oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第53章

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wasting　fast。　Oliver　crept　away　to　the　old　churchyard；　and　sitting　
down　on　one　of　the　green　mounds；　wept　and　prayed　for　her；　in　
silence。　

There　was　such　peace　and　beauty　in　the　scene；　so　much　of　
brightness　and　mirth　in　the　sunny　landscape；　such　blithsome　
music　in　the　songs　of　the　summer　birds；　such　freedom　in　the　rapid　
flight　of　the　rook；　careering　overhead；　so　much　of　life　and　

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joyousness；　in　all；　that；　when　the　boy　raised　his　aching　eyes；　and　
looked　about；　the　thought　instinctively　occurred　to　him；　that　this　
was　not　a　time　for　death；　that　Rose　could　surely　never　die　when　
humbler　things　were　all　so　glad　and　gay；　that　graves　were　for　cold　
and　cheerless　winter；　not　for　sunlight　and　fragrance。　He　almost　
thought　that　shrouds　were　for　the　old　and　shrunken；　and　that　they　
never　wrapped　the　young　and　graceful　form　in　their　ghastly　folds。　

A　knell　from　the　church　bell　broke　harshly　on　these　youthful　
thoughts。　Another！　Again！　It　was　tolling　for　the　funeral　service。　A　
group　of　humble　mourners　entered　the　gate；　wearing　white　
favours；　for　the　corpse　was　young。　They　stood　uncovered　by　a　
grave；　and　there　was　a　mother—a　mother　once—among　the　
weeping　train。　But　the　sun　shone　brightly；　and　the　birds　sang　on。　

Oliver　turned　homeward；　thinking　on　the　many　kindnesses　he　
had　received　from　the　young　lady；　and　wishing　that　the　time　could　
come　over　again；　that　he　might　never　cease　showing　her　how　
grateful　and　attached　he　was。　He　had　no　cause　for　self…reproach　on　
the　score　of　neglect；　or　want　of　thought；　for　he　had　been　devoted　to　
her　service；　and　yet　a　hundred　little　occasions　rose　up　before　him；　
on　which　he　fancied　he　might　have　been　more　zealous；　and　more　
earnest；　and　wished　he　had　been。　We　need　be　careful　how　we　deal　
with　those　about　us；　when　every　death　carries　to　some　small　circle　
of　survivors；　thoughts　of　so　much　omitted；　and　so　little　done—of　so　
many　things　forgotten；　and　so　many　more　which　might　have　been　
repaired！　There　is　no　remorse　so　deep　as　that　which　is　unavailing；　
if　we　would　be　spared　its　tortures；　let　us　remember　this；　in　time。　

When　he　reached　home；　Mrs。　Maylie　was　sitting　in　the　little　
parlour。　Oliver’s　heart　sank　at　sight　of　her；　for　she　had　never　left　
the　bedside　of　her　niece；　and　he　trembled　to　think　what　change　

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could　have　driven　her　away。　He　learned　that　she　had　fallen　into　a　
deep　sleep；　from　which　she　would　waken；　either　to　recovery　and　
life；　or　to　bid　them　farewell；　and　die。　

They　sat；　listening；　and　afraid　to　speak；　for　hours。　The　untasted　
meal　was　removed；　and　with　looks　which　showed　that　their　
thoughts　were　elsewhere；　they　watched　the　sun　as　he　sank　lower　
and　lower；　and；　at　length；　cast　over　sky　and　earth　those　brilliant　
hues　which　herald　his　departure。　Their　quick　ears　caught　the　
sound　of　an　approaching　footstep。　They　both　involuntarily　darted　
to　the　door；　as　Mr。　Losberne　entered。　

“What　of　Rose？”　cried　the　old　lady。　“Tell　me　at　once！　I　can　bear　
it；　anything　but　suspense！　Oh；　tell　me！　in　the　name　of　Heaven！”　

“You　must　compose　yourself；”　said　the　doctor；　supporting　her。　
“Be　calm；　my　dear　ma’am；　pray。”　

“Let　me　go；　in　God’s　name！　My　dear　child！　She　is　dead！　She　is　
dying！”　

“No！”　cried　the　doctor　passionately。　“As　He　is　good　and　
merciful；　she　will　live　to　bless　us　all；　for　years　to　come。”　

The　lady　fell　upon　her　knees；　and　tried　to　fold　her　hands　
together；　but　the　energy　which　had　supported　her　so　long；　fled　up　
to　Heaven　with　her　first　thanksgiving；　and　she　sank　into　the　
friendly　arms　which　were　extended　to　receive　her。　

