English
Thecoachrattledaway,overnearlythesamegroundasthatwhichOliverhadtraversedwhenhefirstenteredLondonincompanywiththeDodger;and,turningadifferentwaywhenitreachedtheAngelatIslington,stoppedatlengthbeforeaneathouse,inaquietshadystreetnearPentonville.
Here,abedwasprepared,withoutlossoftime,inwhichMr.Brownlowsawhisyoungchargecarefullyandcomfortablydeposited;andhere,hewastendedwithakindnessandsolicitudethatknewnobounds.
But,formanydays,Oliverremainedinsensibletoallthegoodnessofhisnewfriends.
Thesunroseandsank,androseandsankagain,andmanytimesafterthat;andstilltheboylaystretchedonhisuneasybed,dwindlingawaybeneaththedryandwastingheatoffever.
Thewormdoesnotworkmoresurelyonthedeadbody,thandoesthisslowcreepingfireuponthelivingframe.
Weak,andthin,andpallid,heawokeatlastfromwhatseemedtohavebeenalongandtroubleddream.
Feeblyraisinghimselfinthebed,withhisheadrestingonhistremblingarm,helookedanxiouslyaround.
‘Whatroomisthis?WherehaveIbeenbroughtto?’saidOliver.‘ThisisnottheplaceIwenttosleepin.’
Heutteredthesewordsinafeeblevoice,beingveryfaintandweak;buttheywereoverheardatonce.
Thecurtainatthebed’sheadwashastilydrawnback,andamotherlyoldlady,veryneatlyandpreciselydressed,roseassheundrewit,fromanarm-chaircloseby,inwhichshehadbeensittingatneedle-work.
‘Hush,mydear,’saidtheoldladysoftly.
‘Youmustbeveryquiet,oryouwillbeillagain;andyouhavebeenverybad,—asbadasbadcouldbe,prettynigh.Liedownagain;there’sadear!’
Withthosewords,theoldladyverygentlyplacedOliver’sheaduponthepillow;and,smoothingbackhishairfromhisforehead,lookedsokindlyandlovinginhisface,thathecouldnothelpplacinghislittlewitheredhandinhers,anddrawingitroundhisneck.
‘Saveus!’saidtheoldlady,withtearsinhereyes.‘Whatagratefullittledearitis.Prettycreetur!WhatwouldhismotherfeelifshehadsatbyhimasIhave,andcouldseehimnow!’
‘Perhapsshedoesseeme,’whisperedOliver,foldinghishandstogether;‘perhapsshehassatbyme.Ialmostfeelasifshehad.’
‘Thatwasthefever,mydear,’saidtheoldladymildly.
‘Isupposeitwas,’repliedOliver,‘becauseheavenisalongwayoff;andtheyaretoohappythere,tocomedowntothebedsideofapoorboy.
ButifsheknewIwasill,shemusthavepitiedme,eventhere;forshewasveryillherselfbeforeshedied.
Shecan’tknowanythingaboutmethough,’addedOliverafteramoment’ssilence.
‘Ifshehadseenmehurt,itwouldhavemadehersorrowful;andherfacehasalwayslookedsweetandhappy,whenIhavedreamedofher.’
Theoldladymadenoreplytothis;butwipinghereyesfirst,andherspectacles,whichlayonthecounterpane,afterwards,asiftheywerepartandparcelofthosefeatures,broughtsomecoolstuffforOlivertodrink;andthen,pattinghimonthecheek,toldhimhemustlieveryquiet,orhewouldbeillagain.
So,Oliverkeptverystill;partlybecausehewasanxioustoobeythekindoldladyinallthings;andpartly,totellthetruth,becausehewascompletelyexhaustedwithwhathehadalreadysaid.
Hesoonfellintoagentledoze,fromwhichhewasawakenedbythelightofacandle:which,beingbroughtnearthebed,showedhimagentlemanwithaverylargeandloud-tickinggoldwatchinhishand,whofelthispulse,andsaidhewasagreatdealbetter.
‘Youareagreatdealbetter,areyounot,mydear?’saidthegentleman.
‘Yes,thankyou,sir,’repliedOliver.
‘Yes,Iknowyouare,’saidthegentleman:‘You’rehungrytoo,an’tyou?’
‘No,sir,’answeredOliver.
