OLIVER TWIST

OR

THE PARISH BOY'S PROGRESS

BY

CHARLES DICKENS

CONTENTS

 I TREATS OF THE PLACE WHERE OLIVER TWIST WAS BORN AND OF THE CIRCUMSTANCES ATTENDING HIS BIRTH II TREATS OF OLIVER TWIST'S GROWTH, EDUCATION, AND BOARD III RELATES HOW OLIVER TWIST WAS VERY NEAR GETTING A PLACE WHICH WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN A SINECURE IV OLIVER, BEING OFFERED ANOTHER PLACE, MAKES HIS FIRST ENTRY INTO PUBLIC LIFE V OLIVER MINGLES WITH NEW ASSOCIATES. GOING TO A FUNERAL FOR THE FIRST TIME, HE FORMS AN UNFAVOURABLE NOTION OF HIS MASTER'S BUSINESS VI OLIVER, BEING GOADED BY THE TAUNTS OF NOAH, ROUSES INTO ACTION, AND RATHER ASTONISHES HIM VII OLIVER CONTINUES REFRACTORY VIII OLIVER WALKS TO LONDON. HE ENCOUNTERS ON THE ROAD A STRANGE SORT OF YOUNG GENTLEMAN IX CONTAINING FURTHER PARTICULARS CONCERNING THE PLEASANT OLD GENTLEMAN, AND HIS HOPEFUL PUPILS X OLIVER BECOMES BETTER ACQUAINTED WITH THE CHARACTERS OF HIS NEW ASSOCIATES; AND PURCHASES EXPERIENCE AT A HIGH PRICE. BEING A SHORT, BUT VERY IMPORTANT CHAPTER, IN THIS HISTORY XI TREATS OF MR. FANG THE POLICE MAGISTRATE; AND FURNISHES A SLIGHT SPECIMEN OF HIS MODE OF ADMINISTERING JUSTICE XII IN WHICH OLIVER IS TAKEN BETTER CARE OF THAN HE EVER WAS BEFORE. AND IN WHICH THE NARRATIVE REVERTS TO THE MERRY OLD GENTLEMAN AND HIS YOUTHFUL FRIENDS. XIII SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES ARE INTRODUCED TO THE INTELLIGENT READER, CONNECTED WITH WHOM VARIOUS PLEASANT MATTERS ARE RELATED, APPERTAINING TO THIS HISTORY XIV COMPRISING FURTHER PARTICULARS OF OLIVER'S STAY AT MR. BROWNLOW'S, WITH THE REMARKABLE PREDICTION WHICH ONE MR. GRIMWIG UTTERED CONCERNING HIM, WHEN HE WENT OUT ON AN ERRAND XV SHOWING HOW VERY FOND OF OLIVER TWIST, THE MERRY OLD JEW AND MISS NANCY WERE XVI RELATES WHAT BECAME OF OLIVER TWIST, AFTER HE HAD BEEN CLAIMED BY NANCY XVII OLIVER'S DESTINY CONTINUING UNPROPITIOUS, BRINGS A GREAT MAN TO LONDON TO INJURE HIS REPUTATION XVIII HOW OLIVER PASSED HIS TIME IN THE IMPROVING SOCIETY OF HIS REPUTABLE FRIENDS XIX IN WHICH A NOTABLE PLAN IS DISCUSSED AND DETERMINED ON XX WHEREIN OLIVER IS DELIVERED OVER TO MR. WILLIAM SIKES XXI THE EXPEDITION XXII THE BURGLARY XXIII WHICH CONTAINS THE SUBSTANCE OF A PLEASANT CONVERSATION BETWEEN MR. BUMBLE AND A LADY; AND SHOWS THAT EVEN A BEADLE MAY BE SUSCEPTIBLE ON SOME POINTS XXIV TREATS ON A VERY POOR SUBJECT. BUT IS A SHORT ONE, AND MAY BE FOUND OF IMPORTANCE IN THIS HISTORY XXV WHEREIN THIS HISTORY REVERTS TO MR. FAGIN AND COMPANY XXVI IN WHICH A MYSTERIOUS CHARACTER APPEARS UPON THE SCENE; AND MANY THINGS, INSEPARABLE FROM THIS HISTORY, ARE DONE AND PERFORMED XXVII ATONES FOR THE UNPOLITENESS OF A FORMER CHAPTER; WHICH DESERTED A LADY, MOST UNCEREMONIOUSLY XXVIII LOOKS AFTER OLIVER, AND PROCEEDS WITH HIS ADVENTURES XXIX HAS AN INTRODUCTORY ACCOUNT OF THE INMATES OF THE HOUSE, TO WHICH OLIVER RESORTED XXX RELATES WHAT OLIVER'S NEW VISITORS THOUGHT OF HIM XXXI INVOLVES A CRITICAL POSITION XXXII OF THE HAPPY LIFE OLIVER BEGAN TO LEAD WITH HIS KIND FRIENDS XXXIII WHEREIN THE HAPPINESS OF OLIVER AND HIS FRIENDS, EXPERIENCES A SUDDEN CHECK XXXIV CONTAINS SOME INTRODUCTORY PARTICULARS RELATIVE TO A YOUNG GENTLEMAN WHO NOW ARRIVES UPON THE SCENE; AND A NEW ADVENTURE WHICH HAPPENED TO OLIVER XXXV CONTAINING THE UNSATISFACTORY RESULT OF OLIVER'S ADVENTURE; AND A CONVERSATION OF SOME IMPORTANCE BETWEEN HARRY MAYLIE AND ROSE XXXVI IS A VERY SHORT ONE, AND MAY APPEAR OF NO GREAT IMPORTANCE IN ITS PLACE, BUT IT SHOULD BE READ NOTWITHSTANDING, AS A SEQUEL TO THE LAST, AND A KEY TO ONE THAT WILL FOLLOW WHEN ITS TIME ARRIVES XXXVII IN WHICH THE READER MAY PERCEIVE A CONTRAST, NOT UNCOMMON IN MATRIMONIAL CASES XXXVIII CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF WHAT PASSED BETWEEN MR. AND MRS. BUMBLE, AND MR. MONKS, AT THEIR NOCTURNAL INTERVIEW XXXIX INTRODUCES SOME RESPECTABLE CHARACTERS WITH WHOM THE READER IS ALREADY ACQUAINTED, AND SHOWS HOW MONKS AND THE JEW LAID THEIR WORTHY HEADS TOGETHER XL A STRANGE INTERVIEW, WHICH IS A SEQUEL TO THE LAST CHAMBER XLI CONTAINING FRESH DISCOVERIES, AND SHOWING THAT SUPRISES, LIKE MISFORTUNES, SELDOM COME ALONE XLII AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE OF OLIVER'S, EXHIBITING DECIDED MARKS OF GENIUS, BECOMES A PUBLIC CHARACTER IN THE METROPOLIS XLIII WHEREIN IS SHOWN HOW THE ARTFUL DODGER GOT INTO TROUBLE XLIV THE TIME ARRIVES FOR NANCY TO REDEEM HER PLEDGE TO ROSE MAYLIE. SHE FAILS. XLV NOAH CLAYPOLE IS EMPLOYED BY FAGIN ON A SECRET MISSION XLVI THE APPOINTMENT KEPT XLVII FATAL CONSEQUENCES XLVIII THE FLIGHT OF SIKES XLIX MONKS AND MR. BROWNLOW AT LENGTH MEET. THEIR CONVERSATION, AND THE INTELLIGENCE THAT INTERRUPTS IT L THE PURSUIT AND ESCAPE LI AFFORDING AN EXPLANATION OF MORE MYSTERIES THAN ONE, AND COMPREHENDING A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE WITH NO WORD OF SETTLEMENT OR PIN-MONEY LII FAGIN'S LAST NIGHT ALIVE LIII AND LAST

CHAPTER I

TREATS OF THE PLACE WHERE OLIVER TWIST WAS BORN AND OF THECIRCUMSTANCES ATTENDING HIS BIRTH

Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasonsit will be prudent to refrain from mentioning, and to which I willassign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse; and in this workhouse was born; ona day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, inasmuch asit can be of no possible consequence to the reader, in this stage ofthe business at all events; the item of mortality whose name isprefixed to the head of this chapter. 

For a long time after it was ushered into this world of sorrow andtrouble, by the parish surgeon, it remained a matter of considerabledoubt whether the child would survive to bear any name at all; in whichcase it is somewhat more than probable that these memoirs would neverhave appeared; or, if they had, that being comprised within a couple ofpages, they would have possessed the inestimable merit of being themost concise and faithful specimen of biography, extant in theliterature of any age or country. 

Although I am not disposed to maintain that the being born in aworkhouse, is in itself the most fortunate and enviable circumstancethat can possibly befall a human being, I do mean to say that in thisparticular instance, it was the best thing for Oliver Twist that couldby possibility have occurred. The fact is, that there was considerabledifficulty in inducing Oliver to take upon himself the office ofrespiration, --a troublesome practice, but one which custom has renderednecessary to our easy existence; and for some time he lay gasping on alittle flock mattress, rather unequally poised between this world andthe next: the balance being decidedly in favour of the latter. Now, if, during this brief period, Oliver had been surrounded by carefulgrandmothers, anxious aunts, experienced nurses, and doctors ofprofound wisdom, he would most inevitably and indubitably have beenkilled in no time. There being nobody by, however, but a pauper oldwoman, who was rendered rather misty by an unwonted allowance of beer;and a parish surgeon who did such matters by contract; Oliver andNature fought out the point between them. The result was, that, aftera few struggles, Oliver breathed, sneezed, and proceeded to advertiseto the inmates of the workhouse the fact of a new burden having beenimposed upon the parish, by setting up as loud a cry as couldreasonably have been expected from a male infant who had not beenpossessed of that very useful appendage, a voice, for a much longerspace of time than three minutes and a quarter. 

As Oliver gave this first proof of the free and proper action of hislungs, the patchwork coverlet which was carelessly flung over the ironbedstead, rustled; the pale face of a young woman was raised feeblyfrom the pillow; and a faint voice imperfectly articulated the words, 'Let me see the child, and die. '

The surgeon had been sitting with his face turned towards the fire:giving the palms of his hands a warm and a rub alternately. As theyoung woman spoke, he rose, and advancing to the bed's head, said, withmore kindness than might have been expected of him:

'Oh, you must not talk about dying yet. '

'Lor bless her dear heart, no!' interposed the nurse, hastilydepositing in her pocket a green glass bottle, the contents of whichshe had been tasting in a corner with evident satisfaction. 

'Lor bless her dear heart, when she has lived as long as I have, sir, and had thirteen children of her own, and all on 'em dead except two, and them in the wurkus with me, she'll know better than to take on inthat way, bless her dear heart! Think what it is to be a mother, there's a dear young lamb do. '

Apparently this consolatory perspective of a mother's prospects failedin producing its due effect. The patient shook her head, and stretchedout her hand towards the child. 

The surgeon deposited it in her arms. She imprinted her cold whitelips passionately on its forehead; passed her hands over her face;gazed wildly round; shuddered; fell back--and died. They chafed herbreast, hands, and temples; but the blood had stopped forever. Theytalked of hope and comfort. They had been strangers too long. 

'It's all over, Mrs. Thingummy!' said the surgeon at last. 

'Ah, poor dear, so it is!' said the nurse, picking up the cork of thegreen bottle, which had fallen out on the pillow, as she stooped totake up the child. 'Poor dear!'

'You needn't mind sending up to me, if the child cries, nurse, ' saidthe surgeon, putting on his gloves with great deliberation. 'It's verylikely it _will_ be troublesome. Give it a little gruel if it is. ' Heput on his hat, and, pausing by the bed-side on his way to the door, added, 'She was a good-looking girl, too; where did she come from?'

'She was brought here last night, ' replied the old woman, 'by theoverseer's order. She was found lying in the street. She had walkedsome distance, for her shoes were worn to pieces; but where she camefrom, or where she was going to, nobody knows. '

The surgeon leaned over the body, and raised the left hand. 'The oldstory, ' he said, shaking his head: 'no wedding-ring, I see. Ah!Good-night!'

The medical gentleman walked away to dinner; and the nurse, having oncemore applied herself to the green bottle, sat down on a low chairbefore the fire, and proceeded to dress the infant. 

What an excellent example of the power of dress, young Oliver Twistwas! Wrapped in the blanket which had hitherto formed his onlycovering, he might have been the child of a nobleman or a beggar; itwould have been hard for the haughtiest stranger to have assigned himhis proper station in society. But now that he was enveloped in theold calico robes which had grown yellow in the same service, he wasbadged and ticketed, and fell into his place at once--a parishchild--the orphan of a workhouse--the humble, half-starved drudge--tobe cuffed and buffeted through the world--despised by all, and pitiedby none. 

Oliver cried lustily. If he could have known that he was an orphan, left to the tender mercies of church-wardens and overseers, perhaps hewould have cried the louder. 

CHAPTER II

TREATS OF OLIVER TWIST'S GROWTH, EDUCATION, AND BOARD

For the next eight or ten months, Oliver was the victim of a systematiccourse of treachery and deception. He was brought up by hand. Thehungry and destitute situation of the infant orphan was duly reportedby the workhouse authorities to the parish authorities. The parishauthorities inquired with dignity of the workhouse authorities, whetherthere was no female then domiciled in 'the house' who was in asituation to impart to Oliver Twist, the consolation and nourishment ofwhich he stood in need. The workhouse authorities replied withhumility, that there was not. Upon this, the parish authoritiesmagnanimously and humanely resolved, that Oliver should be 'farmed, 'or, in other words, that he should be dispatched to a branch-workhousesome three miles off, where twenty or thirty other juvenile offendersagainst the poor-laws, rolled about the floor all day, without theinconvenience of too much food or too much clothing, under the parentalsuperintendence of an elderly female, who received the culprits at andfor the consideration of sevenpence-halfpenny per small head per week. Sevenpence-halfpenny's worth per week is a good round diet for a child;a great deal may be got for sevenpence-halfpenny, quite enough tooverload its stomach, and make it uncomfortable. The elderly female wasa woman of wisdom and experience; she knew what was good for children;and she had a very accurate perception of what was good for herself. So, she appropriated the greater part of the weekly stipend to her ownuse, and consigned the rising parochial generation to even a shorterallowance than was originally provided for them. Thereby finding inthe lowest depth a deeper still; and proving herself a very greatexperimental philosopher. 

Everybody knows the story of another experimental philosopher who had agreat theory about a horse being able to live without eating, and whodemonstrated it so well, that he had got his own horse down to a strawa day, and would unquestionably have rendered him a very spirited andrampacious animal on nothing at all, if he had not died, four-and-twenty hours before he was to have had his first comfortablebait of air. Unfortunately for, the experimental philosophy of thefemale to whose protecting care Oliver Twist was delivered over, asimilar result usually attended the operation of _her_ system; for atthe very moment when the child had contrived to exist upon the smallestpossible portion of the weakest possible food, it did perversely happenin eight and a half cases out of ten, either that it sickened from wantand cold, or fell into the fire from neglect, or got half-smothered byaccident; in any one of which cases, the miserable little being wasusually summoned into another world, and there gathered to the fathersit had never known in this. 

Occasionally, when there was some more than usually interesting inquestupon a parish child who had been overlooked in turning up a bedstead, or inadvertently scalded to death when there happened to be awashing--though the latter accident was very scarce, anythingapproaching to a washing being of rare occurrence in the farm--the jurywould take it into their heads to ask troublesome questions, or theparishioners would rebelliously affix their signatures to aremonstrance. But these impertinences were speedily checked by theevidence of the surgeon, and the testimony of the beadle; the former ofwhom had always opened the body and found nothing inside (which wasvery probable indeed), and the latter of whom invariably swore whateverthe parish wanted; which was very self-devotional. Besides, the boardmade periodical pilgrimages to the farm, and always sent the beadle theday before, to say they were going. The children were neat and cleanto behold, when _they_ went; and what more would the people have!

It cannot be expected that this system of farming would produce anyvery extraordinary or luxuriant crop. Oliver Twist's ninth birthdayfound him a pale thin child, somewhat diminutive in stature, anddecidedly small in circumference. But nature or inheritance hadimplanted a good sturdy spirit in Oliver's breast. It had had plentyof room to expand, thanks to the spare diet of the establishment; andperhaps to this circumstance may be attributed his having any ninthbirth-day at all. Be this as it may, however, it was his ninthbirthday; and he was keeping it in the coal-cellar with a select partyof two other young gentleman, who, after participating with him in asound thrashing, had been locked up for atrociously presuming to behungry, when Mrs. Mann, the good lady of the house, was unexpectedlystartled by the apparition of Mr. Bumble, the beadle, striving to undothe wicket of the garden-gate. 

'Goodness gracious! Is that you, Mr. Bumble, sir?' said Mrs. Mann, thrusting her head out of the window in well-affected ecstasies of joy. '(Susan, take Oliver and them two brats upstairs, and wash 'emdirectly. )--My heart alive! Mr. Bumble, how glad I am to see you, sure-ly!'

Now, Mr. Bumble was a fat man, and a choleric; so, instead ofresponding to this open-hearted salutation in a kindred spirit, he gavethe little wicket a tremendous shake, and then bestowed upon it a kickwhich could have emanated from no leg but a beadle's. 

'Lor, only think, ' said Mrs. Mann, running out, --for the three boys hadbeen removed by this time, --'only think of that! That I should haveforgotten that the gate was bolted on the inside, on account of themdear children! Walk in sir; walk in, pray, Mr. Bumble, do, sir. '

Although this invitation was accompanied with a curtsey that might havesoftened the heart of a church-warden, it by no means mollified thebeadle. 

'Do you think this respectful or proper conduct, Mrs. Mann, ' inquiredMr. Bumble, grasping his cane, 'to keep the parish officers a waitingat your garden-gate, when they come here upon porochial business withthe porochial orphans? Are you aweer, Mrs. Mann, that you are, as Imay say, a porochial delegate, and a stipendiary?'

'I'm sure Mr. Bumble, that I was only a telling one or two of the dearchildren as is so fond of you, that it was you a coming, ' replied Mrs. Mann with great humility. 

Mr. Bumble had a great idea of his oratorical powers and hisimportance. He had displayed the one, and vindicated the other. Herelaxed. 

'Well, well, Mrs. Mann, ' he replied in a calmer tone; 'it may be as yousay; it may be. Lead the way in, Mrs. Mann, for I come on business, and have something to say. '

Mrs. Mann ushered the beadle into a small parlour with a brick floor;placed a seat for him; and officiously deposited his cocked hat andcane on the table before him. Mr. Bumble wiped from his forehead theperspiration which his walk had engendered, glanced complacently at thecocked hat, and smiled. Yes, he smiled. Beadles are but men: and Mr. Bumble smiled. 

'Now don't you be offended at what I'm a going to say, ' observed Mrs. Mann, with captivating sweetness. 'You've had a long walk, you know, or I wouldn't mention it. Now, will you take a little drop ofsomethink, Mr. Bumble?'

'Not a drop. Nor a drop, ' said Mr. Bumble, waving his right hand in adignified, but placid manner. 

'I think you will, ' said Mrs. Mann, who had noticed the tone of therefusal, and the gesture that had accompanied it. 'Just a leetle drop, with a little cold water, and a lump of sugar. '

Mr. Bumble coughed. 

'Now, just a leetle drop, ' said Mrs. Mann persuasively. 

'What is it?' inquired the beadle. 

'Why, it's what I'm obliged to keep a little of in the house, to putinto the blessed infants' Daffy, when they ain't well, Mr. Bumble, 'replied Mrs. Mann as she opened a corner cupboard, and took down abottle and glass. 'It's gin. I'll not deceive you, Mr. B. It's gin. '

'Do you give the children Daffy, Mrs. Mann?' inquired Bumble, followingwith his eyes the interesting process of mixing. 

'Ah, bless 'em, that I do, dear as it is, ' replied the nurse. 'Icouldn't see 'em suffer before my very eyes, you know sir. '

'No'; said Mr. Bumble approvingly; 'no, you could not. You are ahumane woman, Mrs. Mann. ' (Here she set down the glass. ) 'I shalltake a early opportunity of mentioning it to the board, Mrs. Mann. '(He drew it towards him. ) 'You feel as a mother, Mrs. Mann. ' (Hestirred the gin-and-water. ) 'I--I drink your health with cheerfulness, Mrs. Mann'; and he swallowed half of it. 

'And now about business, ' said the beadle, taking out a leathernpocket-book. 'The child that was half-baptized Oliver Twist, is nineyear old to-day. '

'Bless him!' interposed Mrs. Mann, inflaming her left eye with thecorner of her apron. 

'And notwithstanding a offered reward of ten pound, which wasafterwards increased to twenty pound. Notwithstanding the mostsuperlative, and, I may say, supernat'ral exertions on the part of thisparish, ' said Bumble, 'we have never been able to discover who is hisfather, or what was his mother's settlement, name, or condition. '

Mrs. Mann raised her hands in astonishment; but added, after a moment'sreflection, 'How comes he to have any name at all, then?'

The beadle drew himself up with great pride, and said, 'I inwented it. '

'You, Mr. Bumble!'

'I, Mrs. Mann. We name our fondlings in alphabetical order. The lastwas a S, --Swubble, I named him. This was a T, --Twist, I named _him_. The next one comes will be Unwin, and the next Vilkins. I have gotnames ready made to the end of the alphabet, and all the way through itagain, when we come to Z. '

'Why, you're quite a literary character, sir!' said Mrs. Mann. 

'Well, well, ' said the beadle, evidently gratified with the compliment;'perhaps I may be. Perhaps I may be, Mrs. Mann. ' He finished thegin-and-water, and added, 'Oliver being now too old to remain here, theboard have determined to have him back into the house. I have come outmyself to take him there. So let me see him at once. '

'I'll fetch him directly, ' said Mrs. Mann, leaving the room for thatpurpose. Oliver, having had by this time as much of the outer coat ofdirt which encrusted his face and hands, removed, as could be scrubbedoff in one washing, was led into the room by his benevolent protectress. 

'Make a bow to the gentleman, Oliver, ' said Mrs. Mann. 

Oliver made a bow, which was divided between the beadle on the chair, and the cocked hat on the table. 

'Will you go along with me, Oliver?' said Mr. Bumble, in a majesticvoice. 

Oliver was about to say that he would go along with anybody with greatreadiness, when, glancing upward, he caught sight of Mrs. Mann, who hadgot behind the beadle's chair, and was shaking her fist at him with afurious countenance. He took the hint at once, for the fist had beentoo often impressed upon his body not to be deeply impressed upon hisrecollection. 

'Will she go with me?' inquired poor Oliver. 

'No, she can't, ' replied Mr. Bumble. 'But she'll come and see yousometimes. '

This was no very great consolation to the child. Young as he was, however, he had sense enough to make a feint of feeling great regret atgoing away. It was no very difficult matter for the boy to call tearsinto his eyes. Hunger and recent ill-usage are great assistants if youwant to cry; and Oliver cried very naturally indeed. Mrs. Mann gavehim a thousand embraces, and what Oliver wanted a great deal more, apiece of bread and butter, less he should seem too hungry when he gotto the workhouse. With the slice of bread in his hand, and the littlebrown-cloth parish cap on his head, Oliver was then led away by Mr. Bumble from the wretched home where one kind word or look had neverlighted the gloom of his infant years. And yet he burst into an agonyof childish grief, as the cottage-gate closed after him. Wretched aswere the little companions in misery he was leaving behind, they werethe only friends he had ever known; and a sense of his loneliness inthe great wide world, sank into the child's heart for the first time. 

Mr. Bumble walked on with long strides; little Oliver, firmly graspinghis gold-laced cuff, trotted beside him, inquiring at the end of everyquarter of a mile whether they were 'nearly there. ' To theseinterrogations Mr. Bumble returned very brief and snappish replies; forthe temporary blandness which gin-and-water awakens in some bosoms hadby this time evaporated; and he was once again a beadle. 

Oliver had not been within the walls of the workhouse a quarter of anhour, and had scarcely completed the demolition of a second slice ofbread, when Mr. Bumble, who had handed him over to the care of an oldwoman, returned; and, telling him it was a board night, informed himthat the board had said he was to appear before it forthwith. 

Not having a very clearly defined notion of what a live board was, Oliver was rather astounded by this intelligence, and was not quitecertain whether he ought to laugh or cry. He had no time to thinkabout the matter, however; for Mr. Bumble gave him a tap on the head, with his cane, to wake him up: and another on the back to make himlively: and bidding him to follow, conducted him into a largewhite-washed room, where eight or ten fat gentlemen were sitting rounda table. At the top of the table, seated in an arm-chair rather higherthan the rest, was a particularly fat gentleman with a very round, redface. 

'Bow to the board, ' said Bumble. Oliver brushed away two or threetears that were lingering in his eyes; and seeing no board but thetable, fortunately bowed to that. 

'What's your name, boy?' said the gentleman in the high chair. 

Oliver was frightened at the sight of so many gentlemen, which made himtremble: and the beadle gave him another tap behind, which made himcry. These two causes made him answer in a very low and hesitatingvoice; whereupon a gentleman in a white waistcoat said he was a fool. Which was a capital way of raising his spirits, and putting him quiteat his ease. 

'Boy, ' said the gentleman in the high chair, 'listen to me. You knowyou're an orphan, I suppose?'

'What's that, sir?' inquired poor Oliver. 

'The boy _is_ a fool--I thought he was, ' said the gentleman in thewhite waistcoat. 

'Hush!' said the gentleman who had spoken first. 'You know you've gotno father or mother, and that you were brought up by the parish, don'tyou?'

'Yes, sir, ' replied Oliver, weeping bitterly. 

'What are you crying for?' inquired the gentleman in the whitewaistcoat. And to be sure it was very extraordinary. What _could_ theboy be crying for?

'I hope you say your prayers every night, ' said another gentleman in agruff voice; 'and pray for the people who feed you, and take care ofyou--like a Christian. '

'Yes, sir, ' stammered the boy. The gentleman who spoke last wasunconsciously right. It would have been very like a Christian, and amarvellously good Christian too, if Oliver had prayed for the peoplewho fed and took care of _him_. But he hadn't, because nobody hadtaught him. 

'Well! You have come here to be educated, and taught a useful trade, 'said the red-faced gentleman in the high chair. 

'So you'll begin to pick oakum to-morrow morning at six o'clock, ' addedthe surly one in the white waistcoat. 

For the combination of both these blessings in the one simple processof picking oakum, Oliver bowed low by the direction of the beadle, andwas then hurried away to a large ward; where, on a rough, hard bed, hesobbed himself to sleep. What a novel illustration of the tender lawsof England! They let the paupers go to sleep!

Poor Oliver! He little thought, as he lay sleeping in happyunconsciousness of all around him, that the board had that very dayarrived at a decision which would exercise the most material influenceover all his future fortunes. But they had. And this was it:

The members of this board were very sage, deep, philosophical men; andwhen they came to turn their attention to the workhouse, they found outat once, what ordinary folks would never have discovered--the poorpeople liked it! It was a regular place of public entertainment forthe poorer classes; a tavern where there was nothing to pay; a publicbreakfast, dinner, tea, and supper all the year round; a brick andmortar elysium, where it was all play and no work. 'Oho!' said theboard, looking very knowing; 'we are the fellows to set this to rights;we'll stop it all, in no time. ' So, they established the rule, thatall poor people should have the alternative (for they would compelnobody, not they), of being starved by a gradual process in the house, or by a quick one out of it. With this view, they contracted with thewater-works to lay on an unlimited supply of water; and with acorn-factor to supply periodically small quantities of oatmeal; andissued three meals of thin gruel a day, with an onion twice a week, andhalf a roll of Sundays. They made a great many other wise and humaneregulations, having reference to the ladies, which it is not necessaryto repeat; kindly undertook to divorce poor married people, inconsequence of the great expense of a suit in Doctors' Commons; and, instead of compelling a man to support his family, as they hadtheretofore done, took his family away from him, and made him abachelor! There is no saying how many applicants for relief, underthese last two heads, might have started up in all classes of society, if it had not been coupled with the workhouse; but the board werelong-headed men, and had provided for this difficulty. The relief wasinseparable from the workhouse and the gruel; and that frightenedpeople. 

For the first six months after Oliver Twist was removed, the system wasin full operation. It was rather expensive at first, in consequence ofthe increase in the undertaker's bill, and the necessity of taking inthe clothes of all the paupers, which fluttered loosely on theirwasted, shrunken forms, after a week or two's gruel. But the number ofworkhouse inmates got thin as well as the paupers; and the board werein ecstasies. 

The room in which the boys were fed, was a large stone hall, with acopper at one end: out of which the master, dressed in an apron for thepurpose, and assisted by one or two women, ladled the gruel atmealtimes. Of this festive composition each boy had one porringer, andno more--except on occasions of great public rejoicing, when he had twoounces and a quarter of bread besides. 

The bowls never wanted washing. The boys polished them with theirspoons till they shone again; and when they had performed thisoperation (which never took very long, the spoons being nearly as largeas the bowls), they would sit staring at the copper, with such eagereyes, as if they could have devoured the very bricks of which it wascomposed; employing themselves, meanwhile, in sucking their fingersmost assiduously, with the view of catching up any stray splashes ofgruel that might have been cast thereon. Boys have generally excellentappetites. Oliver Twist and his companions suffered the tortures ofslow starvation for three months: at last they got so voracious andwild with hunger, that one boy, who was tall for his age, and hadn'tbeen used to that sort of thing (for his father had kept a smallcook-shop), hinted darkly to his companions, that unless he had anotherbasin of gruel per diem, he was afraid he might some night happen toeat the boy who slept next him, who happened to be a weakly youth oftender age. He had a wild, hungry eye; and they implicitly believedhim. A council was held; lots were cast who should walk up to themaster after supper that evening, and ask for more; and it fell toOliver Twist. 

The evening arrived; the boys took their places. The master, in hiscook's uniform, stationed himself at the copper; his pauper assistantsranged themselves behind him; the gruel was served out; and a longgrace was said over the short commons. The gruel disappeared; the boyswhispered each other, and winked at Oliver; while his next neighborsnudged him. Child as he was, he was desperate with hunger, andreckless with misery. He rose from the table; and advancing to themaster, basin and spoon in hand, said: somewhat alarmed at his owntemerity:

'Please, sir, I want some more. '

The master was a fat, healthy man; but he turned very pale. He gazed instupefied astonishment on the small rebel for some seconds, and thenclung for support to the copper. The assistants were paralysed withwonder; the boys with fear. 

'What!' said the master at length, in a faint voice. 

'Please, sir, ' replied Oliver, 'I want some more. '

The master aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the ladle; pinioned himin his arm; and shrieked aloud for the beadle. 

The board were sitting in solemn conclave, when Mr. Bumble rushed intothe room in great excitement, and addressing the gentleman in the highchair, said, 'Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir! Oliver Twist has asked formore!'

There was a general start. Horror was depicted on every countenance. 

'For _more_!' said Mr. Limbkins. 'Compose yourself, Bumble, and answerme distinctly. Do I understand that he asked for more, after he hadeaten the supper allotted by the dietary?'

'He did, sir, ' replied Bumble. 

'That boy will be hung, ' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. 'Iknow that boy will be hung. '

Nobody controverted the prophetic gentleman's opinion. An animateddiscussion took place. Oliver was ordered into instant confinement;and a bill was next morning pasted on the outside of the gate, offeringa reward of five pounds to anybody who would take Oliver Twist off thehands of the parish. In other words, five pounds and Oliver Twist wereoffered to any man or woman who wanted an apprentice to any trade, business, or calling. 

'I never was more convinced of anything in my life, ' said the gentlemanin the white waistcoat, as he knocked at the gate and read the billnext morning: 'I never was more convinced of anything in my life, thanI am that that boy will come to be hung. '

As I purpose to show in the sequel whether the white waistcoatedgentleman was right or not, I should perhaps mar the interest of thisnarrative (supposing it to possess any at all), if I ventured to hintjust yet, whether the life of Oliver Twist had this violent terminationor no. 

CHAPTER III

RELATES HOW OLIVER TWIST WAS VERY NEAR GETTING A PLACE WHICH WOULD NOTHAVE BEEN A SINECURE

For a week after the commission of the impious and profane offence ofasking for more, Oliver remained a close prisoner in the dark andsolitary room to which he had been consigned by the wisdom and mercy ofthe board. It appears, at first sight not unreasonable to suppose, that, if he had entertained a becoming feeling of respect for theprediction of the gentleman in the white waistcoat, he would haveestablished that sage individual's prophetic character, once and forever, by tying one end of his pocket-handkerchief to a hook in thewall, and attaching himself to the other. To the performance of thisfeat, however, there was one obstacle: namely, thatpocket-handkerchiefs being decided articles of luxury, had been, forall future times and ages, removed from the noses of paupers by theexpress order of the board, in council assembled: solemnly given andpronounced under their hands and seals. There was a still greaterobstacle in Oliver's youth and childishness. He only cried bitterlyall day; and, when the long, dismal night came on, spread his littlehands before his eyes to shut out the darkness, and crouching in thecorner, tried to sleep: ever and anon waking with a start and tremble, and drawing himself closer and closer to the wall, as if to feel evenits cold hard surface were a protection in the gloom and lonelinesswhich surrounded him. 

Let it not be supposed by the enemies of 'the system, ' that, during theperiod of his solitary incarceration, Oliver was denied the benefit ofexercise, the pleasure of society, or the advantages of religiousconsolation. As for exercise, it was nice cold weather, and he wasallowed to perform his ablutions every morning under the pump, in astone yard, in the presence of Mr. Bumble, who prevented his catchingcold, and caused a tingling sensation to pervade his frame, by repeatedapplications of the cane. As for society, he was carried every otherday into the hall where the boys dined, and there sociably flogged as apublic warning and example. And so for from being denied theadvantages of religious consolation, he was kicked into the sameapartment every evening at prayer-time, and there permitted to listento, and console his mind with, a general supplication of the boys, containing a special clause, therein inserted by authority of theboard, in which they entreated to be made good, virtuous, contented, and obedient, and to be guarded from the sins and vices of OliverTwist: whom the supplication distinctly set forth to be under theexclusive patronage and protection of the powers of wickedness, and anarticle direct from the manufactory of the very Devil himself. 

It chanced one morning, while Oliver's affairs were in this auspiciousand comfortable state, that Mr. Gamfield, chimney-sweep, went his waydown the High Street, deeply cogitating in his mind his ways and meansof paying certain arrears of rent, for which his landlord had becomerather pressing. Mr. Gamfield's most sanguine estimate of his financescould not raise them within full five pounds of the desired amount;and, in a species of arithmetical desperation, he was alternatelycudgelling his brains and his donkey, when passing the workhouse, hiseyes encountered the bill on the gate. 

'Wo--o!' said Mr. Gamfield to the donkey. 

The donkey was in a state of profound abstraction: wondering, probably, whether he was destined to be regaled with a cabbage-stalk or two whenhe had disposed of the two sacks of soot with which the little cart wasladen; so, without noticing the word of command, he jogged onward. 

Mr. Gamfield growled a fierce imprecation on the donkey generally, butmore particularly on his eyes; and, running after him, bestowed a blowon his head, which would inevitably have beaten in any skull but adonkey's. Then, catching hold of the bridle, he gave his jaw a sharpwrench, by way of gentle reminder that he was not his own master; andby these means turned him round. He then gave him another blow on thehead, just to stun him till he came back again. Having completed thesearrangements, he walked up to the gate, to read the bill. 

The gentleman with the white waistcoat was standing at the gate withhis hands behind him, after having delivered himself of some profoundsentiments in the board-room. Having witnessed the little disputebetween Mr. Gamfield and the donkey, he smiled joyously when thatperson came up to read the bill, for he saw at once that Mr. Gamfieldwas exactly the sort of master Oliver Twist wanted. Mr. Gamfieldsmiled, too, as he perused the document; for five pounds was just thesum he had been wishing for; and, as to the boy with which it wasencumbered, Mr. Gamfield, knowing what the dietary of the workhousewas, well knew he would be a nice small pattern, just the very thingfor register stoves. So, he spelt the bill through again, frombeginning to end; and then, touching his fur cap in token of humility, accosted the gentleman in the white waistcoat. 

'This here boy, sir, wot the parish wants to 'prentis, ' said Mr. Gamfield. 

'Ay, my man, ' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat, with acondescending smile. 'What of him?'

'If the parish vould like him to learn a right pleasant trade, in agood 'spectable chimbley-sweepin' bisness, ' said Mr. Gamfield, 'I wantsa 'prentis, and I am ready to take him. '

'Walk in, ' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. Mr. Gamfieldhaving lingered behind, to give the donkey another blow on the head, and another wrench of the jaw, as a caution not to run away in hisabsence, followed the gentleman with the white waistcoat into the roomwhere Oliver had first seen him. 

