Oliver Twist
CONTAINING FRESH DISCOVERIES, AND SHOWING THAT SUPRISES, LIKE MISFORTUNES, SELDOM COME ALONE
Her was, indeed, one of no common trial and difficulty. While she the most and to the in which Oliver’s history was enveloped, she not but the which the woman with she had just conversed, had in her, as a and girl. Her and manner had touched Rose Maylie’s heart; and, with her love for her charge, and less in its truth and fervour, was her wish to win the to and hope.
They in London only three days, to for some to a part of the coast. It was now midnight of the day. What of action she upon, which be in eight-and-forty hours? Or how she the without suspicion?
Mr. Losberne was with them, and would be for the next two days; but Rose was too well with the excellent gentleman’s impetuosity, and too the with which, in the of his indignation, he would the of Oliver’s recapture, to trust him with the secret, when her in the girl’s be by no person. These were all for the and most in it to Mrs. Maylie, would be to a with the doctor on the subject. As to to any legal adviser, if she had how to do so, it was to be of, for the same reason. Once the to her of from Harry; but this the of their last parting, and it of her to call him back, when—the rose to her as she this train of reflection—he might have by this time learnt to her, and to be away.
Disturbed by these different reflections; now to one and then to another, and again from all, as each presented itself to her mind; Rose passed a and night. After more with herself next day, she at the of Harry.
“If it be painful to him,” she thought, “to come here, how painful it will be to me! But he will not come; he may write, or he may come himself, and from meeting me—he did when he away. I he would; but it was for us both.” And here Rose the pen, and away, as though the very paper which was to be her messenger should not see her weep.
She had taken up the same pen, and it again fifty times, and had and the line of her without the word, when Oliver, who had been walking in the streets, with Mr. Giles for a body-guard, entered the room in such and agitation, as to some new of alarm.
“What makes you look so flurried?” asked Rose, to meet him.
“I know how; I as if I should be choked,” the boy. “Oh dear! To think that I should see him at last, and you should be able to know that I have told you the truth!”
“I you had told us anything but the truth,” said Rose, him. “But what is this?—of do you speak?”
“I have the gentleman,” Oliver, able to articulate, “the who was so good to me—Mr. Brownlow, that we have so often talked about.”
“Where?” asked Rose.
“Getting out of a coach,” Oliver, of delight, “and going into a house. I didn’t speak to him—I couldn’t speak to him, for he didn’t see me, and I so, that I was not able to go up to him. But Giles asked, for me, he there, and they said he did. Look here,” said Oliver, opening a of paper, “here it is; here’s where he lives—I’m going there directly! Oh, dear me, dear me! What shall I do when I come to see him and him speak again!”
With her attention not a little by these and a great many other of joy, Rose read the address, which was Craven Street, in the Strand. She very soon upon the to account.
“Quick!” she said. “Tell them to a hackney-coach, and be to go with me. I will take you there directly, without a minute’s of time. I will only tell my aunt that we are going out for an hour, and be as soon as you are.”
Oliver needed no to despatch, and in little more than five minutes they were on their way to Craven Street. When they there, Rose left Oliver in the coach, under of preparing the old to him; and sending up her card by the servant, to see Mr. Brownlow on very pressing business. The soon returned, to that she would walk upstairs; and him into an upper room, Miss Maylie was presented to an of appearance, in a bottle-green coat. At no great from whom, was seated another old gentleman, in and gaiters; who did not look particularly benevolent, and who was with his hands on the top of a thick stick, and his thereupon.
“Dear me,” said the gentleman, in the bottle-green coat, with great politeness, “I your pardon, lady—I it was some person who—I you will me. Be seated, pray.”
“Mr. Brownlow, I believe, sir?” said Rose, from the other to the one who had spoken.
“That is my name,” said the old gentleman. “This is my friend, Mr. Grimwig. Grimwig, will you us for a minutes?”
“I believe,” Miss Maylie, “that at this period of our interview, I need not give that the trouble of going away. If I am informed, he is of the on which I wish to speak to you.”
Mr. Brownlow his head. Mr. Grimwig, who had one very bow, and from his chair, another very bow, and into it again.
“I shall you very much, I have no doubt,” said Rose, naturally embarrassed; “but you once great and to a very dear friend of mine, and I am sure you will take an in of him again.”
“Indeed!” said Mr. Brownlow.
“Oliver Twist you him as,” Rose.