‘Hem!’saidthegentleman.‘No,Iknowyou’renot.Heisnothungry,Mrs.Bedwin,’saidthegentleman:lookingverywise.
Theoldladymadearespectfulinclinationofthehead,whichseemedtosaythatshethoughtthedoctorwasaverycleverman.Thedoctorappearedmuchofthesameopinionhimself.
‘Youfeelsleepy,don’tyou,mydear?’saidthedoctor.
‘No,sir,’repliedOliver.
‘No,’saidthedoctor,withaveryshrewdandsatisfiedlook.‘You’renotsleepy.Northirsty.Areyou?’
‘Yes,sir,ratherthirsty,’answeredOliver.
‘JustasIexpected,Mrs.Bedwin,’saidthedoctor.
‘It’sverynaturalthatheshouldbethirsty.
Youmaygivehimalittletea,ma’am,andsomedrytoastwithoutanybutter.
Don’tkeephimtoowarm,ma’am;butbecarefulthatyoudon’tlethimbetoocold;willyouhavethegoodness?’
Theoldladydroppedacurtsey.Thedoctor,aftertastingthecoolstuff,andexpressingaqualifiedapprovalofit,hurriedaway:hisbootscreakinginaveryimportantandwealthymannerashewentdownstairs.
Oliverdozedoffagain,soonafterthis;whenheawoke,itwasnearlytwelveo’clock.
Theoldladytenderlybadehimgood-nightshortlyafterwards,andlefthiminchargeofafatoldwomanwhohadjustcome:bringingwithher,inalittlebundle,asmallPrayerBookandalargenightcap.
Puttingthelatteronherheadandtheformeronthetable,theoldwoman,aftertellingOliverthatshehadcometositupwithhim,drewherchairclosetothefireandwentoffintoaseriesofshortnaps,chequeredatfrequentintervalswithsundrytumblingsforward,anddiversmoansandchokings.
These,however,hadnoworseeffectthancausinghertorubhernoseveryhard,andthenfallasleepagain.
Andthusthenightcreptslowlyon.Oliverlayawakeforsometime,countingthelittlecirclesoflightwhichthereflectionoftherushlight-shadethrewupontheceiling;ortracingwithhislanguideyestheintricatepatternofthepaperonthewall.
Thedarknessandthedeepstillnessoftheroomwereverysolemn;astheybroughtintotheboy’smindthethoughtthatdeathhadbeenhoveringthere,formanydaysandnights,andmightyetfillitwiththegloomanddreadofhisawfulpresence,heturnedhisfaceuponthepillow,andferventlyprayedtoHeaven.
Gradually,hefellintothatdeeptranquilsleepwhicheasefromrecentsufferingaloneimparts;thatcalmandpeacefulrestwhichitispaintowakefrom.
Who,ifthisweredeath,wouldberousedagaintoallthestrugglesandturmoilsoflife;toallitscaresforthepresent;itsanxietiesforthefuture;morethanall,itswearyrecollectionsofthepast!
Ithadbeenbrightday,forhours,whenOliveropenedhiseyes;hefeltcheerfulandhappy.Thecrisisofthediseasewassafelypast.Hebelongedtotheworldagain.
Inthreedays’timehewasabletositinaneasy-chair,wellproppedupwithpillows;and,ashewasstilltooweaktowalk,Mrs.Bedwinhadhimcarrieddownstairsintothelittlehousekeeper’sroom,whichbelongedtoher.
Havinghimset,here,bythefire-side,thegoodoldladysatherselfdowntoo;and,beinginastateofconsiderabledelightatseeinghimsomuchbetter,forthwithbegantocrymostviolently.
‘Nevermindme,mydear,’saidtheoldlady;‘I’monlyhavingaregulargoodcry.There;it’sallovernow;andI’mquitecomfortable.’
‘You’revery,verykindtome,ma’am,’saidOliver.
‘Well,neveryoumindthat,mydear,’saidtheoldlady;‘that’sgotnothingtodowithyourbroth;andit’sfulltimeyouhadit;forthedoctorsaysMr.Brownlowmaycomeintoseeyouthismorning;andwemustgetupourbestlooks,becausethebetterwelook,themorehe’llbepleased.’
Andwiththis,theoldladyappliedherselftowarmingup,inalittlesaucepan,abasinfullofbroth:strongenough,Oliverthought,tofurnishanampledinner,whenreducedtotheregulationstrength,forthreehundredandfiftypaupers,atthelowestcomputation.