'It's a nasty trade, ' said Mr. Limbkins, when Gamfield had again statedhis wish. 

'Young boys have been smothered in chimneys before now, ' said anothergentleman. 

'That's acause they damped the straw afore they lit it in the chimbleyto make 'em come down again, ' said Gamfield; 'that's all smoke, and noblaze; vereas smoke ain't o' no use at all in making a boy come down, for it only sinds him to sleep, and that's wot he likes. Boys is weryobstinit, and wery lazy, Gen'l'men, and there's nothink like a good hotblaze to make 'em come down vith a run. It's humane too, gen'l'men, acause, even if they've stuck in the chimbley, roasting their feetmakes 'em struggle to hextricate theirselves. '

The gentleman in the white waistcoat appeared very much amused by thisexplanation; but his mirth was speedily checked by a look from Mr. Limbkins. The board then proceeded to converse among themselves for afew minutes, but in so low a tone, that the words 'saving ofexpenditure, ' 'looked well in the accounts, ' 'have a printed reportpublished, ' were alone audible. These only chanced to be heard, indeed, or account of their being very frequently repeated with greatemphasis. 

At length the whispering ceased; and the members of the board, havingresumed their seats and their solemnity, Mr. Limbkins said:

'We have considered your proposition, and we don't approve of it. '

'Not at all, ' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. 

'Decidedly not, ' added the other members. 

As Mr. Gamfield did happen to labour under the slight imputation ofhaving bruised three or four boys to death already, it occurred to himthat the board had, perhaps, in some unaccountable freak, taken it intotheir heads that this extraneous circumstance ought to influence theirproceedings. It was very unlike their general mode of doing business, if they had; but still, as he had no particular wish to revive therumour, he twisted his cap in his hands, and walked slowly from thetable. 

'So you won't let me have him, gen'l'men?' said Mr. Gamfield, pausingnear the door. 

'No, ' replied Mr. Limbkins; 'at least, as it's a nasty business, wethink you ought to take something less than the premium we offered. '

Mr. Gamfield's countenance brightened, as, with a quick step, hereturned to the table, and said, 'What'll you give, gen'l'men? Come! Don't be too hard on a poor man. What'll you give?'

'I should say, three pound ten was plenty, ' said Mr. Limbkins. 

'Ten shillings too much, ' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. 

'Come!' said Gamfield; 'say four pound, gen'l'men. Say four pound, andyou've got rid of him for good and all. There!'

'Three pound ten, ' repeated Mr. Limbkins, firmly. 

'Come! I'll split the diff'erence, gen'l'men, ' urged Gamfield. 'Threepound fifteen. '

'Not a farthing more, ' was the firm reply of Mr. Limbkins. 

'You're desperate hard upon me, gen'l'men, ' said Gamfield, wavering. 

'Pooh! pooh! nonsense!' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. 'He'd be cheap with nothing at all, as a premium. Take him, you sillyfellow! He's just the boy for you. He wants the stick, now and then:it'll do him good; and his board needn't come very expensive, for hehasn't been overfed since he was born. Ha! ha! ha!'

Mr. Gamfield gave an arch look at the faces round the table, and, observing a smile on all of them, gradually broke into a smile himself. The bargain was made. Mr. Bumble, was at once instructed that OliverTwist and his indentures were to be conveyed before the magistrate, forsignature and approval, that very afternoon. 

In pursuance of this determination, little Oliver, to his excessiveastonishment, was released from bondage, and ordered to put himselfinto a clean shirt. He had hardly achieved this very unusual gymnasticperformance, when Mr. Bumble brought him, with his own hands, a basinof gruel, and the holiday allowance of two ounces and a quarter ofbread. At this tremendous sight, Oliver began to cry very piteously:thinking, not unnaturally, that the board must have determined to killhim for some useful purpose, or they never would have begun to fattenhim up in that way. 

'Don't make your eyes red, Oliver, but eat your food and be thankful, 'said Mr. Bumble, in a tone of impressive pomposity. 'You're a going tobe made a 'prentice of, Oliver. '

'A prentice, sir!' said the child, trembling. 

'Yes, Oliver, ' said Mr. Bumble. 'The kind and blessed gentleman whichis so many parents to you, Oliver, when you have none of your own: area going to 'prentice' you: and to set you up in life, and make a man ofyou: although the expense to the parish is three pound ten!--threepound ten, Oliver!--seventy shillins--one hundred and fortysixpences!--and all for a naughty orphan which nobody can't love. '

As Mr. Bumble paused to take breath, after delivering this address inan awful voice, the tears rolled down the poor child's face, and hesobbed bitterly. 

'Come, ' said Mr. Bumble, somewhat less pompously, for it was gratifyingto his feelings to observe the effect his eloquence had produced;'Come, Oliver! Wipe your eyes with the cuffs of your jacket, and don'tcry into your gruel; that's a very foolish action, Oliver. ' Itcertainly was, for there was quite enough water in it already. 

On their way to the magistrate, Mr. Bumble instructed Oliver that allhe would have to do, would be to look very happy, and say, when thegentleman asked him if he wanted to be apprenticed, that he should likeit very much indeed; both of which injunctions Oliver promised to obey:the rather as Mr. Bumble threw in a gentle hint, that if he failed ineither particular, there was no telling what would be done to him. Whenthey arrived at the office, he was shut up in a little room by himself, and admonished by Mr. Bumble to stay there, until he came back to fetchhim. 

There the boy remained, with a palpitating heart, for half an hour. Atthe expiration of which time Mr. Bumble thrust in his head, unadornedwith the cocked hat, and said aloud:

'Now, Oliver, my dear, come to the gentleman. ' As Mr. Bumble saidthis, he put on a grim and threatening look, and added, in a low voice, 'Mind what I told you, you young rascal!'

Oliver stared innocently in Mr. Bumble's face at this somewhatcontradictory style of address; but that gentleman prevented hisoffering any remark thereupon, by leading him at once into an adjoiningroom: the door of which was open. It was a large room, with a greatwindow. Behind a desk, sat two old gentleman with powdered heads: oneof whom was reading the newspaper; while the other was perusing, withthe aid of a pair of tortoise-shell spectacles, a small piece ofparchment which lay before him. Mr. Limbkins was standing in front ofthe desk on one side; and Mr. Gamfield, with a partially washed face, on the other; while two or three bluff-looking men, in top-boots, werelounging about. 

The old gentleman with the spectacles gradually dozed off, over thelittle bit of parchment; and there was a short pause, after Oliver hadbeen stationed by Mr. Bumble in front of the desk. 

'This is the boy, your worship, ' said Mr. Bumble. 

The old gentleman who was reading the newspaper raised his head for amoment, and pulled the other old gentleman by the sleeve; whereupon, the last-mentioned old gentleman woke up. 

'Oh, is this the boy?' said the old gentleman. 

'This is him, sir, ' replied Mr. Bumble. 'Bow to the magistrate, mydear. '

Oliver roused himself, and made his best obeisance. He had beenwondering, with his eyes fixed on the magistrates' powder, whether allboards were born with that white stuff on their heads, and were boardsfrom thenceforth on that account. 

'Well, ' said the old gentleman, 'I suppose he's fond ofchimney-sweeping?'

'He doats on it, your worship, ' replied Bumble; giving Oliver a slypinch, to intimate that he had better not say he didn't. 

'And he _will_ be a sweep, will he?' inquired the old gentleman. 

'If we was to bind him to any other trade to-morrow, he'd run awaysimultaneous, your worship, ' replied Bumble. 

'And this man that's to be his master--you, sir--you'll treat him well, and feed him, and do all that sort of thing, will you?' said the oldgentleman. 

'When I says I will, I means I will, ' replied Mr. Gamfield doggedly. 

'You're a rough speaker, my friend, but you look an honest, open-hearted man, ' said the old gentleman: turning his spectacles inthe direction of the candidate for Oliver's premium, whose villainouscountenance was a regular stamped receipt for cruelty. But themagistrate was half blind and half childish, so he couldn't reasonablybe expected to discern what other people did. 

'I hope I am, sir, ' said Mr. Gamfield, with an ugly leer. 

'I have no doubt you are, my friend, ' replied the old gentleman: fixinghis spectacles more firmly on his nose, and looking about him for theinkstand. 

It was the critical moment of Oliver's fate. If the inkstand had beenwhere the old gentleman thought it was, he would have dipped his peninto it, and signed the indentures, and Oliver would have beenstraightway hurried off. But, as it chanced to be immediately underhis nose, it followed, as a matter of course, that he looked all overhis desk for it, without finding it; and happening in the course of hissearch to look straight before him, his gaze encountered the pale andterrified face of Oliver Twist: who, despite all the admonitory looksand pinches of Bumble, was regarding the repulsive countenance of hisfuture master, with a mingled expression of horror and fear, toopalpable to be mistaken, even by a half-blind magistrate. 

The old gentleman stopped, laid down his pen, and looked from Oliver toMr. Limbkins; who attempted to take snuff with a cheerful andunconcerned aspect. 

'My boy!' said the old gentleman, 'you look pale and alarmed. What isthe matter?'

'Stand a little away from him, Beadle, ' said the other magistrate:laying aside the paper, and leaning forward with an expression ofinterest. 'Now, boy, tell us what's the matter: don't be afraid. '

Oliver fell on his knees, and clasping his hands together, prayed thatthey would order him back to the dark room--that they would starvehim--beat him--kill him if they pleased--rather than send him away withthat dreadful man. 

'Well!' said Mr. Bumble, raising his hands and eyes with mostimpressive solemnity. 'Well! of all the artful and designing orphansthat ever I see, Oliver, you are one of the most bare-facedest. '

'Hold your tongue, Beadle, ' said the second old gentleman, when Mr. Bumble had given vent to this compound adjective. 

'I beg your worship's pardon, ' said Mr. Bumble, incredulous of havingheard aright. 'Did your worship speak to me?'

'Yes. Hold your tongue. '

Mr. Bumble was stupefied with astonishment. A beadle ordered to holdhis tongue! A moral revolution!

The old gentleman in the tortoise-shell spectacles looked at hiscompanion, he nodded significantly. 

'We refuse to sanction these indentures, ' said the old gentleman:tossing aside the piece of parchment as he spoke. 

'I hope, ' stammered Mr. Limbkins: 'I hope the magistrates will notform the opinion that the authorities have been guilty of any improperconduct, on the unsupported testimony of a child. '

'The magistrates are not called upon to pronounce any opinion on thematter, ' said the second old gentleman sharply. 'Take the boy back tothe workhouse, and treat him kindly. He seems to want it. '

That same evening, the gentleman in the white waistcoat most positivelyand decidedly affirmed, not only that Oliver would be hung, but that hewould be drawn and quartered into the bargain. Mr. Bumble shook hishead with gloomy mystery, and said he wished he might come to good;whereunto Mr. Gamfield replied, that he wished he might come to him;which, although he agreed with the beadle in most matters, would seemto be a wish of a totally opposite description. 

The next morning, the public were once informed that Oliver Twist wasagain To Let, and that five pounds would be paid to anybody who wouldtake possession of him. 

CHAPTER IV

OLIVER, BEING OFFERED ANOTHER PLACE, MAKES HIS FIRST ENTRY INTO PUBLICLIFE

In great families, when an advantageous place cannot be obtained, either in possession, reversion, remainder, or expectancy, for theyoung man who is growing up, it is a very general custom to send him tosea. The board, in imitation of so wise and salutary an example, tookcounsel together on the expediency of shipping off Oliver Twist, insome small trading vessel bound to a good unhealthy port. Thissuggested itself as the very best thing that could possibly be donewith him: the probability being, that the skipper would flog him todeath, in a playful mood, some day after dinner, or would knock hisbrains out with an iron bar; both pastimes being, as is prettygenerally known, very favourite and common recreations among gentlemanof that class. The more the case presented itself to the board, inthis point of view, the more manifold the advantages of the stepappeared; so, they came to the conclusion that the only way ofproviding for Oliver effectually, was to send him to sea without delay. 

Mr. Bumble had been despatched to make various preliminary inquiries, with the view of finding out some captain or other who wanted acabin-boy without any friends; and was returning to the workhouse tocommunicate the result of his mission; when he encountered at the gate, no less a person than Mr. Sowerberry, the parochial undertaker. 

Mr. Sowerberry was a tall gaunt, large-jointed man, attired in a suitof threadbare black, with darned cotton stockings of the same colour, and shoes to answer. His features were not naturally intended to weara smiling aspect, but he was in general rather given to professionaljocosity. His step was elastic, and his face betokened inwardpleasantry, as he advanced to Mr. Bumble, and shook him cordially bythe hand. 

'I have taken the measure of the two women that died last night, Mr. Bumble, ' said the undertaker. 

'You'll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry, ' said the beadle, as hethrust his thumb and forefinger into the proffered snuff-box of theundertaker: which was an ingenious little model of a patent coffin. 'Isay you'll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry, ' repeated Mr. Bumble, tapping the undertaker on the shoulder, in a friendly manner, with hiscane. 

'Think so?' said the undertaker in a tone which half admitted and halfdisputed the probability of the event. 'The prices allowed by theboard are very small, Mr. Bumble. '

'So are the coffins, ' replied the beadle: with precisely as near anapproach to a laugh as a great official ought to indulge in. 

Mr. Sowerberry was much tickled at this: as of course he ought to be;and laughed a long time without cessation. 'Well, well, Mr. Bumble, 'he said at length, 'there's no denying that, since the new system offeeding has come in, the coffins are something narrower and moreshallow than they used to be; but we must have some profit, Mr. Bumble. Well-seasoned timber is an expensive article, sir; and all the ironhandles come, by canal, from Birmingham. '

'Well, well, ' said Mr. Bumble, 'every trade has its drawbacks. A fairprofit is, of course, allowable. '

'Of course, of course, ' replied the undertaker; 'and if I don't get aprofit upon this or that particular article, why, I make it up in thelong-run, you see--he! he! he!'

'Just so, ' said Mr. Bumble. 

'Though I must say, ' continued the undertaker, resuming the current ofobservations which the beadle had interrupted: 'though I must say, Mr. Bumble, that I have to contend against one very great disadvantage:which is, that all the stout people go off the quickest. The peoplewho have been better off, and have paid rates for many years, are thefirst to sink when they come into the house; and let me tell you, Mr. Bumble, that three or four inches over one's calculation makes a greathole in one's profits: especially when one has a family to provide for, sir. '

As Mr. Sowerberry said this, with the becoming indignation of anill-used man; and as Mr. Bumble felt that it rather tended to convey areflection on the honour of the parish; the latter gentleman thought itadvisable to change the subject. Oliver Twist being uppermost in hismind, he made him his theme. 

'By the bye, ' said Mr. Bumble, 'you don't know anybody who wants a boy, do you? A porochial 'prentis, who is at present a dead-weight; amillstone, as I may say, round the porochial throat? Liberal terms, Mr. Sowerberry, liberal terms?' As Mr. Bumble spoke, he raised hiscane to the bill above him, and gave three distinct raps upon the words'five pounds': which were printed thereon in Roman capitals ofgigantic size. 

'Gadso!' said the undertaker: taking Mr. Bumble by the gilt-edgedlappel of his official coat; 'that's just the very thing I wanted tospeak to you about. You know--dear me, what a very elegant button thisis, Mr. Bumble! I never noticed it before. '

'Yes, I think it rather pretty, ' said the beadle, glancing proudlydownwards at the large brass buttons which embellished his coat. 'Thedie is the same as the porochial seal--the Good Samaritan healing thesick and bruised man. The board presented it to me on Newyear'smorning, Mr. Sowerberry. I put it on, I remember, for the first time, to attend the inquest on that reduced tradesman, who died in a doorwayat midnight. '

'I recollect, ' said the undertaker. 'The jury brought it in, "Died fromexposure to the cold, and want of the common necessaries of life, "didn't they?'

Mr. Bumble nodded. 

'And they made it a special verdict, I think, ' said the undertaker, 'byadding some words to the effect, that if the relieving officer had--'

'Tush! Foolery!' interposed the beadle. 'If the board attended to allthe nonsense that ignorant jurymen talk, they'd have enough to do. '

'Very true, ' said the undertaker; 'they would indeed. '

'Juries, ' said Mr. Bumble, grasping his cane tightly, as was his wontwhen working into a passion: 'juries is ineddicated, vulgar, grovellingwretches. '

'So they are, ' said the undertaker. 

'They haven't no more philosophy nor political economy about 'em thanthat, ' said the beadle, snapping his fingers contemptuously. 

'No more they have, ' acquiesced the undertaker. 

'I despise 'em, ' said the beadle, growing very red in the face. 

'So do I, ' rejoined the undertaker. 

'And I only wish we'd a jury of the independent sort, in the house fora week or two, ' said the beadle; 'the rules and regulations of theboard would soon bring their spirit down for 'em. '

'Let 'em alone for that, ' replied the undertaker. So saying, hesmiled, approvingly: to calm the rising wrath of the indignant parishofficer. 

Mr Bumble lifted off his cocked hat; took a handkerchief from theinside of the crown; wiped from his forehead the perspiration which hisrage had engendered; fixed the cocked hat on again; and, turning to theundertaker, said in a calmer voice:

'Well; what about the boy?'

'Oh!' replied the undertaker; 'why, you know, Mr. Bumble, I pay a gooddeal towards the poor's rates. '

'Hem!' said Mr. Bumble. 'Well?'

'Well, ' replied the undertaker, 'I was thinking that if I pay so muchtowards 'em, I've a right to get as much out of 'em as I can, Mr. Bumble; and so--I think I'll take the boy myself. '

Mr. Bumble grasped the undertaker by the arm, and led him into thebuilding. Mr. Sowerberry was closeted with the board for five minutes;and it was arranged that Oliver should go to him that evening 'uponliking'--a phrase which means, in the case of a parish apprentice, thatif the master find, upon a short trial, that he can get enough work outof a boy without putting too much food into him, he shall have him fora term of years, to do what he likes with. 

When little Oliver was taken before 'the gentlemen' that evening; andinformed that he was to go, that night, as general house-lad to acoffin-maker's; and that if he complained of his situation, or evercame back to the parish again, he would be sent to sea, there to bedrowned, or knocked on the head, as the case might be, he evinced solittle emotion, that they by common consent pronounced him a hardenedyoung rascal, and ordered Mr. Bumble to remove him forthwith. 

Now, although it was very natural that the board, of all people in theworld, should feel in a great state of virtuous astonishment and horrorat the smallest tokens of want of feeling on the part of anybody, theywere rather out, in this particular instance. The simple fact was, that Oliver, instead of possessing too little feeling, possessed rathertoo much; and was in a fair way of being reduced, for life, to a stateof brutal stupidity and sullenness by the ill usage he had received. He heard the news of his destination, in perfect silence; and, havinghad his luggage put into his hand--which was not very difficult tocarry, inasmuch as it was all comprised within the limits of a brownpaper parcel, about half a foot square by three inches deep--he pulledhis cap over his eyes; and once more attaching himself to Mr. Bumble'scoat cuff, was led away by that dignitary to a new scene of suffering. 

For some time, Mr. Bumble drew Oliver along, without notice or remark;for the beadle carried his head very erect, as a beadle always should:and, it being a windy day, little Oliver was completely enshrouded bythe skirts of Mr. Bumble's coat as they blew open, and disclosed togreat advantage his flapped waistcoat and drab plush knee-breeches. Asthey drew near to their destination, however, Mr. Bumble thought itexpedient to look down, and see that the boy was in good order forinspection by his new master: which he accordingly did, with a fit andbecoming air of gracious patronage. 

'Oliver!' said Mr. Bumble. 

'Yes, sir, ' replied Oliver, in a low, tremulous voice. 

'Pull that cap off your eyes, and hold up your head, sir. '

Although Oliver did as he was desired, at once; and passed the back ofhis unoccupied hand briskly across his eyes, he left a tear in themwhen he looked up at his conductor. As Mr. Bumble gazed sternly uponhim, it rolled down his cheek. It was followed by another, and another. The child made a strong effort, but it was an unsuccessful one. Withdrawing his other hand from Mr. Bumble's he covered his face withboth; and wept until the tears sprung out from between his chin andbony fingers. 

'Well!' exclaimed Mr. Bumble, stopping short, and darting at his littlecharge a look of intense malignity. 'Well! Of _all_ theungratefullest, and worst-disposed boys as ever I see, Oliver, you arethe--'

'No, no, sir, ' sobbed Oliver, clinging to the hand which held thewell-known cane; 'no, no, sir; I will be good indeed; indeed, indeed Iwill, sir! I am a very little boy, sir; and it is so--so--'

'So what?' inquired Mr. Bumble in amazement. 

'So lonely, sir! So very lonely!' cried the child. 'Everybody hatesme. Oh! sir, don't, don't pray be cross to me!' The child beat hishand upon his heart; and looked in his companion's face, with tears ofreal agony. 

Mr. Bumble regarded Oliver's piteous and helpless look, with someastonishment, for a few seconds; hemmed three or four times in a huskymanner; and after muttering something about 'that troublesome cough, 'bade Oliver dry his eyes and be a good boy. Then once more taking hishand, he walked on with him in silence. 

The undertaker, who had just put up the shutters of his shop, wasmaking some entries in his day-book by the light of a most appropriatedismal candle, when Mr. Bumble entered. 

'Aha!' said the undertaker; looking up from the book, and pausing inthe middle of a word; 'is that you, Bumble?'

'No one else, Mr. Sowerberry, ' replied the beadle. 'Here! I've broughtthe boy. ' Oliver made a bow. 

'Oh! that's the boy, is it?' said the undertaker: raising the candleabove his head, to get a better view of Oliver. 'Mrs. Sowerberry, willyou have the goodness to come here a moment, my dear?'

Mrs. Sowerberry emerged from a little room behind the shop, andpresented the form of a short, then, squeezed-up woman, with a vixenishcountenance. 

'My dear, ' said Mr. Sowerberry, deferentially, 'this is the boy fromthe workhouse that I told you of. ' Oliver bowed again. 

'Dear me!' said the undertaker's wife, 'he's very small. '

'Why, he _is_ rather small, ' replied Mr. Bumble: looking at Oliver asif it were his fault that he was no bigger; 'he is small. There's nodenying it. But he'll grow, Mrs. Sowerberry--he'll grow. '

'Ah! I dare say he will, ' replied the lady pettishly, 'on our victualsand our drink. I see no saving in parish children, not I; for theyalways cost more to keep, than they're worth. However, men always thinkthey know best. There! Get downstairs, little bag o' bones. ' Withthis, the undertaker's wife opened a side door, and pushed Oliver downa steep flight of stairs into a stone cell, damp and dark: forming theante-room to the coal-cellar, and denominated 'kitchen'; wherein sat aslatternly girl, in shoes down at heel, and blue worsted stockings verymuch out of repair. 

'Here, Charlotte, ' said Mr. Sowerberry, who had followed Oliver down, 'give this boy some of the cold bits that were put by for Trip. Hehasn't come home since the morning, so he may go without 'em. I daresay the boy isn't too dainty to eat 'em--are you, boy?'

Oliver, whose eyes had glistened at the mention of meat, and who wastrembling with eagerness to devour it, replied in the negative; and aplateful of coarse broken victuals was set before him. 

I wish some well-fed philosopher, whose meat and drink turn to gallwithin him; whose blood is ice, whose heart is iron; could have seenOliver Twist clutching at the dainty viands that the dog had neglected. I wish he could have witnessed the horrible avidity with which Olivertore the bits asunder with all the ferocity of famine. There is onlyone thing I should like better; and that would be to see thePhilosopher making the same sort of meal himself, with the same relish. 

'Well, ' said the undertaker's wife, when Oliver had finished hissupper: which she had regarded in silent horror, and with fearfulauguries of his future appetite: 'have you done?'

There being nothing eatable within his reach, Oliver replied in theaffirmative. 

'Then come with me, ' said Mrs. Sowerberry: taking up a dim and dirtylamp, and leading the way upstairs; 'your bed's under the counter. Youdon't mind sleeping among the coffins, I suppose? But it doesn't muchmatter whether you do or don't, for you can't sleep anywhere else. Come; don't keep me here all night!'

Oliver lingered no longer, but meekly followed his new mistress. 

CHAPTER V

OLIVER MINGLES WITH NEW ASSOCIATES. GOING TO A FUNERAL FOR THE FIRSTTIME, HE FORMS AN UNFAVOURABLE NOTION OF HIS MASTER'S BUSINESS

Oliver, being left to himself in the undertaker's shop, set the lampdown on a workman's bench, and gazed timidly about him with a feelingof awe and dread, which many people a good deal older than he will beat no loss to understand. An unfinished coffin on black tressels, which stood in the middle of the shop, looked so gloomy and death-likethat a cold tremble came over him, every time his eyes wandered in thedirection of the dismal object: from which he almost expected to seesome frightful form slowly rear its head, to drive him mad with terror. Against the wall were ranged, in regular array, a long row of elmboards cut in the same shape: looking in the dim light, likehigh-shouldered ghosts with their hands in their breeches pockets. Coffin-plates, elm-chips, bright-headed nails, and shreds of blackcloth, lay scattered on the floor; and the wall behind the counter wasornamented with a lively representation of two mutes in very stiffneckcloths, on duty at a large private door, with a hearse drawn byfour black steeds, approaching in the distance. The shop was close andhot. The atmosphere seemed tainted with the smell of coffins. Therecess beneath the counter in which his flock mattress was thrust, looked like a grave. 

Nor were these the only dismal feelings which depressed Oliver. He wasalone in a strange place; and we all know how chilled and desolate thebest of us will sometimes feel in such a situation. The boy had nofriends to care for, or to care for him. The regret of no recentseparation was fresh in his mind; the absence of no loved andwell-remembered face sank heavily into his heart. 

But his heart was heavy, notwithstanding; and he wished, as he creptinto his narrow bed, that that were his coffin, and that he could belain in a calm and lasting sleep in the churchyard ground, with thetall grass waving gently above his head, and the sound of the old deepbell to soothe him in his sleep. 

Oliver was awakened in the morning, by a loud kicking at the outside ofthe shop-door: which, before he could huddle on his clothes, wasrepeated, in an angry and impetuous manner, about twenty-five times. When he began to undo the chain, the legs desisted, and a voice began. 

'Open the door, will yer?' cried the voice which belonged to the legswhich had kicked at the door. 

'I will, directly, sir, ' replied Oliver: undoing the chain, and turningthe key. 

'I suppose yer the new boy, ain't yer?' said the voice through thekey-hole. 

'Yes, sir, ' replied Oliver. 

'How old are yer?' inquired the voice. 

'Ten, sir, ' replied Oliver. 

'Then I'll whop yer when I get in, ' said the voice; 'you just see if Idon't, that's all, my work'us brat!' and having made this obligingpromise, the voice began to whistle. 

Oliver had been too often subjected to the process to which the veryexpressive monosyllable just recorded bears reference, to entertain thesmallest doubt that the owner of the voice, whoever he might be, wouldredeem his pledge, most honourably. He drew back the bolts with atrembling hand, and opened the door. 

For a second or two, Oliver glanced up the street, and down the street, and over the way: impressed with the belief that the unknown, who hadaddressed him through the key-hole, had walked a few paces off, to warmhimself; for nobody did he see but a big charity-boy, sitting on a postin front of the house, eating a slice of bread and butter: which he cutinto wedges, the size of his mouth, with a clasp-knife, and thenconsumed with great dexterity. 

'I beg your pardon, sir, ' said Oliver at length: seeing that no othervisitor made his appearance; 'did you knock?'

'I kicked, ' replied the charity-boy. 

'Did you want a coffin, sir?' inquired Oliver, innocently. 

At this, the charity-boy looked monstrous fierce; and said that Oliverwould want one before long, if he cut jokes with his superiors in thatway. 

'Yer don't know who I am, I suppose, Work'us?' said the charity-boy, incontinuation: descending from the top of the post, meanwhile, withedifying gravity. 

'No, sir, ' rejoined Oliver. 

'I'm Mister Noah Claypole, ' said the charity-boy, 'and you're under me. Take down the shutters, yer idle young ruffian!' With this, Mr. Claypole administered a kick to Oliver, and entered the shop with adignified air, which did him great credit. It is difficult for alarge-headed, small-eyed youth, of lumbering make and heavycountenance, to look dignified under any circumstances; but it is moreespecially so, when superadded to these personal attractions are a rednose and yellow smalls. 

Oliver, having taken down the shutters, and broken a pane of glass inhis effort to stagger away beneath the weight of the first one to asmall court at the side of the house in which they were kept during theday, was graciously assisted by Noah: who having consoled him with theassurance that 'he'd catch it, ' condescended to help him. Mr. Sowerberry came down soon after. Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Sowerberryappeared. Oliver having 'caught it, ' in fulfilment of Noah'sprediction, followed that young gentleman down the stairs to breakfast. 

'Come near the fire, Noah, ' said Charlotte. 'I saved a nice little bitof bacon for you from master's breakfast. Oliver, shut that door atMister Noah's back, and take them bits that I've put out on the coverof the bread-pan. There's your tea; take it away to that box, anddrink it there, and make haste, for they'll want you to mind the shop. D'ye hear?'

'D'ye hear, Work'us?' said Noah Claypole. 

'Lor, Noah!' said Charlotte, 'what a rum creature you are! Why don'tyou let the boy alone?'

'Let him alone!' said Noah. 'Why everybody lets him alone enough, forthe matter of that. Neither his father nor his mother will everinterfere with him. All his relations let him have his own way prettywell. Eh, Charlotte? He! he! he!'

'Oh, you queer soul!' said Charlotte, bursting into a hearty laugh, inwhich she was joined by Noah; after which they both looked scornfullyat poor Oliver Twist, as he sat shivering on the box in the coldestcorner of the room, and ate the stale pieces which had been speciallyreserved for him. 

Noah was a charity-boy, but not a workhouse orphan. No chance-childwas he, for he could trace his genealogy all the way back to hisparents, who lived hard by; his mother being a washerwoman, and hisfather a drunken soldier, discharged with a wooden leg, and a diurnalpension of twopence-halfpenny and an unstateable fraction. Theshop-boys in the neighbourhood had long been in the habit of brandingNoah in the public streets, with the ignominious epithets of'leathers, ' 'charity, ' and the like; and Noah had bourne them withoutreply. But, now that fortune had cast in his way a nameless orphan, atwhom even the meanest could point the finger of scorn, he retorted onhim with interest. This affords charming food for contemplation. Itshows us what a beautiful thing human nature may be made to be; and howimpartially the same amiable qualities are developed in the finest lordand the dirtiest charity-boy. 

Oliver had been sojourning at the undertaker's some three weeks or amonth. Mr. And Mrs. Sowerberry--the shop being shut up--were takingtheir supper in the little back-parlour, when Mr. Sowerberry, afterseveral deferential glances at his wife, said, 'My dear--' He was going to say more; but, Mrs. Sowerberry looking up, with a peculiarly unpropitious aspect, he stopped short. 

'Well, ' said Mrs. Sowerberry, sharply. 

'Nothing, my dear, nothing, ' said Mr. Sowerberry. 

'Ugh, you brute!' said Mrs. Sowerberry. 

'Not at all, my dear, ' said Mr. Sowerberry humbly. 'I thought youdidn't want to hear, my dear. I was only going to say--'

'Oh, don't tell me what you were going to say, ' interposed Mrs. Sowerberry. 'I am nobody; don't consult me, pray. _I_ don't want tointrude upon your secrets. ' As Mrs. Sowerberry said this, she gave anhysterical laugh, which threatened violent consequences. 

'But, my dear, ' said Sowerberry, 'I want to ask your advice. '

'No, no, don't ask mine, ' replied Mrs. Sowerberry, in an affectingmanner: 'ask somebody else's. ' Here, there was another hystericallaugh, which frightened Mr. Sowerberry very much. This is a verycommon and much-approved matrimonial course of treatment, which isoften very effective. It at once reduced Mr. Sowerberry to begging, asa special favour, to be allowed to say what Mrs. Sowerberry was mostcurious to hear. After a short duration, the permission was mostgraciously conceded. 

'It's only about young Twist, my dear, ' said Mr. Sowerberry. 'A verygood-looking boy, that, my dear. '

'He need be, for he eats enough, ' observed the lady. 

'There's an expression of melancholy in his face, my dear, ' resumed Mr. Sowerberry, 'which is very interesting. He would make a delightfulmute, my love. '

Mrs. Sowerberry looked up with an expression of considerablewonderment. Mr. Sowerberry remarked it and, without allowing time forany observation on the good lady's part, proceeded. 

'I don't mean a regular mute to attend grown-up people, my dear, butonly for children's practice. It would be very new to have a mute inproportion, my dear. You may depend upon it, it would have a superbeffect. '

Mrs. Sowerberry, who had a good deal of taste in the undertaking way, was much struck by the novelty of this idea; but, as it would have beencompromising her dignity to have said so, under existing circumstances, she merely inquired, with much sharpness, why such an obvioussuggestion had not presented itself to her husband's mind before? Mr. Sowerberry rightly construed this, as an acquiescence in hisproposition; it was speedily determined, therefore, that Oliver shouldbe at once initiated into the mysteries of the trade; and, with thisview, that he should accompany his master on the very next occasion ofhis services being required. 

The occasion was not long in coming. Half an hour after breakfast nextmorning, Mr. Bumble entered the shop; and supporting his cane againstthe counter, drew forth his large leathern pocket-book: from which heselected a small scrap of paper, which he handed over to Sowerberry. 

'Aha!' said the undertaker, glancing over it with a lively countenance;'an order for a coffin, eh?'

'For a coffin first, and a porochial funeral afterwards, ' replied Mr. Bumble, fastening the strap of the leathern pocket-book: which, likehimself, was very corpulent. 

'Bayton, ' said the undertaker, looking from the scrap of paper to Mr. Bumble. 'I never heard the name before. '

Bumble shook his head, as he replied, 'Obstinate people, Mr. Sowerberry; very obstinate. Proud, too, I'm afraid, sir. '

'Proud, eh?' exclaimed Mr. Sowerberry with a sneer. 'Come, that's toomuch. '

'Oh, it's sickening, ' replied the beadle. 'Antimonial, Mr. Sowerberry!'

'So it is, ' acquiesced the undertaker. 

'We only heard of the family the night before last, ' said the beadle;'and we shouldn't have known anything about them, then, only a womanwho lodges in the same house made an application to the porochialcommittee for them to send the porochial surgeon to see a woman as wasvery bad. He had gone out to dinner; but his 'prentice (which is avery clever lad) sent 'em some medicine in a blacking-bottle, offhand. '

'Ah, there's promptness, ' said the undertaker. 

'Promptness, indeed!' replied the beadle. 'But what's the consequence;what's the ungrateful behaviour of these rebels, sir? Why, the husbandsends back word that the medicine won't suit his wife's complaint, andso she shan't take it--says she shan't take it, sir! Good, strong, wholesome medicine, as was given with great success to two Irishlabourers and a coal-heaver, only a week before--sent 'em for nothing, with a blackin'-bottle in, --and he sends back word that she shan't takeit, sir!'

As the atrocity presented itself to Mr. Bumble's mind in full force, hestruck the counter sharply with his cane, and became flushed withindignation. 

'Well, ' said the undertaker, 'I ne--ver--did--'

'Never did, sir!' ejaculated the beadle. 'No, nor nobody never did;but now she's dead, we've got to bury her; and that's the direction;and the sooner it's done, the better. '

Thus saying, Mr. Bumble put on his cocked hat wrong side first, in afever of parochial excitement; and flounced out of the shop. 

'Why, he was so angry, Oliver, that he forgot even to ask after you!'said Mr. Sowerberry, looking after the beadle as he strode down thestreet. 

'Yes, sir, ' replied Oliver, who had carefully kept himself out ofsight, during the interview; and who was shaking from head to foot atthe mere recollection of the sound of Mr. Bumble's voice. 

He needn't haven taken the trouble to shrink from Mr. Bumble's glance, however; for that functionary, on whom the prediction of the gentlemanin the white waistcoat had made a very strong impression, thought thatnow the undertaker had got Oliver upon trial the subject was betteravoided, until such time as he should be firmly bound for seven years, and all danger of his being returned upon the hands of the parishshould be thus effectually and legally overcome. 

'Well, ' said Mr. Sowerberry, taking up his hat, 'the sooner this job isdone, the better. Noah, look after the shop. Oliver, put on your cap, and come with me. ' Oliver obeyed, and followed his master on hisprofessional mission. 

