miseries which his wife hadbrought upon him; of the rebellious disposition, vice, malice, andpremature bad passions of you his only son, who had been trainedto hate him; and left you, and your mother, each an annuity ofeight hundred pounds. The bulk of his property he divided intoCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 556two equal portions—one for Agnes Fleming, and the other fortheir child, if it should be born alive, and ever come of age. If itwere a girl, it was to inherit the money unconditionally; but if aboy, only on the stipulation that in his minority he should neverhave stained his name with any public act of dishonour, meanness,cowardice, or wrong. He did this, he said, to mark his confidencein the mother, and his conviction—only strengthened byapproaching death—that the child would share her gentle heart,and noble nature. If he were disappointed in this expectation, thenthe money was to come to you; for then, and not till then, whenboth children were equal, would he recognise your prior claimupon his purse, who had none upon his heart, but had from aninfant, repulsed him with coldness and aversion.”“My mother,” said Monks, in a louder tone, “did what a womanshould have done. She burned this will. The letter never reachedits destination; but that, and other proofs, she kept, in case theyever tried to lie away the blot. The girl’s father had the truth fromher with every aggravation that her violent hate—I love her for itnow—could add. Goaded by shame and dishonour he fled with hischildren into a remote corner of Wales, changing his very namethat his friends might never know of his retreat; and here, no greatwhile afterwards, he was found dead in his bed. The girl had lefther home, in secret, some weeks before; he had searched for her,on foot, in every town and village near; it was on the night whenhe returned home, assured that she had destroyed herself? to hideher shame and his, that his old heart broke.”There was a short silence here, until Mr. Brownlow took up thethread of the narrative.“Years after this,” he said, “this man’s—Edward Leeford’s—Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 557mother came to me. He had left her, when only eighteen; robbedher of jewels and money; gambled, squandered, forged, and fled toLondon, where for two years he had associated with the lowestoutcasts. She was sinking under a painful and incurable disease,and wished to recover him before she died. Inquiries were set onfoot, and strict searches made. They were unavailing for a longtime, but ultimately successful; and he went back with her toFrance.”“There she died,” said Monks, “after a lingering illness; and, onher deathbed, she bequeathed these secrets to me, together withher unquenchable and deadly hatred of all whom they involved—though she need not have left me that, for I had inherited it longbefore. She would not believe that the girl had destroyed herself,and the child too, but was filled with the impression that a malechild had been born, and was alive. I swore to her, if ever itcrossed my path, to hunt it down; never to let it rest; to pursue itwith the bitterest and most unrelenting animosity; to vent upon itthe hatred that I deeply felt, and to spit upon the empty vaunt ofthat insulting will by dragging it, if I could, to the very gallows-foot. She was right. He came in my way at last. I began well; and,but for babbling drabs, I would have finished as I began!”As the villain folded his arms tight together, and mutteredcurses on himself in the impotence of baffled malice, Mr.Brownlow turned to the terrified group beside him, and explainedthat the Jew, who had been his old accomplice and confidant, hada large reward for keeping Oliver ensnared, of which some partwas to be given up, in the event of his being rescued, and that adispute on this head had led to their visit to the country houses forthe purpose of identifying hum.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 558“The locket and ring?” said Mr. Brownlow, turning to Monks.“I bought them from the man and woman I told you of, whostole them from the nurse, who stole them from the corpse,”answered Monks, without raising his eyes. “You know whatbecame of them.”Mr. Brownlow merely nodded to Mr. Grimwig, whodisappearing with great alacrity, shortly returned, pushing in Mrs.Bumble, and dragging her unwilling consort after him.“Do my hi’s deceive me!” cried Mr. Bumble, with ill-feignedenthusiasm, “or is that little Oliver? Oh, O-li-ver, if you know’dhow I’ve been a-grieving for you—”“Hold your tongue, fool,” murmured Mrs. Bumble.“Isn’t natur’, natur’, Mrs. Bumble?” remonstrated theworkhouse master. “Can’t I be supposed to feel—I as brought himup porochially—when I see him a-setting here among ladies andgentlemen of the very affablest description! I always loved thatboy as if he’d been my—my—my own grandfather,” said Mr.Bumble, halting for an appropriate comparison. “Master Oliver,my dear, you remember the blessed gentleman in the whitewaistcoat? Ah! he went to heaven last week, in a oak coffin withplated handles, Oliver.”