‘Areyoufondofpictures,dear?’inquiredtheoldlady,seeingthatOliverhadfixedhiseyes,mostintently,onaportraitwhichhungagainstthewall;justoppositehischair.
‘Idon’tquiteknow,ma’am,’saidOliver,withouttakinghiseyesfromthecanvas;‘IhaveseensofewthatIhardlyknow.Whatabeautiful,mildfacethatlady’sis!’
‘Ah!’saidtheoldlady,‘paintersalwaysmakeladiesoutprettierthantheyare,ortheywouldn’tgetanycustom,child.
Themanthatinventedthemachinefortakinglikenessesmighthaveknownthatwouldneversucceed;it’sadealtoohonest.
Adeal,’saidtheoldlady,laughingveryheartilyatherownacuteness.
‘Is—isthatalikeness,ma’am?’saidOliver.
‘Yes,’saidtheoldlady,lookingupforamomentfromthebroth;‘that’saportrait.’
‘Whose,ma’am?’askedOliver.
‘Why,really,mydear,Idon’tknow,’answeredtheoldladyinagood-humouredmanner.‘It’snotalikenessofanybodythatyouorIknow,Iexpect.Itseemstostrikeyourfancy,dear.’
‘Itissopretty,’repliedOliver.
‘Why,sureyou’renotafraidofit?’saidtheoldlady:observingingreatsurprise,thelookofawewithwhichthechildregardedthepainting.
‘Ohno,no,’returnedOliverquickly;‘buttheeyeslooksosorrowful;andwhereIsit,theyseemfixeduponme.
Itmakesmyheartbeat,’addedOliverinalowvoice,‘asifitwasalive,andwantedtospeaktome,butcouldn’t.’
‘Lordsaveus!’exclaimedtheoldlady,starting;‘don’ttalkinthatway,child.
You’reweakandnervousafteryourillness.
Letmewheelyourchairroundtotheotherside;andthenyouwon’tseeit.There!’
saidtheoldlady,suitingtheactiontotheword;‘youdon’tseeitnow,atallevents.’
Oliverdidseeitinhismind’seyeasdistinctlyasifhehadnotalteredhisposition;buthethoughtitbetternottoworrythekindoldlady;sohesmiledgentlywhenshelookedathim;andMrs.Bedwin,satisfiedthathefeltmorecomfortable,saltedandbrokebitsoftoastedbreadintothebroth,withallthebustlebefittingsosolemnapreparation.
Olivergotthroughitwithextraordinaryexpedition.
Hehadscarcelyswallowedthelastspoonful,whentherecameasoftrapatthedoor.
‘Comein,’saidtheoldlady;andinwalkedMr.Brownlow.
Now,theoldgentlemancameinasbriskasneedbe;but,hehadnosoonerraisedhisspectaclesonhisforehead,andthrusthishandsbehindtheskirtsofhisdressing-gowntotakeagoodlonglookatOliver,thanhiscountenanceunderwentaverygreatvarietyofoddcontortions.
Oliverlookedverywornandshadowyfromsickness,andmadeanineffectualattempttostandup,outofrespecttohisbenefactor,whichterminatedinhissinkingbackintothechairagain;andthefactis,ifthetruthmustbetold,thatMr.Brownlow’sheart,beinglargeenoughforanysixordinaryoldgentlemenofhumanedisposition,forcedasupplyoftearsintohiseyes,bysomehydraulicprocesswhichwearenotsufficientlyphilosophicaltobeinaconditiontoexplain.
‘Poorboy,poorboy!’saidMr.Brownlow,clearinghisthroat.‘I’mratherhoarsethismorning,Mrs.Bedwin.I’mafraidIhavecaughtcold.’
‘Ihopenot,sir,’saidMrs.Bedwin.‘Everythingyouhavehad,hasbeenwellaired,sir.’
‘Idon’tknow,Bedwin.Idon’tknow,’saidMr.Brownlow;‘IratherthinkIhadadampnapkinatdinner-timeyesterday;butnevermindthat.Howdoyoufeel,mydear?’
‘Veryhappy,sir,’repliedOliver.‘Andverygratefulindeed,sir,foryourgoodnesstome.’