They walked on, for some time, through the most crowded and denselyinhabited part of the town; and then, striking down a narrow streetmore dirty and miserable than any they had yet passed through, pausedto look for the house which was the object of their search. The houseson either side were high and large, but very old, and tenanted bypeople of the poorest class: as their neglected appearance would havesufficiently denoted, without the concurrent testimony afforded by thesqualid looks of the few men and women who, with folded arms and bodieshalf doubled, occasionally skulked along. A great many of thetenements had shop-fronts; but these were fast closed, and moulderingaway; only the upper rooms being inhabited. Some houses which hadbecome insecure from age and decay, were prevented from falling intothe street, by huge beams of wood reared against the walls, and firmlyplanted in the road; but even these crazy dens seemed to have beenselected as the nightly haunts of some houseless wretches, for many ofthe rough boards which supplied the place of door and window, werewrenched from their positions, to afford an aperture wide enough forthe passage of a human body. The kennel was stagnant and filthy. Thevery rats, which here and there lay putrefying in its rottenness, werehideous with famine. 

There was neither knocker nor bell-handle at the open door where Oliverand his master stopped; so, groping his way cautiously through the darkpassage, and bidding Oliver keep close to him and not be afraid theundertaker mounted to the top of the first flight of stairs. Stumblingagainst a door on the landing, he rapped at it with his knuckles. 

It was opened by a young girl of thirteen or fourteen. The undertakerat once saw enough of what the room contained, to know it was theapartment to which he had been directed. He stepped in; Oliverfollowed him. 

There was no fire in the room; but a man was crouching, mechanically, over the empty stove. An old woman, too, had drawn a low stool to thecold hearth, and was sitting beside him. There were some raggedchildren in another corner; and in a small recess, opposite the door, there lay upon the ground, something covered with an old blanket. Oliver shuddered as he cast his eyes toward the place, and creptinvoluntarily closer to his master; for though it was covered up, theboy felt that it was a corpse. 

The man's face was thin and very pale; his hair and beard were grizzly;his eyes were bloodshot. The old woman's face was wrinkled; her tworemaining teeth protruded over her under lip; and her eyes were brightand piercing. Oliver was afraid to look at either her or the man. They seemed so like the rats he had seen outside. 

'Nobody shall go near her, ' said the man, starting fiercely up, as theundertaker approached the recess. 'Keep back! Damn you, keep back, ifyou've a life to lose!'

'Nonsense, my good man, ' said the undertaker, who was pretty well usedto misery in all its shapes. 'Nonsense!'

'I tell you, ' said the man: clenching his hands, and stampingfuriously on the floor, --'I tell you I won't have her put into theground. She couldn't rest there. The worms would worry her--not eather--she is so worn away. '

The undertaker offered no reply to this raving; but producing a tapefrom his pocket, knelt down for a moment by the side of the body. 

'Ah!' said the man: bursting into tears, and sinking on his knees atthe feet of the dead woman; 'kneel down, kneel down--kneel round her, every one of you, and mark my words! I say she was starved to death. I never knew how bad she was, till the fever came upon her; and thenher bones were starting through the skin. There was neither fire norcandle; she died in the dark--in the dark! She couldn't even see herchildren's faces, though we heard her gasping out their names. I beggedfor her in the streets: and they sent me to prison. When I came back, she was dying; and all the blood in my heart has dried up, for theystarved her to death. I swear it before the God that saw it! Theystarved her!' He twined his hands in his hair; and, with a loudscream, rolled grovelling upon the floor: his eyes fixed, and the foamcovering his lips. 

The terrified children cried bitterly; but the old woman, who hadhitherto remained as quiet as if she had been wholly deaf to all thatpassed, menaced them into silence. Having unloosened the cravat of theman who still remained extended on the ground, she tottered towards theundertaker. 

'She was my daughter, ' said the old woman, nodding her head in thedirection of the corpse; and speaking with an idiotic leer, moreghastly than even the presence of death in such a place. 'Lord, Lord!Well, it _is_ strange that I who gave birth to her, and was a womanthen, should be alive and merry now, and she lying there: so cold andstiff! Lord, Lord!--to think of it; it's as good as a play--as good asa play!'

As the wretched creature mumbled and chuckled in her hideous merriment, the undertaker turned to go away. 

'Stop, stop!' said the old woman in a loud whisper. 'Will she beburied to-morrow, or next day, or to-night? I laid her out; and I mustwalk, you know. Send me a large cloak: a good warm one: for it isbitter cold. We should have cake and wine, too, before we go! Nevermind; send some bread--only a loaf of bread and a cup of water. Shallwe have some bread, dear?' she said eagerly: catching at theundertaker's coat, as he once more moved towards the door. 

'Yes, yes, ' said the undertaker, 'of course. Anything you like!' Hedisengaged himself from the old woman's grasp; and, drawing Oliverafter him, hurried away. 

The next day, (the family having been meanwhile relieved with ahalf-quartern loaf and a piece of cheese, left with them by Mr. Bumblehimself, ) Oliver and his master returned to the miserable abode; whereMr. Bumble had already arrived, accompanied by four men from theworkhouse, who were to act as bearers. An old black cloak had beenthrown over the rags of the old woman and the man; and the bare coffinhaving been screwed down, was hoisted on the shoulders of the bearers, and carried into the street. 

'Now, you must put your best leg foremost, old lady!' whisperedSowerberry in the old woman's ear; 'we are rather late; and it won'tdo, to keep the clergyman waiting. Move on, my men, --as quick as youlike!'

Thus directed, the bearers trotted on under their light burden; and thetwo mourners kept as near them, as they could. Mr. Bumble andSowerberry walked at a good smart pace in front; and Oliver, whose legswere not so long as his master's, ran by the side. 

There was not so great a necessity for hurrying as Mr. Sowerberry hadanticipated, however; for when they reached the obscure corner of thechurchyard in which the nettles grew, and where the parish graves weremade, the clergyman had not arrived; and the clerk, who was sitting bythe vestry-room fire, seemed to think it by no means improbable that itmight be an hour or so, before he came. So, they put the bier on thebrink of the grave; and the two mourners waited patiently in the dampclay, with a cold rain drizzling down, while the ragged boys whom thespectacle had attracted into the churchyard played a noisy game athide-and-seek among the tombstones, or varied their amusements byjumping backwards and forwards over the coffin. Mr. Sowerberry andBumble, being personal friends of the clerk, sat by the fire with him, and read the paper. 

At length, after a lapse of something more than an hour, Mr. Bumble, and Sowerberry, and the clerk, were seen running towards the grave. Immediately afterwards, the clergyman appeared: putting on his surpliceas he came along. Mr. Bumble then thrashed a boy or two, to keep upappearances; and the reverend gentleman, having read as much of theburial service as could be compressed into four minutes, gave hissurplice to the clerk, and walked away again. 

'Now, Bill!' said Sowerberry to the grave-digger. 'Fill up!'

It was no very difficult task, for the grave was so full, that theuppermost coffin was within a few feet of the surface. Thegrave-digger shovelled in the earth; stamped it loosely down with hisfeet: shouldered his spade; and walked off, followed by the boys, whomurmured very loud complaints at the fun being over so soon. 

'Come, my good fellow!' said Bumble, tapping the man on the back. 'Theywant to shut up the yard. '

The man who had never once moved, since he had taken his station by thegrave side, started, raised his head, stared at the person who hadaddressed him, walked forward for a few paces; and fell down in aswoon. The crazy old woman was too much occupied in bewailing the lossof her cloak (which the undertaker had taken off), to pay him anyattention; so they threw a can of cold water over him; and when he cameto, saw him safely out of the churchyard, locked the gate, and departedon their different ways. 

'Well, Oliver, ' said Sowerberry, as they walked home, 'how do you likeit?'

'Pretty well, thank you, sir' replied Oliver, with considerablehesitation. 'Not very much, sir. '

'Ah, you'll get used to it in time, Oliver, ' said Sowerberry. 'Nothingwhen you _are_ used to it, my boy. '

Oliver wondered, in his own mind, whether it had taken a very long timeto get Mr. Sowerberry used to it. But he thought it better not to askthe question; and walked back to the shop: thinking over all he hadseen and heard. 

CHAPTER VI

OLIVER, BEING GOADED BY THE TAUNTS OF NOAH, ROUSES INTO ACTION, ANDRATHER ASTONISHES HIM

The month's trial over, Oliver was formally apprenticed. It was a nicesickly season just at this time. In commercial phrase, coffins werelooking up; and, in the course of a few weeks, Oliver acquired a greatdeal of experience. The success of Mr. Sowerberry's ingeniousspeculation, exceeded even his most sanguine hopes. The oldestinhabitants recollected no period at which measles had been soprevalent, or so fatal to infant existence; and many were the mournfulprocessions which little Oliver headed, in a hat-band reaching down tohis knees, to the indescribable admiration and emotion of all themothers in the town. As Oliver accompanied his master in most of hisadult expeditions too, in order that he might acquire that equanimityof demeanour and full command of nerve which was essential to afinished undertaker, he had many opportunities of observing thebeautiful resignation and fortitude with which some strong-mindedpeople bear their trials and losses. 

For instance; when Sowerberry had an order for the burial of some richold lady or gentleman, who was surrounded by a great number of nephewsand nieces, who had been perfectly inconsolable during the previousillness, and whose grief had been wholly irrepressible even on the mostpublic occasions, they would be as happy among themselves as needbe--quite cheerful and contented--conversing together with as muchfreedom and gaiety, as if nothing whatever had happened to disturbthem. Husbands, too, bore the loss of their wives with the most heroiccalmness. Wives, again, put on weeds for their husbands, as if, so farfrom grieving in the garb of sorrow, they had made up their minds torender it as becoming and attractive as possible. It was observable, too, that ladies and gentlemen who were in passions of anguish duringthe ceremony of interment, recovered almost as soon as they reachedhome, and became quite composed before the tea-drinking was over. Allthis was very pleasant and improving to see; and Oliver beheld it withgreat admiration. 

That Oliver Twist was moved to resignation by the example of these goodpeople, I cannot, although I am his biographer, undertake to affirmwith any degree of confidence; but I can most distinctly say, that formany months he continued meekly to submit to the domination andill-treatment of Noah Claypole: who used him far worse than before, nowthat his jealousy was roused by seeing the new boy promoted to theblack stick and hatband, while he, the old one, remained stationary inthe muffin-cap and leathers. Charlotte treated him ill, because Noahdid; and Mrs. Sowerberry was his decided enemy, because Mr. Sowerberrywas disposed to be his friend; so, between these three on one side, anda glut of funerals on the other, Oliver was not altogether ascomfortable as the hungry pig was, when he was shut up, by mistake, inthe grain department of a brewery. 

And now, I come to a very important passage in Oliver's history; for Ihave to record an act, slight and unimportant perhaps in appearance, but which indirectly produced a material change in all his futureprospects and proceedings. 

One day, Oliver and Noah had descended into the kitchen at the usualdinner-hour, to banquet upon a small joint of mutton--a pound and ahalf of the worst end of the neck--when Charlotte being called out ofthe way, there ensued a brief interval of time, which Noah Claypole, being hungry and vicious, considered he could not possibly devote to aworthier purpose than aggravating and tantalising young Oliver Twist. 

Intent upon this innocent amusement, Noah put his feet on thetable-cloth; and pulled Oliver's hair; and twitched his ears; andexpressed his opinion that he was a 'sneak'; and furthermore announcedhis intention of coming to see him hanged, whenever that desirableevent should take place; and entered upon various topics of pettyannoyance, like a malicious and ill-conditioned charity-boy as he was. But, making Oliver cry, Noah attempted to be more facetious still; andin his attempt, did what many sometimes do to this day, when they wantto be funny. He got rather personal. 

'Work'us, ' said Noah, 'how's your mother?'

'She's dead, ' replied Oliver; 'don't you say anything about her to me!'

Oliver's colour rose as he said this; he breathed quickly; and therewas a curious working of the mouth and nostrils, which Mr. Claypolethought must be the immediate precursor of a violent fit of crying. Under this impression he returned to the charge. 

'What did she die of, Work'us?' said Noah. 

'Of a broken heart, some of our old nurses told me, ' replied Oliver:more as if he were talking to himself, than answering Noah. 'I think Iknow what it must be to die of that!'

'Tol de rol lol lol, right fol lairy, Work'us, ' said Noah, as a tearrolled down Oliver's cheek. 'What's set you a snivelling now?'

'Not _you_, ' replied Oliver, sharply. 'There; that's enough. Don't sayanything more to me about her; you'd better not!'

'Better not!' exclaimed Noah. 'Well! Better not! Work'us, don't beimpudent. _Your_ mother, too! She was a nice 'un she was. Oh, Lor!'And here, Noah nodded his head expressively; and curled up as much ofhis small red nose as muscular action could collect together, for theoccasion. 

'Yer know, Work'us, ' continued Noah, emboldened by Oliver's silence, and speaking in a jeering tone of affected pity: of all tones the mostannoying: 'Yer know, Work'us, it can't be helped now; and of course yercouldn't help it then; and I am very sorry for it; and I'm sure we allare, and pity yer very much. But yer must know, Work'us, yer motherwas a regular right-down bad 'un. '

'What did you say?' inquired Oliver, looking up very quickly. 

'A regular right-down bad 'un, Work'us, ' replied Noah, coolly. 'Andit's a great deal better, Work'us, that she died when she did, or elseshe'd have been hard labouring in Bridewell, or transported, or hung;which is more likely than either, isn't it?'

Crimson with fury, Oliver started up; overthrew the chair and table;seized Noah by the throat; shook him, in the violence of his rage, tillhis teeth chattered in his head; and collecting his whole force intoone heavy blow, felled him to the ground. 

A minute ago, the boy had looked the quiet child, mild, dejectedcreature that harsh treatment had made him. But his spirit was rousedat last; the cruel insult to his dead mother had set his blood on fire. His breast heaved; his attitude was erect; his eye bright and vivid;his whole person changed, as he stood glaring over the cowardlytormentor who now lay crouching at his feet; and defied him with anenergy he had never known before. 

'He'll murder me!' blubbered Noah. 'Charlotte! missis! Here's thenew boy a murdering of me! Help! help! Oliver's gone mad!Char--lotte!'

Noah's shouts were responded to, by a loud scream from Charlotte, and alouder from Mrs. Sowerberry; the former of whom rushed into the kitchenby a side-door, while the latter paused on the staircase till she wasquite certain that it was consistent with the preservation of humanlife, to come further down. 

'Oh, you little wretch!' screamed Charlotte: seizing Oliver with herutmost force, which was about equal to that of a moderately strong manin particularly good training. 'Oh, you little un-grate-ful, mur-de-rous, hor-rid villain!' And between every syllable, Charlottegave Oliver a blow with all her might: accompanying it with a scream, for the benefit of society. 

Charlotte's fist was by no means a light one; but, lest it should notbe effectual in calming Oliver's wrath, Mrs. Sowerberry plunged intothe kitchen, and assisted to hold him with one hand, while shescratched his face with the other. In this favourable position ofaffairs, Noah rose from the ground, and pommelled him behind. 

This was rather too violent exercise to last long. When they were allwearied out, and could tear and beat no longer, they dragged Oliver, struggling and shouting, but nothing daunted, into the dust-cellar, andthere locked him up. This being done, Mrs. Sowerberry sunk into achair, and burst into tears. 

'Bless her, she's going off!' said Charlotte. 'A glass of water, Noah, dear. Make haste!'

'Oh! Charlotte, ' said Mrs. Sowerberry: speaking as well as she could, through a deficiency of breath, and a sufficiency of cold water, whichNoah had poured over her head and shoulders. 'Oh! Charlotte, what amercy we have not all been murdered in our beds!'

'Ah! mercy indeed, ma'am, ' was the reply. I only hope this'll teachmaster not to have any more of these dreadful creatures, that are bornto be murderers and robbers from their very cradle. Poor Noah! He wasall but killed, ma'am, when I come in. '

'Poor fellow!' said Mrs. Sowerberry: looking piteously on thecharity-boy. 

Noah, whose top waistcoat-button might have been somewhere on a levelwith the crown of Oliver's head, rubbed his eyes with the inside of hiswrists while this commiseration was bestowed upon him, and performedsome affecting tears and sniffs. 

'What's to be done!' exclaimed Mrs. Sowerberry. 'Your master's not athome; there's not a man in the house, and he'll kick that door down inten minutes. ' Oliver's vigorous plunges against the bit of timber inquestion, rendered this occurance highly probable. 

'Dear, dear! I don't know, ma'am, ' said Charlotte, 'unless we send forthe police-officers. '

'Or the millingtary, ' suggested Mr. Claypole. 

'No, no, ' said Mrs. Sowerberry: bethinking herself of Oliver's oldfriend. 'Run to Mr. Bumble, Noah, and tell him to come here directly, and not to lose a minute; never mind your cap! Make haste! You canhold a knife to that black eye, as you run along. It'll keep theswelling down. '

Noah stopped to make no reply, but started off at his fullest speed;and very much it astonished the people who were out walking, to see acharity-boy tearing through the streets pell-mell, with no cap on hishead, and a clasp-knife at his eye. 

CHAPTER VII

OLIVER CONTINUES REFRACTORY

Noah Claypole ran along the streets at his swiftest pace, and pausednot once for breath, until he reached the workhouse-gate. Having restedhere, for a minute or so, to collect a good burst of sobs and animposing show of tears and terror, he knocked loudly at the wicket; andpresented such a rueful face to the aged pauper who opened it, thateven he, who saw nothing but rueful faces about him at the best oftimes, started back in astonishment. 

'Why, what's the matter with the boy!' said the old pauper. 

'Mr. Bumble! Mr. Bumble!' cried Noah, with well-affected dismay: andin tones so loud and agitated, that they not only caught the ear of Mr. Bumble himself, who happened to be hard by, but alarmed him so muchthat he rushed into the yard without his cocked hat, --which is a verycurious and remarkable circumstance: as showing that even a beadle, acted upon a sudden and powerful impulse, may be afflicted with amomentary visitation of loss of self-possession, and forgetfulness ofpersonal dignity. 

'Oh, Mr. Bumble, sir!' said Noah: 'Oliver, sir, --Oliver has--'

'What? What?' interposed Mr. Bumble: with a gleam of pleasure in hismetallic eyes. 'Not run away; he hasn't run away, has he, Noah?'

'No, sir, no. Not run away, sir, but he's turned wicious, ' repliedNoah. 'He tried to murder me, sir; and then he tried to murderCharlotte; and then missis. Oh! what dreadful pain it is!

Such agony, please, sir!' And here, Noah writhed and twisted his bodyinto an extensive variety of eel-like positions; thereby giving Mr. Bumble to understand that, from the violent and sanguinary onset ofOliver Twist, he had sustained severe internal injury and damage, fromwhich he was at that moment suffering the acutest torture. 

When Noah saw that the intelligence he communicated perfectly paralysedMr. Bumble, he imparted additional effect thereunto, by bewailing hisdreadful wounds ten times louder than before; and when he observed agentleman in a white waistcoat crossing the yard, he was more tragic inhis lamentations than ever: rightly conceiving it highly expedient toattract the notice, and rouse the indignation, of the gentlemanaforesaid. 

The gentleman's notice was very soon attracted; for he had not walkedthree paces, when he turned angrily round, and inquired what that youngcur was howling for, and why Mr. Bumble did not favour him withsomething which would render the series of vocular exclamations sodesignated, an involuntary process?

'It's a poor boy from the free-school, sir, ' replied Mr. Bumble, 'whohas been nearly murdered--all but murdered, sir, --by young Twist. '

'By Jove!' exclaimed the gentleman in the white waistcoat, stoppingshort. 'I knew it! I felt a strange presentiment from the very first, that that audacious young savage would come to be hung!'

'He has likewise attempted, sir, to murder the female servant, ' saidMr. Bumble, with a face of ashy paleness. 

'And his missis, ' interposed Mr. Claypole. 

'And his master, too, I think you said, Noah?' added Mr. Bumble. 

'No! he's out, or he would have murdered him, ' replied Noah. 'He saidhe wanted to. '

'Ah! Said he wanted to, did he, my boy?' inquired the gentleman in thewhite waistcoat. 

'Yes, sir, ' replied Noah. 'And please, sir, missis wants to knowwhether Mr. Bumble can spare time to step up there, directly, and floghim--'cause master's out. '

'Certainly, my boy; certainly, ' said the gentleman in the whitewaistcoat: smiling benignly, and patting Noah's head, which was aboutthree inches higher than his own. 'You're a good boy--a very good boy. Here's a penny for you. Bumble, just step up to Sowerberry's with yourcane, and see what's best to be done. Don't spare him, Bumble. '

'No, I will not, sir, ' replied the beadle. And the cocked hat and canehaving been, by this time, adjusted to their owner's satisfaction, Mr. Bumble and Noah Claypole betook themselves with all speed to theundertaker's shop. 

Here the position of affairs had not at all improved. Sowerberry hadnot yet returned, and Oliver continued to kick, with undiminishedvigour, at the cellar-door. The accounts of his ferocity as related byMrs. Sowerberry and Charlotte, were of so startling a nature, that Mr. Bumble judged it prudent to parley, before opening the door. With thisview he gave a kick at the outside, by way of prelude; and, then, applying his mouth to the keyhole, said, in a deep and impressive tone:

'Oliver!'

'Come; you let me out!' replied Oliver, from the inside. 

'Do you know this here voice, Oliver?' said Mr. Bumble. 

'Yes, ' replied Oliver. 

'Ain't you afraid of it, sir? Ain't you a-trembling while I speak, sir?' said Mr. Bumble. 

'No!' replied Oliver, boldly. 

An answer so different from the one he had expected to elicit, and wasin the habit of receiving, staggered Mr. Bumble not a little. Hestepped back from the keyhole; drew himself up to his full height; andlooked from one to another of the three bystanders, in muteastonishment. 

'Oh, you know, Mr. Bumble, he must be mad, ' said Mrs. Sowerberry. 

'No boy in half his senses could venture to speak so to you. '

'It's not Madness, ma'am, ' replied Mr. Bumble, after a few moments ofdeep meditation. 'It's Meat. '

'What?' exclaimed Mrs. Sowerberry. 

'Meat, ma'am, meat, ' replied Bumble, with stern emphasis. 'You'veover-fed him, ma'am. You've raised a artificial soul and spirit inhim, ma'am unbecoming a person of his condition: as the board, Mrs. Sowerberry, who are practical philosophers, will tell you. What havepaupers to do with soul or spirit? It's quite enough that we let 'emhave live bodies. If you had kept the boy on gruel, ma'am, this wouldnever have happened. '

'Dear, dear!' ejaculated Mrs. Sowerberry, piously raising her eyes tothe kitchen ceiling: 'this comes of being liberal!'

The liberality of Mrs. Sowerberry to Oliver, had consisted of a profusebestowal upon him of all the dirty odds and ends which nobody elsewould eat; so there was a great deal of meekness and self-devotion inher voluntarily remaining under Mr. Bumble's heavy accusation. Ofwhich, to do her justice, she was wholly innocent, in thought, word, ordeed. 

'Ah!' said Mr. Bumble, when the lady brought her eyes down to earthagain; 'the only thing that can be done now, that I know of, is toleave him in the cellar for a day or so, till he's a little starveddown; and then to take him out, and keep him on gruel all through theapprenticeship. He comes of a bad family. Excitable natures, Mrs. Sowerberry! Both the nurse and doctor said, that that mother of hismade her way here, against difficulties and pain that would have killedany well-disposed woman, weeks before. '

At this point of Mr. Bumble's discourse, Oliver, just hearing enough toknow that some allusion was being made to his mother, recommencedkicking, with a violence that rendered every other sound inaudible. Sowerberry returned at this juncture. Oliver's offence having beenexplained to him, with such exaggerations as the ladies thought bestcalculated to rouse his ire, he unlocked the cellar-door in atwinkling, and dragged his rebellious apprentice out, by the collar. 

Oliver's clothes had been torn in the beating he had received; his facewas bruised and scratched; and his hair scattered over his forehead. The angry flush had not disappeared, however; and when he was pulledout of his prison, he scowled boldly on Noah, and looked quiteundismayed. 

'Now, you are a nice young fellow, ain't you?' said Sowerberry; givingOliver a shake, and a box on the ear. 

'He called my mother names, ' replied Oliver. 

'Well, and what if he did, you little ungrateful wretch?' said Mrs. Sowerberry. 'She deserved what he said, and worse. '

'She didn't' said Oliver. 

'She did, ' said Mrs. Sowerberry. 

'It's a lie!' said Oliver. 

Mrs. Sowerberry burst into a flood of tears. 

This flood of tears left Mr. Sowerberry no alternative. If he hadhesitated for one instant to punish Oliver most severely, it must bequite clear to every experienced reader that he would have been, according to all precedents in disputes of matrimony established, abrute, an unnatural husband, an insulting creature, a base imitation ofa man, and various other agreeable characters too numerous for recitalwithin the limits of this chapter. To do him justice, he was, as faras his power went--it was not very extensive--kindly disposed towardsthe boy; perhaps, because it was his interest to be so; perhaps, because his wife disliked him. The flood of tears, however, left him noresource; so he at once gave him a drubbing, which satisfied even Mrs. Sowerberry herself, and rendered Mr. Bumble's subsequent application ofthe parochial cane, rather unnecessary. For the rest of the day, hewas shut up in the back kitchen, in company with a pump and a slice ofbread; and at night, Mrs. Sowerberry, after making various remarksoutside the door, by no means complimentary to the memory of hismother, looked into the room, and, amidst the jeers and pointings ofNoah and Charlotte, ordered him upstairs to his dismal bed. 

It was not until he was left alone in the silence and stillness of thegloomy workshop of the undertaker, that Oliver gave way to the feelingswhich the day's treatment may be supposed likely to have awakened in amere child. He had listened to their taunts with a look of contempt;he had borne the lash without a cry: for he felt that pride swelling inhis heart which would have kept down a shriek to the last, though theyhad roasted him alive. But now, when there were none to see or hearhim, he fell upon his knees on the floor; and, hiding his face in hishands, wept such tears as, God send for the credit of our nature, fewso young may ever have cause to pour out before him!

For a long time, Oliver remained motionless in this attitude. Thecandle was burning low in the socket when he rose to his feet. Havinggazed cautiously round him, and listened intently, he gently undid thefastenings of the door, and looked abroad. 

It was a cold, dark night. The stars seemed, to the boy's eyes, farther from the earth than he had ever seen them before; there was nowind; and the sombre shadows thrown by the trees upon the ground, looked sepulchral and death-like, from being so still. He softlyreclosed the door. Having availed himself of the expiring light of thecandle to tie up in a handkerchief the few articles of wearing apparelhe had, sat himself down upon a bench, to wait for morning. 

With the first ray of light that struggled through the crevices in theshutters, Oliver arose, and again unbarred the door. One timid lookaround--one moment's pause of hesitation--he had closed it behind him, and was in the open street. 

He looked to the right and to the left, uncertain whither to fly. 

He remembered to have seen the waggons, as they went out, toiling upthe hill. He took the same route; and arriving at a footpath acrossthe fields: which he knew, after some distance, led out again into theroad; struck into it, and walked quickly on. 

Along this same footpath, Oliver well-remembered he had trotted besideMr. Bumble, when he first carried him to the workhouse from the farm. His way lay directly in front of the cottage. His heart beat quicklywhen he bethought himself of this; and he half resolved to turn back. He had come a long way though, and should lose a great deal of time bydoing so. Besides, it was so early that there was very little fear ofhis being seen; so he walked on. 

He reached the house. There was no appearance of its inmates stirringat that early hour. Oliver stopped, and peeped into the garden. Achild was weeding one of the little beds; as he stopped, he raised hispale face and disclosed the features of one of his former companions. Oliver felt glad to see him, before he went; for, though younger thanhimself, he had been his little friend and playmate. They had beenbeaten, and starved, and shut up together, many and many a time. 

'Hush, Dick!' said Oliver, as the boy ran to the gate, and thrust histhin arm between the rails to greet him. 'Is any one up?'

'Nobody but me, ' replied the child. 

'You musn't say you saw me, Dick, ' said Oliver. 'I am running away. They beat and ill-use me, Dick; and I am going to seek my fortune, somelong way off. I don't know where. How pale you are!'

'I heard the doctor tell them I was dying, ' replied the child with afaint smile. 'I am very glad to see you, dear; but don't stop, don'tstop!'

'Yes, yes, I will, to say good-b'ye to you, ' replied Oliver. 'I shallsee you again, Dick. I know I shall! You will be well and happy!'

'I hope so, ' replied the child. 'After I am dead, but not before. Iknow the doctor must be right, Oliver, because I dream so much ofHeaven, and Angels, and kind faces that I never see when I am awake. Kiss me, ' said the child, climbing up the low gate, and flinging hislittle arms round Oliver's neck. 'Good-b'ye, dear! God bless you!'

The blessing was from a young child's lips, but it was the first thatOliver had ever heard invoked upon his head; and through the strugglesand sufferings, and troubles and changes, of his after life, he neveronce forgot it. 

CHAPTER VIII

OLIVER WALKS TO LONDON. HE ENCOUNTERS ON THE ROAD A STRANGE SORT OFYOUNG GENTLEMAN

Oliver reached the stile at which the by-path terminated; and once moregained the high-road. It was eight o'clock now. Though he was nearlyfive miles away from the town, he ran, and hid behind the hedges, byturns, till noon: fearing that he might be pursued and overtaken. Thenhe sat down to rest by the side of the milestone, and began to think, for the first time, where he had better go and try to live. 

The stone by which he was seated, bore, in large characters, anintimation that it was just seventy miles from that spot to London. Thename awakened a new train of ideas in the boy's mind. 

London!--that great place!--nobody--not even Mr. Bumble--could everfind him there! He had often heard the old men in the workhouse, too, say that no lad of spirit need want in London; and that there were waysof living in that vast city, which those who had been bred up incountry parts had no idea of. It was the very place for a homelessboy, who must die in the streets unless some one helped him. As thesethings passed through his thoughts, he jumped upon his feet, and againwalked forward. 

He had diminished the distance between himself and London by full fourmiles more, before he recollected how much he must undergo ere he couldhope to reach his place of destination. As this consideration forceditself upon him, he slackened his pace a little, and meditated upon hismeans of getting there. He had a crust of bread, a coarse shirt, andtwo pairs of stockings, in his bundle. He had a penny too--a gift ofSowerberry's after some funeral in which he had acquitted himself morethan ordinarily well--in his pocket. 'A clean shirt, ' thought Oliver, 'is a very comfortable thing; and so are two pairs of darned stockings;and so is a penny; but they are small helps to a sixty-five miles' walkin winter time. ' But Oliver's thoughts, like those of most otherpeople, although they were extremely ready and active to point out hisdifficulties, were wholly at a loss to suggest any feasible mode ofsurmounting them; so, after a good deal of thinking to no particularpurpose, he changed his little bundle over to the other shoulder, andtrudged on. 

Oliver walked twenty miles that day; and all that time tasted nothingbut the crust of dry bread, and a few draughts of water, which hebegged at the cottage-doors by the road-side. When the night came, heturned into a meadow; and, creeping close under a hay-rick, determinedto lie there, till morning. He felt frightened at first, for the windmoaned dismally over the empty fields: and he was cold and hungry, andmore alone than he had ever felt before. Being very tired with hiswalk, however, he soon fell asleep and forgot his troubles. 

He felt cold and stiff, when he got up next morning, and so hungry thathe was obliged to exchange the penny for a small loaf, in the veryfirst village through which he passed. He had walked no more thantwelve miles, when night closed in again. His feet were sore, and hislegs so weak that they trembled beneath him. Another night passed inthe bleak damp air, made him worse; when he set forward on his journeynext morning he could hardly crawl along. 

He waited at the bottom of a steep hill till a stage-coach came up, andthen begged of the outside passengers; but there were very few who tookany notice of him: and even those told him to wait till they got to thetop of the hill, and then let them see how far he could run for ahalfpenny. Poor Oliver tried to keep up with the coach a little way, but was unable to do it, by reason of his fatigue and sore feet. Whenthe outsides saw this, they put their halfpence back into their pocketsagain, declaring that he was an idle young dog, and didn't deserveanything; and the coach rattled away and left only a cloud of dustbehind. 

In some villages, large painted boards were fixed up: warning allpersons who begged within the district, that they would be sent tojail. This frightened Oliver very much, and made him glad to get outof those villages with all possible expedition. In others, he wouldstand about the inn-yards, and look mournfully at every one who passed:a proceeding which generally terminated in the landlady's ordering oneof the post-boys who were lounging about, to drive that strange boy outof the place, for she was sure he had come to steal something. If hebegged at a farmer's house, ten to one but they threatened to set thedog on him; and when he showed his nose in a shop, they talked aboutthe beadle--which brought Oliver's heart into his mouth, --very oftenthe only thing he had there, for many hours together. 

In fact, if it had not been for a good-hearted turnpike-man, and abenevolent old lady, Oliver's troubles would have been shortened by thevery same process which had put an end to his mother's; in other words, he would most assuredly have fallen dead upon the king's highway. Butthe turnpike-man gave him a meal of bread and cheese; and the old lady, who had a shipwrecked grandson wandering barefoot in some distant partof the earth, took pity upon the poor orphan, and gave him what littleshe could afford--and more--with such kind and gentle words, and suchtears of sympathy and compassion, that they sank deeper into Oliver'ssoul, than all the sufferings he had ever undergone. 

Early on the seventh morning after he had left his native place, Oliverlimped slowly into the little town of Barnet. The window-shutters wereclosed; the street was empty; not a soul had awakened to the businessof the day. The sun was rising in all its splendid beauty; but thelight only served to show the boy his own lonesomeness and desolation, as he sat, with bleeding feet and covered with dust, upon a door-step. 

By degrees, the shutters were opened; the window-blinds were drawn up;and people began passing to and fro. Some few stopped to gaze atOliver for a moment or two, or turned round to stare at him as theyhurried by; but none relieved him, or troubled themselves to inquirehow he came there. He had no heart to beg. And there he sat. 

He had been crouching on the step for some time: wondering at the greatnumber of public-houses (every other house in Barnet was a tavern, large or small), gazing listlessly at the coaches as they passedthrough, and thinking how strange it seemed that they could do, withease, in a few hours, what it had taken him a whole week of courage anddetermination beyond his years to accomplish: when he was roused byobserving that a boy, who had passed him carelessly some minutesbefore, had returned, and was now surveying him most earnestly from theopposite side of the way. He took little heed of this at first; butthe boy remained in the same attitude of close observation so long, that Oliver raised his head, and returned his steady look. Upon this, the boy crossed over; and walking close up to Oliver, said, 'Hullo, my covey! What's the row?'

The boy who addressed this inquiry to the young wayfarer, was about hisown age: but one of the queerest looking boys that Oliver had evenseen. He was a snub-nosed, flat-browed, common-faced boy enough; andas dirty a juvenile as one would wish to see; but he had about him allthe airs and manners of a man. He was short of his age: with ratherbow-legs, and little, sharp, ugly eyes. His hat was stuck on the topof his head so lightly, that it threatened to fall off everymoment--and would have done so, very often, if the wearer had not had aknack of every now and then giving his head a sudden twitch, whichbrought it back to its old place again. He wore a man's coat, whichreached nearly to his heels. He had turned the cuffs back, half-way uphis arm, to get his hands out of the sleeves: apparently with theultimate view of thrusting them into the pockets of his corduroytrousers; for there he kept them. He was, altogether, as roysteringand swaggering a young gentleman as ever stood four feet six, orsomething less, in the bluchers. 

'Hullo, my covey! What's the row?' said this strange young gentlemanto Oliver. 

'I am very hungry and tired, ' replied Oliver: the tears standing in hiseyes as he spoke. 'I have walked a long way. I have been walking theseseven days. '

'Walking for sivin days!' said the young gentleman. 'Oh, I see. Beak'sorder, eh? But, ' he added, noticing Oliver's look of surprise, 'Isuppose you don't know what a beak is, my flash com-pan-i-on. '

Oliver mildly replied, that he had always heard a bird's mouthdescribed by the term in question. 

'My eyes, how green!' exclaimed the young gentleman. 'Why, a beak's amadgst'rate; and when you walk by a beak's order, it's not straightforerd, but always agoing up, and niver a coming down agin. Was younever on the mill?'

'What mill?' inquired Oliver. 

'What mill! Why, _the_ mill--the mill as takes up so little room thatit'll work inside a Stone Jug; and always goes better when the wind'slow with people, than when it's high; acos then they can't get workmen. But come, ' said the young gentleman; 'you want grub, and you shall haveit. I'm at low-water-mark myself--only one bob and a magpie; but, asfar as it goes, I'll fork out and stump. Up with you on your pins. There! Now then! 'Morrice!'