“Come, sir,” said Mr. Grimwig tartly; “suppress your feelings.“I will do my endeavours, sir,” replied Mr. Bumble. “How doyou do, sir? I hope you are very well” This salutation wasaddressed to Mr. Brownlow, who had stepped up to within a shortdistance of the respectable couple. He inquired, as he pointed toMonks:“Do you know that person?”“No,” replied Mrs. Bumble flatly.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 559“Perhaps you don’t?” said Mr. Brownlow, addressing herspouse.“I never saw him in all my life,” said Mr. Bumble.“Nor sold him anything, perhaps?”“No,” replied Mr. Bumble.“You never had, perhaps, a certain gold locket and ring?” saidMr. Brownlow.“Certainly not,” replied the matron. “Why are we brought hereto answer to such nonsense as this?”Again Mr. Brownlow nodded to Mr. Grimwig; and again thatgentleman limped away with extraordinary readiness. But notagain did he return with a stout man and wife; for this time, he ledin two palsied women, who shook and tottered as they walked.“You shut the door the night old Sally died,” said the foremostone, raising her shrivelled hand, “but you couldn’t shut out thesound, nor stop the chinks.”“No, no,” said the other, looking round her and wagging hertoothless jaw. “No, no, no.”“We heard her try to tell you what she’d done, and saw you takea paper from her hand, and watched you too, next day, to thepawnbroker’s shop,” said the first.“Yes,” added the second, “and it was a ‘locket and gold ring.’We found out that, and saw it given you. We were by. Oh! we wereby.”“And we knew more than that,” resumed the first, “for she toldus often, long ago, that the young mother had told her that, feelingshe should never get over it, she was on her way, at the time thatshe was taken ill, to die near the grave of the father of the child.”“Would you like to see the pawnbroker himself?” asked Mr.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 560Grimwig, with a motion towards the door.“No,” replied the woman; “if he”—she pointed to Monks—“hasbeen coward enough to confess, as I see he has, and you havesounded all these hags till you have found the right ones, I havenothing more to say. I did sell them, and they’re where you’llnever get them. What then?”“Nothing,” replied Mr. Brownlow, “except that it remains for usto take care that neither of you is employed in a situation of trustagain. You may leave the room.”“I hope,” said Mr. Bumble, looking about him with greatruefulness, as Mr. Grimwig disappeared with the two old woman—”I hope that this unfortunate little circumstance will not depriveme of my porochial office?”“Indeed it will,” replied Mr. Brownlow. “You may make up yourmind to that, and think yourself well off besides.”“It was all Mrs. Bumble.—She would do it,” urged Mr. Bumble,first looking round to ascertain that his partner had left the room.“That is no excuse,” replied Mr. Brownlow. “You were presenton the occasion of the destruction of these trinkets, and indeed arethe more guilty of the two, in the eye of the law; for the lawsupposes that your wife acts under your direction.”“If the law supposes that,” said Mr. Bumble, squeezing his hatemphatically in both hands, “the law is a ass—a idiot. If that’s theeye of the law, the law is a bachelor; and the worst I wish the lawis, that his eye may be opened by experience—by experience.”Laying great stress on the repetition of these two words, Mr.Bumble fixed his hat on very tight, and putting his hands in hispockets, followed his helpmate downstairs.“Young lady,” said Mr. Brownlow, turning to Rose, “give meCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 561your hand. Do not tremble. You need not fear to hear the fewremaining words I have to say.”“If they have—I do not know how they can, but if they have anyreference to me,” said Rose, “pray let me hear them at some othertime. I have not strength or spirits now.”“Nay,” returned the old gentleman, drawing her arm throughhis; “you have more fortitude than this, I am sure. Do you knowthis young lady, sir?”“Yes,” replied Monks.“I never saw you before,” said Rose faintly.“I have seen you often,” returned Monks.“The father of the unhappy Agnes had two daughters,” said Mr.Brownlow. “What was the fate of the other—the child?”“The child,” replied Monks, “when her father died in a strangeplace, in a strange name, without a letter, book, or scrap of paperthat yielded the faintest clue by which his friends or relativescould be traced—the child was taken by some wretched cottagers,who reared it as their own.”“Go on,” said Mr. Brownlow, sighing to Mrs. Maylie toapproach. “Go on!”“You couldn’t find the spot to which these people hadrepaired,” said Monks, “but where friendship fails, hatred willoften force a way. My mother found it, after a year of cunningsearch—ay, and found the child.”“She took it, did she?”