‘Goodby,’saidMr.Brownlow,stoutly.‘Haveyougivenhimanynourishment,Bedwin?Anyslops,eh?’
‘Hehasjusthadabasinofbeautifulstrongbroth,sir,’repliedMrs.Bedwin:drawingherselfupslightly,andlayingstrongemphasisonthelastword:tointimatethatbetweenslops,andbrothwillcompounded,thereexistednoaffinityorconnectionwhatsoever.
‘Ugh!’saidMr.Brownlow,withaslightshudder;‘acoupleofglassesofportwinewouldhavedonehimagreatdealmoregood.Wouldn’tthey,TomWhite,eh?’
‘MynameisOliver,sir,’repliedthelittleinvalid:withalookofgreatastonishment.
‘Oliver,’saidMr.Brownlow;‘Oliverwhat?OliverWhite,eh?’
‘No,sir,Twist,OliverTwist.’
‘Queername!’saidtheoldgentleman.‘WhatmadeyoutellthemagistrateyournamewasWhite?’
‘Inevertoldhimso,sir,’returnedOliverinamazement.
Thissoundedsolikeafalsehood,thattheoldgentlemanlookedsomewhatsternlyinOliver’sface.Itwasimpossibletodoubthim;therewastruthineveryoneofitsthinandsharpenedlineaments.
‘Somemistake,’saidMr.Brownlow.But,althoughhismotiveforlookingsteadilyatOlivernolongerexisted,theoldideaoftheresemblancebetweenhisfeaturesandsomefamiliarfacecameuponhimsostrongly,thathecouldnotwithdrawhisgaze.
‘Ihopeyouarenotangrywithme,sir?’saidOliver,raisinghiseyesbeseechingly.
‘No,no,’repliedtheoldgentleman.‘Why!what’sthis?Bedwin,lookthere!’
Ashespoke,hepointedhastilytothepictureoverOliver’shead,andthentotheboy’sface.Therewasitslivingcopy.
Theeyes,thehead,themouth;everyfeaturewasthesame.
Theexpressionwas,fortheinstant,sopreciselyalike,thattheminutestlineseemedcopiedwithstartlingaccuracy!
Oliverknewnotthecauseofthissuddenexclamation;for,notbeingstrongenoughtobearthestartitgavehim,hefaintedaway.
Aweaknessonhispart,whichaffordsthenarrativeanopportunityofrelievingthereaderfromsuspense,inbehalfofthetwoyoungpupilsoftheMerryOldGentleman;andofrecording—
ThatwhentheDodger,andhisaccomplishedfriendMasterBates,joinedinthehue-and-crywhichwasraisedatOliver’sheels,inconsequenceoftheirexecutinganillegalconveyanceofMr.Brownlow’spersonalproperty,ashasbeenalreadydescribed,theywereactuatedbyaverylaudableandbecomingregardforthemselves;andforasmuchasthefreedomofthesubjectandthelibertyoftheindividualareamongthefirstandproudestboastsofatrue-heartedEnglishman,so,Ineedhardlybegthereadertoobserve,thatthisactionshouldtendtoexaltthemintheopinionofallpublicandpatrioticmen,inalmostasgreatadegreeasthisstrongproofoftheiranxietyfortheirownpreservationandsafetygoestocorroborateandconfirmthelittlecodeoflawswhichcertainprofoundandsound-judgingphilosophershavelaiddownasthemain-springsofallNature’sdeedsandactions:thesaidphilosophersverywiselyreducingthegoodlady’sproceedingstomattersofmaximandtheory:and,byaveryneatandprettycomplimenttoherexaltedwisdomandunderstanding,puttingentirelyoutofsightanyconsiderationsofheart,orgenerousimpulseandfeeling.
For,thesearematterstotallybeneathafemalewhoisacknowledgedbyuniversaladmissiontobefarabovethenumerouslittlefoiblesandweaknessesofhersex.
IfIwantedanyfurtherproofofthestrictlyphilosophicalnatureoftheconductoftheseyounggentlemenintheirverydelicatepredicament,Ishouldatoncefinditinthefact(alsorecordedinaforegoingpartofthisnarrative),oftheirquittingthepursuit,whenthegeneralattentionwasfixeduponOliver;andmakingimmediatelyfortheirhomebytheshortestpossiblecut.