Assisting Oliver to rise, the young gentleman took him to an adjacentchandler's shop, where he purchased a sufficiency of ready-dressed hamand a half-quartern loaf, or, as he himself expressed it, 'a fourpennybran!' the ham being kept clean and preserved from dust, by theingenious expedient of making a hole in the loaf by pulling out aportion of the crumb, and stuffing it therein. Taking the bread underhis arm, the young gentlman turned into a small public-house, and ledthe way to a tap-room in the rear of the premises. Here, a pot of beerwas brought in, by direction of the mysterious youth; and Oliver, falling to, at his new friend's bidding, made a long and hearty meal, during the progress of which the strange boy eyed him from time to timewith great attention. 

'Going to London?' said the strange boy, when Oliver had at lengthconcluded. 

'Yes. '

'Got any lodgings?'

'No. '

'Money?'

'No. '

The strange boy whistled; and put his arms into his pockets, as far asthe big coat-sleeves would let them go. 

'Do you live in London?' inquired Oliver. 

'Yes. I do, when I'm at home, ' replied the boy. 'I suppose you wantsome place to sleep in to-night, don't you?'

'I do, indeed, ' answered Oliver. 'I have not slept under a roof since Ileft the country. '

'Don't fret your eyelids on that score, ' said the young gentleman. 'I've got to be in London to-night; and I know a 'spectable oldgentleman as lives there, wot'll give you lodgings for nothink, andnever ask for the change--that is, if any genelman he knows interducesyou. And don't he know me? Oh, no! Not in the least! By no means. Certainly not!'

The young gentleman smiled, as if to intimate that the latter fragmentsof discourse were playfully ironical; and finished the beer as he didso. 

This unexpected offer of shelter was too tempting to be resisted;especially as it was immediately followed up, by the assurance that theold gentleman referred to, would doubtless provide Oliver with acomfortable place, without loss of time. This led to a more friendlyand confidential dialogue; from which Oliver discovered that hisfriend's name was Jack Dawkins, and that he was a peculiar pet andprotege of the elderly gentleman before mentioned. 

Mr. Dawkin's appearance did not say a vast deal in favour of thecomforts which his patron's interest obtained for those whom he tookunder his protection; but, as he had a rather flightly and dissolutemode of conversing, and furthermore avowed that among his intimatefriends he was better known by the sobriquet of 'The Artful Dodger, 'Oliver concluded that, being of a dissipated and careless turn, themoral precepts of his benefactor had hitherto been thrown away uponhim. Under this impression, he secretly resolved to cultivate the goodopinion of the old gentleman as quickly as possible; and, if he foundthe Dodger incorrigible, as he more than half suspected he should, todecline the honour of his farther acquaintance. 

As John Dawkins objected to their entering London before nightfall, itwas nearly eleven o'clock when they reached the turnpike at Islington. They crossed from the Angel into St. John's Road; struck down the smallstreet which terminates at Sadler's Wells Theatre; through ExmouthStreet and Coppice Row; down the little court by the side of theworkhouse; across the classic ground which once bore the name ofHockley-in-the-Hole; thence into Little Saffron Hill; and so intoSaffron Hill the Great: along which the Dodger scudded at a rapid pace, directing Oliver to follow close at his heels. 

Although Oliver had enough to occupy his attention in keeping sight ofhis leader, he could not help bestowing a few hasty glances on eitherside of the way, as he passed along. A dirtier or more wretched placehe had never seen. The street was very narrow and muddy, and the airwas impregnated with filthy odours. 

There were a good many small shops; but the only stock in tradeappeared to be heaps of children, who, even at that time of night, werecrawling in and out at the doors, or screaming from the inside. Thesole places that seemed to prosper amid the general blight of theplace, were the public-houses; and in them, the lowest orders of Irishwere wrangling with might and main. Covered ways and yards, which hereand there diverged from the main street, disclosed little knots ofhouses, where drunken men and women were positively wallowing in filth;and from several of the door-ways, great ill-looking fellows werecautiously emerging, bound, to all appearance, on no very well-disposedor harmless errands. 

Oliver was just considering whether he hadn't better run away, whenthey reached the bottom of the hill. His conductor, catching him bythe arm, pushed open the door of a house near Field Lane; and drawinghim into the passage, closed it behind them. 

'Now, then!' cried a voice from below, in reply to a whistle from theDodger. 

'Plummy and slam!' was the reply. 

This seemed to be some watchword or signal that all was right; for thelight of a feeble candle gleamed on the wall at the remote end of thepassage; and a man's face peeped out, from where a balustrade of theold kitchen staircase had been broken away. 

'There's two on you, ' said the man, thrusting the candle farther out, and shielding his eyes with his hand. 'Who's the t'other one?'

'A new pal, ' replied Jack Dawkins, pulling Oliver forward. 

'Where did he come from?'

'Greenland. Is Fagin upstairs?'

'Yes, he's a sortin' the wipes. Up with you!' The candle was drawnback, and the face disappeared. 

Oliver, groping his way with one hand, and having the other firmlygrasped by his companion, ascended with much difficulty the dark andbroken stairs: which his conductor mounted with an ease and expeditionthat showed he was well acquainted with them. 

He threw open the door of a back-room, and drew Oliver in after him. 

The walls and ceiling of the room were perfectly black with age anddirt. There was a deal table before the fire: upon which were acandle, stuck in a ginger-beer bottle, two or three pewter pots, a loafand butter, and a plate. In a frying-pan, which was on the fire, andwhich was secured to the mantelshelf by a string, some sausages werecooking; and standing over them, with a toasting-fork in his hand, wasa very old shrivelled Jew, whose villainous-looking and repulsive facewas obscured by a quantity of matted red hair. He was dressed in agreasy flannel gown, with his throat bare; and seemed to be dividinghis attention between the frying-pan and the clothes-horse, over whicha great number of silk handkerchiefs were hanging. Several rough bedsmade of old sacks, were huddled side by side on the floor. Seated roundthe table were four or five boys, none older than the Dodger, smokinglong clay pipes, and drinking spirits with the air of middle-aged men. These all crowded about their associate as he whispered a few words tothe Jew; and then turned round and grinned at Oliver. So did the Jewhimself, toasting-fork in hand. 

'This is him, Fagin, ' said Jack Dawkins;'my friend Oliver Twist. '

The Jew grinned; and, making a low obeisance to Oliver, took him by thehand, and hoped he should have the honour of his intimate acquaintance. Upon this, the young gentleman with the pipes came round him, and shookboth his hands very hard--especially the one in which he held hislittle bundle. One young gentleman was very anxious to hang up his capfor him; and another was so obliging as to put his hands in hispockets, in order that, as he was very tired, he might not have thetrouble of emptying them, himself, when he went to bed. Thesecivilities would probably be extended much farther, but for a liberalexercise of the Jew's toasting-fork on the heads and shoulders of theaffectionate youths who offered them. 

'We are very glad to see you, Oliver, very, ' said the Jew. 'Dodger, take off the sausages; and draw a tub near the fire for Oliver. Ah, you're a-staring at the pocket-handkerchiefs! eh, my dear. There are agood many of 'em, ain't there? We've just looked 'em out, ready for thewash; that's all, Oliver; that's all. Ha! ha! ha!'

The latter part of this speech, was hailed by a boisterous shout fromall the hopeful pupils of the merry old gentleman. In the midst ofwhich they went to supper. 

Oliver ate his share, and the Jew then mixed him a glass of hotgin-and-water: telling him he must drink it off directly, becauseanother gentleman wanted the tumbler. Oliver did as he was desired. Immediately afterwards he felt himself gently lifted on to one of thesacks; and then he sunk into a deep sleep. 

CHAPTER IX

CONTAINING FURTHER PARTICULARS CONCERNING THE PLEASANT OLD GENTLEMAN, AND HIS HOPEFUL PUPILS

It was late next morning when Oliver awoke, from a sound, long sleep. There was no other person in the room but the old Jew, who was boilingsome coffee in a saucepan for breakfast, and whistling softly tohimself as he stirred it round and round, with an iron spoon. He wouldstop every now and then to listen when there was the least noise below:and when he had satisfied himself, he would go on whistling andstirring again, as before. 

Although Oliver had roused himself from sleep, he was not thoroughlyawake. There is a drowsy state, between sleeping and waking, when youdream more in five minutes with your eyes half open, and yourself halfconscious of everything that is passing around you, than you would infive nights with your eyes fast closed, and your senses wrapt inperfect unconsciousness. At such time, a mortal knows just enough ofwhat his mind is doing, to form some glimmering conception of itsmighty powers, its bounding from earth and spurning time and space, when freed from the restraint of its corporeal associate. 

Oliver was precisely in this condition. He saw the Jew with hishalf-closed eyes; heard his low whistling; and recognised the sound ofthe spoon grating against the saucepan's sides: and yet the self-samesenses were mentally engaged, at the same time, in busy action withalmost everybody he had ever known. 

When the coffee was done, the Jew drew the saucepan to the hob. Standing, then in an irresolute attitude for a few minutes, as if hedid not well know how to employ himself, he turned round and looked atOliver, and called him by his name. He did not answer, and was to allappearances asleep. 

After satisfying himself upon this head, the Jew stepped gently to thedoor: which he fastened. He then drew forth: as it seemed to Oliver, from some trap in the floor: a small box, which he placed carefully onthe table. His eyes glistened as he raised the lid, and looked in. Dragging an old chair to the table, he sat down; and took from it amagnificent gold watch, sparkling with jewels. 

'Aha!' said the Jew, shrugging up his shoulders, and distorting everyfeature with a hideous grin. 'Clever dogs! Clever dogs! Staunch to thelast! Never told the old parson where they were. Never poached upon oldFagin! And why should they? It wouldn't have loosened the knot, or keptthe drop up, a minute longer. No, no, no! Fine fellows! Fine fellows!'

With these, and other muttered reflections of the like nature, the Jewonce more deposited the watch in its place of safety. At least half adozen more were severally drawn forth from the same box, and surveyedwith equal pleasure; besides rings, brooches, bracelets, and otherarticles of jewellery, of such magnificent materials, and costlyworkmanship, that Oliver had no idea, even of their names. 

Having replaced these trinkets, the Jew took out another: so small thatit lay in the palm of his hand. There seemed to be some very minuteinscription on it; for the Jew laid it flat upon the table, and shadingit with his hand, pored over it, long and earnestly. At length he putit down, as if despairing of success; and, leaning back in his chair, muttered:

'What a fine thing capital punishment is! Dead men never repent; deadmen never bring awkward stories to light. Ah, it's a fine thing for thetrade! Five of 'em strung up in a row, and none left to play booty, orturn white-livered!'

As the Jew uttered these words, his bright dark eyes, which had beenstaring vacantly before him, fell on Oliver's face; the boy's eyes werefixed on his in mute curiousity; and although the recognition was onlyfor an instant--for the briefest space of time that can possibly beconceived--it was enough to show the old man that he had been observed. 

He closed the lid of the box with a loud crash; and, laying his hand ona bread knife which was on the table, started furiously up. He trembledvery much though; for, even in his terror, Oliver could see that theknife quivered in the air. 

'What's that?' said the Jew. 'What do you watch me for? Why are youawake? What have you seen? Speak out, boy! Quick--quick! for your life. 

'I wasn't able to sleep any longer, sir, ' replied Oliver, meekly. 'I amvery sorry if I have disturbed you, sir. '

'You were not awake an hour ago?' said the Jew, scowling fiercely onthe boy. 

'No! No, indeed!' replied Oliver. 

'Are you sure?' cried the Jew: with a still fiercer look than before:and a threatening attitude. 

'Upon my word I was not, sir, ' replied Oliver, earnestly. 'I was not, indeed, sir. '

'Tush, tush, my dear!' said the Jew, abruptly resuming his old manner, and playing with the knife a little, before he laid it down; as if toinduce the belief that he had caught it up, in mere sport. 'Of course Iknow that, my dear. I only tried to frighten you. You're a brave boy. Ha! ha! you're a brave boy, Oliver. ' The Jew rubbed his hands with achuckle, but glanced uneasily at the box, notwithstanding. 

'Did you see any of these pretty things, my dear?' said the Jew, layinghis hand upon it after a short pause. 

'Yes, sir, ' replied Oliver. 

'Ah!' said the Jew, turning rather pale. 'They--they're mine, Oliver;my little property. All I have to live upon, in my old age. The folkscall me a miser, my dear. Only a miser; that's all. '

Oliver thought the old gentleman must be a decided miser to live insuch a dirty place, with so many watches; but, thinking that perhapshis fondness for the Dodger and the other boys, cost him a good deal ofmoney, he only cast a deferential look at the Jew, and asked if hemight get up. 

'Certainly, my dear, certainly, ' replied the old gentleman. 'Stay. There's a pitcher of water in the corner by the door. Bring it here;and I'll give you a basin to wash in, my dear. '

Oliver got up; walked across the room; and stooped for an instant toraise the pitcher. When he turned his head, the box was gone. 

He had scarcely washed himself, and made everything tidy, by emptyingthe basin out of the window, agreeably to the Jew's directions, whenthe Dodger returned: accompanied by a very sprightly young friend, whomOliver had seen smoking on the previous night, and who was now formallyintroduced to him as Charley Bates. The four sat down, to breakfast, onthe coffee, and some hot rolls and ham which the Dodger had broughthome in the crown of his hat. 

'Well, ' said the Jew, glancing slyly at Oliver, and addressing himselfto the Dodger, 'I hope you've been at work this morning, my dears?'

'Hard, ' replied the Dodger. 

'As nails, ' added Charley Bates. 

'Good boys, good boys!' said the Jew. 'What have you got, Dodger?'

'A couple of pocket-books, ' replied that young gentlman. 

'Lined?' inquired the Jew, with eagerness. 

'Pretty well, ' replied the Dodger, producing two pocket-books; onegreen, and the other red. 

'Not so heavy as they might be, ' said the Jew, after looking at theinsides carefully; 'but very neat and nicely made. Ingenious workman, ain't he, Oliver?'

'Very indeed, sir, ' said Oliver. At which Mr. Charles Bates laugheduproariously; very much to the amazement of Oliver, who saw nothing tolaugh at, in anything that had passed. 

'And what have you got, my dear?' said Fagin to Charley Bates. 

'Wipes, ' replied Master Bates; at the same time producing fourpocket-handkerchiefs. 

'Well, ' said the Jew, inspecting them closely; 'they're very good ones, very. You haven't marked them well, though, Charley; so the marks shallbe picked out with a needle, and we'll teach Oliver how to do it. Shallus, Oliver, eh? Ha! ha! ha!'

'If you please, sir, ' said Oliver. 

'You'd like to be able to make pocket-handkerchiefs as easy as CharleyBates, wouldn't you, my dear?' said the Jew. 

'Very much, indeed, if you'll teach me, sir, ' replied Oliver. 

Master Bates saw something so exquisitely ludicrous in this reply, thathe burst into another laugh; which laugh, meeting the coffee he wasdrinking, and carrying it down some wrong channel, very nearlyterminated in his premature suffocation. 

'He is so jolly green!' said Charley when he recovered, as an apologyto the company for his unpolite behaviour. 

The Dodger said nothing, but he smoothed Oliver's hair over his eyes, and said he'd know better, by and by; upon which the old gentleman, observing Oliver's colour mounting, changed the subject by askingwhether there had been much of a crowd at the execution that morning?This made him wonder more and more; for it was plain from the repliesof the two boys that they had both been there; and Oliver naturallywondered how they could possibly have found time to be so veryindustrious. 

When the breakfast was cleared away; the merry old gentlman and the twoboys played at a very curious and uncommon game, which was performed inthis way. The merry old gentleman, placing a snuff-box in one pocket ofhis trousers, a note-case in the other, and a watch in his waistcoatpocket, with a guard-chain round his neck, and sticking a mock diamondpin in his shirt: buttoned his coat tight round him, and putting hisspectacle-case and handkerchief in his pockets, trotted up and down theroom with a stick, in imitation of the manner in which old gentlemenwalk about the streets any hour in the day. Sometimes he stopped atthe fire-place, and sometimes at the door, making believe that he wasstaring with all his might into shop-windows. At such times, he wouldlook constantly round him, for fear of thieves, and would keep slappingall his pockets in turn, to see that he hadn't lost anything, in such avery funny and natural manner, that Oliver laughed till the tears randown his face. All this time, the two boys followed him closely about:getting out of his sight, so nimbly, every time he turned round, thatit was impossible to follow their motions. At last, the Dodger trodupon his toes, or ran upon his boot accidently, while Charley Batesstumbled up against him behind; and in that one moment they took fromhim, with the most extraordinary rapidity, snuff-box, note-case, watch-guard, chain, shirt-pin, pocket-handkerchief, even thespectacle-case. If the old gentlman felt a hand in any one of hispockets, he cried out where it was; and then the game began all overagain. 

When this game had been played a great many times, a couple of youngladies called to see the young gentleman; one of whom was named Bet, and the other Nancy. They wore a good deal of hair, not very neatlyturned up behind, and were rather untidy about the shoes and stockings. They were not exactly pretty, perhaps; but they had a great deal ofcolour in their faces, and looked quite stout and hearty. Beingremarkably free and agreeable in their manners, Oliver thought themvery nice girls indeed. As there is no doubt they were. 

The visitors stopped a long time. Spirits were produced, in consequenceof one of the young ladies complaining of a coldness in her inside; andthe conversation took a very convivial and improving turn. At length, Charley Bates expressed his opinion that it was time to pad the hoof. This, it occurred to Oliver, must be French for going out; for directlyafterwards, the Dodger, and Charley, and the two young ladies, wentaway together, having been kindly furnished by the amiable old Jew withmoney to spend. 

'There, my dear, ' said Fagin. 'That's a pleasant life, isn't it? Theyhave gone out for the day. '

'Have they done work, sir?' inquired Oliver. 

'Yes, ' said the Jew; 'that is, unless they should unexpectedly comeacross any, when they are out; and they won't neglect it, if they do, my dear, depend upon it. Make 'em your models, my dear. Make 'em yourmodels, ' tapping the fire-shovel on the hearth to add force to hiswords; 'do everything they bid you, and take their advice in allmatters--especially the Dodger's, my dear. He'll be a great manhimself, and will make you one too, if you take pattern by him. --Is myhandkerchief hanging out of my pocket, my dear?' said the Jew, stoppingshort. 

'Yes, sir, ' said Oliver. 

'See if you can take it out, without my feeling it; as you saw them do, when we were at play this morning. '

Oliver held up the bottom of the pocket with one hand, as he had seenthe Dodger hold it, and drew the handkerchief lightly out of it withthe other. 

'Is it gone?' cried the Jew. 

'Here it is, sir, ' said Oliver, showing it in his hand. 

'You're a clever boy, my dear, ' said the playful old gentleman, pattingOliver on the head approvingly. 'I never saw a sharper lad. Here's ashilling for you. If you go on, in this way, you'll be the greatest manof the time. And now come here, and I'll show you how to take the marksout of the handkerchiefs. '

Oliver wondered what picking the old gentleman's pocket in play, had todo with his chances of being a great man. But, thinking that the Jew, being so much his senior, must know best, he followed him quietly tothe table, and was soon deeply involved in his new study. 

CHAPTER X

OLIVER BECOMES BETTER ACQUAINTED WITH THE CHARACTERS OF HIS NEWASSOCIATES; AND PURCHASES EXPERIENCE AT A HIGH PRICE. BEING A SHORT, BUT VERY IMPORTANT CHAPTER, IN THIS HISTORY

For many days, Oliver remained in the Jew's room, picking the marks outof the pocket-handkerchief, (of which a great number were broughthome, ) and sometimes taking part in the game already described: whichthe two boys and the Jew played, regularly, every morning. At length, he began to languish for fresh air, and took many occasions ofearnestly entreating the old gentleman to allow him to go out to workwith his two companions. 

Oliver was rendered the more anxious to be actively employed, by whathe had seen of the stern morality of the old gentleman's character. Whenever the Dodger or Charley Bates came home at night, empty-handed, he would expatiate with great vehemence on the misery of idle and lazyhabits; and would enforce upon them the necessity of an active life, bysending them supperless to bed. On one occasion, indeed, he even wentso far as to knock them both down a flight of stairs; but this wascarrying out his virtuous precepts to an unusual extent. 

At length, one morning, Oliver obtained the permission he had soeagerly sought. There had been no handkerchiefs to work upon, for twoor three days, and the dinners had been rather meagre. Perhaps thesewere reasons for the old gentleman's giving his assent; but, whetherthey were or no, he told Oliver he might go, and placed him under thejoint guardianship of Charley Bates, and his friend the Dodger. 

The three boys sallied out; the Dodger with his coat-sleeves tucked up, and his hat cocked, as usual; Master Bates sauntering along with hishands in his pockets; and Oliver between them, wondering where theywere going, and what branch of manufacture he would be instructed in, first. 

The pace at which they went, was such a very lazy, ill-looking saunter, that Oliver soon began to think his companions were going to deceivethe old gentleman, by not going to work at all. The Dodger had avicious propensity, too, of pulling the caps from the heads of smallboys and tossing them down areas; while Charley Bates exhibited somevery loose notions concerning the rights of property, by pilferingdivers apples and onions from the stalls at the kennel sides, andthrusting them into pockets which were so surprisingly capacious, thatthey seemed to undermine his whole suit of clothes in every direction. These things looked so bad, that Oliver was on the point of declaringhis intention of seeking his way back, in the best way he could; whenhis thoughts were suddenly directed into another channel, by a verymysterious change of behaviour on the part of the Dodger. 

They were just emerging from a narrow court not far from the opensquare in Clerkenwell, which is yet called, by some strange perversionof terms, 'The Green': when the Dodger made a sudden stop; and, layinghis finger on his lip, drew his companions back again, with thegreatest caution and circumspection. 

'What's the matter?' demanded Oliver. 

'Hush!' replied the Dodger. 'Do you see that old cove at thebook-stall?'

'The old gentleman over the way?' said Oliver. 'Yes, I see him. '

'He'll do, ' said the Doger. 

'A prime plant, ' observed Master Charley Bates. 

Oliver looked from one to the other, with the greatest surprise; but hewas not permitted to make any inquiries; for the two boys walkedstealthily across the road, and slunk close behind the old gentlemantowards whom his attention had been directed. Oliver walked a few pacesafter them; and, not knowing whether to advance or retire, stoodlooking on in silent amazement. 

The old gentleman was a very respectable-looking personage, with apowdered head and gold spectacles. He was dressed in a bottle-greencoat with a black velvet collar; wore white trousers; and carried asmart bamboo cane under his arm. He had taken up a book from the stall, and there he stood, reading away, as hard as if he were in hiselbow-chair, in his own study. It is very possible that he fanciedhimself there, indeed; for it was plain, from his abstraction, that hesaw not the book-stall, nor the street, nor the boys, nor, in short, anything but the book itself: which he was reading straight through:turning over the leaf when he got to the bottom of a page, beginning atthe top line of the next one, and going regularly on, with the greatestinterest and eagerness. 

What was Oliver's horror and alarm as he stood a few paces off, lookingon with his eyelids as wide open as they would possibly go, to see theDodger plunge his hand into the old gentleman's pocket, and draw fromthence a handkerchief! To see him hand the same to Charley Bates; andfinally to behold them, both running away round the corner at fullspeed!

In an instant the whole mystery of the hankerchiefs, and the watches, and the jewels, and the Jew, rushed upon the boy's mind. 

He stood, for a moment, with the blood so tingling through all hisveins from terror, that he felt as if he were in a burning fire; then, confused and frightened, he took to his heels; and, not knowing what hedid, made off as fast as he could lay his feet to the ground. 

This was all done in a minute's space. In the very instant when Oliverbegan to run, the old gentleman, putting his hand to his pocket, andmissing his handkerchief, turned sharp round. Seeing the boy scuddingaway at such a rapid pace, he very naturally concluded him to be thedepredator; and shouting 'Stop thief!' with all his might, made offafter him, book in hand. 

But the old gentleman was not the only person who raised thehue-and-cry. The Dodger and Master Bates, unwilling to attract publicattention by running down the open street, had merely retired into thevery first doorway round the corner. They no sooner heard the cry, andsaw Oliver running, than, guessing exactly how the matter stood, theyissued forth with great promptitude; and, shouting 'Stop thief!' too, joined in the pursuit like good citizens. 

Although Oliver had been brought up by philosophers, he was nottheoretically acquainted with the beautiful axiom thatself-preservation is the first law of nature. If he had been, perhapshe would have been prepared for this. Not being prepared, however, italarmed him the more; so away he went like the wind, with the oldgentleman and the two boys roaring and shouting behind him. 

'Stop thief! Stop thief!' There is a magic in the sound. The tradesmanleaves his counter, and the car-man his waggon; the butcher throws downhis tray; the baker his basket; the milkman his pail; the errand-boyhis parcels; the school-boy his marbles; the paviour his pickaxe; thechild his battledore. Away they run, pell-mell, helter-skelter, slap-dash: tearing, yelling, screaming, knocking down the passengers asthey turn the corners, rousing up the dogs, and astonishing the fowls:and streets, squares, and courts, re-echo with the sound. 

'Stop thief! Stop thief!' The cry is taken up by a hundred voices, andthe crowd accumulate at every turning. Away they fly, splashing throughthe mud, and rattling along the pavements: up go the windows, out runthe people, onward bear the mob, a whole audience desert Punch in thevery thickest of the plot, and, joining the rushing throng, swell theshout, and lend fresh vigour to the cry, 'Stop thief! Stop thief!'

'Stop thief! Stop thief!' There is a passion FOR _hunting_ _something_deeply implanted in the human breast. One wretched breathless child, panting with exhaustion; terror in his looks; agony in his eyes; largedrops of perspiration streaming down his face; strains every nerve tomake head upon his pursuers; and as they follow on his track, and gainupon him every instant, they hail his decreasing strength with joy. 'Stop thief!' Ay, stop him for God's sake, were it only in mercy!

Stopped at last! A clever blow. He is down upon the pavement; and thecrowd eagerly gather round him: each new comer, jostling andstruggling with the others to catch a glimpse. 'Stand aside!' 'Givehim a little air!' 'Nonsense! he don't deserve it. ' 'Where's thegentleman?' 'Here his is, coming down the street. ' 'Make room therefor the gentleman!' 'Is this the boy, sir!' 'Yes. '

Oliver lay, covered with mud and dust, and bleeding from the mouth, looking wildly round upon the heap of faces that surrounded him, whenthe old gentleman was officiously dragged and pushed into the circle bythe foremost of the pursuers. 

'Yes, ' said the gentleman, 'I am afraid it is the boy. '

'Afraid!' murmured the crowd. 'That's a good 'un!'

'Poor fellow!' said the gentleman, 'he has hurt himself. '

'_I_ did that, sir, ' said a great lubberly fellow, stepping forward;'and preciously I cut my knuckle agin' his mouth. I stopped him, sir. '

The follow touched his hat with a grin, expecting something for hispains; but, the old gentleman, eyeing him with an expression ofdislike, look anxiously round, as if he contemplated running awayhimself: which it is very possible he might have attempted to do, andthus have afforded another chase, had not a police officer (who isgenerally the last person to arrive in such cases) at that moment madehis way through the crowd, and seized Oliver by the collar. 

'Come, get up, ' said the man, roughly. 

'It wasn't me indeed, sir. Indeed, indeed, it was two other boys, 'said Oliver, clasping his hands passionately, and looking round. 'Theyare here somewhere. '

'Oh no, they ain't, ' said the officer. He meant this to be ironical, but it was true besides; for the Dodger and Charley Bates had filed offdown the first convenient court they came to. 

'Come, get up!'

'Don't hurt him, ' said the old gentleman, compassionately. 

'Oh no, I won't hurt him, ' replied the officer, tearing his jacket halfoff his back, in proof thereof. 'Come, I know you; it won't do. Willyou stand upon your legs, you young devil?'

Oliver, who could hardly stand, made a shift to raise himself on hisfeet, and was at once lugged along the streets by the jacket-collar, ata rapid pace. The gentleman walked on with them by the officer's side;and as many of the crowd as could achieve the feat, got a little ahead, and stared back at Oliver from time to time. The boys shouted intriumph; and on they went. 

CHAPTER XI

TREATS OF MR. FANG THE POLICE MAGISTRATE; AND FURNISHES A SLIGHTSPECIMEN OF HIS MODE OF ADMINISTERING JUSTICE

The offence had been committed within the district, and indeed in theimmediate neighborhood of, a very notorious metropolitan police office. The crowd had only the satisfaction of accompanying Oliver through twoor three streets, and down a place called Mutton Hill, when he was ledbeneath a low archway, and up a dirty court, into this dispensary ofsummary justice, by the back way. It was a small paved yard into whichthey turned; and here they encountered a stout man with a bunch ofwhiskers on his face, and a bunch of keys in his hand. 

'What's the matter now?' said the man carelessly. 

'A young fogle-hunter, ' replied the man who had Oliver in charge. 

'Are you the party that's been robbed, sir?' inquired the man with thekeys. 

'Yes, I am, ' replied the old gentleman; 'but I am not sure that thisboy actually took the handkerchief. I--I would rather not press thecase. '

'Must go before the magistrate now, sir, ' replied the man. 'His worshipwill be disengaged in half a minute. Now, young gallows!'

This was an invitation for Oliver to enter through a door which heunlocked as he spoke, and which led into a stone cell. Here he wassearched; and nothing being found upon him, locked up. 

This cell was in shape and size something like an area cellar, only notso light. It was most intolerably dirty; for it was Monday morning;and it had been tenanted by six drunken people, who had been locked up, elsewhere, since Saturday night. But this is little. In ourstation-houses, men and women are every night confined on the mosttrivial charges--the word is worth noting--in dungeons, compared withwhich, those in Newgate, occupied by the most atrocious felons, tried, found guilty, and under sentence of death, are palaces. Let any one whodoubts this, compare the two. 

The old gentleman looked almost as rueful as Oliver when the key gratedin the lock. He turned with a sigh to the book, which had been theinnocent cause of all this disturbance. 

'There is something in that boy's face, ' said the old gentleman tohimself as he walked slowly away, tapping his chin with the cover ofthe book, in a thoughtful manner; 'something that touches and interestsme. _Can_ he be innocent? He looked like--Bye the bye, ' exclaimed theold gentleman, halting very abruptly, and staring up into the sky, 'Bless my soul!--where have I seen something like that look before?'

After musing for some minutes, the old gentleman walked, with the samemeditative face, into a back anteroom opening from the yard; and there, retiring into a corner, called up before his mind's eye a vastamphitheatre of faces over which a dusky curtain had hung for manyyears. 'No, ' said the old gentleman, shaking his head; 'it must beimagination. 

He wandered over them again. He had called them into view, and it wasnot easy to replace the shroud that had so long concealed them. Therewere the faces of friends, and foes, and of many that had been almoststrangers peering intrusively from the crowd; there were the faces ofyoung and blooming girls that were now old women; there were faces thatthe grave had changed and closed upon, but which the mind, superior toits power, still dressed in their old freshness and beauty, callingback the lustre of the eyes, the brightness of the smile, the beamingof the soul through its mask of clay, and whispering of beauty beyondthe tomb, changed but to be heightened, and taken from earth only to beset up as a light, to shed a soft and gentle glow upon the path toHeaven. 

But the old gentleman could recall no one countenance of which Oliver'sfeatures bore a trace. So, he heaved a sigh over the recollections heawakened; and being, happily for himself, an absent old gentleman, buried them again in the pages of the musty book. 

He was roused by a touch on the shoulder, and a request from the manwith the keys to follow him into the office. He closed his bookhastily; and was at once ushered into the imposing presence of therenowned Mr. Fang. 

The office was a front parlour, with a panelled wall. Mr. Fang satbehind a bar, at the upper end; and on one side the door was a sort ofwooden pen in which poor little Oliver was already deposited; tremblingvery much at the awfulness of the scene. 

Mr. Fang was a lean, long-backed, stiff-necked, middle-sized man, withno great quantity of hair, and what he had, growing on the back andsides of his head. His face was stern, and much flushed. If he werereally not in the habit of drinking rather more than was exactly goodfor him, he might have brought action against his countenance forlibel, and have recovered heavy damages. 

The old gentleman bowed respectfully; and advancing to the magistrate'sdesk, said, suiting the action to the word, 'That is my name andaddress, sir. ' He then withdrew a pace or two; and, with anotherpolite and gentlemanly inclination of the head, waited to be questioned. 

Now, it so happened that Mr. Fang was at that moment perusing a leadingarticle in a newspaper of the morning, adverting to some recentdecision of his, and commending him, for the three hundred and fiftiethtime, to the special and particular notice of the Secretary of Statefor the Home Department. He was out of temper; and he looked up withan angry scowl. 

'Who are you?' said Mr. Fang. 

The old gentleman pointed, with some surprise, to his card. 

'Officer!' said Mr. Fang, tossing the card contemptuously away with thenewspaper. 'Who is this fellow?'

'My name, sir, ' said the old gentleman, speaking _like_ a gentleman, 'my name, sir, is Brownlow. Permit me to inquire the name of themagistrate who offers a gratuitous and unprovoked insult to arespectable person, under the protection of the bench. ' Saying this, Mr. Brownlow looked around the office as if in search of some personwho would afford him the required information. 

'Officer!' said Mr. Fang, throwing the paper on one side, 'what's thisfellow charged with?'

'He's not charged at all, your worship, ' replied the officer. 'Heappears against this boy, your worship. '

His worship knew this perfectly well; but it was a good annoyance, anda safe one. 

'Appears against the boy, does he?' said Mr. Fang, surveying Mr. Brownlow contemptuously from head to foot. 'Swear him!'

'Before I am sworn, I must beg to say one word, ' said Mr. Brownlow;'and that is, that I really never, without actual experience, couldhave believed--'

'Hold your tongue, sir!' said Mr. Fang, peremptorily. 

'I will not, sir!' replied the old gentleman. 

'Hold your tongue this instant, or I'll have you turned out of theoffice!' said Mr. Fang. 'You're an insolent impertinent fellow. Howdare you bully a magistrate!'

'What!' exclaimed the old gentleman, reddening. 

'Swear this person!' said Fang to the clerk. 'I'll not hear anotherword. Swear him. '

Mr. Brownlow's indignation was greatly roused; but reflecting perhaps, that he might only injure the boy by giving vent to it, he suppressedhis feelings and submitted to be sworn at once. 

'Now, ' said Fang, 'what's the charge against this boy? What have yougot to say, sir?'

'I was standing at a bookstall--' Mr. Brownlow began. 

'Hold your tongue, sir, ' said Mr. Fang. 'Policeman! Where's thepoliceman? Here, swear this policeman. Now, policeman, what is this?'

The policeman, with becoming humility, related how he had taken thecharge; how he had searched Oliver, and found nothing on his person;and how that was all he knew about it. 

'Are there any witnesses?' inquired Mr. Fang. 

'None, your worship, ' replied the policeman. 

Mr. Fang sat silent for some minutes, and then, turning round to theprosecutor, said in a towering passion. 

'Do you mean to state what your complaint against this boy is, man, ordo you not? You have been sworn. Now, if you stand there, refusing togive evidence, I'll punish you for disrespect to the bench; I will, by--'

By what, or by whom, nobody knows, for the clerk and jailor coughedvery loud, just at the right moment; and the former dropped a heavybook upon the floor, thus preventing the word from beingheard--accidently, of course. 

With many interruptions, and repeated insults, Mr. Brownlow contrivedto state his case; observing that, in the surprise of the moment, hehad run after the boy because he had saw him running away; andexpressing his hope that, if the magistrate should believe him, although not actually the thief, to be connected with the thieves, hewould deal as leniently with him as justice would allow. 

'He has been hurt already, ' said the old gentleman in conclusion. 'AndI fear, ' he added, with great energy, looking towards the bar, 'Ireally fear that he is ill. '

'Oh! yes, I dare say!' said Mr. Fang, with a sneer. 'Come, none ofyour tricks here, you young vagabond; they won't do. What's your name?'

Oliver tried to reply but his tongue failed him. He was deadly pale;and the whole place seemed turning round and round. 

'What's your name, you hardened scoundrel?' demanded Mr. Fang. 'Officer, what's his name?'

This was addressed to a bluff old fellow, in a striped waistcoat, whowas standing by the bar. He bent over Oliver, and repeated theinquiry; but finding him really incapable of understanding thequestion; and knowing that his not replying would only infuriate themagistrate the more, and add to the severity of his sentence; hehazarded a guess. 

'He says his name's Tom White, your worship, ' said the kind-heartedthief-taker. 

'Oh, he won't speak out, won't he?' said Fang. 'Very well, very well. Where does he live?'

'Where he can, your worship, ' replied the officer; again pretending toreceive Oliver's answer. 