The no sooner her lips, than Mr. Grimwig, who had been to into a large book that on the table, it with a great crash, and in his chair, from his every but one of wonder, and in a and stare; then, as if of having so much emotion, he himself, as it were, by a into his attitude, and looking out him a long whistle, which seemed, at last, not to be on empty air, but to die away in the of his stomach.
Mr. Browlow was no less surprised, although his was not in the same manner. He his chair nearer to Miss Maylie’s, and said,
“Do me the favour, my dear lady, to out of the question that and of which you speak, and of which nobody else anything; and if you have it in your power to produce any which will the opinion I was once to of that child, in Heaven’s name put me in of it.”
“A one! I’ll eat my if he is not a one,” Mr. Grimwig, speaking by some power, without moving a of his face.
“He is a child of a nature and a warm heart,” said Rose, colouring; “and that Power which has fit to try him his years, has planted in his and which would do to many who have numbered his days six times over.”
“I’m only sixty-one,” said Mr. Grimwig, with the same face. “And, as the devil’s in it if this Oliver is not twelve years old at least, I don’t see the of that remark.”
“Do not my friend, Miss Maylie,” said Mr. Brownlow; “he not what he says.”
“Yes, he does,” Mr. Grimwig.
“No, he not,” said Mr. Brownlow, in as he spoke.
“He’ll eat his head, if he doesn’t,” Mr. Grimwig.
“He would to have it off, if he does,” said Mr. Brownlow.
“And he’d like to see any man offer to do it,” Mr. Grimwig, his upon the floor.
Having gone thus far, the two old took snuff, and hands, according to their custom.
“Now, Miss Maylie,” said Mr. Brownlow, “to return to the in which your is so much interested. Will you let me know what you have of this child: me to promise that I every means in my power of him, and that since I have been from this country, my that he had upon me, and had been by his to me, has been shaken.”
Rose, who had had time to her thoughts, at once related, in a natural words, all that had Oliver since he left Mr. Brownlow’s house; Nancy’s for that gentleman’s private ear, and with the that his only sorrow, for some months past, had been not being able to meet with his and friend.
“Thank God!” said the old gentleman. “This is great to me, great happiness. But you have not told me where he is now, Miss Maylie. You must my fault with you,—but why not have him?”
“He is waiting in a coach at the door,” Rose.
“At this door!” the old gentleman. With which he out of the room, the stairs, up the coachsteps, and into the coach, without another word.
When the room-door closed him, Mr. Grimwig up his head, and one of the of his chair into a pivot, three circles with the of his and the table; in it all the time. After this evolution, he rose and as fast as he up and the room at least a dozen times, and then stopping Rose, her without the preface.
“Hush!” he said, as the lady rose in some at this proceeding. “Don’t be afraid. I’m old to be your grandfather. You’re a sweet girl. I like you. Here they are!”
In fact, as he himself at one into his seat, Mr. Brownlow returned, by Oliver, Mr. Grimwig very graciously; and if the of that moment had been the only for all her and in Oliver’s behalf, Rose Maylie would have been well repaid.
“There is somebody else who should not be forgotten, by the bye,” said Mr. Brownlow, the bell. “Send Mrs. Bedwin here, if you please.”
The old answered the with all dispatch; and a at the door, waited for orders.
“Why, you every day, Bedwin,” said Mr. Brownlow, testily.
“Well, that I do, sir,” the old lady. “People’s eyes, at my time of life, don’t with age, sir.”
“I have told you that,” Mr. Brownlow; “but put on your glasses, and see if you can’t out what you were wanted for, will you?”
The old lady to in her pocket for her spectacles. But Oliver’s patience was not proof against this new trial; and to his impulse, he into her arms.
“God be good to me!” the old lady, him; “it is my boy!”
“My dear old nurse!” Oliver.
“He would come back—I he would,” said the old lady, him in her arms. “How well he looks, and how like a gentleman’s son he is again! Where have you been, this long, long while? Ah! the same sweet face, but not so pale; the same soft eye, but not so sad. I have them or his smile, but have them every day, by with those of my own dear children, and gone since I was a creature.” Running on thus, and now Oliver from her to mark how he had grown, now him to her and her through his hair, the good laughed and upon his by turns.
Leaving her and Oliver to notes at leisure, Mr. Brownlow the way into another room; and there, from Rose a full of her with Nancy, which him no little and perplexity. Rose also her for not in her friend Mr. Losberne in the instance. The old that she had prudently, and to with the doctor himself. To him an early opportunity for the of this design, it was that he should call at the hotel at eight o’clock that evening, and that in the meantime Mrs. Maylie should be of all that had occurred. These adjusted, Rose and Oliver returned home.