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Chapter　34　

Contains　Some　Introductory　Particulars　Relative　To
A　Young　Gentleman　Who　Now　Arrives　Upon　The
Scene；　And　A　New　Adventure　Which　Happened　To
Oliver。


It　was　almost　too　much　happiness　to　bear。　Oliver　felt　stunned　
and　stupefied　by　the　unexpected　intelligence；　he　could　not　
weep；　or　speak；　or　rest。　He　had　scarcely　the　power　of　
understanding　anything　that　had　passed；　until；　after　a　long　ramble　
in　the　quiet　evening　air；　a　burst　of　tears　came　to　his　relief；　and　he　
seemed　to　awaken　all　at　once；　to　a　full　sense　of　the　joyful　change　
that　had　occurred；　and　the　almost　insupportable　load　of　anguish　
which　had　been　taken　from　his　breast。　

The　night　was　fast　closing　in；　when　he　returned　homeward；　
laden　with　flowers　which　he　had　culled；　with　peculiar　care；　for　the　
adornment　of　the　sick　chamber。　As　he　walked　briskly　along　the　
road　he　heard　behind　him；　the　noise　of　some　vehicle；　approaching　
at　a　furious　pace。　Looking　round；　he　saw　that　it　was　a　post…chaise；　
driven　at　great　speed；　and　as　the　horses　were　galloping；　and　the　
road　was　narrow；　he　stood　leaning　against　a　gate　until　it　should　
have　passed　him。　

As　it　dashed　on；　Oliver　caught　a　glimpse　of　a　man；　in　a　white　
night…cap；　whose　face　seemed　familiar　to　him；　although　his　view　
was　so　brief　that　he　could　not　identify　the　person。　In　another　
second　or　two；　the　night…cap　was　thrust　out　of　the　chaise　window；　
and　a　stentorian　voice　bellowed　to　the　driver　to　stop；　which　he　did；　

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as　soon　as　he　could　pull　up　his　horses。　Then；　the　night…cap　once　
again　appeared；　and　the　same　voice　called　Oliver　by　his　name。　

“Here！”　cried　the　voice。　“Oliver；　what’s　the　news？　Miss　Rose！　
Master　O…li…ver！”　

“Is　it　you；　Giles？”　cried　Oliver；　running　up　to　the　chaise　door。　

Giles　popped　out　his　night…cap　again；　preparatory　to　making　
some　reply；　when　he　was　suddenly　pulled　back　by　a　young　
gentleman　who　occupied　the　other　corner　of　the　chaise；　and　who　
eagerly　demanded　what　was　the　news。　“In　a　word！”　cried　the　
gentleman；　“better　or　worse？”　

“Better—much　better！”　replied　Oliver　hastily。　

“Thank　Heaven！”　exclaimed　the　gentleman。　“You　are　sure？”　

“Quite；　sir；”　replied　Oliver。　“The　change　took　place—only　a　few　
hours　ago；　and　Mr。　Losberne　says　that　all　danger　is　at　an　end。”　

The　gentleman　did　not　say　another　word；　but；　opening　the　
chaise　door；　leaped　out；　and　taking　Oliver　hurriedly　by　the　arm；　
led　him　aside。　

“You　are　quite　certain？　There　is　no　possibility　of　any　mistake　
on　your　part；　my　boy；　is　there？”　demanded　the　gentleman　in　a　
tremulous　voice。　“Do　not　deceive　me；　by　awakening　hopes　that　are　
not　to　be　fulfilled。”　

“I　would　not　for　the　world；　sir；”　replied　Oliver。　“Indeed　you　may　
believe　me。　Mr。　Losberne’s　words　were；　that　she　would　live　to　
bless　us　all　for　many　years　to　come。　I　heard　him　say　so。”　

The　tears　stood　in　Oliver’s　eyes　as　he　recalled　the　scene　which　
was　the　beginning　of　so　much　happiness；　and　the　gentleman　
turned　his　face　away；　and　remained　silent；　for　some　minutes。　
Oliver　thought　he　heard　him　sob；　more　than　once；　but　he　feared　to　
interrupt　him　by　any　fresh　remark—for　he　could　well　guess　what　

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his　feelings　were—and　so　stood　apart；　feigning　to　be　occupied　with　
his　nosegay。　

All　this　time；　Mr。　Giles；　with　the　white　night…cap　on；　had　been　
sitting　on　the　steps　of　the　chaise；　supporting　an　elbow　on　each　
knee；　and　wiping　his　eyes　with　a　blue　cotton　pocket…handkerchief　
dotted　with　white　spots。　That　the　honest　fellow　had　not　been　
feigning　emotion；　was　abundantly　demonstrated　by　the　very　red　
eyes　with　which　he　regarded　the　young　gentleman；　when　he　
turned　round　and　addressed　him。　