'Has he any parents?' inquired Mr. Fang. 

'He says they died in his infancy, your worship, ' replied the officer:hazarding the usual reply. 

At this point of the inquiry, Oliver raised his head; and, lookinground with imploring eyes, murmured a feeble prayer for a draught ofwater. 

'Stuff and nonsense!' said Mr. Fang: 'don't try to make a fool of me. '

'I think he really is ill, your worship, ' remonstrated the officer. 

'I know better, ' said Mr. Fang. 

'Take care of him, officer, ' said the old gentleman, raising his handsinstinctively; 'he'll fall down. '

'Stand away, officer, ' cried Fang; 'let him, if he likes. '

Oliver availed himself of the kind permission, and fell to the floor ina fainting fit. The men in the office looked at each other, but no onedared to stir. 

'I knew he was shamming, ' said Fang, as if this were incontestableproof of the fact. 'Let him lie there; he'll soon be tired of that. '

'How do you propose to deal with the case, sir?' inquired the clerk ina low voice. 

'Summarily, ' replied Mr. Fang. 'He stands committed for threemonths--hard labour of course. Clear the office. '

The door was opened for this purpose, and a couple of men werepreparing to carry the insensible boy to his cell; when an elderly manof decent but poor appearance, clad in an old suit of black, rushedhastily into the office, and advanced towards the bench. 

'Stop, stop! don't take him away! For Heaven's sake stop a moment!'cried the new comer, breathless with haste. 

Although the presiding Genii in such an office as this, exercise asummary and arbitrary power over the liberties, the good name, thecharacter, almost the lives, of Her Majesty's subjects, expecially ofthe poorer class; and although, within such walls, enough fantastictricks are daily played to make the angels blind with weeping; they areclosed to the public, save through the medium of the dailypress. [Footnote: Or were virtually, then. ] Mr. Fang was consequentlynot a little indignant to see an unbidden guest enter in suchirreverent disorder. 

'What is this? Who is this? Turn this man out. Clear the office!'cried Mr. Fang. 

'I _will_ speak, ' cried the man; 'I will not be turned out. I saw itall. I keep the book-stall. I demand to be sworn. I will not be putdown. Mr. Fang, you must hear me. You must not refuse, sir. '

The man was right. His manner was determined; and the matter wasgrowing rather too serious to be hushed up. 

'Swear the man, ' growled Mr. Fang, with a very ill grace. 'Now, man, what have you got to say?'

'This, ' said the man: 'I saw three boys: two others and the prisonerhere: loitering on the opposite side of the way, when this gentlemanwas reading. The robbery was committed by another boy. I saw it done;and I saw that this boy was perfectly amazed and stupified by it. 'Having by this time recovered a little breath, the worthy book-stallkeeper proceeded to relate, in a more coherent manner the exactcircumstances of the robbery. 

'Why didn't you come here before?' said Fang, after a pause. 

'I hadn't a soul to mind the shop, ' replied the man. 'Everybody whocould have helped me, had joined in the pursuit. I could get nobodytill five minutes ago; and I've run here all the way. '

'The prosecutor was reading, was he?' inquired Fang, after anotherpause. 

'Yes, ' replied the man. 'The very book he has in his hand. '

'Oh, that book, eh?' said Fang. 'Is it paid for?'

'No, it is not, ' replied the man, with a smile. 

'Dear me, I forgot all about it!' exclaimed the absent old gentleman, innocently. 

'A nice person to prefer a charge against a poor boy!' said Fang, witha comical effort to look humane. 'I consider, sir, that you haveobtained possession of that book, under very suspicious anddisreputable circumstances; and you may think yourself very fortunatethat the owner of the property declines to prosecute. Let this be alesson to you, my man, or the law will overtake you yet. The boy isdischarged. Clear the office!'

'D--n me!' cried the old gentleman, bursting out with the rage he hadkept down so long, 'd--n me! I'll--'

'Clear the office!' said the magistrate. 'Officers, do you hear? Clearthe office!'

The mandate was obeyed; and the indignant Mr. Brownlow was conveyedout, with the book in one hand, and the bamboo cane in the other: in aperfect phrenzy of rage and defiance. He reached the yard; and hispassion vanished in a moment. Little Oliver Twist lay on his back onthe pavement, with his shirt unbuttoned, and his temples bathed withwater; his face a deadly white; and a cold tremble convulsing his wholeframe. 

'Poor boy, poor boy!' said Mr. Brownlow, bending over him. 'Call acoach, somebody, pray. Directly!'

A coach was obtained, and Oliver having been carefully laid on theseat, the old gentleman got in and sat himself on the other. 

'May I accompany you?' said the book-stall keeper, looking in. 

'Bless me, yes, my dear sir, ' said Mr. Brownlow quickly. 'I forgotyou. Dear, dear! I have this unhappy book still! Jump in. Poorfellow! There's no time to lose. '

The book-stall keeper got into the coach; and away they drove. 

CHAPTER XII

IN WHICH OLIVER IS TAKEN BETTER CARE OF THAN HE EVER WAS BEFORE. AND INWHICH THE NARRATIVE REVERTS TO THE MERRY OLD GENTLEMAN AND HIS YOUTHFULFRIENDS. 

The coach rattled away, over nearly the same ground as that whichOliver had traversed when he first entered London in company with theDodger; and, turning a different way when it reached the Angel atIslington, stopped at length before a neat house, in a quiet shadystreet near Pentonville. Here, a bed was prepared, without loss oftime, in which Mr. Brownlow saw his young charge carefully andcomfortably deposited; and here, he was tended with a kindness andsolicitude that knew no bounds. 

But, for many days, Oliver remained insensible to all the goodness ofhis new friends. The sun rose and sank, and rose and sank again, andmany times after that; and still the boy lay stretched on his uneasybed, dwindling away beneath the dry and wasting heat of fever. Theworm does not work more surely on the dead body, than does this slowcreeping fire upon the living frame. 

Weak, and thin, and pallid, he awoke at last from what seemed to havebeen a long and troubled dream. Feebly raising himself in the bed, with his head resting on his trembling arm, he looked anxiously around. 

'What room is this? Where have I been brought to?' said Oliver. 'Thisis not the place I went to sleep in. '

He uttered these words in a feeble voice, being very faint and weak;but they were overheard at once. The curtain at the bed's head washastily drawn back, and a motherly old lady, very neatly and preciselydressed, rose as she undrew it, from an arm-chair close by, in whichshe had been sitting at needle-work. 

'Hush, my dear, ' said the old lady softly. 'You must be very quiet, oryou will be ill again; and you have been very bad, --as bad as bad couldbe, pretty nigh. Lie down again; there's a dear!' With those words, the old lady very gently placed Oliver's head upon the pillow; and, smoothing back his hair from his forehead, looked so kindly and lovingin his face, that he could not help placing his little withered hand inhers, and drawing it round his neck. 

'Save us!' said the old lady, with tears in her eyes. 'What a gratefullittle dear it is. Pretty creetur! What would his mother feel if shehad sat by him as I have, and could see him now!'

'Perhaps she does see me, ' whispered Oliver, folding his handstogether; 'perhaps she has sat by me. I almost feel as if she had. '

'That was the fever, my dear, ' said the old lady mildly. 

'I suppose it was, ' replied Oliver, 'because heaven is a long way off;and they are too happy there, to come down to the bedside of a poorboy. But if she knew I was ill, she must have pitied me, even there;for she was very ill herself before she died. She can't know anythingabout me though, ' added Oliver after a moment's silence. 'If she hadseen me hurt, it would have made her sorrowful; and her face has alwayslooked sweet and happy, when I have dreamed of her. '

The old lady made no reply to this; but wiping her eyes first, and herspectacles, which lay on the counterpane, afterwards, as if they werepart and parcel of those features, brought some cool stuff for Oliverto drink; and then, patting him on the cheek, told him he must lie veryquiet, or he would be ill again. 

So, Oliver kept very still; partly because he was anxious to obey thekind old lady in all things; and partly, to tell the truth, because hewas completely exhausted with what he had already said. He soon fellinto a gentle doze, from which he was awakened by the light of acandle: which, being brought near the bed, showed him a gentleman witha very large and loud-ticking gold watch in his hand, who felt hispulse, and said he was a great deal better. 

'You _are_ a great deal better, are you not, my dear?' said thegentleman. 

'Yes, thank you, sir, ' replied Oliver. 

'Yes, I know you are, ' said the gentleman: 'You're hungry too, an'tyou?'

'No, sir, ' answered Oliver. 

'Hem!' said the gentleman. 'No, I know you're not. He is not hungry, Mrs. Bedwin, ' said the gentleman: looking very wise. 

The old lady made a respectful inclination of the head, which seemed tosay that she thought the doctor was a very clever man. The doctorappeared much of the same opinion himself. 

'You feel sleepy, don't you, my dear?' said the doctor. 

'No, sir, ' replied Oliver. 

'No, ' said the doctor, with a very shrewd and satisfied look. 'You'renot sleepy. Nor thirsty. Are you?'

'Yes, sir, rather thirsty, ' answered Oliver. 

'Just as I expected, Mrs. Bedwin, ' said the doctor. 'It's very naturalthat he should be thirsty. You may give him a little tea, ma'am, andsome dry toast without any butter. Don't keep him too warm, ma'am; butbe careful that you don't let him be too cold; will you have thegoodness?'

The old lady dropped a curtsey. The doctor, after tasting the coolstuff, and expressing a qualified approval of it, hurried away: hisboots creaking in a very important and wealthy manner as he wentdownstairs. 

Oliver dozed off again, soon after this; when he awoke, it was nearlytwelve o'clock. The old lady tenderly bade him good-night shortlyafterwards, and left him in charge of a fat old woman who had justcome: bringing with her, in a little bundle, a small Prayer Book and alarge nightcap. Putting the latter on her head and the former on thetable, the old woman, after telling Oliver that she had come to sit upwith him, drew her chair close to the fire and went off into a seriesof short naps, chequered at frequent intervals with sundry tumblingsforward, and divers moans and chokings. These, however, had no worseeffect than causing her to rub her nose very hard, and then fall asleepagain. 

And thus the night crept slowly on. Oliver lay awake for some time, counting the little circles of light which the reflection of therushlight-shade threw upon the ceiling; or tracing with his languideyes the intricate pattern of the paper on the wall. The darkness andthe deep stillness of the room were very solemn; as they brought intothe boy's mind the thought that death had been hovering there, for manydays and nights, and might yet fill it with the gloom and dread of hisawful presence, he turned his face upon the pillow, and ferventlyprayed to Heaven. 

Gradually, he fell into that deep tranquil sleep which ease from recentsuffering alone imparts; that calm and peaceful rest which it is painto wake from. Who, if this were death, would be roused again to allthe struggles and turmoils of life; to all its cares for the present;its anxieties for the future; more than all, its weary recollections ofthe past!

It had been bright day, for hours, when Oliver opened his eyes; he feltcheerful and happy. The crisis of the disease was safely past. Hebelonged to the world again. 

In three days' time he was able to sit in an easy-chair, well proppedup with pillows; and, as he was still too weak to walk, Mrs. Bedwin hadhim carried downstairs into the little housekeeper's room, whichbelonged to her. Having him set, here, by the fire-side, the good oldlady sat herself down too; and, being in a state of considerabledelight at seeing him so much better, forthwith began to cry mostviolently. 

'Never mind me, my dear, ' said the old lady; 'I'm only having a regulargood cry. There; it's all over now; and I'm quite comfortable. '

'You're very, very kind to me, ma'am, ' said Oliver. 

'Well, never you mind that, my dear, ' said the old lady; 'that's gotnothing to do with your broth; and it's full time you had it; for thedoctor says Mr. Brownlow may come in to see you this morning; and wemust get up our best looks, because the better we look, the more he'llbe pleased. ' And with this, the old lady applied herself to warmingup, in a little saucepan, a basin full of broth: strong enough, Oliverthought, to furnish an ample dinner, when reduced to the regulationstrength, for three hundred and fifty paupers, at the lowestcomputation. 

'Are you fond of pictures, dear?' inquired the old lady, seeing thatOliver had fixed his eyes, most intently, on a portrait which hungagainst the wall; just opposite his chair. 

'I don't quite know, ma'am, ' said Oliver, without taking his eyes fromthe canvas; 'I have seen so few that I hardly know. What a beautiful, mild face that lady's is!'

'Ah!' said the old lady, 'painters always make ladies out prettier thanthey are, or they wouldn't get any custom, child. The man that inventedthe machine for taking likenesses might have known that would neversucceed; it's a deal too honest. A deal, ' said the old lady, laughingvery heartily at her own acuteness. 

'Is--is that a likeness, ma'am?' said Oliver. 

'Yes, ' said the old lady, looking up for a moment from the broth;'that's a portrait. '

'Whose, ma'am?' asked Oliver. 

'Why, really, my dear, I don't know, ' answered the old lady in agood-humoured manner. 'It's not a likeness of anybody that you or Iknow, I expect. It seems to strike your fancy, dear. '

'It is so pretty, ' replied Oliver. 

'Why, sure you're not afraid of it?' said the old lady: observing ingreat surprise, the look of awe with which the child regarded thepainting. 

'Oh no, no, ' returned Oliver quickly; 'but the eyes look so sorrowful;and where I sit, they seem fixed upon me. It makes my heart beat, 'added Oliver in a low voice, 'as if it was alive, and wanted to speakto me, but couldn't. '

'Lord save us!' exclaimed the old lady, starting; 'don't talk in thatway, child. You're weak and nervous after your illness. Let me wheelyour chair round to the other side; and then you won't see it. There!'said the old lady, suiting the action to the word; 'you don't see itnow, at all events. '

Oliver _did_ see it in his mind's eye as distinctly as if he had notaltered his position; but he thought it better not to worry the kindold lady; so he smiled gently when she looked at him; and Mrs. Bedwin, satisfied that he felt more comfortable, salted and broke bits oftoasted bread into the broth, with all the bustle befitting so solemn apreparation. Oliver got through it with extraordinary expedition. Hehad scarcely swallowed the last spoonful, when there came a soft rap atthe door. 'Come in, ' said the old lady; and in walked Mr. Brownlow. 

Now, the old gentleman came in as brisk as need be; but, he had nosooner raised his spectacles on his forehead, and thrust his handsbehind the skirts of his dressing-gown to take a good long look atOliver, than his countenance underwent a very great variety of oddcontortions. Oliver looked very worn and shadowy from sickness, andmade an ineffectual attempt to stand up, out of respect to hisbenefactor, which terminated in his sinking back into the chair again;and the fact is, if the truth must be told, that Mr. Brownlow's heart, being large enough for any six ordinary old gentlemen of humanedisposition, forced a supply of tears into his eyes, by some hydraulicprocess which we are not sufficiently philosophical to be in acondition to explain. 

'Poor boy, poor boy!' said Mr. Brownlow, clearing his throat. 'I'mrather hoarse this morning, Mrs. Bedwin. I'm afraid I have caughtcold. '

'I hope not, sir, ' said Mrs. Bedwin. 'Everything you have had, hasbeen well aired, sir. '

'I don't know, Bedwin. I don't know, ' said Mr. Brownlow; 'I ratherthink I had a damp napkin at dinner-time yesterday; but never mindthat. How do you feel, my dear?'

'Very happy, sir, ' replied Oliver. 'And very grateful indeed, sir, foryour goodness to me. '

'Good by, ' said Mr. Brownlow, stoutly. 'Have you given him anynourishment, Bedwin? Any slops, eh?'

'He has just had a basin of beautiful strong broth, sir, ' replied Mrs. Bedwin: drawing herself up slightly, and laying strong emphasis on thelast word: to intimate that between slops, and broth will compounded, there existed no affinity or connection whatsoever. 

'Ugh!' said Mr. Brownlow, with a slight shudder; 'a couple of glassesof port wine would have done him a great deal more good. Wouldn't they, Tom White, eh?'

'My name is Oliver, sir, ' replied the little invalid: with a look ofgreat astonishment. 

'Oliver, ' said Mr. Brownlow; 'Oliver what? Oliver White, eh?'

'No, sir, Twist, Oliver Twist. '

'Queer name!' said the old gentleman. 'What made you tell themagistrate your name was White?'

'I never told him so, sir, ' returned Oliver in amazement. 

This sounded so like a falsehood, that the old gentleman lookedsomewhat sternly in Oliver's face. It was impossible to doubt him;there was truth in every one of its thin and sharpened lineaments. 

'Some mistake, ' said Mr. Brownlow. But, although his motive forlooking steadily at Oliver no longer existed, the old idea of theresemblance between his features and some familiar face came upon himso strongly, that he could not withdraw his gaze. 

'I hope you are not angry with me, sir?' said Oliver, raising his eyesbeseechingly. 

'No, no, ' replied the old gentleman. 'Why! what's this? Bedwin, lookthere!'

As he spoke, he pointed hastily to the picture over Oliver's head, andthen to the boy's face. There was its living copy. The eyes, the head, the mouth; every feature was the same. The expression was, for theinstant, so precisely alike, that the minutest line seemed copied withstartling accuracy!

Oliver knew not the cause of this sudden exclamation; for, not beingstrong enough to bear the start it gave him, he fainted away. Aweakness on his part, which affords the narrative an opportunity ofrelieving the reader from suspense, in behalf of the two young pupilsof the Merry Old Gentleman; and of recording--

That when the Dodger, and his accomplished friend Master Bates, joinedin the hue-and-cry which was raised at Oliver's heels, in consequenceof their executing an illegal conveyance of Mr. Brownlow's personalproperty, as has been already described, they were actuated by a verylaudable and becoming regard for themselves; and forasmuch as thefreedom of the subject and the liberty of the individual are among thefirst and proudest boasts of a true-hearted Englishman, so, I needhardly beg the reader to observe, that this action should tend to exaltthem in the opinion of all public and patriotic men, in almost as greata degree as this strong proof of their anxiety for their ownpreservation and safety goes to corroborate and confirm the little codeof laws which certain profound and sound-judging philosophers have laiddown as the main-springs of all Nature's deeds and actions: the saidphilosophers very wisely reducing the good lady's proceedings tomatters of maxim and theory: and, by a very neat and pretty complimentto her exalted wisdom and understanding, putting entirely out of sightany considerations of heart, or generous impulse and feeling. For, these are matters totally beneath a female who is acknowledged byuniversal admission to be far above the numerous little foibles andweaknesses of her sex. 

If I wanted any further proof of the strictly philosophical nature ofthe conduct of these young gentlemen in their very delicatepredicament, I should at once find it in the fact (also recorded in aforegoing part of this narrative), of their quitting the pursuit, whenthe general attention was fixed upon Oliver; and making immediately fortheir home by the shortest possible cut. Although I do not mean toassert that it is usually the practice of renowned and learned sages, to shorten the road to any great conclusion (their course indeed beingrather to lengthen the distance, by various circumlocutions anddiscursive staggerings, like unto those in which drunken men under thepressure of a too mighty flow of ideas, are prone to indulge); still, Ido mean to say, and do say distinctly, that it is the invariablepractice of many mighty philosophers, in carrying out their theories, to evince great wisdom and foresight in providing against everypossible contingency which can be supposed at all likely to affectthemselves. Thus, to do a great right, you may do a little wrong; andyou may take any means which the end to be attained, will justify; theamount of the right, or the amount of the wrong, or indeed thedistinction between the two, being left entirely to the philosopherconcerned, to be settled and determined by his clear, comprehensive, and impartial view of his own particular case. 

It was not until the two boys had scoured, with great rapidity, througha most intricate maze of narrow streets and courts, that they venturedto halt beneath a low and dark archway. Having remained silent here, just long enough to recover breath to speak, Master Bates uttered anexclamation of amusement and delight; and, bursting into anuncontrollable fit of laughter, flung himself upon a doorstep, androlled thereon in a transport of mirth. 

'What's the matter?' inquired the Dodger. 

'Ha! ha! ha!' roared Charley Bates. 

'Hold your noise, ' remonstrated the Dodger, looking cautiously round. 'Do you want to be grabbed, stupid?'

'I can't help it, ' said Charley, 'I can't help it! To see himsplitting away at that pace, and cutting round the corners, andknocking up again' the posts, and starting on again as if he was madeof iron as well as them, and me with the wipe in my pocket, singing outarter him--oh, my eye!' The vivid imagination of Master Bates presentedthe scene before him in too strong colours. As he arrived at thisapostrophe, he again rolled upon the door-step, and laughed louder thanbefore. 

'What'll Fagin say?' inquired the Dodger; taking advantage of the nextinterval of breathlessness on the part of his friend to propound thequestion. 

'What?' repeated Charley Bates. 

'Ah, what?' said the Dodger. 

'Why, what should he say?' inquired Charley: stopping rather suddenlyin his merriment; for the Dodger's manner was impressive. 'What shouldhe say?'

Mr. Dawkins whistled for a couple of minutes; then, taking off his hat, scratched his head, and nodded thrice. 

'What do you mean?' said Charley. 

'Toor rul lol loo, gammon and spinnage, the frog he wouldn't, and highcockolorum, ' said the Dodger: with a slight sneer on his intellectualcountenance. 

This was explanatory, but not satisfactory. Master Bates felt it so;and again said, 'What do you mean?'

The Dodger made no reply; but putting his hat on again, and gatheringthe skirts of his long-tailed coat under his arm, thrust his tongueinto his cheek, slapped the bridge of his nose some half-dozen times ina familiar but expressive manner, and turning on his heel, slunk downthe court. Master Bates followed, with a thoughtful countenance. 

The noise of footsteps on the creaking stairs, a few minutes after theoccurrence of this conversation, roused the merry old gentleman as hesat over the fire with a saveloy and a small loaf in his hand; apocket-knife in his right; and a pewter pot on the trivet. There was arascally smile on his white face as he turned round, and lookingsharply out from under his thick red eyebrows, bent his ear towards thedoor, and listened. 

'Why, how's this?' muttered the Jew: changing countenance; 'only twoof 'em? Where's the third? They can't have got into trouble. Hark!'

The footsteps approached nearer; they reached the landing. The door wasslowly opened; and the Dodger and Charley Bates entered, closing itbehind them. 

CHAPTER XIII

SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES ARE INTRODUCED TO THE INTELLIGENT READER, CONNECTED WITH WHOM VARIOUS PLEASANT MATTERS ARE RELATED, APPERTAININGTO THIS HISTORY

'Where's Oliver?' said the Jew, rising with a menacing look. 'Where'sthe boy?'

The young thieves eyed their preceptor as if they were alarmed at hisviolence; and looked uneasily at each other. But they made no reply. 

'What's become of the boy?' said the Jew, seizing the Dodger tightly bythe collar, and threatening him with horrid imprecations. 'Speak out, or I'll throttle you!'

Mr. Fagin looked so very much in earnest, that Charley Bates, whodeemed it prudent in all cases to be on the safe side, and whoconceived it by no means improbable that it might be his turn to bethrottled second, dropped upon his knees, and raised a loud, well-sustained, and continuous roar--something between a mad bull and aspeaking trumpet. 

'Will you speak?' thundered the Jew: shaking the Dodger so much thathis keeping in the big coat at all, seemed perfectly miraculous. 

'Why, the traps have got him, and that's all about it, ' said theDodger, sullenly. 'Come, let go o' me, will you!' And, swinginghimself, at one jerk, clean out of the big coat, which he left in theJew's hands, the Dodger snatched up the toasting fork, and made a passat the merry old gentleman's waistcoat; which, if it had taken effect, would have let a little more merriment out than could have been easilyreplaced. 

The Jew stepped back in this emergency, with more agility than couldhave been anticipated in a man of his apparent decrepitude; and, seizing up the pot, prepared to hurl it at his assailant's head. ButCharley Bates, at this moment, calling his attention by a perfectlyterrific howl, he suddenly altered its destination, and flung it fullat that young gentleman. 

'Why, what the blazes is in the wind now!' growled a deep voice. 'Whopitched that 'ere at me? It's well it's the beer, and not the pot, ashit me, or I'd have settled somebody. I might have know'd, as nobodybut an infernal, rich, plundering, thundering old Jew could afford tothrow away any drink but water--and not that, unless he done the RiverCompany every quarter. Wot's it all about, Fagin? D--me, if myneck-handkercher an't lined with beer! Come in, you sneaking warmint;wot are you stopping outside for, as if you was ashamed of your master!Come in!'

The man who growled out these words, was a stoutly-built fellow ofabout five-and-thirty, in a black velveteen coat, very soiled drabbreeches, lace-up half boots, and grey cotton stockings which incloseda bulky pair of legs, with large swelling calves;--the kind of legs, which in such costume, always look in an unfinished and incompletestate without a set of fetters to garnish them. He had a brown hat onhis head, and a dirty belcher handkerchief round his neck: with thelong frayed ends of which he smeared the beer from his face as hespoke. He disclosed, when he had done so, a broad heavy countenancewith a beard of three days' growth, and two scowling eyes; one of whichdisplayed various parti-coloured symptoms of having been recentlydamaged by a blow. 

'Come in, d'ye hear?' growled this engaging ruffian. 

A white shaggy dog, with his face scratched and torn in twentydifferent places, skulked into the room. 

'Why didn't you come in afore?' said the man. 'You're getting tooproud to own me afore company, are you? Lie down!'

This command was accompanied with a kick, which sent the animal to theother end of the room. He appeared well used to it, however; for hecoiled himself up in a corner very quietly, without uttering a sound, and winking his very ill-looking eyes twenty times in a minute, appeared to occupy himself in taking a survey of the apartment. 

'What are you up to? Ill-treating the boys, you covetous, avaricious, in-sa-ti-a-ble old fence?' said the man, seating himself deliberately. 'I wonder they don't murder you! I would if I was them. If I'd beenyour 'prentice, I'd have done it long ago, and--no, I couldn't havesold you afterwards, for you're fit for nothing but keeping as acuriousity of ugliness in a glass bottle, and I suppose they don't blowglass bottles large enough. '

'Hush! hush! Mr. Sikes, ' said the Jew, trembling; 'don't speak so loud!'

'None of your mistering, ' replied the ruffian; 'you always meanmischief when you come that. You know my name: out with it! I shan'tdisgrace it when the time comes. '

'Well, well, then--Bill Sikes, ' said the Jew, with abject humility. 'You seem out of humour, Bill. '

'Perhaps I am, ' replied Sikes; 'I should think you was rather out ofsorts too, unless you mean as little harm when you throw pewter potsabout, as you do when you blab and--'

'Are you mad?' said the Jew, catching the man by the sleeve, andpointing towards the boys. 

Mr. Sikes contented himself with tying an imaginary knot under his leftear, and jerking his head over on the right shoulder; a piece of dumbshow which the Jew appeared to understand perfectly. He then, in cantterms, with which his whole conversation was plentifully besprinkled, but which would be quite unintelligible if they were recorded here, demanded a glass of liquor. 

'And mind you don't poison it, ' said Mr. Sikes, laying his hat upon thetable. 

This was said in jest; but if the speaker could have seen the evil leerwith which the Jew bit his pale lip as he turned round to the cupboard, he might have thought the caution not wholly unnecessary, or the wish(at all events) to improve upon the distiller's ingenuity not very farfrom the old gentleman's merry heart. 

After swallowing two of three glasses of spirits, Mr. Sikescondescended to take some notice of the young gentlemen; which graciousact led to a conversation, in which the cause and manner of Oliver'scapture were circumstantially detailed, with such alterations andimprovements on the truth, as to the Dodger appeared most advisableunder the circumstances. 

'I'm afraid, ' said the Jew, 'that he may say something which will getus into trouble. '

'That's very likely, ' returned Sikes with a malicious grin. 'You'reblowed upon, Fagin. '

'And I'm afraid, you see, ' added the Jew, speaking as if he had notnoticed the interruption; and regarding the other closely as he didso, --'I'm afraid that, if the game was up with us, it might be up witha good many more, and that it would come out rather worse for you thanit would for me, my dear. '

The man started, and turned round upon the Jew. But the oldgentleman's shoulders were shrugged up to his ears; and his eyes werevacantly staring on the opposite wall. 

There was a long pause. Every member of the respectable coterieappeared plunged in his own reflections; not excepting the dog, who bya certain malicious licking of his lips seemed to be meditating anattack upon the legs of the first gentleman or lady he might encounterin the streets when he went out. 

'Somebody must find out wot's been done at the office, ' said Mr. Sikesin a much lower tone than he had taken since he came in. 

The Jew nodded assent. 

'If he hasn't peached, and is committed, there's no fear till he comesout again, ' said Mr. Sikes, 'and then he must be taken care on. Youmust get hold of him somehow. '

Again the Jew nodded. 

The prudence of this line of action, indeed, was obvious; but, unfortunately, there was one very strong objection to its beingadopted. This was, that the Dodger, and Charley Bates, and Fagin, andMr. William Sikes, happened, one and all, to entertain a violent anddeeply-rooted antipathy to going near a police-office on any ground orpretext whatever. 

How long they might have sat and looked at each other, in a state ofuncertainty not the most pleasant of its kind, it is difficult toguess. It is not necessary to make any guesses on the subject, however; for the sudden entrance of the two young ladies whom Oliverhad seen on a former occasion, caused the conversation to flow afresh. 

'The very thing!' said the Jew. 'Bet will go; won't you, my dear?'

'Wheres?' inquired the young lady. 

'Only just up to the office, my dear, ' said the Jew coaxingly. 

It is due to the young lady to say that she did not positively affirmthat she would not, but that she merely expressed an emphatic andearnest desire to be 'blessed' if she would; a polite and delicateevasion of the request, which shows the young lady to have beenpossessed of that natural good breeding which cannot bear to inflictupon a fellow-creature, the pain of a direct and pointed refusal. 

The Jew's countenance fell. He turned from this young lady, who wasgaily, not to say gorgeously attired, in a red gown, green boots, andyellow curl-papers, to the other female. 

'Nancy, my dear, ' said the Jew in a soothing manner, 'what do YOU say?'

'That it won't do; so it's no use a-trying it on, Fagin, ' replied Nancy. 

'What do you mean by that?' said Mr. Sikes, looking up in a surlymanner. 

'What I say, Bill, ' replied the lady collectedly. 

'Why, you're just the very person for it, ' reasoned Mr. Sikes: 'nobodyabout here knows anything of you. '

'And as I don't want 'em to, neither, ' replied Nancy in the samecomposed manner, 'it's rather more no than yes with me, Bill. '

'She'll go, Fagin, ' said Sikes. 

'No, she won't, Fagin, ' said Nancy. 

'Yes, she will, Fagin, ' said Sikes. 

And Mr. Sikes was right. By dint of alternate threats, promises, andbribes, the lady in question was ultimately prevailed upon to undertakethe commission. She was not, indeed, withheld by the sameconsiderations as her agreeable friend; for, having recently removedinto the neighborhood of Field Lane from the remote but genteel suburbof Ratcliffe, she was not under the same apprehension of beingrecognised by any of her numerous acquaintances. 

Accordingly, with a clean white apron tied over her gown, and hercurl-papers tucked up under a straw bonnet, --both articles of dressbeing provided from the Jew's inexhaustible stock, --Miss Nancy preparedto issue forth on her errand. 

'Stop a minute, my dear, ' said the Jew, producing, a little coveredbasket. 'Carry that in one hand. It looks more respectable, my dear. '

'Give her a door-key to carry in her t'other one, Fagin, ' said Sikes;'it looks real and genivine like. '

'Yes, yes, my dear, so it does, ' said the Jew, hanging a largestreet-door key on the forefinger of the young lady's right hand. 

'There; very good! Very good indeed, my dear!' said the Jew, rubbinghis hands. 

'Oh, my brother! My poor, dear, sweet, innocent little brother!'exclaimed Nancy, bursting into tears, and wringing the little basketand the street-door key in an agony of distress. 'What has become ofhim! Where have they taken him to! Oh, do have pity, and tell mewhat's been done with the dear boy, gentlemen; do, gentlemen, if youplease, gentlemen!'

Having uttered those words in a most lamentable and heart-broken tone:to the immeasurable delight of her hearers: Miss Nancy paused, winkedto the company, nodded smilingly round, and disappeared. 

'Ah, she's a clever girl, my dears, ' said the Jew, turning round to hisyoung friends, and shaking his head gravely, as if in mute admonitionto them to follow the bright example they had just beheld. 

'She's a honour to her sex, ' said Mr. Sikes, filling his glass, andsmiting the table with his enormous fist. 'Here's her health, andwishing they was all like her!'

While these, and many other encomiums, were being passed on theaccomplished Nancy, that young lady made the best of her way to thepolice-office; whither, notwithstanding a little natural timidityconsequent upon walking through the streets alone and unprotected, shearrived in perfect safety shortly afterwards. 

Entering by the back way, she tapped softly with the key at one of thecell-doors, and listened. There was no sound within: so she coughedand listened again. Still there was no reply: so she spoke. 

'Nolly, dear?' murmured Nancy in a gentle voice; 'Nolly?'

There was nobody inside but a miserable shoeless criminal, who had beentaken up for playing the flute, and who, the offence against societyhaving been clearly proved, had been very properly committed by Mr. Fang to the House of Correction for one month; with the appropriate andamusing remark that since he had so much breath to spare, it would bemore wholesomely expended on the treadmill than in a musicalinstrument. He made no answer: being occupied mentally bewailing theloss of the flute, which had been confiscated for the use of thecounty: so Nancy passed on to the next cell, and knocked there. 

'Well!' cried a faint and feeble voice. 

'Is there a little boy here?' inquired Nancy, with a preliminary sob. 

'No, ' replied the voice; 'God forbid. '

This was a vagrant of sixty-five, who was going to prison for _not_playing the flute; or, in other words, for begging in the streets, anddoing nothing for his livelihood. In the next cell was another man, who was going to the same prison for hawking tin saucepans withoutlicense; thereby doing something for his living, in defiance of theStamp-office. 

But, as neither of these criminals answered to the name of Oliver, orknew anything about him, Nancy made straight up to the bluff officer inthe striped waistcoat; and with the most piteous wailings andlamentations, rendered more piteous by a prompt and efficient use ofthe street-door key and the little basket, demanded her own dearbrother. 

'I haven't got him, my dear, ' said the old man. 

'Where is he?' screamed Nancy, in a distracted manner. 

'Why, the gentleman's got him, ' replied the officer. 

'What gentleman! Oh, gracious heavens! What gentleman?' exclaimedNancy. 

In reply to this incoherent questioning, the old man informed thedeeply affected sister that Oliver had been taken ill in the office, and discharged in consequence of a witness having proved the robbery tohave been committed by another boy, not in custody; and that theprosecutor had carried him away, in an insensible condition, to his ownresidence: of and concerning which, all the informant knew was, thatit was somewhere in Pentonville, he having heard that word mentioned inthe directions to the coachman. 

In a dreadful state of doubt and uncertainty, the agonised young womanstaggered to the gate, and then, exchanging her faltering walk for aswift run, returned by the most devious and complicated route she couldthink of, to the domicile of the Jew. 

Mr. Bill Sikes no sooner heard the account of the expedition delivered, than he very hastily called up the white dog, and, putting on his hat, expeditiously departed: without devoting any time to the formality ofwishing the company good-morning. 

'We must know where he is, my dears; he must be found, ' said the Jewgreatly excited. 'Charley, do nothing but skulk about, till you bringhome some news of him! Nancy, my dear, I must have him found. I trustto you, my dear, --to you and the Artful for everything! Stay, stay, 'added the Jew, unlocking a drawer with a shaking hand; 'there's money, my dears. I shall shut up this shop to-night. You'll know where tofind me! Don't stop here a minute. Not an instant, my dears!'

With these words, he pushed them from the room: and carefullydouble-locking and barring the door behind them, drew from its place ofconcealment the box which he had unintentionally disclosed to Oliver. Then, he hastily proceeded to dispose the watches and jewellery beneathhis clothing. 

A rap at the door startled him in this occupation. 'Who's there?' hecried in a shrill tone. 

'Me!' replied the voice of the Dodger, through the key-hole. 

'What now?' cried the Jew impatiently. 

'Is he to be kidnapped to the other ken, Nancy says?' inquired theDodger. 

'Yes, ' replied the Jew, 'wherever she lays hands on him. Find him, find him out, that's all. I shall know what to do next; never fear. '

The boy murmured a reply of intelligence: and hurried downstairs afterhis companions. 