Rose had by no means the measure of the good doctor’s wrath. Nancy’s history was no sooner to him, than he a of and execrations; to make her the of the of Messrs. Blathers and Duff; and actually put on his to to obtain the of those worthies. And, doubtless, he would, in this outbreak, have the into without a moment’s of the consequences, if he had not been restrained, in part, by on the of Mr. Brownlow, who was himself of an temperament, and party by such and as best calculated to him from his purpose.
“Then what the is to be done?” said the doctor, when they had the two ladies. “Are we to pass a vote of thanks to all these vagabonds, male and female, and them to accept a hundred pounds, or so, apiece, as a mark of our esteem, and some of their to Oliver?”
“Not that,” Mr. Brownlow, laughing; “but we must and with great care.”
“Gentleness and care,” the doctor. “I’d send them one and all to—”
“Never mind where,” Mr. Brownlow. “But sending them is likely to the object we have in view.”
“What object?” asked the doctor.
“Simply, the of Oliver’s parentage, and for him the of which, if this be true, he has been deprived.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Losberne, himself with his pocket-handkerchief; “I almost that.”
“You see,” Mr. Brownlow; “placing this girl out of the question, and it were possible to these to without her safety, what good should we about?”
“Hanging a of them at least, in all probability,” the doctor, “and the rest.”
“Very good,” Mr. Brownlow, smiling; “but no they will that about for themselves in the of time, and if we step in to them, it to me that we shall be a very Quixotic act, in direct opposition to our own interest—or at least to Oliver’s, which is the same thing.”
“How?” the doctor.
“Thus. It is clear that we shall have in to the of this mystery, unless we can this man, Monks, upon his knees. That can only be done by stratagem, and by him when he is not by these people. For, he were apprehended, we have no proof against him. He is not (so as we know, or as the appear to us) with the in any of their robberies. If he were not discharged, it is very that he any than being to prison as a and vagabond; and of his mouth would be so closed that he might as well, for our purposes, be deaf, dumb, blind, and an idiot.”
“Then,” said the doctor impetuously, “I put it to you again, you think it that this promise to the girl should be binding; a promise with the best and intentions, but really—”
“Do not discuss the point, my dear lady, pray,” said Mr. Brownlow, Rose as she was about to speak. “The promise shall be kept. I don’t think it will, in the degree, with our proceedings. But, we can upon any of action, it will be necessary to see the girl; to from her she will point out this Monks, on the that he is to be with by us, and not by the law; or, if she will not, or cannot do that, to from her such an account of his and of his person, as will us to identify him. She cannot be until next Sunday night; this is Tuesday. I would that in the meantime, we perfectly quiet, and keep these from Oliver himself.”
Although Mr. Losberne with many a a of five whole days, he was to admit that no to him just then; and as Rose and Mrs. Maylie very with Mr. Brownlow, that gentleman’s was unanimously.
“I should like,” he said, “to call in the of my friend Grimwig. He is a creature, but a one, and might prove of material to us; I should say that he was a lawyer, and the Bar in he had only one and a motion of course, in twenty years, though that is or not, you must for yourselves.”
“I have no to your calling in your friend if I may call in mine,” said the doctor.
“We must put it to the vote,” Mr. Brownlow, “who may he be?”
“That lady’s son, and this lady’s—very old friend,” said the doctor, Mrs. Maylie, and with an at her niece.
Rose deeply, but she did not make any to this motion (possibly she in a minority); and Harry Maylie and Mr. Grimwig were added to the committee.
“We in town, of course,” said Mrs. Maylie, “while there the of this with a of success. I will neither trouble in of the object in which we are all so interested, and I am to here, if it be for twelve months, so long as you me that any remains.”
“Good!” Mr. Brownlow. “And as I see on the about me, a to how it that I was not in the way to Oliver’s tale, and had so left the kingdom, let me that I shall be asked no questions until such time as I may it to them by telling my own story. Believe me, I make this with good reason, for I might otherwise to be realised, and only and already enough. Come! Supper has been announced, and Oliver, who is all alone in the next room, will have to think, by this time, that we have of his company, and entered into some dark to him upon the world.”
With these words, the old gave his hand to Mrs. Maylie, and her into the supper-room. Mr. Losberne followed, leading Rose; and the was, for the present, up.
