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oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第80章

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was enveloped; she could not but hold sacred the confidence 
which the miserable woman with whom she had just conversed; 
had reposed in her; as a young and guileless girl。 Her words and 
manner had touched Rose Maylie’s heart; and; mingled with her 
love for her young charge; and scarcely less intense in its truth 
and fervour; was her fond wish to win the outcast back to 
repentance and hope。 

They purposed remaining in London only three days; prior to 
departing for some weeks to a distant part of the coast。 It was now 
midnight of the first day。 What course of action could she 
determine upon; which could be adopted in eight…and…forty hours? 
Or how could she postpone the journey without exciting 
suspicion? 

Mr。 Losberne was with them; and would be for the next two 
days; but Rose was too well acquainted with the excellent 
gentleman’s impetuosity; and foresaw too clearly the wrath with 
which; in the first explosion of his indignation; he would regard 
the instrument of Oliver’s recapture; to trust him with the secret; 
when her representations in the girl’s behalf could be seconded by 
no experienced person。 These were all reasons for the greatest 

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caution and most circumspect behaviour in communicating it to 
Mrs。 Maylie; whose first impulse would infallibly be to hold a 
conference with the worthy doctor on the subject。 As to resorting 
to any legal adviser; even if she had known how to do so; it was 
scarcely to be thought of; for the same reasons。 Once the thought 
occurred to her of seeking assistance from Harry; but this 
awakened the recollection of their last parting; and it seemed 
unworthy of her to call him back; when—the tears rose to her eyes 
as she pursued this train of reflection—he might have by this time 
learned to forget her; and to be happier away。 

Disturbed by these different reflections; inclining now to one 
course and then to another; and again recoiling from all; as each 
successive consideration presented itself to her mind; Rose passed 
a sleepless and anxious night。 After more communing with herself 
next day; she arrived at the desperate conclusion of consulting 
Harry。 

“If it be painful to him;” she thought; “to come back here; how 
painful it will be to me! But perhaps he will not come; he may 
write; or he may come himself; and studiously abstain from 
meeting me—he did when he went away。 I hardly thought he 
would; but it was better for us both。” And here Rose dropped the 
pen; and turned 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 laid it down again fifty 
times; and had considered and reconsidered the first line of her 
letter without writing the first word; when Oliver; who had been 
walking in the streets; with Mr。 Giles for a bodyguard; entered the 
room in such breathless haste and violent agitation; as seemed to 
betoken some new cause of alarm。 

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“What makes you look so hurried?” asked Rose; advancing to 
meet him。 

“I hardly know how; I feel as if I should be choked;” replied 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 all the truth!” 

“I never thought you had told us anything but the truth;” said 
Rose; soothing him。 “But what is this?—of whom do you speak?” 

“I have seen the gentleman;” replied Oliver; scarcely able to 
articulate; “the gentleman who was so good to me—Mr。 Brownlow; 
that we have so often talked about。” 

“Where?” asked Rose。 

“Getting out of a coach;” replied Oliver; shedding tears 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 trembled so; that I was 
not able to go up to him。 But Giles asked; for me; whether he lived 
there; and they said he did。 Look here;” said Oliver; opening a 
scrap 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 hear him speak again!” 

With her attention not a little distracted by these and a great 
many other incoherent exclamations of joy; Rose read the address; 
which was Craven Street; in the Strand; and very soon determined 
upon turning the discovery to account。 

“Quick!” she said; “tell them to fetch a hackney…coach; and be 
ready to go with me。 I will take you there directly; without a 
moment’s loss of time。 I will only tell my aunt that we are going 
out for an hour; and be ready as soon as you are。” 

Oliver needed no prompting to despatch; and in little more than 
five minutes they were on their way to Craven Street。 When they 