“No. The people were poor and began to sicken—at least theman did—of their fine humanity; so she left it with them, givingthem a small present of money which would not last long, andpromising more, which she never meant to send. She didn’t quiteCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 562rely, however, on their discontent and poverty for the child’sunhappiness, but told the history of her sister’s shame, with suchalterations as suited her; bade them take good heed of the child,for she came of bad blood; and told them she was illegitimate, andsure to go wrong at one time or other. The circumstancescountenanced all this; the people believed it; and there the childdragged on an existence, miserable enough even to satisfy us, untila widow lady, residing, then, at Chester, saw the girl by chance,pitied her, and took her home. There was some cursed spell, Ithink, against us; for in spite of all our efforts she remained thereand was happy. I lost sight of her, two or three years ago, and sawher no more until a few months back.”“Do you see her now?”“Yes. Leaning on your arm.”“But not the less my niece,” cried Mrs. Maylie, folding thefainting girl in her arms; “not the less my dearest child. I wouldnot lose her now, for all the treasures of the world. My sweetcompanion, my own dear girl!”“The only friend I ever had,” cried Rose, clinging to her. “Thekindest, best of friends. My heart will burst, I cannot bear all this.”“You have borne more, and have been through all, the best andgentlest creature that ever shed happiness on every one sheknew,” said Mrs. Maylie, embracing her tenderly. “Come, come,my love, remember who this is who waits to clasp you in his arms,poor child! See here—look, look, my dear!”“Not aunt,” cried Oliver, throwing his arms about her neck; “I’llnever call her aunt—sister, my own dear sister, that somethingtaught my heart to love so dearly from the first! Rose, dear, darlingRose!”Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 563Let the tears which fell, and the broken words which wereexchanged in the long, close embrace between the orphans, besacred. A father, sister, and mother, were gained, and lost, in thatone moment. Joy and grief were mingled in the cup; but therewere no bitter tears; for even grief itself arose so softened, andclothed in such sweet and tender recollections, that it became asolemn pleasure, and lost all character of pain.They were a long, long time alone. A soft tap at the door, atlength announced that some one was without. Oliver opened it,glided away, and gave place to Harry Maylie.“I know it all,” he said, taking a seat beside the lovely girl.“Dear Rose, I know it all.”“I am not here by accident,” he added, after a lengthenedsilence; “nor have I heard all this tonight, but I knew ityesterday—only yesterday. Do you guess that I have come toremind you of a promise?”“Stay,” said Rose. “You do know all.”“All. You gave me leave, at any time within a year, to renew thesubject of our last discourse.”“I did.”“Not to press you to alter your determination,” pursued theyoung man, “but to hear you repeat it, if you would. I was to laywhatever of station or fortune I might possess at your feet, and ifyou still adhered to your former determination, I pledged myself,by no word or act, to seek to change it.”“The same reasons which influenced me then, will influence menow,” said Rose firmly. “If I ever owed a strict and rigid duty toher, whose goodness saved me from a life of indigence andsuffering, when should I ever feel it, as I should tonight? It is aCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 564struggle,” said Rose, “but one I am proud to make; it is a pang, butone my heart shall bear.”“The disclosure of tonight—” Harry began.“The disclosure of tonight,” replied Rose softly, “leaves me inthe same position, with reference to you, as that in which I stoodbefore.”“You harden your heart against me, Rose,” urged her lover.“Oh, Harry, Harry,” said the young lady, bursting into tears; “Iwish I could, and spare myself this pain.”“Then why inflict it on yourself?” said Harry, taking her hand.“Think, dear Rose, think what you have heard tonight.”“And what have I heard? What have I heard?” cried Rose.“That a sense of his deep disgrace so worked upon my own fatherthat he shunned all There, we have said enough, Harry, we havesaid enough.”“Not yet, not yet,” said the young man, detaining her as sherose. “My hopes, my wishes, prospects, feeling—every thought inlife except my love for you—have undergone a change. I offer you,now, no distinction among a bustling crowd; no mingling with aworld of malice and detraction where the blood is called intohonest cheeks by aught but real disgrace and shame; but a home—a heart and home—yes, dearest Rose, and those, and those alone,are all I have to offer.”“What do you mean?” she faltered.“I mean but this—that when I left you last, I left you, with afirm determination to level all fancied barriers between yourselfand me; resolved that if my world could not be yours, I wouldmake yours mine; that no pride of birth should curl the lip at you,for I would turn from it. This I have done. Those who have shrunk