“I　think　you　had　better　go　on　to　my　mother’s　in　the　chaise；　
Giles；”　said　he。　“I　would　rather　walk　slowly　on；　so　as　to　gain　a　little　
time　before　I　see　her。　You　can　say　I　am　coming。”　

“I　beg　your　pardon；　Mr。　Harry；”　said　Giles；　giving　a　final　polish　
to　his　ruffled　countenance　with　the　handkerchief；　“but　if　you　
would　leave　the　postboy　to　say　that；　I　should　be　very　much　obliged　
to　you。　It　wouldn’t　be　proper　for　the　maids　to　see　me　in　this　state；　
sir；　I　should　never　have　any　more　authority　with　them　if　they　did。”　

“Well；”　rejoined　Harry　Maylie；　smiling；　“you　can　do　as　you　like。　
Let　him　go　on　with　the　luggage；　if　you　wish　it；　and　do　you　follow　
with　us。　Only　first　exchange　that　night…cap　for　some　more　
appropriate　covering；　or　we　shall　be　taken　for　madmen。”　

Mr。　Giles；　reminded　of　his　unbecoming　costume；　snatched　off　
and　pocketed　his　night…cap；　and　substituted　a　hat；　of　grave　and　
sober　shape；　which　he　took　out　of　the　chaise。　This　done；　the　
postboy　drove　off；　Giles；　Mr。　Maylie；　and　Oliver；　followed　at　their　
leisure。　

As　they　walked　along；　Oliver　glanced　from　time　to　time　with　
much　interest　and　curiosity　at　the　newcomer。　He　seemed　about　
five…and…twenty　years　of　age；　and　was　of　the　middle　height；　his　

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countenance　was　frank　and　handsome；　and　his　demeanour　easy　
and　prepossessing。　Notwithstanding　the　difference　between　youth　
and　age；　he　bore　so　strong　a　likeness　to　the　old　lady；　that　Oliver　
would　have　had　no　great　difficulty　in　imagining　their　relationship；　
if　he　had　not　already　spoken　of　her　as　his　mother。　

Mrs。　Maylie　was　anxiously　waiting　to　receive　her　son　when　he　
reached　the　cottage。　The　meeting　did　not　take　place　without　great　
emotion　on　both　sides。　

“Mother！”　whispered　the　young　man；　“why　did　you　not　write　
before？”　

“I　did；”　replied　Mrs。　Maylie；　“but；　on　reflection；　I　determined　to　
keep　back　the　letter　until　I　had　heard　Mr。　Losberne’s　opinion。”　

“But　why；”　said　the　young　man—“why　run　the　chance　of　that　
occurring　which　so　nearly　happened？　If　Rose　had—I　cannot　utter　
that　word　now—if　this　illness　had　terminated　differently；　how　
could　you　ever　have　forgiven　yourself！　How　could　I　ever　have　
known　happiness　again！”　

“If　that　had　been　the　case；　Harry；”　said　Mrs。　Maylie；　“I　fear　your　
happiness　would　have　been　effectually　blighted；　and　that　your　
arrival　here；　a　day　sooner；　or　a　day　later；　would　have　been　of　very；　
very　little　import。”　

“And　who　can　wonder　if　it　be　so；　mother？”　rejoined　the　young　
man；　“or　why　should　I　say；　if？—It　is—it　is—You　know　it；　mother—　
you　must　know　it！”　

“I　know　that　she　deserves　the　best　and　purest　love　the　heart　of　
man　can　offer；”　said　Mrs。　Maylie；　“I　know　that　the　devotion　and　
affection　of　her　nature　require　no　ordinary　return；　but　one　that　
shall　be　deep　and　lasting。　If　I　did　not　feel　this；　and　know；　besides；　
that　a　changed　behaviour　in　one　she　loved　would　break　her　heart；　

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I　should　not　feel　my　task　so　difficult　of　performance；　or　have　to　
encounter　so　many　struggles　in　my　own　bosom；　when　I　take　what　
seems　to　me　to　be　the　strict　line　of　duty。”　

“This　is　unkind；　mother；”　said　Harry。　“Do　you　still　suppose　that　
I　am　a　boy　ignorant　of　my　own　mind；　and　mistaking　the　impulses　
of　my　own　soul？”　

“I　think；　my　dear　son；”　returned　Mrs。　Maylie；　laying　her　hand　
upon　his　shoulder；　“that　youth　has　many　generous　impulses　which　
do　not　last；　and　that　among　them　are　some；　which；　being　gratified；　
become　only　the　more　fleeting。　A