AlthoughIdonotmeantoassertthatitisusuallythepracticeofrenownedandlearnedsages,toshortentheroadtoanygreatconclusion(theircourseindeedbeingrathertolengthenthedistance,byvariouscircumlocutionsanddiscursivestaggerings,likeuntothoseinwhichdrunkenmenunderthepressureofatoomightyflowofideas,arepronetoindulge);still,Idomeantosay,anddosaydistinctly,thatitistheinvariablepracticeofmanymightyphilosophers,incarryingouttheirtheories,toevincegreatwisdomandforesightinprovidingagainsteverypossiblecontingencywhichcanbesupposedatalllikelytoaffectthemselves.
Thus,todoagreatright,youmaydoalittlewrong;andyoumaytakeanymeanswhichtheendtobeattained,willjustify;theamountoftheright,ortheamountofthewrong,orindeedthedistinctionbetweenthetwo,beingleftentirelytothephilosopherconcerned,tobesettledanddeterminedbyhisclear,comprehensive,andimpartialviewofhisownparticularcase.
Itwasnotuntilthetwoboyshadscoured,withgreatrapidity,throughamostintricatemazeofnarrowstreetsandcourts,thattheyventuredtohaltbeneathalowanddarkarchway.
Havingremainedsilenthere,justlongenoughtorecoverbreathtospeak,MasterBatesutteredanexclamationofamusementanddelight;and,burstingintoanuncontrollablefitoflaughter,flunghimselfuponadoorstep,androlledthereoninatransportofmirth.
‘What’sthematter?’inquiredtheDodger.
‘Ha!ha!ha!’roaredCharleyBates.
‘Holdyournoise,’remonstratedtheDodger,lookingcautiouslyround.‘Doyouwanttobegrabbed,stupid?’
‘Ican’thelpit,’saidCharley,‘Ican’thelpit!
Toseehimsplittingawayatthatpace,andcuttingroundthecorners,andknockingupagain’theposts,andstartingonagainasifhewasmadeofironaswellasthem,andmewiththewipeinmypocket,singingoutarterhim—oh,myeye!’
ThevividimaginationofMasterBatespresentedthescenebeforehimintoostrongcolours.
Ashearrivedatthisapostrophe,heagainrolleduponthedoor-step,andlaughedlouderthanbefore.
‘What’llFaginsay?’inquiredtheDodger;takingadvantageofthenextintervalofbreathlessnessonthepartofhisfriendtopropoundthequestion.
‘What?’repeatedCharleyBates.
‘Ah,what?’saidtheDodger.
‘Why,whatshouldhesay?’inquiredCharley:stoppingrathersuddenlyinhismerriment;fortheDodger’smannerwasimpressive.‘Whatshouldhesay?’
Mr.Dawkinswhistledforacoupleofminutes;then,takingoffhishat,scratchedhishead,andnoddedthrice.
‘Whatdoyoumean?’saidCharley.
‘Toorrullolloo,gammonandspinnage,thefroghewouldn’t,andhighcockolorum,’saidtheDodger:withaslightsneeronhisintellectualcountenance.
Thiswasexplanatory,butnotsatisfactory.MasterBatesfeltitso;andagainsaid,‘Whatdoyoumean?’
TheDodgermadenoreply;butputtinghishatonagain,andgatheringtheskirtsofhislong-tailedcoatunderhisarm,thrusthistongueintohischeek,slappedthebridgeofhisnosesomehalf-dozentimesinafamiliarbutexpressivemanner,andturningonhisheel,slunkdownthecourt.
MasterBatesfollowed,withathoughtfulcountenance.
Thenoiseoffootstepsonthecreakingstairs,afewminutesaftertheoccurrenceofthisconversation,rousedthemerryoldgentlemanashesatoverthefirewithasaveloyandasmallloafinhishand;apocket-knifeinhisright;andapewterpotonthetrivet.
Therewasarascallysmileonhiswhitefaceasheturnedround,andlookingsharplyoutfromunderhisthickredeyebrows,benthiseartowardsthedoor,andlistened.
‘Why,how’sthis?’mutteredtheJew:changingcountenance;‘onlytwoof‘em?Where’sthethird?Theycan’thavegotintotrouble.Hark!’
Thefootstepsapproachednearer;theyreachedthelanding.Thedoorwasslowlyopened;andtheDodgerandCharleyBatesentered,closingitbehindthem.
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