'He has not peached so far, ' said the Jew as he pursued his occupation. 'If he means to blab us among his new friends, we may stop his mouthyet. '

CHAPTER XIV

COMPRISING FURTHER PARTICULARS OF OLIVER'S STAY AT MR. BROWNLOW'S, WITHTHE REMARKABLE PREDICTION WHICH ONE MR. GRIMWIG UTTERED CONCERNING HIM, WHEN HE WENT OUT ON AN ERRAND

Oliver soon recovering from the fainting-fit into which Mr. Brownlow'sabrupt exclamation had thrown him, the subject of the picture wascarefully avoided, both by the old gentleman and Mrs. Bedwin, in theconversation that ensued: which indeed bore no reference to Oliver'shistory or prospects, but was confined to such topics as might amusewithout exciting him. He was still too weak to get up to breakfast;but, when he came down into the housekeeper's room next day, his firstact was to cast an eager glance at the wall, in the hope of againlooking on the face of the beautiful lady. His expectations weredisappointed, however, for the picture had been removed. 

'Ah!' said the housekeeper, watching the direction of Oliver's eyes. 'It is gone, you see. '

'I see it is ma'am, ' replied Oliver. 'Why have they taken it away?'

'It has been taken down, child, because Mr. Brownlow said, that as itseemed to worry you, perhaps it might prevent your getting well, youknow, ' rejoined the old lady. 

'Oh, no, indeed. It didn't worry me, ma'am, ' said Oliver. 'I liked tosee it. I quite loved it. '

'Well, well!' said the old lady, good-humouredly; 'you get well as fastas ever you can, dear, and it shall be hung up again. There! I promiseyou that! Now, let us talk about something else. '

This was all the information Oliver could obtain about the picture atthat time. As the old lady had been so kind to him in his illness, heendeavoured to think no more of the subject just then; so he listenedattentively to a great many stories she told him, about an amiable andhandsome daughter of hers, who was married to an amiable and handsomeman, and lived in the country; and about a son, who was clerk to amerchant in the West Indies; and who was, also, such a good young man, and wrote such dutiful letters home four times a-year, that it broughtthe tears into her eyes to talk about them. When the old lady hadexpatiated, a long time, on the excellences of her children, and themerits of her kind good husband besides, who had been dead and gone, poor dear soul! just six-and-twenty years, it was time to have tea. After tea she began to teach Oliver cribbage: which he learnt asquickly as she could teach: and at which game they played, with greatinterest and gravity, until it was time for the invalid to have somewarm wine and water, with a slice of dry toast, and then to go cosilyto bed. 

They were happy days, those of Oliver's recovery. Everything was soquiet, and neat, and orderly; everybody so kind and gentle; that afterthe noise and turbulence in the midst of which he had always lived, itseemed like Heaven itself. He was no sooner strong enough to put hisclothes on, properly, than Mr. Brownlow caused a complete new suit, anda new cap, and a new pair of shoes, to be provided for him. As Oliverwas told that he might do what he liked with the old clothes, he gavethem to a servant who had been very kind to him, and asked her to sellthem to a Jew, and keep the money for herself. This she very readilydid; and, as Oliver looked out of the parlour window, and saw the Jewroll them up in his bag and walk away, he felt quite delighted to thinkthat they were safely gone, and that there was now no possible dangerof his ever being able to wear them again. They were sad rags, to tellthe truth; and Oliver had never had a new suit before. 

One evening, about a week after the affair of the picture, as he wassitting talking to Mrs. Bedwin, there came a message down from Mr. Brownlow, that if Oliver Twist felt pretty well, he should like to seehim in his study, and talk to him a little while. 

'Bless us, and save us! Wash your hands, and let me part your hairnicely for you, child, ' said Mrs. Bedwin. 'Dear heart alive! If wehad known he would have asked for you, we would have put you a cleancollar on, and made you as smart as sixpence!'

Oliver did as the old lady bade him; and, although she lamentedgrievously, meanwhile, that there was not even time to crimp the littlefrill that bordered his shirt-collar; he looked so delicate andhandsome, despite that important personal advantage, that she went sofar as to say: looking at him with great complacency from head tofoot, that she really didn't think it would have been possible, on thelongest notice, to have made much difference in him for the better. 

Thus encouraged, Oliver tapped at the study door. On Mr. Brownlowcalling to him to come in, he found himself in a little back room, quite full of books, with a window, looking into some pleasant littlegardens. There was a table drawn up before the window, at which Mr. Brownlow was seated reading. When he saw Oliver, he pushed the bookaway from him, and told him to come near the table, and sit down. Oliver complied; marvelling where the people could be found to readsuch a great number of books as seemed to be written to make the worldwiser. Which is still a marvel to more experienced people than OliverTwist, every day of their lives. 

'There are a good many books, are there not, my boy?' said Mr. Brownlow, observing the curiosity with which Oliver surveyed theshelves that reached from the floor to the ceiling. 

'A great number, sir, ' replied Oliver. 'I never saw so many. '

'You shall read them, if you behave well, ' said the old gentlemankindly; 'and you will like that, better than looking at theoutsides, --that is, some cases; because there are books of which thebacks and covers are by far the best parts. '

'I suppose they are those heavy ones, sir, ' said Oliver, pointing tosome large quartos, with a good deal of gilding about the binding. 

'Not always those, ' said the old gentleman, patting Oliver on the head, and smiling as he did so; 'there are other equally heavy ones, thoughof a much smaller size. How should you like to grow up a clever man, and write books, eh?'

'I think I would rather read them, sir, ' replied Oliver. 

'What! wouldn't you like to be a book-writer?' said the old gentleman. 

Oliver considered a little while; and at last said, he should think itwould be a much better thing to be a book-seller; upon which the oldgentleman laughed heartily, and declared he had said a very good thing. Which Oliver felt glad to have done, though he by no means knew what itwas. 

'Well, well, ' said the old gentleman, composing his features. 'Don't beafraid! We won't make an author of you, while there's an honest tradeto be learnt, or brick-making to turn to. '

'Thank you, sir, ' said Oliver. At the earnest manner of his reply, theold gentleman laughed again; and said something about a curiousinstinct, which Oliver, not understanding, paid no very great attentionto. 

'Now, ' said Mr. Brownlow, speaking if possible in a kinder, but at thesame time in a much more serious manner, than Oliver had ever known himassume yet, 'I want you to pay great attention, my boy, to what I amgoing to say. I shall talk to you without any reserve; because I amsure you are well able to understand me, as many older persons wouldbe. '

'Oh, don't tell you are going to send me away, sir, pray!' exclaimedOliver, alarmed at the serious tone of the old gentleman'scommencement! 'Don't turn me out of doors to wander in the streetsagain. Let me stay here, and be a servant. Don't send me back to thewretched place I came from. Have mercy upon a poor boy, sir!'

'My dear child, ' said the old gentleman, moved by the warmth ofOliver's sudden appeal; 'you need not be afraid of my deserting you, unless you give me cause. '

'I never, never will, sir, ' interposed Oliver. 

'I hope not, ' rejoined the old gentleman. 'I do not think you everwill. I have been deceived, before, in the objects whom I haveendeavoured to benefit; but I feel strongly disposed to trust you, nevertheless; and I am more interested in your behalf than I can wellaccount for, even to myself. The persons on whom I have bestowed mydearest love, lie deep in their graves; but, although the happiness anddelight of my life lie buried there too, I have not made a coffin of myheart, and sealed it up, forever, on my best affections. Deepaffliction has but strengthened and refined them. '

As the old gentleman said this in a low voice: more to himself than tohis companion: and as he remained silent for a short time afterwards:Oliver sat quite still. 

'Well, well!' said the old gentleman at length, in a more cheerfultone, 'I only say this, because you have a young heart; and knowingthat I have suffered great pain and sorrow, you will be more careful, perhaps, not to wound me again. You say you are an orphan, without afriend in the world; all the inquiries I have been able to make, confirm the statement. Let me hear your story; where you come from;who brought you up; and how you got into the company in which I foundyou. Speak the truth, and you shall not be friendless while I live. '

Oliver's sobs checked his utterance for some minutes; when he was onthe point of beginning to relate how he had been brought up at thefarm, and carried to the workhouse by Mr. Bumble, a peculiarlyimpatient little double-knock was heard at the street-door: and theservant, running upstairs, announced Mr. Grimwig. 

'Is he coming up?' inquired Mr. Brownlow. 

'Yes, sir, ' replied the servant. 'He asked if there were any muffinsin the house; and, when I told him yes, he said he had come to tea. '

Mr. Brownlow smiled; and, turning to Oliver, said that Mr. Grimwig wasan old friend of his, and he must not mind his being a little rough inhis manners; for he was a worthy creature at bottom, as he had reasonto know. 

'Shall I go downstairs, sir?' inquired Oliver. 

'No, ' replied Mr. Brownlow, 'I would rather you remained here. '

At this moment, there walked into the room: supporting himself by athick stick: a stout old gentleman, rather lame in one leg, who wasdressed in a blue coat, striped waistcoat, nankeen breeches andgaiters, and a broad-brimmed white hat, with the sides turned up withgreen. A very small-plaited shirt frill stuck out from his waistcoat;and a very long steel watch-chain, with nothing but a key at the end, dangled loosely below it. The ends of his white neckerchief weretwisted into a ball about the size of an orange; the variety of shapesinto which his countenance was twisted, defy description. He had amanner of screwing his head on one side when he spoke; and of lookingout of the corners of his eyes at the same time: which irresistiblyreminded the beholder of a parrot. In this attitude, he fixed himself, the moment he made his appearance; and, holding out a small piece oforange-peel at arm's length, exclaimed, in a growling, discontentedvoice. 

'Look here! do you see this! Isn't it a most wonderful andextraordinary thing that I can't call at a man's house but I find apiece of this poor surgeon's friend on the staircase? I've been lamedwith orange-peel once, and I know orange-peel will be my death, or I'llbe content to eat my own head, sir!'

This was the handsome offer with which Mr. Grimwig backed and confirmednearly every assertion he made; and it was the more singular in hiscase, because, even admitting for the sake of argument, the possibilityof scientific improvements being brought to that pass which will enablea gentleman to eat his own head in the event of his being so disposed, Mr. Grimwig's head was such a particularly large one, that the mostsanguine man alive could hardly entertain a hope of being able to getthrough it at a sitting--to put entirely out of the question, a verythick coating of powder. 

'I'll eat my head, sir, ' repeated Mr. Grimwig, striking his stick uponthe ground. 'Hallo! what's that!' looking at Oliver, and retreating apace or two. 

'This is young Oliver Twist, whom we were speaking about, ' said Mr. Brownlow. 

Oliver bowed. 

'You don't mean to say that's the boy who had the fever, I hope?' saidMr. Grimwig, recoiling a little more. 'Wait a minute! Don't speak!Stop--' continued Mr. Grimwig, abruptly, losing all dread of the feverin his triumph at the discovery; 'that's the boy who had the orange!If that's not the boy, sir, who had the orange, and threw this bit ofpeel upon the staircase, I'll eat my head, and his too. '

'No, no, he has not had one, ' said Mr. Brownlow, laughing. 'Come! Putdown your hat; and speak to my young friend. '

'I feel strongly on this subject, sir, ' said the irritable oldgentleman, drawing off his gloves. 'There's always more or lessorange-peel on the pavement in our street; and I _know_ it's put thereby the surgeon's boy at the corner. A young woman stumbled over a bitlast night, and fell against my garden-railings; directly she got up Isaw her look towards his infernal red lamp with the pantomime-light. "Don't go to him, " I called out of the window, "he's an assassin! Aman-trap!" So he is. If he is not--' Here the irascible oldgentleman gave a great knock on the ground with his stick; which wasalways understood, by his friends, to imply the customary offer, whenever it was not expressed in words. Then, still keeping his stickin his hand, he sat down; and, opening a double eye-glass, which hewore attached to a broad black riband, took a view of Oliver: who, seeing that he was the object of inspection, coloured, and bowed again. 

'That's the boy, is it?' said Mr. Grimwig, at length. 

'That's the boy, ' replied Mr. Brownlow. 

'How are you, boy?' said Mr. Grimwig. 

'A great deal better, thank you, sir, ' replied Oliver. 

Mr. Brownlow, seeming to apprehend that his singular friend was aboutto say something disagreeable, asked Oliver to step downstairs and tellMrs. Bedwin they were ready for tea; which, as he did not half like thevisitor's manner, he was very happy to do. 

'He is a nice-looking boy, is he not?' inquired Mr. Brownlow. 

'I don't know, ' replied Mr. Grimwig, pettishly. 

'Don't know?'

'No. I don't know. I never see any difference in boys. I only knewtwo sort of boys. Mealy boys, and beef-faced boys. '

'And which is Oliver?'

'Mealy. I know a friend who has a beef-faced boy; a fine boy, theycall him; with a round head, and red cheeks, and glaring eyes; a horridboy; with a body and limbs that appear to be swelling out of the seamsof his blue clothes; with the voice of a pilot, and the appetite of awolf. I know him! The wretch!'

'Come, ' said Mr. Brownlow, 'these are not the characteristics of youngOliver Twist; so he needn't excite your wrath. '

'They are not, ' replied Mr. Grimwig. 'He may have worse. '

Here, Mr. Brownlow coughed impatiently; which appeared to afford Mr. Grimwig the most exquisite delight. 

'He may have worse, I say, ' repeated Mr. Grimwig. 'Where does he comefrom! Who is he? What is he? He has had a fever. What of that?Fevers are not peculiar to good people; are they? Bad people havefevers sometimes; haven't they, eh? I knew a man who was hung inJamaica for murdering his master. He had had a fever six times; hewasn't recommended to mercy on that account. Pooh! nonsense!'

Now, the fact was, that in the inmost recesses of his own heart, Mr. Grimwig was strongly disposed to admit that Oliver's appearance andmanner were unusually prepossessing; but he had a strong appetite forcontradiction, sharpened on this occasion by the finding of theorange-peel; and, inwardly determining that no man should dictate tohim whether a boy was well-looking or not, he had resolved, from thefirst, to oppose his friend. When Mr. Brownlow admitted that on no onepoint of inquiry could he yet return a satisfactory answer; and that hehad postponed any investigation into Oliver's previous history until hethought the boy was strong enough to hear it; Mr. Grimwig chuckledmaliciously. And he demanded, with a sneer, whether the housekeeperwas in the habit of counting the plate at night; because if she didn'tfind a table-spoon or two missing some sunshiny morning, why, he wouldbe content to--and so forth. 

All this, Mr. Brownlow, although himself somewhat of an impetuousgentleman: knowing his friend's peculiarities, bore with great goodhumour; as Mr. Grimwig, at tea, was graciously pleased to express hisentire approval of the muffins, matters went on very smoothly; andOliver, who made one of the party, began to feel more at his ease thanhe had yet done in the fierce old gentleman's presence. 

'And when are you going to hear a full, true, and particular account ofthe life and adventures of Oliver Twist?' asked Grimwig of Mr. Brownlow, at the conclusion of the meal; looking sideways at Oliver, ashe resumed his subject. 

'To-morrow morning, ' replied Mr. Brownlow. 'I would rather he wasalone with me at the time. Come up to me to-morrow morning at teno'clock, my dear. '

'Yes, sir, ' replied Oliver. He answered with some hesitation, becausehe was confused by Mr. Grimwig's looking so hard at him. 

'I'll tell you what, ' whispered that gentleman to Mr. Brownlow; 'hewon't come up to you to-morrow morning. I saw him hesitate. He isdeceiving you, my good friend. '

'I'll swear he is not, ' replied Mr. Brownlow, warmly. 

'If he is not, ' said Mr. Grimwig, 'I'll--' and down went the stick. 

'I'll answer for that boy's truth with my life!' said Mr. Brownlow, knocking the table. 

'And I for his falsehood with my head!' rejoined Mr. Grimwig, knockingthe table also. 

'We shall see, ' said Mr. Brownlow, checking his rising anger. 

'We will, ' replied Mr. Grimwig, with a provoking smile; 'we will. '

As fate would have it, Mrs. Bedwin chanced to bring in, at this moment, a small parcel of books, which Mr. Brownlow had that morning purchasedof the identical bookstall-keeper, who has already figured in thishistory; having laid them on the table, she prepared to leave the room. 

'Stop the boy, Mrs. Bedwin!' said Mr. Brownlow; 'there is something togo back. '

'He has gone, sir, ' replied Mrs. Bedwin. 

'Call after him, ' said Mr. Brownlow; 'it's particular. He is a poorman, and they are not paid for. There are some books to be taken back, too. '

The street-door was opened. Oliver ran one way; and the girl rananother; and Mrs. Bedwin stood on the step and screamed for the boy;but there was no boy in sight. Oliver and the girl returned, in abreathless state, to report that there were no tidings of him. 

'Dear me, I am very sorry for that, ' exclaimed Mr. Brownlow; 'Iparticularly wished those books to be returned to-night. '

'Send Oliver with them, ' said Mr. Grimwig, with an ironical smile; 'hewill be sure to deliver them safely, you know. '

'Yes; do let me take them, if you please, sir, ' said Oliver. 'I'll runall the way, sir. '

The old gentleman was just going to say that Oliver should not go outon any account; when a most malicious cough from Mr. Grimwig determinedhim that he should; and that, by his prompt discharge of thecommission, he should prove to him the injustice of his suspicions: onthis head at least: at once. 

'You _shall_ go, my dear, ' said the old gentleman. 'The books are on achair by my table. Fetch them down. '

Oliver, delighted to be of use, brought down the books under his arm ina great bustle; and waited, cap in hand, to hear what message he was totake. 

'You are to say, ' said Mr. Brownlow, glancing steadily at Grimwig; 'youare to say that you have brought those books back; and that you havecome to pay the four pound ten I owe him. This is a five-pound note, so you will have to bring me back, ten shillings change. '

'I won't be ten minutes, sir, ' said Oliver, eagerly. Having buttonedup the bank-note in his jacket pocket, and placed the books carefullyunder his arm, he made a respectful bow, and left the room. Mrs. Bedwin followed him to the street-door, giving him many directionsabout the nearest way, and the name of the bookseller, and the name ofthe street: all of which Oliver said he clearly understood. Havingsuperadded many injunctions to be sure and not take cold, the old ladyat length permitted him to depart. 

'Bless his sweet face!' said the old lady, looking after him. 'I can'tbear, somehow, to let him go out of my sight. '

At this moment, Oliver looked gaily round, and nodded before he turnedthe corner. The old lady smilingly returned his salutation, and, closing the door, went back to her own room. 

'Let me see; he'll be back in twenty minutes, at the longest, ' said Mr. Brownlow, pulling out his watch, and placing it on the table. 'It willbe dark by that time. '

'Oh! you really expect him to come back, do you?' inquired Mr. Grimwig. 

'Don't you?' asked Mr. Brownlow, smiling. 

The spirit of contradiction was strong in Mr. Grimwig's breast, at themoment; and it was rendered stronger by his friend's confident smile. 

'No, ' he said, smiting the table with his fist, 'I do not. The boy hasa new suit of clothes on his back, a set of valuable books under hisarm, and a five-pound note in his pocket. He'll join his old friendsthe thieves, and laugh at you. If ever that boy returns to this house, sir, I'll eat my head. '

With these words he drew his chair closer to the table; and there thetwo friends sat, in silent expectation, with the watch between them. 

It is worthy of remark, as illustrating the importance we attach to ourown judgments, and the pride with which we put forth our most rash andhasty conclusions, that, although Mr. Grimwig was not by any means abad-hearted man, and though he would have been unfeignedly sorry to seehis respected friend duped and deceived, he really did most earnestlyand strongly hope at that moment, that Oliver Twist might not come back. 

It grew so dark, that the figures on the dial-plate were scarcelydiscernible; but there the two old gentlemen continued to sit, insilence, with the watch between them. 

CHAPTER XV

SHOWING HOW VERY FOND OF OLIVER TWIST, THE MERRY OLD JEW AND MISS NANCYWERE

In the obscure parlour of a low public-house, in the filthiest part ofLittle Saffron Hill; a dark and gloomy den, where a flaring gas-lightburnt all day in the winter-time; and where no ray of sun ever shone inthe summer: there sat, brooding over a little pewter measure and asmall glass, strongly impregnated with the smell of liquor, a man in avelveteen coat, drab shorts, half-boots and stockings, whom even bythat dim light no experienced agent of the police would have hesitatedto recognise as Mr. William Sikes. At his feet, sat a white-coated, red-eyed dog; who occupied himself, alternately, in winking at hismaster with both eyes at the same time; and in licking a large, freshcut on one side of his mouth, which appeared to be the result of somerecent conflict. 

'Keep quiet, you warmint! Keep quiet!' said Mr. Sikes, suddenlybreaking silence. Whether his meditations were so intense as to bedisturbed by the dog's winking, or whether his feelings were so wroughtupon by his reflections that they required all the relief derivablefrom kicking an unoffending animal to allay them, is matter forargument and consideration. Whatever was the cause, the effect was akick and a curse, bestowed upon the dog simultaneously. 

Dogs are not generally apt to revenge injuries inflicted upon them bytheir masters; but Mr. Sikes's dog, having faults of temper in commonwith his owner, and labouring, perhaps, at this moment, under apowerful sense of injury, made no more ado but at once fixed his teethin one of the half-boots. Having given in a hearty shake, he retired, growling, under a form; just escaping the pewter measure which Mr. Sikes levelled at his head. 

'You would, would you?' said Sikes, seizing the poker in one hand, anddeliberately opening with the other a large clasp-knife, which he drewfrom his pocket. 'Come here, you born devil! Come here! D'ye hear?'

The dog no doubt heard; because Mr. Sikes spoke in the very harshestkey of a very harsh voice; but, appearing to entertain someunaccountable objection to having his throat cut, he remained where hewas, and growled more fiercely than before: at the same time graspingthe end of the poker between his teeth, and biting at it like a wildbeast. 

This resistance only infuriated Mr. Sikes the more; who, dropping onhis knees, began to assail the animal most furiously. The dog jumpedfrom right to left, and from left to right; snapping, growling, andbarking; the man thrust and swore, and struck and blasphemed; and thestruggle was reaching a most critical point for one or other; when, thedoor suddenly opening, the dog darted out: leaving Bill Sikes with thepoker and the clasp-knife in his hands. 

There must always be two parties to a quarrel, says the old adage. Mr. Sikes, being disappointed of the dog's participation, at oncetransferred his share in the quarrel to the new comer. 

'What the devil do you come in between me and my dog for?' said Sikes, with a fierce gesture. 

'I didn't know, my dear, I didn't know, ' replied Fagin, humbly; for theJew was the new comer. 

'Didn't know, you white-livered thief!' growled Sikes. 'Couldn't youhear the noise?'

'Not a sound of it, as I'm a living man, Bill, ' replied the Jew. 

'Oh no! You hear nothing, you don't, ' retorted Sikes with a fiercesneer. 'Sneaking in and out, so as nobody hears how you come or go! Iwish you had been the dog, Fagin, half a minute ago. '

'Why?' inquired the Jew with a forced smile. 

'Cause the government, as cares for the lives of such men as you, ashaven't half the pluck of curs, lets a man kill a dog how he likes, 'replied Sikes, shutting up the knife with a very expressive look;'that's why. '

The Jew rubbed his hands; and, sitting down at the table, affected tolaugh at the pleasantry of his friend. He was obviously very ill atease, however. 

'Grin away, ' said Sikes, replacing the poker, and surveying him withsavage contempt; 'grin away. You'll never have the laugh at me, though, unless it's behind a nightcap. I've got the upper hand overyou, Fagin; and, d--me, I'll keep it. There! If I go, you go; so takecare of me. '

'Well, well, my dear, ' said the Jew, 'I know all that; we--we--have amutual interest, Bill, --a mutual interest. '

'Humph, ' said Sikes, as if he thought the interest lay rather more onthe Jew's side than on his. 'Well, what have you got to say to me?'

'It's all passed safe through the melting-pot, ' replied Fagin, 'andthis is your share. It's rather more than it ought to be, my dear; butas I know you'll do me a good turn another time, and--'

'Stow that gammon, ' interposed the robber, impatiently. 'Where is it?Hand over!'

'Yes, yes, Bill; give me time, give me time, ' replied the Jew, soothingly. 'Here it is! All safe!' As he spoke, he drew forth anold cotton handkerchief from his breast; and untying a large knot inone corner, produced a small brown-paper packet. Sikes, snatching itfrom him, hastily opened it; and proceeded to count the sovereigns itcontained. 

'This is all, is it?' inquired Sikes. 

'All, ' replied the Jew. 

'You haven't opened the parcel and swallowed one or two as you comealong, have you?' inquired Sikes, suspiciously. 'Don't put on aninjured look at the question; you've done it many a time. Jerk thetinkler. '

These words, in plain English, conveyed an injunction to ring the bell. It was answered by another Jew: younger than Fagin, but nearly as vileand repulsive in appearance. 

Bill Sikes merely pointed to the empty measure. The Jew, perfectlyunderstanding the hint, retired to fill it: previously exchanging aremarkable look with Fagin, who raised his eyes for an instant, as ifin expectation of it, and shook his head in reply; so slightly that theaction would have been almost imperceptible to an observant thirdperson. It was lost upon Sikes, who was stooping at the moment to tiethe boot-lace which the dog had torn. Possibly, if he had observed thebrief interchange of signals, he might have thought that it boded nogood to him. 

'Is anybody here, Barney?' inquired Fagin; speaking, now that thatSikes was looking on, without raising his eyes from the ground. 

'Dot a shoul, ' replied Barney; whose words: whether they came from theheart or not: made their way through the nose. 

'Nobody?' inquired Fagin, in a tone of surprise: which perhaps mightmean that Barney was at liberty to tell the truth. 

'Dobody but Biss Dadsy, ' replied Barney. 

'Nancy!' exclaimed Sikes. 'Where? Strike me blind, if I don't honourthat 'ere girl, for her native talents. '

'She's bid havid a plate of boiled beef id the bar, ' replied Barney. 

'Send her here, ' said Sikes, pouring out a glass of liquor. 'Send herhere. '

Barney looked timidly at Fagin, as if for permission; the Jew remainingsilent, and not lifting his eyes from the ground, he retired; andpresently returned, ushering in Nancy; who was decorated with thebonnet, apron, basket, and street-door key, complete. 

'You are on the scent, are you, Nancy?' inquired Sikes, proffering theglass. 

'Yes, I am, Bill, ' replied the young lady, disposing of its contents;'and tired enough of it I am, too. The young brat's been ill andconfined to the crib; and--'

'Ah, Nancy, dear!' said Fagin, looking up. 

Now, whether a peculiar contraction of the Jew's red eye-brows, and ahalf closing of his deeply-set eyes, warned Miss Nancy that she wasdisposed to be too communicative, is not a matter of much importance. The fact is all we need care for here; and the fact is, that shesuddenly checked herself, and with several gracious smiles upon Mr. Sikes, turned the conversation to other matters. In about ten minutes'time, Mr. Fagin was seized with a fit of coughing; upon which Nancypulled her shawl over her shoulders, and declared it was time to go. Mr. Sikes, finding that he was walking a short part of her way himself, expressed his intention of accompanying her; they went away together, followed, at a little distant, by the dog, who slunk out of a back-yardas soon as his master was out of sight. 

The Jew thrust his head out of the room door when Sikes had left it;looked after him as we walked up the dark passage; shook his clenchedfist; muttered a deep curse; and then, with a horrible grin, reseatedhimself at the table; where he was soon deeply absorbed in theinteresting pages of the Hue-and-Cry. 

Meanwhile, Oliver Twist, little dreaming that he was within so veryshort a distance of the merry old gentleman, was on his way to thebook-stall. When he got into Clerkenwell, he accidently turned down aby-street which was not exactly in his way; but not discovering hismistake until he had got half-way down it, and knowing it must lead inthe right direction, he did not think it worth while to turn back; andso marched on, as quickly as he could, with the books under his arm. 

He was walking along, thinking how happy and contented he ought tofeel; and how much he would give for only one look at poor little Dick, who, starved and beaten, might be weeping bitterly at that very moment;when he was startled by a young woman screaming out very loud. 'Oh, mydear brother!' And he had hardly looked up, to see what the matterwas, when he was stopped by having a pair of arms thrown tight roundhis neck. 

'Don't, ' cried Oliver, struggling. 'Let go of me. Who is it? What areyou stopping me for?'

The only reply to this, was a great number of loud lamentations fromthe young woman who had embraced him; and who had a little basket and astreet-door key in her hand. 

'Oh my gracious!' said the young woman, 'I have found him! Oh! Oliver!Oliver! Oh you naughty boy, to make me suffer such distress on youraccount! Come home, dear, come. Oh, I've found him. Thank graciousgoodness heavins, I've found him!' With these incoherent exclamations, the young woman burst into another fit of crying, and got so dreadfullyhysterical, that a couple of women who came up at the moment asked abutcher's boy with a shiny head of hair anointed with suet, who wasalso looking on, whether he didn't think he had better run for thedoctor. To which, the butcher's boy: who appeared of a lounging, notto say indolent disposition: replied, that he thought not. 

'Oh, no, no, never mind, ' said the young woman, grasping Oliver's hand;'I'm better now. Come home directly, you cruel boy! Come!'

'Oh, ma'am, ' replied the young woman, 'he ran away, near a month ago, from his parents, who are hard-working and respectable people; and wentand joined a set of thieves and bad characters; and almost broke hismother's heart. '

'Young wretch!' said one woman. 

'Go home, do, you little brute, ' said the other. 

'I am not, ' replied Oliver, greatly alarmed. 'I don't know her. Ihaven't any sister, or father and mother either. I'm an orphan; I liveat Pentonville. '

'Only hear him, how he braves it out!' cried the young woman. 

'Why, it's Nancy!' exclaimed Oliver; who now saw her face for the firsttime; and started back, in irrepressible astonishment. 

'You see he knows me!' cried Nancy, appealing to the bystanders. 'Hecan't help himself. Make him come home, there's good people, or he'llkill his dear mother and father, and break my heart!'

'What the devil's this?' said a man, bursting out of a beer-shop, witha white dog at his heels; 'young Oliver! Come home to your poor mother, you young dog! Come home directly. '

'I don't belong to them. I don't know them. Help! help!' criedOliver, struggling in the man's powerful grasp. 

'Help!' repeated the man. 'Yes; I'll help you, you young rascal!

What books are these? You've been a stealing 'em, have you? Give 'emhere. ' With these words, the man tore the volumes from his grasp, andstruck him on the head. 

'That's right!' cried a looker-on, from a garret-window. 'That's theonly way of bringing him to his senses!'

'To be sure!' cried a sleepy-faced carpenter, casting an approving lookat the garret-window. 

'It'll do him good!' said the two women. 

'And he shall have it, too!' rejoined the man, administering anotherblow, and seizing Oliver by the collar. 'Come on, you young villain!Here, Bull's-eye, mind him, boy! Mind him!'

Weak with recent illness; stupified by the blows and the suddenness ofthe attack; terrified by the fierce growling of the dog, and thebrutality of the man; overpowered by the conviction of the bystandersthat he really was the hardened little wretch he was described to be;what could one poor child do! Darkness had set in; it was a lowneighborhood; no help was near; resistance was useless. In anothermoment he was dragged into a labyrinth of dark narrow courts, and wasforced along them at a pace which rendered the few cries he dared togive utterance to, unintelligible. It was of little moment, indeed, whether they were intelligible or no; for there was nobody to care forthem, had they been ever so plain. 

 * * * * *

The gas-lamps were lighted; Mrs. Bedwin was waiting anxiously at theopen door; the servant had run up the street twenty times to see ifthere were any traces of Oliver; and still the two old gentlemen sat, perseveringly, in the dark parlour, with the watch between them. 

CHAPTER XVI

RELATES WHAT BECAME OF OLIVER TWIST, AFTER HE HAD BEEN CLAIMED BY NANCY

The narrow streets and courts, at length, terminated in a large openspace; scattered about which, were pens for beasts, and otherindications of a cattle-market. Sikes slackened his pace when theyreached this spot: the girl being quite unable to support any longer, the rapid rate at which they had hitherto walked. Turning to Oliver, he roughly commanded him to take hold of Nancy's hand. 

'Do you hear?' growled Sikes, as Oliver hesitated, and looked round. 

They were in a dark corner, quite out of the track of passengers. 

Oliver saw, but too plainly, that resistance would be of no avail. Heheld out his hand, which Nancy clasped tight in hers. 

'Give me the other, ' said Sikes, seizing Oliver's unoccupied hand. 'Here, Bull's-Eye!'

The dog looked up, and growled. 

'See here, boy!' said Sikes, putting his other hand to Oliver's throat;'if he speaks ever so soft a word, hold him! D'ye mind!'

The dog growled again; and licking his lips, eyed Oliver as if he wereanxious to attach himself to his windpipe without delay. 

'He's as willing as a Christian, strike me blind if he isn't!' saidSikes, regarding the animal with a kind of grim and ferocious approval. 'Now, you know what you've got to expect, master, so call away as quickas you like; the dog will soon stop that game. Get on, young'un!'

Bull's-eye wagged his tail in acknowledgment of this unusuallyendearing form of speech; and, giving vent to another admonitory growlfor the benefit of Oliver, led the way onward. 

It was Smithfield that they were crossing, although it might have beenGrosvenor Square, for anything Oliver knew to the contrary. The nightwas dark and foggy. The lights in the shops could scarecely strugglethrough the heavy mist, which thickened every moment and shrouded thestreets and houses in gloom; rendering the strange place still strangerin Oliver's eyes; and making his uncertainty the more dismal anddepressing. 

They had hurried on a few paces, when a deep church-bell struck thehour. With its first stroke, his two conductors stopped, and turnedtheir heads in the direction whence the sound proceeded. 

'Eight o' clock, Bill, ' said Nancy, when the bell ceased. 

'What's the good of telling me that; I can hear it, can't I!' repliedSikes. 

'I wonder whether THEY can hear it, ' said Nancy. 

'Of course they can, ' replied Sikes. 'It was Bartlemy time when I wasshopped; and there warn't a penny trumpet in the fair, as I couldn'thear the squeaking on. Arter I was locked up for the night, the rowand din outside made the thundering old jail so silent, that I couldalmost have beat my brains out against the iron plates of the door. '

'Poor fellow!' said Nancy, who still had her face turned towards thequarter in which the bell had sounded. 'Oh, Bill, such fine youngchaps as them!'

'Yes; that's all you women think of, ' answered Sikes. 'Fine youngchaps! Well, they're as good as dead, so it don't much matter. '

With this consolation, Mr. Sikes appeared to repress a rising tendencyto jealousy, and, clasping Oliver's wrist more firmly, told him to stepout again. 

'Wait a minute!' said the girl: 'I wouldn't hurry by, if it was youthat was coming out to be hung, the next time eight o'clock struck, Bill. I'd walk round and round the place till I dropped, if the snowwas on the ground, and I hadn't a shawl to cover me. '

'And what good would that do?' inquired the unsentimental Mr. Sikes. 'Unless you could pitch over a file and twenty yards of good stoutrope, you might as well be walking fifty mile off, or not walking atall, for all the good it would do me. Come on, and don't standpreaching there. '

The girl burst into a laugh; drew her shawl more closely round her; andthey walked away. But Oliver felt her hand tremble, and, looking up inher face as they passed a gas-lamp, saw that it had turned a deadlywhite. 

They walked on, by little-frequented and dirty ways, for a fullhalf-hour: meeting very few people, and those appearing from theirlooks to hold much the same position in society as Mr. Sikes himself. At length they turned into a very filthy narrow street, nearly full ofold-clothes shops; the dog running forward, as if conscious that therewas no further occasion for his keeping on guard, stopped before thedoor of a shop that was closed and apparently untenanted; the house wasin a ruinous condition, and on the door was nailed a board, intimatingthat it was to let: which looked as if it had hung there for manyyears. 

'All right, ' cried Sikes, glancing cautiously about. 

Nancy stooped below the shutters, and Oliver heard the sound of a bell. They crossed to the opposite side of the street, and stood for a fewmoments under a lamp. A noise, as if a sash window were gently raised, was heard; and soon afterwards the door softly opened. Mr. Sikes thenseized the terrified boy by the collar with very little ceremony; andall three were quickly inside the house. 

The passage was perfectly dark. They waited, while the person who hadlet them in, chained and barred the door. 

'Anybody here?' inquired Sikes. 

'No, ' replied a voice, which Oliver thought he had heard before. 

'Is the old 'un here?' asked the robber. 

'Yes, ' replied the voice, 'and precious down in the mouth he has been. Won't he be glad to see you? Oh, no!'

The style of this reply, as well as the voice which delivered it, seemed familiar to Oliver's ears: but it was impossible to distinguisheven the form of the speaker in the darkness. 

'Let's have a glim, ' said Sikes, 'or we shall go breaking our necks, ortreading on the dog. Look after your legs if you do!'

'Stand still a moment, and I'll get you one, ' replied the voice. Thereceding footsteps of the speaker were heard; and, in another minute, the form of Mr. John Dawkins, otherwise the Artful Dodger, appeared. He bore in his right hand a tallow candle stuck in the end of a cleftstick. 