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arrived there; Rose left Oliver in the coach; under pretence of 
preparing the old gentleman to receive him; and sending up her 
card by the servant; requested to see Mr。 Brownlow on very 
pressing business。 The servant soon returned; to beg that she 
would walk upstairs; and following him into an upper room; Miss 
Maylie was presented to an elderly gentleman of benevolent 
appearance; in a bottle…green coat。 At no great distance from 
whom; was seated another old gentleman; in nankeen breeches 
and gaiters; who did not look particularly benevolent; and who 
was sitting with his hands clasped on the top of a thick stick; and 
his chin propped thereupon。 

“Dear me;” said the gentleman in the bottle…green coat; hastily 
rising with great politeness; “I beg your pardon; young lady—I 
imagined it was some importunate person who—I beg you will 
excuse me。 Be seated; pray。” 

“Mr。 Brownlow; I believe; sir?” said Rose; glancing from the 
other gentleman to the one who had spoken。 

“That is my name;” said the old gentleman。 “This is my friend; 
Mr。 Grimwig。 Grimwig; will you leave us for a few minutes?” 

“I believe;” interposed Miss Maylie; “that at this period of our 
interview; I need not give the gentleman the trouble of going away。 
If I am correctly informed; he is cognisant of the business on 
which I wish to speak to you。” 

Mr。 Brownlow inclined his head。 Mr。 Grimwig; who had made 
one very stiff bow; and risen from his chair; made another very 
stiff bow; and dropped into it again。 

“I shall surprise you very much; I have no doubt;” said Rose; 
naturally embarrassed; “but you once showed great benevolence 
and goodness to a very dear young friend of mine; and I am sure 

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you will take an interest in hearing of him again。” 

“Indeed!” said Mr。 Brownlow。 

“Oliver Twist you knew him as;” replied Rose。 

The words no sooner escaped her lips; than Mr。 Grimwig; who 
had been affecting to dip into a large book that lay on the table; 
upset it with a great crash; and falling back in his chair; 
discharged from his features every expression but one of 
unmitigated wonder; and indulged in a prolonged and vacant 
stare; then; as if ashamed of having betrayed so much emotion; he 
jerked himself; as it were; by a convulsion into his former attitude; 
and looking out straight before him emitted a long; deep whistle; 
which seemed; at last; not to be discharged on empty air; but to die 
away in the innermost recesses of his stomach。 

Mr。 Brownlow was no less surprised; although his astonishment 
was not expressed in the same eccentric manner。 He drew his 
chair nearer to Miss Maylie’s; and said: 

“Do me the favour; my dear young lady; to leave entirely out of 
the question that goodness and benevolence of which you speak; 
and of which nobody else knows anything; and if you have it in 
your power to produce any evidence which will alter the 
unfavourable opinion I was once induced to entertain of that poor 
child; in Heaven’s name put me in possession of it。” 

“A bad one! I’ll eat my head if he is not a bad one;” growled Mr。 
Grimwig; speaking by some ventriloquial power; without moving a 
muscle of his face。 

“He is a child of a noble nature and a warm heart;” said Rose; 
colouring; “and that Power which has thought fit to try him 
beyond his years; has planted in his breast affections and feelings 
which would do honour to many who have numbered his days six 

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Oliver Twist 438 

times over。” 

“I’m only sixty…one;” said Mr。 Grimwig; with the same rigid 
face。 “And; as the devil’s in it if this Oliver is not twelve years old 
at least; I don’t see the application of that remark。” 

“Do not heed my friend; Miss Maylie;” said Mr。 Brownlow; “he 
does not mean what he says。” 

“Yes; he does;” growled Mr。 Grimwig。 

“No; he does not;” said Mr。 Brownlow; obviously rising in wrath 
as he spoke。 

“He’ll eat his head; if he doesn’t;” growled Mr。 Grimwig。 

“He would deserve to have it knocked off; if he does;” said Mr。 
Brownlow。 

“And he’d uncommonly like to see any man offer to do it;” 
responded Mr。 Grimwig; knocking his stick upon
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