The young gentleman did not stop to bestow any other mark ofrecognition upon Oliver than a humourous grin; but, turning away, beckoned the visitors to follow him down a flight of stairs. Theycrossed an empty kitchen; and, opening the door of a lowearthy-smelling room, which seemed to have been built in a smallback-yard, were received with a shout of laughter. 

'Oh, my wig, my wig!' cried Master Charles Bates, from whose lungs thelaughter had proceeded: 'here he is! oh, cry, here he is! Oh, Fagin, look at him! Fagin, do look at him! I can't bear it; it is such ajolly game, I cant' bear it. Hold me, somebody, while I laugh it out. '

With this irrepressible ebullition of mirth, Master Bates laid himselfflat on the floor: and kicked convulsively for five minutes, in anectasy of facetious joy. Then jumping to his feet, he snatched thecleft stick from the Dodger; and, advancing to Oliver, viewed him roundand round; while the Jew, taking off his nightcap, made a great numberof low bows to the bewildered boy. The Artful, meantime, who was of arather saturnine disposition, and seldom gave way to merriment when itinterfered with business, rifled Oliver's pockets with steady assiduity. 

'Look at his togs, Fagin!' said Charley, putting the light so close tohis new jacket as nearly to set him on fire. 'Look at his togs!Superfine cloth, and the heavy swell cut! Oh, my eye, what a game!And his books, too! Nothing but a gentleman, Fagin!'

'Delighted to see you looking so well, my dear, ' said the Jew, bowingwith mock humility. 'The Artful shall give you another suit, my dear, for fear you should spoil that Sunday one. Why didn't you write, mydear, and say you were coming? We'd have got something warm forsupper. '

At his, Master Bates roared again: so loud, that Fagin himself relaxed, and even the Dodger smiled; but as the Artful drew forth the five-poundnote at that instant, it is doubtful whether the sally of the discoveryawakened his merriment. 

'Hallo, what's that?' inquired Sikes, stepping forward as the Jewseized the note. 'That's mine, Fagin. '

'No, no, my dear, ' said the Jew. 'Mine, Bill, mine. You shall havethe books. '

'If that ain't mine!' said Bill Sikes, putting on his hat with adetermined air; 'mine and Nancy's that is; I'll take the boy backagain. '

The Jew started. Oliver started too, though from a very differentcause; for he hoped that the dispute might really end in his beingtaken back. 

'Come! Hand over, will you?' said Sikes. 

'This is hardly fair, Bill; hardly fair, is it, Nancy?' inquired theJew. 

'Fair, or not fair, ' retorted Sikes, 'hand over, I tell you! Do youthink Nancy and me has got nothing else to do with our precious timebut to spend it in scouting arter, and kidnapping, every young boy asgets grabbed through you? Give it here, you avaricious old skeleton, give it here!'

With this gentle remonstrance, Mr. Sikes plucked the note from betweenthe Jew's finger and thumb; and looking the old man coolly in the face, folded it up small, and tied it in his neckerchief. 

'That's for our share of the trouble, ' said Sikes; 'and not halfenough, neither. You may keep the books, if you're fond of reading. If you ain't, sell 'em. '

'They're very pretty, ' said Charley Bates: who, with sundry grimaces, had been affecting to read one of the volumes in question; 'beautifulwriting, isn't is, Oliver?' At sight of the dismayed look with whichOliver regarded his tormentors, Master Bates, who was blessed with alively sense of the ludicrous, fell into another ectasy, moreboisterous than the first. 

'They belong to the old gentleman, ' said Oliver, wringing his hands;'to the good, kind, old gentleman who took me into his house, and hadme nursed, when I was near dying of the fever. Oh, pray send them back;send him back the books and money. Keep me here all my life long; butpray, pray send them back. He'll think I stole them; the old lady:all of them who were so kind to me: will think I stole them. Oh, dohave mercy upon me, and send them back!'

With these words, which were uttered with all the energy of passionategrief, Oliver fell upon his knees at the Jew's feet; and beat his handstogether, in perfect desperation. 

'The boy's right, ' remarked Fagin, looking covertly round, and knittinghis shaggy eyebrows into a hard knot. 'You're right, Oliver, you'reright; they WILL think you have stolen 'em. Ha! ha!' chuckled the Jew, rubbing his hands, 'it couldn't have happened better, if we had chosenour time!'

'Of course it couldn't, ' replied Sikes; 'I know'd that, directly I seehim coming through Clerkenwell, with the books under his arm. It's allright enough. They're soft-hearted psalm-singers, or they wouldn'thave taken him in at all; and they'll ask no questions after him, fearthey should be obliged to prosecute, and so get him lagged. He's safeenough. '

Oliver had looked from one to the other, while these words were beingspoken, as if he were bewildered, and could scarecely understand whatpassed; but when Bill Sikes concluded, he jumped suddenly to his feet, and tore wildly from the room: uttering shrieks for help, which madethe bare old house echo to the roof. 

'Keep back the dog, Bill!' cried Nancy, springing before the door, andclosing it, as the Jew and his two pupils darted out in pursuit. 'Keepback the dog; he'll tear the boy to pieces. '

'Serve him right!' cried Sikes, struggling to disengage himself fromthe girl's grasp. 'Stand off from me, or I'll split your head againstthe wall. '

'I don't care for that, Bill, I don't care for that, ' screamed thegirl, struggling violently with the man, 'the child shan't be torn downby the dog, unless you kill me first. '

'Shan't he!' said Sikes, setting his teeth. 'I'll soon do that, if youdon't keep off. '

The housebreaker flung the girl from him to the further end of theroom, just as the Jew and the two boys returned, dragging Oliver amongthem. 

'What's the matter here!' said Fagin, looking round. 

'The girl's gone mad, I think, ' replied Sikes, savagely. 

'No, she hasn't, ' said Nancy, pale and breathless from the scuffle;'no, she hasn't, Fagin; don't think it. '

'Then keep quiet, will you?' said the Jew, with a threatening look. 

'No, I won't do that, neither, ' replied Nancy, speaking very loud. 'Come! What do you think of that?'

Mr. Fagin was sufficiently well acquainted with the manners and customsof that particular species of humanity to which Nancy belonged, to feeltolerably certain that it would be rather unsafe to prolong anyconversation with her, at present. With the view of diverting theattention of the company, he turned to Oliver. 

'So you wanted to get away, my dear, did you?' said the Jew, taking upa jagged and knotted club which law in a corner of the fireplace; 'eh?'

Oliver made no reply. But he watched the Jew's motions, and breathedquickly. 

'Wanted to get assistance; called for the police; did you?' sneered theJew, catching the boy by the arm. 'We'll cure you of that, my youngmaster. '

The Jew inflicted a smart blow on Oliver's shoulders with the club; andwas raising it for a second, when the girl, rushing forward, wrested itfrom his hand. She flung it into the fire, with a force that broughtsome of the glowing coals whirling out into the room. 

'I won't stand by and see it done, Fagin, ' cried the girl. 'You've gotthe boy, and what more would you have?--Let him be--let him be--or Ishall put that mark on some of you, that will bring me to the gallowsbefore my time. '

The girl stamped her foot violently on the floor as she vented thisthreat; and with her lips compressed, and her hands clenched, lookedalternately at the Jew and the other robber: her face quite colourlessfrom the passion of rage into which she had gradually worked herself. 

'Why, Nancy!' said the Jew, in a soothing tone; after a pause, duringwhich he and Mr. Sikes had stared at one another in a disconcertedmanner; 'you, --you're more clever than ever to-night. Ha! ha! my dear, you are acting beautifully. '

'Am I!' said the girl. 'Take care I don't overdo it. You will be theworse for it, Fagin, if I do; and so I tell you in good time to keepclear of me. '

There is something about a roused woman: especially if she add to allher other strong passions, the fierce impulses of recklessness anddespair; which few men like to provoke. The Jew saw that it would behopeless to affect any further mistake regarding the reality of MissNancy's rage; and, shrinking involuntarily back a few paces, cast aglance, half imploring and half cowardly, at Sikes: as if to hint thathe was the fittest person to pursue the dialogue. 

Mr. Sikes, thus mutely appealed to; and possibly feeling his personalpride and influence interested in the immediate reduction of Miss Nancyto reason; gave utterance to about a couple of score of curses andthreats, the rapid production of which reflected great credit on thefertility of his invention. As they produced no visible effect on theobject against whom they were discharged, however, he resorted to moretangible arguments. 

'What do you mean by this?' said Sikes; backing the inquiry with a verycommon imprecation concerning the most beautiful of human features:which, if it were heard above, only once out of every fifty thousandtimes that it is uttered below, would render blindness as common adisorder as measles: 'what do you mean by it? Burn my body! Do youknow who you are, and what you are?'

'Oh, yes, I know all about it, ' replied the girl, laughinghysterically; and shaking her head from side to side, with a poorassumption of indifference. 

'Well, then, keep quiet, ' rejoined Sikes, with a growl like that he wasaccustomed to use when addressing his dog, 'or I'll quiet you for agood long time to come. '

The girl laughed again: even less composedly than before; and, dartinga hasty look at Sikes, turned her face aside, and bit her lip till theblood came. 

'You're a nice one, ' added Sikes, as he surveyed her with acontemptuous air, 'to take up the humane and gen--teel side! A prettysubject for the child, as you call him, to make a friend of!'

'God Almighty help me, I am!' cried the girl passionately; 'and I wishI had been struck dead in the street, or had changed places with themwe passed so near to-night, before I had lent a hand in bringing himhere. He's a thief, a liar, a devil, all that's bad, from this nightforth. Isn't that enough for the old wretch, without blows?'

'Come, come, Sikes, ' said the Jew appealing to him in a remonstratorytone, and motioning towards the boys, who were eagerly attentive to allthat passed; 'we must have civil words; civil words, Bill. '

'Civil words!' cried the girl, whose passion was frightful to see. 'Civil words, you villain! Yes, you deserve 'em from me. I thieved foryou when I was a child not half as old as this!' pointing to Oliver. 'I have been in the same trade, and in the same service, for twelveyears since. Don't you know it? Speak out! Don't you know it?'

'Well, well, ' replied the Jew, with an attempt at pacification; 'and, if you have, it's your living!'

'Aye, it is!' returned the girl; not speaking, but pouring out thewords in one continuous and vehement scream. 'It is my living; and thecold, wet, dirty streets are my home; and you're the wretch that droveme to them long ago, and that'll keep me there, day and night, day andnight, till I die!'

'I shall do you a mischief!' interposed the Jew, goaded by thesereproaches; 'a mischief worse than that, if you say much more!'

The girl said nothing more; but, tearing her hair and dress in atransport of passion, made such a rush at the Jew as would probablyhave left signal marks of her revenge upon him, had not her wrists beenseized by Sikes at the right moment; upon which, she made a fewineffectual struggles, and fainted. 

'She's all right now, ' said Sikes, laying her down in a corner. 'She'suncommon strong in the arms, when she's up in this way. '

The Jew wiped his forehead: and smiled, as if it were a relief to havethe disturbance over; but neither he, nor Sikes, nor the dog, nor theboys, seemed to consider it in any other light than a common occuranceincidental to business. 

'It's the worst of having to do with women, ' said the Jew, replacinghis club; 'but they're clever, and we can't get on, in our line, without 'em. Charley, show Oliver to bed. '

'I suppose he'd better not wear his best clothes tomorrow, Fagin, hadhe?' inquired Charley Bates. 

'Certainly not, ' replied the Jew, reciprocating the grin with whichCharley put the question. 

Master Bates, apparently much delighted with his commission, took thecleft stick: and led Oliver into an adjacent kitchen, where there weretwo or three of the beds on which he had slept before; and here, withmany uncontrollable bursts of laughter, he produced the identical oldsuit of clothes which Oliver had so much congratulated himself uponleaving off at Mr. Brownlow's; and the accidental display of which, toFagin, by the Jew who purchased them, had been the very first cluereceived, of his whereabout. 

'Put off the smart ones, ' said Charley, 'and I'll give 'em to Fagin totake care of. What fun it is!'

Poor Oliver unwillingly complied. Master Bates rolling up the newclothes under his arm, departed from the room, leaving Oliver in thedark, and locking the door behind him. 

The noise of Charley's laughter, and the voice of Miss Betsy, whoopportunely arrived to throw water over her friend, and perform otherfeminine offices for the promotion of her recovery, might have keptmany people awake under more happy circumstances than those in whichOliver was placed. But he was sick and weary; and he soon fell soundasleep. 

CHAPTER XVII

OLIVER'S DESTINY CONTINUING UNPROPITIOUS, BRINGS A GREAT MAN TO LONDONTO INJURE HIS REPUTATION

It is the custom on the stage, in all good murderous melodramas, topresent the tragic and the comic scenes, in as regular alternation, asthe layers of red and white in a side of streaky bacon. The hero sinksupon his straw bed, weighed down by fetters and misfortunes; in thenext scene, his faithful but unconscious squire regales the audiencewith a comic song. We behold, with throbbing bosoms, the heroine inthe grasp of a proud and ruthless baron: her virtue and her life alikein danger, drawing forth her dagger to preserve the one at the cost ofthe other; and just as our expectations are wrought up to the highestpitch, a whistle is heard, and we are straightway transported to thegreat hall of the castle; where a grey-headed seneschal sings a funnychorus with a funnier body of vassals, who are free of all sorts ofplaces, from church vaults to palaces, and roam about in company, carolling perpetually. 

Such changes appear absurd; but they are not so unnatural as they wouldseem at first sight. The transitions in real life from well-spreadboards to death-beds, and from mourning-weeds to holiday garments, arenot a whit less startling; only, there, we are busy actors, instead ofpassive lookers-on, which makes a vast difference. The actors in themimic life of the theatre, are blind to violent transitions and abruptimpulses of passion or feeling, which, presented before the eyes ofmere spectators, are at once condemned as outrageous and preposterous. 

As sudden shiftings of the scene, and rapid changes of time and place, are not only sanctioned in books by long usage, but are by manyconsidered as the great art of authorship: an author's skill in hiscraft being, by such critics, chiefly estimated with relation to thedilemmas in which he leaves his characters at the end of every chapter:this brief introduction to the present one may perhaps be deemedunnecessary. If so, let it be considered a delicate intimation on thepart of the historian that he is going back to the town in which OliverTwist was born; the reader taking it for granted that there are goodand substantial reasons for making the journey, or he would not beinvited to proceed upon such an expedition. 

Mr. Bumble emerged at early morning from the workhouse-gate, and walkedwith portly carriage and commanding steps, up the High Street. He wasin the full bloom and pride of beadlehood; his cocked hat and coat weredazzling in the morning sun; he clutched his cane with the vigoroustenacity of health and power. Mr. Bumble always carried his head high;but this morning it was higher than usual. There was an abstraction inhis eye, an elevation in his air, which might have warned an observantstranger that thoughts were passing in the beadle's mind, too great forutterance. 

Mr. Bumble stopped not to converse with the small shopkeepers andothers who spoke to him, deferentially, as he passed along. He merelyreturned their salutations with a wave of his hand, and relaxed not inhis dignified pace, until he reached the farm where Mrs. Mann tendedthe infant paupers with parochial care. 

'Drat that beadle!' said Mrs. Mann, hearing the well-known shaking atthe garden-gate. 'If it isn't him at this time in the morning! Lauk, Mr. Bumble, only think of its being you! Well, dear me, it IS apleasure, this is! Come into the parlour, sir, please. '

The first sentence was addressed to Susan; and the exclamations ofdelight were uttered to Mr. Bumble: as the good lady unlocked thegarden-gate: and showed him, with great attention and respect, into thehouse. 

'Mrs. Mann, ' said Mr. Bumble; not sitting upon, or dropping himselfinto a seat, as any common jackanapes would: but letting himselfgradually and slowly down into a chair; 'Mrs. Mann, ma'am, goodmorning. '

'Well, and good morning to _you_, sir, ' replied Mrs. Mann, with manysmiles; 'and hoping you find yourself well, sir!'

'So-so, Mrs. Mann, ' replied the beadle. 'A porochial life is not a bedof roses, Mrs. Mann. '

'Ah, that it isn't indeed, Mr. Bumble, ' rejoined the lady. And all theinfant paupers might have chorussed the rejoinder with great propriety, if they had heard it. 

'A porochial life, ma'am, ' continued Mr. Bumble, striking the tablewith his cane, 'is a life of worrit, and vexation, and hardihood; butall public characters, as I may say, must suffer prosecution. '

Mrs. Mann, not very well knowing what the beadle meant, raised herhands with a look of sympathy, and sighed. 

'Ah! You may well sigh, Mrs. Mann!' said the beadle. 

Finding she had done right, Mrs. Mann sighed again: evidently to thesatisfaction of the public character: who, repressing a complacentsmile by looking sternly at his cocked hat, said, 'Mrs. Mann, I am going to London. '

'Lauk, Mr. Bumble!' cried Mrs. Mann, starting back. 

'To London, ma'am, ' resumed the inflexible beadle, 'by coach. I andtwo paupers, Mrs. Mann! A legal action is a coming on, about asettlement; and the board has appointed me--me, Mrs. Mann--to disposeto the matter before the quarter-sessions at Clerkinwell. 

And I very much question, ' added Mr. Bumble, drawing himself up, 'whether the Clerkinwell Sessions will not find themselves in the wrongbox before they have done with me. '

'Oh! you mustn't be too hard upon them, sir, ' said Mrs. Mann, coaxingly. 

'The Clerkinwell Sessions have brought it upon themselves, ma'am, 'replied Mr. Bumble; 'and if the Clerkinwell Sessions find that theycome off rather worse than they expected, the Clerkinwell Sessions haveonly themselves to thank. '

There was so much determination and depth of purpose about the menacingmanner in which Mr. Bumble delivered himself of these words, that Mrs. Mann appeared quite awed by them. At length she said, 'You're going by coach, sir? I thought it was always usual to sendthem paupers in carts. '

'That's when they're ill, Mrs. Mann, ' said the beadle. 'We put thesick paupers into open carts in the rainy weather, to prevent theirtaking cold. '

'Oh!' said Mrs. Mann. 

'The opposition coach contracts for these two; and takes them cheap, 'said Mr. Bumble. 'They are both in a very low state, and we find itwould come two pound cheaper to move 'em than to bury 'em--that is, ifwe can throw 'em upon another parish, which I think we shall be able todo, if they don't die upon the road to spite us. Ha! ha! ha!'

When Mr. Bumble had laughed a little while, his eyes again encounteredthe cocked hat; and he became grave. 

'We are forgetting business, ma'am, ' said the beadle; 'here is yourporochial stipend for the month. '

Mr. Bumble produced some silver money rolled up in paper, from hispocket-book; and requested a receipt: which Mrs. Mann wrote. 

'It's very much blotted, sir, ' said the farmer of infants; 'but it'sformal enough, I dare say. Thank you, Mr. Bumble, sir, I am very muchobliged to you, I'm sure. '

Mr. Bumble nodded, blandly, in acknowledgment of Mrs. Mann's curtsey;and inquired how the children were. 

'Bless their dear little hearts!' said Mrs. Mann with emotion, 'they'reas well as can be, the dears! Of course, except the two that died lastweek. And little Dick. '

'Isn't that boy no better?' inquired Mr. Bumble. 

Mrs. Mann shook her head. 

'He's a ill-conditioned, wicious, bad-disposed porochial child that, 'said Mr. Bumble angrily. 'Where is he?'

'I'll bring him to you in one minute, sir, ' replied Mrs. Mann. 'Here, you Dick!'

After some calling, Dick was discovered. Having had his face put underthe pump, and dried upon Mrs. Mann's gown, he was led into the awfulpresence of Mr. Bumble, the beadle. 

The child was pale and thin; his cheeks were sunken; and his eyes largeand bright. The scanty parish dress, the livery of his misery, hungloosely on his feeble body; and his young limbs had wasted away, likethose of an old man. 

Such was the little being who stood trembling beneath Mr. Bumble'sglance; not daring to lift his eyes from the floor; and dreading evento hear the beadle's voice. 

'Can't you look at the gentleman, you obstinate boy?' said Mrs. Mann. 

The child meekly raised his eyes, and encountered those of Mr. Bumble. 

'What's the matter with you, porochial Dick?' inquired Mr. Bumble, withwell-timed jocularity. 

'Nothing, sir, ' replied the child faintly. 

'I should think not, ' said Mrs. Mann, who had of course laughed verymuch at Mr. Bumble's humour. 

'You want for nothing, I'm sure. '

'I should like--' faltered the child. 

'Hey-day!' interposed Mr. Mann, 'I suppose you're going to say that youDO want for something, now? Why, you little wretch--'

'Stop, Mrs. Mann, stop!' said the beadle, raising his hand with a showof authority. 'Like what, sir, eh?'

'I should like, ' faltered the child, 'if somebody that can write, wouldput a few words down for me on a piece of paper, and fold it up andseal it, and keep it for me, after I am laid in the ground. '

'Why, what does the boy mean?' exclaimed Mr. Bumble, on whom theearnest manner and wan aspect of the child had made some impression:accustomed as he was to such things. 'What do you mean, sir?'

'I should like, ' said the child, 'to leave my dear love to poor OliverTwist; and to let him know how often I have sat by myself and cried tothink of his wandering about in the dark nights with nobody to helphim. And I should like to tell him, ' said the child pressing his smallhands together, and speaking with great fervour, 'that I was glad todie when I was very young; for, perhaps, if I had lived to be a man, and had grown old, my little sister who is in Heaven, might forget me, or be unlike me; and it would be so much happier if we were bothchildren there together. '

Mr. Bumble surveyed the little speaker, from head to foot, withindescribable astonishment; and, turning to his companion, said, 'They're all in one story, Mrs. Mann. That out-dacious Oliver haddemogalized them all!'

'I couldn't have believed it, sir' said Mrs Mann, holding up her hands, and looking malignantly at Dick. 'I never see such a hardened littlewretch!'

'Take him away, ma'am!' said Mr. Bumble imperiously. 'This must bestated to the board, Mrs. Mann. 

'I hope the gentleman will understand that it isn't my fault, sir?'said Mrs. Mann, whimpering pathetically. 

'They shall understand that, ma'am; they shall be acquainted with thetrue state of the case, ' said Mr. Bumble. 'There; take him away, Ican't bear the sight on him. '

Dick was immediately taken away, and locked up in the coal-cellar. Mr. Bumble shortly afterwards took himself off, to prepare for his journey. 

At six o'clock next morning, Mr. Bumble: having exchanged his cockedhat for a round one, and encased his person in a blue great-coat with acape to it: took his place on the outside of the coach, accompanied bythe criminals whose settlement was disputed; with whom, in due courseof time, he arrived in London. 

He experienced no other crosses on the way, than those which originatedin the perverse behaviour of the two paupers, who persisted inshivering, and complaining of the cold, in a manner which, Mr. Bumbledeclared, caused his teeth to chatter in his head, and made him feelquite uncomfortable; although he had a great-coat on. 

Having disposed of these evil-minded persons for the night, Mr. Bumblesat himself down in the house at which the coach stopped; and took atemperate dinner of steaks, oyster sauce, and porter. Putting a glassof hot gin-and-water on the chimney-piece, he drew his chair to thefire; and, with sundry moral reflections on the too-prevalent sin ofdiscontent and complaining, composed himself to read the paper. 

The very first paragraph upon which Mr. Bumble's eye rested, was thefollowing advertisement. 

 'FIVE GUINEAS REWARD

'Whereas a young boy, named Oliver Twist, absconded, or was enticed, onThursday evening last, from his home, at Pentonville; and has not sincebeen heard of. The above reward will be paid to any person who willgive such information as will lead to the discovery of the said OliverTwist, or tend to throw any light upon his previous history, in whichthe advertiser is, for many reasons, warmly interested. '

And then followed a full description of Oliver's dress, person, appearance, and disappearance: with the name and address of Mr. Brownlow at full length. 

Mr. Bumble opened his eyes; read the advertisement, slowly andcarefully, three several times; and in something more than five minuteswas on his way to Pentonville: having actually, in his excitement, leftthe glass of hot gin-and-water, untasted. 

'Is Mr. Brownlow at home?' inquired Mr. Bumble of the girl who openedthe door. 

To this inquiry the girl returned the not uncommon, but rather evasivereply of 'I don't know; where do you come from?'

Mr. Bumble no sooner uttered Oliver's name, in explanation of hiserrand, than Mrs. Bedwin, who had been listening at the parlour door, hastened into the passage in a breathless state. 

'Come in, come in, ' said the old lady: 'I knew we should hear of him. Poor dear! I knew we should! I was certain of it. Bless his heart!I said so all along. '

Having heard this, the worthy old lady hurried back into the parlouragain; and seating herself on a sofa, burst into tears. The girl, whowas not quite so susceptible, had run upstairs meanwhile; and nowreturned with a request that Mr. Bumble would follow her immediately:which he did. 

He was shown into the little back study, where sat Mr. Brownlow and hisfriend Mr. Grimwig, with decanters and glasses before them. The lattergentleman at once burst into the exclamation:

'A beadle. A parish beadle, or I'll eat my head. '

'Pray don't interrupt just now, ' said Mr. Brownlow. 'Take a seat, willyou?'

Mr. Bumble sat himself down; quite confounded by the oddity of Mr. Grimwig's manner. Mr. Brownlow moved the lamp, so as to obtain anuninterrupted view of the beadle's countenance; and said, with a littleimpatience, 'Now, sir, you come in consequence of having seen the advertisement?'

'Yes, sir, ' said Mr. Bumble. 

'And you ARE a beadle, are you not?' inquired Mr. Grimwig. 

'I am a porochial beadle, gentlemen, ' rejoined Mr. Bumble proudly. 

'Of course, ' observed Mr. Grimwig aside to his friend, 'I knew he was. A beadle all over!'

Mr. Brownlow gently shook his head to impose silence on his friend, andresumed:

'Do you know where this poor boy is now?'

'No more than nobody, ' replied Mr. Bumble. 

'Well, what DO you know of him?' inquired the old gentleman. 'Speakout, my friend, if you have anything to say. What DO you know of him?'

'You don't happen to know any good of him, do you?' said Mr. Grimwig, caustically; after an attentive perusal of Mr. Bumble's features. 

Mr. Bumble, catching at the inquiry very quickly, shook his head withportentous solemnity. 

'You see?' said Mr. Grimwig, looking triumphantly at Mr. Brownlow. 

Mr. Brownlow looked apprehensively at Mr. Bumble's pursed-upcountenance; and requested him to communicate what he knew regardingOliver, in as few words as possible. 

Mr. Bumble put down his hat; unbuttoned his coat; folded his arms;inclined his head in a retrospective manner; and, after a few moments'reflection, commenced his story. 

It would be tedious if given in the beadle's words: occupying, as itdid, some twenty minutes in the telling; but the sum and substance ofit was, that Oliver was a foundling, born of low and vicious parents. That he had, from his birth, displayed no better qualities thantreachery, ingratitude, and malice. That he had terminated his briefcareer in the place of his birth, by making a sanguinary and cowardlyattack on an unoffending lad, and running away in the night-time fromhis master's house. In proof of his really being the person herepresented himself, Mr. Bumble laid upon the table the papers he hadbrought to town. Folding his arms again, he then awaited Mr. Brownlow'sobservations. 

'I fear it is all too true, ' said the old gentleman sorrowfully, afterlooking over the papers. 'This is not much for your intelligence; butI would gladly have given you treble the money, if it had beenfavourable to the boy. '

It is not improbable that if Mr. Bumble had been possessed of thisinformation at an earlier period of the interview, he might haveimparted a very different colouring to his little history. It was toolate to do it now, however; so he shook his head gravely, and, pocketing the five guineas, withdrew. 

Mr. Brownlow paced the room to and fro for some minutes; evidently somuch disturbed by the beadle's tale, that even Mr. Grimwig forbore tovex him further. 

At length he stopped, and rang the bell violently. 

'Mrs. Bedwin, ' said Mr. Brownlow, when the housekeeper appeared; 'thatboy, Oliver, is an imposter. '

'It can't be, sir. It cannot be, ' said the old lady energetically. 

'I tell you he is, ' retorted the old gentleman. 'What do you mean bycan't be? We have just heard a full account of him from his birth; andhe has been a thorough-paced little villain, all his life. '

'I never will believe it, sir, ' replied the old lady, firmly. 'Never!'

'You old women never believe anything but quack-doctors, and lyingstory-books, ' growled Mr. Grimwig. 'I knew it all along. Why didn'tyou take my advise in the beginning; you would if he hadn't had afever, I suppose, eh? He was interesting, wasn't he? Interesting!Bah!' And Mr. Grimwig poked the fire with a flourish. 

'He was a dear, grateful, gentle child, sir, ' retorted Mrs. Bedwin, indignantly. 'I know what children are, sir; and have done these fortyyears; and people who can't say the same, shouldn't say anything aboutthem. That's my opinion!'

This was a hard hit at Mr. Grimwig, who was a bachelor. As it extortednothing from that gentleman but a smile, the old lady tossed her head, and smoothed down her apron preparatory to another speech, when she wasstopped by Mr. Brownlow. 

'Silence!' said the old gentleman, feigning an anger he was far fromfeeling. 'Never let me hear the boy's name again. I rang to tell youthat. Never. Never, on any pretence, mind! You may leave the room, Mrs. Bedwin. Remember! I am in earnest. '

There were sad hearts at Mr. Brownlow's that night. 

Oliver's heart sank within him, when he thought of his good friends; itwas well for him that he could not know what they had heard, or itmight have broken outright. 

CHAPTER XVIII

HOW OLIVER PASSED HIS TIME IN THE IMPROVING SOCIETY OF HIS REPUTABLEFRIENDS

About noon next day, when the Dodger and Master Bates had gone out topursue their customary avocations, Mr. Fagin took the opportunity ofreading Oliver a long lecture on the crying sin of ingratitude; ofwhich he clearly demonstrated he had been guilty, to no ordinaryextent, in wilfully absenting himself from the society of his anxiousfriends; and, still more, in endeavouring to escape from them after somuch trouble and expense had been incurred in his recovery. Mr. Faginlaid great stress on the fact of his having taken Oliver in, andcherished him, when, without his timely aid, he might have perishedwith hunger; and he related the dismal and affecting history of a younglad whom, in his philanthropy, he had succoured under parallelcircumstances, but who, proving unworthy of his confidence and evincinga desire to communicate with the police, had unfortunately come to behanged at the Old Bailey one morning. Mr. Fagin did not seek toconceal his share in the catastrophe, but lamented with tears in hiseyes that the wrong-headed and treacherous behaviour of the youngperson in question, had rendered it necessary that he should become thevictim of certain evidence for the crown: which, if it were notprecisely true, was indispensably necessary for the safety of him (Mr. Fagin) and a few select friends. Mr. Fagin concluded by drawing arather disagreeable picture of the discomforts of hanging; and, withgreat friendliness and politeness of manner, expressed his anxioushopes that he might never be obliged to submit Oliver Twist to thatunpleasant operation. 

Little Oliver's blood ran cold, as he listened to the Jew's words, andimperfectly comprehended the dark threats conveyed in them. That itwas possible even for justice itself to confound the innocent with theguilty when they were in accidental companionship, he knew already; andthat deeply-laid plans for the destruction of inconveniently knowing orover-communicative persons, had been really devised and carried out bythe Jew on more occasions than one, he thought by no means unlikely, when he recollected the general nature of the altercations between thatgentleman and Mr. Sikes: which seemed to bear reference to someforegone conspiracy of the kind. As he glanced timidly up, and met theJew's searching look, he felt that his pale face and trembling limbswere neither unnoticed nor unrelished by that wary old gentleman. 

The Jew, smiling hideously, patted Oliver on the head, and said, thatif he kept himself quiet, and applied himself to business, he saw theywould be very good friends yet. Then, taking his hat, and coveringhimself with an old patched great-coat, he went out, and locked theroom-door behind him. 

And so Oliver remained all that day, and for the greater part of manysubsequent days, seeing nobody, between early morning and midnight, andleft during the long hours to commune with his own thoughts. Which, never failing to revert to his kind friends, and the opinion they mustlong ago have formed of him, were sad indeed. 

After the lapse of a week or so, the Jew left the room-door unlocked;and he was at liberty to wander about the house. 

It was a very dirty place. The rooms upstairs had great high woodenchimney-pieces and large doors, with panelled walls and cornices to theceiling; which, although they were black with neglect and dust, wereornamented in various ways. From all of these tokens Oliver concludedthat a long time ago, before the old Jew was born, it had belonged tobetter people, and had perhaps been quite gay and handsome: dismal anddreary as it looked now. 

Spiders had built their webs in the angles of the walls and ceilings;and sometimes, when Oliver walked softly into a room, the mice wouldscamper across the floor, and run back terrified to their holes. Withthese exceptions, there was neither sight nor sound of any livingthing; and often, when it grew dark, and he was tired of wandering fromroom to room, he would crouch in the corner of the passage by thestreet-door, to be as near living people as he could; and would remainthere, listening and counting the hours, until the Jew or the boysreturned. 

In all the rooms, the mouldering shutters were fast closed: the barswhich held them were screwed tight into the wood; the only light whichwas admitted, stealing its way through round holes at the top: whichmade the rooms more gloomy, and filled them with strange shadows. There was a back-garret window with rusty bars outside, which had noshutter; and out of this, Oliver often gazed with a melancholy face forhours together; but nothing was to be descried from it but a confusedand crowded mass of housetops, blackened chimneys, and gable-ends. Sometimes, indeed, a grizzly head might be seen, peering over theparapet-wall of a distant house; but it was quickly withdrawn again;and as the window of Oliver's observatory was nailed down, and dimmedwith the rain and smoke of years, it was as much as he could do to makeout the forms of the different objects beyond, without making anyattempt to be seen or heard, --which he had as much chance of being, asif he had lived inside the ball of St. Paul's Cathedral. 

One afternoon, the Dodger and Master Bates being engaged out thatevening, the first-named young gentleman took it into his head toevince some anxiety regarding the decoration of his person (to do himjustice, this was by no means an habitual weakness with him); and, withthis end and aim, he condescendingly commanded Oliver to assist him inhis toilet, straightway. 

Oliver was but too glad to make himself useful; too happy to have somefaces, however bad, to look upon; too desirous to conciliate thoseabout him when he could honestly do so; to throw any objection in theway of this proposal. So he at once expressed his readiness; and, kneeling on the floor, while the Dodger sat upon the table so that hecould take his foot in his laps, he applied himself to a process whichMr. Dawkins designated as 'japanning his trotter-cases. ' The phrase, rendered into plain English, signifieth, cleaning his boots. 

Whether it was the sense of freedom and independence which a rationalanimal may be supposed to feel when he sits on a table in an easyattitude smoking a pipe, swinging one leg carelessly to and fro, andhaving his boots cleaned all the time, without even the past trouble ofhaving taken them off, or the prospective misery of putting them on, todisturb his reflections; or whether it was the goodness of the tobaccothat soothed the feelings of the Dodger, or the mildness of the beerthat mollified his thoughts; he was evidently tinctured, for the nonce, with a spice of romance and enthusiasm, foreign to his general nature. He looked down on Oliver, with a thoughtful countenance, for a briefspace; and then, raising his head, and heaving a gentle sign, said, half in abstraction, and half to Master Bates:

'What a pity it is he isn't a prig!'

'Ah!' said Master Charles Bates; 'he don't know what's good for him. '

The Dodger sighed again, and resumed his pipe: as did Charley Bates. They both smoked, for some seconds, in silence. 

'I suppose you don't even know what a prig is?' said the Dodgermournfully. 

'I think I know that, ' replied Oliver, looking up. 'It's a the--;you're one, are you not?' inquired Oliver, checking himself. 

'I am, ' replied the Doger. 'I'd scorn to be anything else. ' Mr. Dawkins gave his hat a ferocious cock, after delivering this sentiment, and looked at Master Bates, as if to denote that he would feel obligedby his saying anything to the contrary. 

'I am, ' repeated the Dodger. 'So's Charley. So's Fagin. So's Sikes. So's Nancy. So's Bet. So we all are, down to the dog. And he's thedowniest one of the lot!'

'And the least given to peaching, ' added Charley Bates. 

'He wouldn't so much as bark in a witness-box, for fear of committinghimself; no, not if you tied him up in one, and left him there withoutwittles for a fortnight, ' said the Dodger. 

'Not a bit of it, ' observed Charley. 

'He's a rum dog. Don't he look fierce at any strange cove that laughsor sings when he's in company!' pursued the Dodger. 'Won't he growl atall, when he hears a fiddle playing! And don't he hate other dogs asain't of his breed! Oh, no!'

'He's an out-and-out Christian, ' said Charley. 

This was merely intended as a tribute to the animal's abilities, but itwas an appropriate remark in another sense, if Master Bates had onlyknown it; for there are a good many ladies and gentlemen, claiming tobe out-and-out Christians, between whom, and Mr. Sikes' dog, thereexist strong and singular points of resemblance. 

'Well, well, ' said the Dodger, recurring to the point from which theyhad strayed: with that mindfulness of his profession which influencedall his proceedings. 'This hasn't go anything to do with young Greenhere. '

'No more it has, ' said Charley. 'Why don't you put yourself underFagin, Oliver?'

'And make your fortun' out of hand?' added the Dodger, with a grin. 

'And so be able to retire on your property, and do the gen-teel: as Imean to, in the very next leap-year but four that ever comes, and theforty-second Tuesday in Trinity-week, ' said Charley Bates. 

'I don't like it, ' rejoined Oliver, timidly; 'I wish they would let mego. I--I--would rather go. '

'And Fagin would RATHER not!' rejoined Charley. 

Oliver knew this too well; but thinking it might be dangerous toexpress his feelings more openly, he only sighed, and went on with hisboot-cleaning. 

'Go!' exclaimed the Dodger. 'Why, where's your spirit?' Don't you takeany pride out of yourself? Would you go and be dependent on yourfriends?'

'Oh, blow that!' said Master Bates: drawing two or three silkhandkerchiefs from his pocket, and tossing them into a cupboard, 'that's too mean; that is. '

'_I_ couldn't do it, ' said the Dodger, with an air of haughty disgust. 

'You can leave your friends, though, ' said Oliver with a half smile;'and let them be punished for what you did. '

'That, ' rejoined the Dodger, with a wave of his pipe, 'That was all outof consideration for Fagin, 'cause the traps know that we worktogether, and he might have got into trouble if we hadn't made ourlucky; that was the move, wasn't it, Charley?'

Master Bates nodded assent, and would have spoken, but the recollectionof Oliver's flight came so suddenly upon him, that the smoke he wasinhaling got entangled with a laugh, and went up into his head, anddown into his throat: and brought on a fit of coughing and stamping, about five minutes long. 

'Look here!' said the Dodger, drawing forth a handful of shillings andhalfpence. 'Here's a jolly life! What's the odds where it comes from?Here, catch hold; there's plenty more where they were took from. Youwon't, won't you? Oh, you precious flat!'

'It's naughty, ain't it, Oliver?' inquired Charley Bates. 'He'll cometo be scragged, won't he?'

'I don't know what that means, ' replied Oliver. 

'Something in this way, old feller, ' said Charly. As he said it, Master Bates caught up an end of his neckerchief; and, holding it erectin the air, dropped his head on his shoulder, and jerked a curioussound through his teeth; thereby indicating, by a lively pantomimicrepresentation, that scragging and hanging were one and the same thing. 

'That's what it means, ' said Charley. 'Look how he stares, Jack!

I never did see such prime company as that 'ere boy; he'll be the deathof me, I know he will. ' Master Charley Bates, having laughed heartilyagain, resumed his pipe with tears in his eyes. 

'You've been brought up bad, ' said the Dodger, surveying his boots withmuch satisfaction when Oliver had polished them. 'Fagin will makesomething of you, though, or you'll be the first he ever had thatturned out unprofitable. You'd better begin at once; for you'll cometo the trade long before you think of it; and you're only losing time, Oliver. '

Master Bates backed this advice with sundry moral admonitions of hisown: which, being exhausted, he and his friend Mr. Dawkins launchedinto a glowing description of the numerous pleasures incidental to thelife they led, interspersed with a variety of hints to Oliver that thebest thing he could do, would be to secure Fagin's favour without moredelay, by the means which they themselves had employed to gain it. 

'And always put this in your pipe, Nolly, ' said the Dodger, as the Jewwas heard unlocking the door above, 'if you don't take fogels andtickers--'

'What's the good of talking in that way?' interposed Master Bates; 'hedon't know what you mean. '

'If you don't take pocket-handkechers and watches, ' said the Dodger, reducing his conversation to the level of Oliver's capacity, 'someother cove will; so that the coves that lose 'em will be all the worse, and you'll be all the worse, too, and nobody half a ha'p'orth thebetter, except the chaps wot gets them--and you've just as good a rightto them as they have. '

'To be sure, to be sure!' said the Jew, who had entered unseen byOliver. 'It all lies in a nutshell my dear; in a nutshell, take theDodger's word for it. Ha! ha! ha! He understands the catechism of histrade. '

The old man rubbed his hands gleefully together, as he corroborated theDodger's reasoning in these terms; and chuckled with delight at hispupil's proficiency. 

The conversation proceeded no farther at this time, for the Jew hadreturned home accompanied by Miss Betsy, and a gentleman whom Oliverhad never seen before, but who was accosted by the Dodger as TomChitling; and who, having lingered on the stairs to exchange a fewgallantries with the lady, now made his appearance. 

Mr. Chitling was older in years than the Dodger: having perhapsnumbered eighteen winters; but there was a degree of deference in hisdeportment towards that young gentleman which seemed to indicate thathe felt himself conscious of a slight inferiority in point of geniusand professional aquirements. He had small twinkling eyes, and apock-marked face; wore a fur cap, a dark corduroy jacket, greasyfustian trousers, and an apron. His wardrobe was, in truth, rather outof repair; but he excused himself to the company by stating that his'time' was only out an hour before; and that, in consequence of havingworn the regimentals for six weeks past, he had not been able to bestowany attention on his private clothes. Mr. Chitling added, with strongmarks of irritation, that the new way of fumigating clothes up yonderwas infernal unconstitutional, for it burnt holes in them, and therewas no remedy against the County. The same remark he considered toapply to the regulation mode of cutting the hair: which he held to bedecidedly unlawful. Mr. Chitling wound up his observations by statingthat he had not touched a drop of anything for forty-two moral longhard-working days; and that he 'wished he might be busted if he warn'tas dry as a lime-basket. '

'Where do you think the gentleman has come from, Oliver?' inquired theJew, with a grin, as the other boys put a bottle of spirits on thetable. 

'I--I--don't know, sir, ' replied Oliver. 

'Who's that?' inquired Tom Chitling, casting a contemptuous look atOliver. 

'A young friend of mine, my dear, ' replied the Jew. 

'He's in luck, then, ' said the young man, with a meaning look at Fagin. 'Never mind where I came from, young 'un; you'll find your way there, soon enough, I'll bet a crown!'

At this sally, the boys laughed. After some more jokes on the samesubject, they exchanged a few short whispers with Fagin; and withdrew. 

After some words apart between the last comer and Fagin, they drewtheir chairs towards the fire; and the Jew, telling Oliver to come andsit by him, led the conversation to the topics most calculated tointerest his hearers. These were, the great advantages of the trade, the proficiency of the Dodger, the amiability of Charley Bates, and theliberality of the Jew himself. At length these subjects displayedsigns of being thoroughly exhausted; and Mr. Chitling did the same:for the house of correction becomes fatiguing after a week or two. Miss Betsy accordingly withdrew; and left the party to their repose. 

From this day, Oliver was seldom left alone; but was placed in almostconstant communication with the two boys, who played the old game withthe Jew every day: whether for their own improvement or Oliver's, Mr. Fagin best knew. At other times the old man would tell them stories ofrobberies he had committed in his younger days: mixed up with so muchthat was droll and curious, that Oliver could not help laughingheartily, and showing that he was amused in spite of all his betterfeelings. 

In short, the wily old Jew had the boy in his toils. Having preparedhis mind, by solitude and gloom, to prefer any society to thecompanionship of his own sad thoughts in such a dreary place, he wasnow slowly instilling into his soul the poison which he hoped wouldblacken it, and change its hue for ever. 

CHAPTER XIX

IN WHICH A NOTABLE PLAN IS DISCUSSED AND DETERMINED ON

It was a chill, damp, windy night, when the Jew: buttoning hisgreat-coat tight round his shrivelled body, and pulling the collar upover his ears so as completely to obscure the lower part of his face:emerged from his den. He paused on the step as the door was locked andchained behind him; and having listened while the boys made all secure, and until their retreating footsteps were no longer audible, slunk downthe street as quickly as he could. 

The house to which Oliver had been conveyed, was in the neighborhood ofWhitechapel. The Jew stopped for an instant at the corner of thestreet; and, glancing suspiciously round, crossed the road, and struckoff in the direction of the Spitalfields. 

The mud lay thick upon the stones, and a black mist hung over thestreets; the rain fell sluggishly down, and everything felt cold andclammy to the touch. It seemed just the night when it befitted such abeing as the Jew to be abroad. As he glided stealthily along, creepingbeneath the shelter of the walls and doorways, the hideous old manseemed like some loathsome reptile, engendered in the slime anddarkness through which he moved: crawling forth, by night, in search ofsome rich offal for a meal. 

He kept on his course, through many winding and narrow ways, until hereached Bethnal Green; then, turning suddenly off to the left, he soonbecame involved in a maze of the mean and dirty streets which abound inthat close and densely-populated quarter. 

The Jew was evidently too familiar with the ground he traversed to beat all bewildered, either by the darkness of the night, or theintricacies of the way. He hurried through several alleys and streets, and at length turned into one, lighted only by a single lamp at thefarther end. At the door of a house in this street, he knocked; havingexchanged a few muttered words with the person who opened it, he walkedupstairs. 

A dog growled as he touched the handle of a room-door; and a man'svoice demanded who was there. 

'Only me, Bill; only me, my dear, ' said the Jew looking in. 

'Bring in your body then, ' said Sikes. 'Lie down, you stupid brute!Don't you know the devil when he's got a great-coat on?'

Apparently, the dog had been somewhat deceived by Mr. Fagin's outergarment; for as the Jew unbuttoned it, and threw it over the back of achair, he retired to the corner from which he had risen: wagging histail as he went, to show that he was as well satisfied as it was in hisnature to be. 

'Well!' said Sikes. 

'Well, my dear, ' replied the Jew. --'Ah! Nancy. '

The latter recognition was uttered with just enough of embarrassment toimply a doubt of its reception; for Mr. Fagin and his young friend hadnot met, since she had interfered in behalf of Oliver. All doubts uponthe subject, if he had any, were speedily removed by the young lady'sbehaviour. She took her feet off the fender, pushed back her chair, and bade Fagin draw up his, without saying more about it: for it was acold night, and no mistake. 

'It is cold, Nancy dear, ' said the Jew, as he warmed his skinny handsover the fire. 'It seems to go right through one, ' added the old man, touching his side. 

'It must be a piercer, if it finds its way through your heart, ' saidMr. Sikes. 'Give him something to drink, Nancy. Burn my body, makehaste! It's enough to turn a man ill, to see his lean old carcaseshivering in that way, like a ugly ghost just rose from the grave. '

Nancy quickly brought a bottle from a cupboard, in which there weremany: which, to judge from the diversity of their appearance, werefilled with several kinds of liquids. Sikes pouring out a glass ofbrandy, bade the Jew drink it off. 

'Quite enough, quite, thankye, Bill, ' replied the Jew, putting down theglass after just setting his lips to it. 

'What! You're afraid of our getting the better of you, are you?'inquired Sikes, fixing his eyes on the Jew. 'Ugh!'

With a hoarse grunt of contempt, Mr. Sikes seized the glass, and threwthe remainder of its contents into the ashes: as a preparatory ceremonyto filling it again for himself: which he did at once. 

The Jew glanced round the room, as his companion tossed down the secondglassful; not in curiousity, for he had seen it often before; but in arestless and suspicious manner habitual to him. It was a meanlyfurnished apartment, with nothing but the contents of the closet toinduce the belief that its occupier was anything but a working man; andwith no more suspicious articles displayed to view than two or threeheavy bludgeons which stood in a corner, and a 'life-preserver' thathung over the chimney-piece. 

'There, ' said Sikes, smacking his lips. 'Now I'm ready. '

'For business?' inquired the Jew. 

'For business, ' replied Sikes; 'so say what you've got to say. '

'About the crib at Chertsey, Bill?' said the Jew, drawing his chairforward, and speaking in a very low voice. 

'Yes. Wot about it?' inquired Sikes. 

'Ah! you know what I mean, my dear, ' said the Jew. 'He knows what Imean, Nancy; don't he?'

'No, he don't, ' sneered Mr. Sikes. 'Or he won't, and that's the samething. Speak out, and call things by their right names; don't sitthere, winking and blinking, and talking to me in hints, as if youwarn't the very first that thought about the robbery. Wot d'ye mean?'

'Hush, Bill, hush!' said the Jew, who had in vain attempted to stopthis burst of indignation; 'somebody will hear us, my dear. Somebodywill hear us. '

'Let 'em hear!' said Sikes; 'I don't care. ' But as Mr. Sikes DID care, on reflection, he dropped his voice as he said the words, and grewcalmer. 

'There, there, ' said the Jew, coaxingly. 'It was only my caution, nothing more. Now, my dear, about that crib at Chertsey; when is it tobe done, Bill, eh? When is it to be done? Such plate, my dear, suchplate!' said the Jew: rubbing his hands, and elevating his eyebrows ina rapture of anticipation. 

'Not at all, ' replied Sikes coldly. 

'Not to be done at all!' echoed the Jew, leaning back in his chair. 

'No, not at all, ' rejoined Sikes. 'At least it can't be a put-up job, as we expected. '

'Then it hasn't been properly gone about, ' said the Jew, turning palewith anger. 'Don't tell me!'

'But I will tell you, ' retorted Sikes. 'Who are you that's not to betold? I tell you that Toby Crackit has been hanging about the placefor a fortnight, and he can't get one of the servants in line. '

'Do you mean to tell me, Bill, ' said the Jew: softening as the othergrew heated: 'that neither of the two men in the house can be gotover?'

'Yes, I do mean to tell you so, ' replied Sikes. 'The old lady has had'em these twenty years; and if you were to give 'em five hundred pound, they wouldn't be in it. '

'But do you mean to say, my dear, ' remonstrated the Jew, 'that thewomen can't be got over?'

'Not a bit of it, ' replied Sikes. 

'Not by flash Toby Crackit?' said the Jew incredulously. 'Think whatwomen are, Bill, '

'No; not even by flash Toby Crackit, ' replied Sikes. 'He says he'sworn sham whiskers, and a canary waistcoat, the whole blessed time he'sbeen loitering down there, and it's all of no use. '

'He should have tried mustachios and a pair of military trousers, mydear, ' said the Jew. 

'So he did, ' rejoined Sikes, 'and they warn't of no more use than theother plant. '

The Jew looked blank at this information. After ruminating for someminutes with his chin sunk on his breast, he raised his head and said, with a deep sigh, that if flash Toby Crackit reported aright, he fearedthe game was up. 

'And yet, ' said the old man, dropping his hands on his knees, 'it's asad thing, my dear, to lose so much when we had set our hearts upon it. '

'So it is, ' said Mr. Sikes. 'Worse luck!'

A long silence ensued; during which the Jew was plunged in deepthought, with his face wrinkled into an expression of villainyperfectly demoniacal. Sikes eyed him furtively from time to time. Nancy, apparently fearful of irritating the housebreaker, sat with hereyes fixed upon the fire, as if she had been deaf to all that passed. 

'Fagin, ' said Sikes, abruptly breaking the stillness that prevailed;'is it worth fifty shiners extra, if it's safely done from the outside?'

'Yes, ' said the Jew, as suddenly rousing himself. 

'Is it a bargain?' inquired Sikes. 

'Yes, my dear, yes, ' rejoined the Jew; his eyes glistening, and everymuscle in his face working, with the excitement that the inquiry hadawakened. 

'Then, ' said Sikes, thrusting aside the Jew's hand, with some disdain, 'let it come off as soon as you like. Toby and me were over thegarden-wall the night afore last, sounding the panels of the door andshutters. The crib's barred up at night like a jail; but there's onepart we can crack, safe and softly. '

'Which is that, Bill?' asked the Jew eagerly. 

'Why, ' whispered Sikes, 'as you cross the lawn--'

'Yes?' said the Jew, bending his head forward, with his eyes almoststarting out of it. 

'Umph!' cried Sikes, stopping short, as the girl, scarcely moving herhead, looked suddenly round, and pointed for an instant to the Jew'sface. 'Never mind which part it is. You can't do it without me, Iknow; but it's best to be on the safe side when one deals with you. '

'As you like, my dear, as you like' replied the Jew. 'Is there no helpwanted, but yours and Toby's?'

'None, ' said Sikes. 'Cept a centre-bit and a boy. The first we'veboth got; the second you must find us. '

'A boy!' exclaimed the Jew. 'Oh! then it's a panel, eh?'

'Never mind wot it is!' replied Sikes. 'I want a boy, and he musn't bea big 'un. Lord!' said Mr. Sikes, reflectively, 'if I'd only got thatyoung boy of Ned, the chimbley-sweeper's! He kept him small onpurpose, and let him out by the job. But the father gets lagged; andthen the Juvenile Delinquent Society comes, and takes the boy away froma trade where he was earning money, teaches him to read and write, andin time makes a 'prentice of him. And so they go on, ' said Mr. Sikes, his wrath rising with the recollection of his wrongs, 'so they go on;and, if they'd got money enough (which it's a Providence they haven't, )we shouldn't have half a dozen boys left in the whole trade, in a yearor two. '

'No more we should, ' acquiesced the Jew, who had been consideringduring this speech, and had only caught the last sentence. 'Bill!'

'What now?' inquired Sikes. 

The Jew nodded his head towards Nancy, who was still gazing at thefire; and intimated, by a sign, that he would have her told to leavethe room. Sikes shrugged his shoulders impatiently, as if he thoughtthe precaution unnecessary; but complied, nevertheless, by requestingMiss Nancy to fetch him a jug of beer. 

'You don't want any beer, ' said Nancy, folding her arms, and retainingher seat very composedly. 

'I tell you I do!' replied Sikes. 

'Nonsense, ' rejoined the girl coolly, 'Go on, Fagin. I know what he'sgoing to say, Bill; he needn't mind me. '

The Jew still hesitated. Sikes looked from one to the other in somesurprise. 

'Why, you don't mind the old girl, do you, Fagin?' he asked at length. 'You've known her long enough to trust her, or the Devil's in it. Sheain't one to blab. Are you Nancy?'

'_I_ should think not!' replied the young lady: drawing her chair upto the table, and putting her elbows upon it. 

'No, no, my dear, I know you're not, ' said the Jew; 'but--' and againthe old man paused. 

'But wot?' inquired Sikes. 

'I didn't know whether she mightn't p'r'aps be out of sorts, you know, my dear, as she was the other night, ' replied the Jew. 

At this confession, Miss Nancy burst into a loud laugh; and, swallowinga glass of brandy, shook her head with an air of defiance, and burstinto sundry exclamations of 'Keep the game a-going!' 'Never say die!'and the like. These seemed to have the effect of re-assuring bothgentlemen; for the Jew nodded his head with a satisfied air, andresumed his seat: as did Mr. Sikes likewise. 

'Now, Fagin, ' said Nancy with a laugh. 'Tell Bill at once, aboutOliver!'

'Ha! you're a clever one, my dear: the sharpest girl I ever saw!' saidthe Jew, patting her on the neck. 'It WAS about Oliver I was going tospeak, sure enough. Ha! ha! ha!'

'What about him?' demanded Sikes. 

'He's the boy for you, my dear, ' replied the Jew in a hoarse whisper;laying his finger on the side of his nose, and grinning frightfully. 

'He!' exclaimed. Sikes. 

'Have him, Bill!' said Nancy. 'I would, if I was in your place. Hemayn't be so much up, as any of the others; but that's not what youwant, if he's only to open a door for you. Depend upon it he's a safeone, Bill. '

'I know he is, ' rejoined Fagin. 'He's been in good training these lastfew weeks, and it's time he began to work for his bread. Besides, theothers are all too big. '

'Well, he is just the size I want, ' said Mr. Sikes, ruminating. 

'And will do everything you want, Bill, my dear, ' interposed the Jew;'he can't help himself. That is, if you frighten him enough. '

'Frighten him!' echoed Sikes. 'It'll be no sham frightening, mind you. If there's anything queer about him when we once get into the work; infor a penny, in for a pound. You won't see him alive again, Fagin. Think of that, before you send him. Mark my words!' said the robber, poising a crowbar, which he had drawn from under the bedstead. 

'I've thought of it all, ' said the Jew with energy. 'I've--I've had myeye upon him, my dears, close--close. Once let him feel that he is oneof us; once fill his mind with the idea that he has been a thief; andhe's ours! Ours for his life. Oho! It couldn't have come aboutbetter! The old man crossed his arms upon his breast; and, drawing hishead and shoulders into a heap, literally hugged himself for joy. 

'Ours!' said Sikes. 'Yours, you mean. '

'Perhaps I do, my dear, ' said the Jew, with a shrill chuckle. 'Mine, ifyou like, Bill. '

'And wot, ' said Sikes, scowling fiercely on his agreeable friend, 'wotmakes you take so much pains about one chalk-faced kid, when you knowthere are fifty boys snoozing about Common Garden every night, as youmight pick and choose from?'

'Because they're of no use to me, my dear, ' replied the Jew, with someconfusion, 'not worth the taking. Their looks convict 'em when theyget into trouble, and I lose 'em all. With this boy, properly managed, my dears, I could do what I couldn't with twenty of them. Besides, 'said the Jew, recovering his self-possession, 'he has us now if hecould only give us leg-bail again; and he must be in the same boat withus. Never mind how he came there; it's quite enough for my power overhim that he was in a robbery; that's all I want. Now, how much betterthis is, than being obliged to put the poor leetle boy out of theway--which would be dangerous, and we should lose by it besides. '

'When is it to be done?' asked Nancy, stopping some turbulentexclamation on the part of Mr. Sikes, expressive of the disgust withwhich he received Fagin's affectation of humanity. 

'Ah, to be sure, ' said the Jew; 'when is it to be done, Bill?'

'I planned with Toby, the night arter to-morrow, ' rejoined Sikes in asurly voice, 'if he heerd nothing from me to the contrairy. '

'Good, ' said the Jew; 'there's no moon. '

'No, ' rejoined Sikes. 

'It's all arranged about bringing off the swag, is it?' asked the Jew. 

Sikes nodded. 

'And about--'

'Oh, ah, it's all planned, ' rejoined Sikes, interrupting him. 'Nevermind particulars. You'd better bring the boy here to-morrow night. Ishall get off the stone an hour arter daybreak. Then you hold yourtongue, and keep the melting-pot ready, and that's all you'll have todo. '

After some discussion, in which all three took an active part, it wasdecided that Nancy should repair to the Jew's next evening when thenight had set in, and bring Oliver away with her; Fagin craftilyobserving, that, if he evinced any disinclination to the task, he wouldbe more willing to accompany the girl who had so recently interfered inhis behalf, than anybody else. It was also solemnly arranged that poorOliver should, for the purposes of the contemplated expedition, beunreservedly consigned to the care and custody of Mr. William Sikes;and further, that the said Sikes should deal with him as he thoughtfit; and should not be held responsible by the Jew for any mischance orevil that might be necessary to visit him: it being understood that, torender the compact in this respect binding, any representations made byMr. Sikes on his return should be required to be confirmed andcorroborated, in all important particulars, by the testimony of flashToby Crackit. 

These preliminaries adjusted, Mr. Sikes proceeded to drink brandy at afurious rate, and to flourish the crowbar in an alarming manner;yelling forth, at the same time, most unmusical snatches of song, mingled with wild execrations. At length, in a fit of professionalenthusiasm, he insisted upon producing his box of housebreaking tools:which he had no sooner stumbled in with, and opened for the purpose ofexplaining the nature and properties of the various implements itcontained, and the peculiar beauties of their construction, than hefell over the box upon the floor, and went to sleep where he fell. 

'Good-night, Nancy, ' said the Jew, muffling himself up as before. 

'Good-night. '

Their eyes met, and the Jew scrutinised her, narrowly. There was noflinching about the girl. She was as true and earnest in the matter asToby Crackit himself could be. 

The Jew again bade her good-night, and, bestowing a sly kick upon theprostrate form of Mr. Sikes while her back was turned, gropeddownstairs. 

'Always the way!' muttered the Jew to himself as he turned homeward. 'The worst of these women is, that a very little thing serves to callup some long-forgotten feeling; and, the best of them is, that it neverlasts. Ha! ha! The man against the child, for a bag of gold!'

Beguiling the time with these pleasant reflections, Mr. Fagin wendedhis way, through mud and mire, to his gloomy abode: where the Dodgerwas sitting up, impatiently awaiting his return. 

'Is Oliver a-bed? I want to speak to him, ' was his first remark asthey descended the stairs. 

'Hours ago, ' replied the Dodger, throwing open a door. 'Here he is!'

The boy was lying, fast asleep, on a rude bed upon the floor; so palewith anxiety, and sadness, and the closeness of his prison, that helooked like death; not death as it shows in shroud and coffin, but inthe guise it wears when life has just departed; when a young and gentlespirit has, but an instant, fled to Heaven, and the gross air of theworld has not had time to breathe upon the changing dust it hallowed. 

'Not now, ' said the Jew, turning softly away. 'To-morrow. To-morrow. '

CHAPTER XX

WHEREIN OLIVER IS DELIVERED OVER TO MR. WILLIAM SIKES

When Oliver awoke in the morning, he was a good deal surprised to findthat a new pair of shoes, with strong thick soles, had been placed athis bedside; and that his old shoes had been removed. At first, he waspleased with the discovery: hoping that it might be the forerunner ofhis release; but such thoughts were quickly dispelled, on his sittingdown to breakfast along with the Jew, who told him, in a tone andmanner which increased his alarm, that he was to be taken to theresidence of Bill Sikes that night. 

'To--to--stop there, sir?' asked Oliver, anxiously. 

'No, no, my dear. Not to stop there, ' replied the Jew. 'We shouldn'tlike to lose you. Don't be afraid, Oliver, you shall come back to usagain. Ha! ha! ha! We won't be so cruel as to send you away, my dear. Oh no, no!'

The old man, who was stooping over the fire toasting a piece of bread, looked round as he bantered Oliver thus; and chuckled as if to showthat he knew he would still be very glad to get away if he could. 

'I suppose, ' said the Jew, fixing his eyes on Oliver, 'you want to knowwhat you're going to Bill's for---eh, my dear?'

Oliver coloured, involuntarily, to find that the old thief had beenreading his thoughts; but boldly said, Yes, he did want to know. 

'Why, do you think?' inquired Fagin, parrying the question. 

'Indeed I don't know, sir, ' replied Oliver. 

'Bah!' said the Jew, turning away with a disappointed countenance froma close perusal of the boy's face. 'Wait till Bill tells you, then. '

The Jew seemed much vexed by Oliver's not expressing any greatercuriosity on the subject; but the truth is, that, although Oliver feltvery anxious, he was too much confused by the earnest cunning ofFagin's looks, and his own speculations, to make any further inquiriesjust then. He had no other opportunity: for the Jew remained verysurly and silent till night: when he prepared to go abroad. 

'You may burn a candle, ' said the Jew, putting one upon the table. 'And here's a book for you to read, till they come to fetch you. Good-night!'

'Good-night!' replied Oliver, softly. 

The Jew walked to the door: looking over his shoulder at the boy as hewent. Suddenly stopping, he called him by his name. 

Oliver looked up; the Jew, pointing to the candle, motioned him tolight it. He did so; and, as he placed the candlestick upon the table, saw that the Jew was gazing fixedly at him, with lowering andcontracted brows, from the dark end of the room. 

'Take heed, Oliver! take heed!' said the old man, shaking his righthand before him in a warning manner. 'He's a rough man, and thinksnothing of blood when his own is up. Whatever falls out, say nothing;and do what he bids you. Mind!' Placing a strong emphasis on the lastword, he suffered his features gradually to resolve themselves into aghastly grin, and, nodding his head, left the room. 

Oliver leaned his head upon his hand when the old man disappeared, andpondered, with a trembling heart, on the words he had just heard. Themore he thought of the Jew's admonition, the more he was at a loss todivine its real purpose and meaning. 

He could think of no bad object to be attained by sending him to Sikes, which would not be equally well answered by his remaining with Fagin;and after meditating for a long time, concluded that he had beenselected to perform some ordinary menial offices for the housebreaker, until another boy, better suited for his purpose could be engaged. Hewas too well accustomed to suffering, and had suffered too much wherehe was, to bewail the prospect of change very severely. He remainedlost in thought for some minutes; and then, with a heavy sigh, snuffedthe candle, and, taking up the book which the Jew had left with him, began to read. 

He turned over the leaves. Carelessly at first; but, lighting on apassage which attracted his attention, he soon became intent upon thevolume. It was a history of the lives and trials of great criminals;and the pages were soiled and thumbed with use. Here, he read ofdreadful crimes that made the blood run cold; of secret murders thathad been committed by the lonely wayside; of bodies hidden from the eyeof man in deep pits and wells: which would not keep them down, deep asthey were, but had yielded them up at last, after many years, and somaddened the murderers with the sight, that in their horror they hadconfessed their guilt, and yelled for the gibbet to end their agony. Here, too, he read of men who, lying in their beds at dead of night, had been tempted (so they said) and led on, by their own bad thoughts, to such dreadful bloodshed as it made the flesh creep, and the limbsquail, to think of. The terrible descriptions were so real and vivid, that the sallow pages seemed to turn red with gore; and the words uponthem, to be sounded in his ears, as if they were whispered, in hollowmurmurs, by the spirits of the dead. 

In a paroxysm of fear, the boy closed the book, and thrust it from him. Then, falling upon his knees, he prayed Heaven to spare him from suchdeeds; and rather to will that he should die at once, than be reservedfor crimes, so fearful and appalling. By degrees, he grew more calm, and besought, in a low and broken voice, that he might be rescued fromhis present dangers; and that if any aid were to be raised up for apoor outcast boy who had never known the love of friends or kindred, itmight come to him now, when, desolate and deserted, he stood alone inthe midst of wickedness and guilt. 

He had concluded his prayer, but still remained with his head buried inhis hands, when a rustling noise aroused him. 

'What's that!' he cried, starting up, and catching sight of a figurestanding by the door. 'Who's there?'

'Me. Only me, ' replied a tremulous voice. 

Oliver raised the candle above his head: and looked towards the door. It was Nancy. 

'Put down the light, ' said the girl, turning away her head. 'It hurtsmy eyes. '

Oliver saw that she was very pale, and gently inquired if she were ill. The girl threw herself into a chair, with her back towards him: andwrung her hands; but made no reply. 

'God forgive me!' she cried after a while, 'I never thought of this. '

'Has anything happened?' asked Oliver. 'Can I help you? I will if Ican. I will, indeed. '

She rocked herself to and fro; caught her throat; and, uttering agurgling sound, gasped for breath. 

'Nancy!' cried Oliver, 'What is it?'

The girl beat her hands upon her knees, and her feet upon the ground;and, suddenly stopping, drew her shawl close round her: and shiveredwith cold. 

Oliver stirred the fire. Drawing her chair close to it, she sat there, for a little time, without speaking; but at length she raised her head, and looked round. 

'I don't know what comes over me sometimes, ' said she, affecting tobusy herself in arranging her dress; 'it's this damp dirty room, Ithink. Now, Nolly, dear, are you ready?'

'Am I to go with you?' asked Oliver. 

'Yes. I have come from Bill, ' replied the girl. 'You are to go withme. '

'What for?' asked Oliver, recoiling. 

'What for?' echoed the girl, raising her eyes, and averting them again, the moment they encountered the boy's face. 'Oh! For no harm. '

'I don't believe it, ' said Oliver: who had watched her closely. 

'Have it your own way, ' rejoined the girl, affecting to laugh. 'For nogood, then. '

Oliver could see that he had some power over the girl's betterfeelings, and, for an instant, thought of appealing to her compassionfor his helpless state. But, then, the thought darted across his mindthat it was barely eleven o'clock; and that many people were still inthe streets: of whom surely some might be found to give credence tohis tale. As the reflection occured to him, he stepped forward: andsaid, somewhat hastily, that he was ready. 

Neither his brief consideration, nor its purport, was lost on hiscompanion. She eyed him narrowly, while he spoke; and cast upon him alook of intelligence which sufficiently showed that she guessed whathad been passing in his thoughts. 

'Hush!' said the girl, stooping over him, and pointing to the door asshe looked cautiously round. 'You can't help yourself. I have triedhard for you, but all to no purpose. You are hedged round and round. If ever you are to get loose from here, this is not the time. '

Struck by the energy of her manner, Oliver looked up in her face withgreat surprise. She seemed to speak the truth; her countenance waswhite and agitated; and she trembled with very earnestness. 

'I have saved you from being ill-used once, and I will again, and I donow, ' continued the girl aloud; 'for those who would have fetched you, if I had not, would have been far more rough than me. I have promisedfor your being quiet and silent; if you are not, you will only do harmto yourself and me too, and perhaps be my death. See here! I haveborne all this for you already, as true as God sees me show it. '

She pointed, hastily, to some livid bruises on her neck and arms; andcontinued, with great rapidity:

'Remember this! And don't let me suffer more for you, just now. If Icould help you, I would; but I have not the power. They don't mean toharm you; whatever they make you do, is no fault of yours. Hush!Every word from you is a blow for me. Give me your hand. Make haste!Your hand!'

She caught the hand which Oliver instinctively placed in hers, and, blowing out the light, drew him after her up the stairs. The door wasopened, quickly, by some one shrouded in the darkness, and was asquickly closed, when they had passed out. A hackney-cabriolet was inwaiting; with the same vehemence which she had exhibited in addressingOliver, the girl pulled him in with her, and drew the curtains close. The driver wanted no directions, but lashed his horse into full speed, without the delay of an instant. 

The girl still held Oliver fast by the hand, and continued to pour intohis ear, the warnings and assurances she had already imparted. All wasso quick and hurried, that he had scarcely time to recollect where hewas, or how he came there, when the carriage stopped at the house towhich the Jew's steps had been directed on the previous evening. 

For one brief moment, Oliver cast a hurried glance along the emptystreet, and a cry for help hung upon his lips. But the girl's voicewas in his ear, beseeching him in such tones of agony to remember her, that he had not the heart to utter it. While he hesitated, theopportunity was gone; he was already in the house, and the door wasshut. 

'This way, ' said the girl, releasing her hold for the first time. 'Bill!'

'Hallo!' replied Sikes: appearing at the head of the stairs, with acandle. 'Oh! That's the time of day. Come on!'

This was a very strong expression of approbation, an uncommonly heartywelcome, from a person of Mr. Sikes' temperament. Nancy, appearingmuch gratified thereby, saluted him cordially. 

'Bull's-eye's gone home with Tom, ' observed Sikes, as he lighted themup. 'He'd have been in the way. '

'That's right, ' rejoined Nancy. 

'So you've got the kid, ' said Sikes when they had all reached the room:closing the door as he spoke. 

'Yes, here he is, ' replied Nancy. 

'Did he come quiet?' inquired Sikes. 

'Like a lamb, ' rejoined Nancy. 

'I'm glad to hear it, ' said Sikes, looking grimly at Oliver; 'for thesake of his young carcase: as would otherways have suffered for it. Come here, young 'un; and let me read you a lectur', which is as wellgot over at once. '

Thus addressing his new pupil, Mr. Sikes pulled off Oliver's cap andthrew it into a corner; and then, taking him by the shoulder, sathimself down by the table, and stood the boy in front of him. 

'Now, first: do you know wot this is?' inquired Sikes, taking up apocket-pistol which lay on the table. 

Oliver replied in the affirmative. 

'Well, then, look here, ' continued Sikes. 'This is powder; that 'ere'sa bullet; and this is a little bit of a old hat for waddin'. '

Oliver murmured his comprehension of the different bodies referred to;and Mr. Sikes proceeded to load the pistol, with great nicety anddeliberation. 

'Now it's loaded, ' said Mr. Sikes, when he had finished. 

'Yes, I see it is, sir, ' replied Oliver. 

'Well, ' said the robber, grasping Oliver's wrist, and putting thebarrel so close to his temple that they touched; at which moment theboy could not repress a start; 'if you speak a word when you're outo'doors with me, except when I speak to you, that loading will be inyour head without notice. So, if you _do_ make up your mind to speakwithout leave, say your prayers first. '

Having bestowed a scowl upon the object of this warning, to increaseits effect, Mr. Sikes continued. 

'As near as I know, there isn't anybody as would be asking verypartickler arter you, if you _was_ disposed of; so I needn't take thisdevil-and-all of trouble to explain matters to you, if it warn't foryour own good. D'ye hear me?'

'The short and the long of what you mean, ' said Nancy: speaking veryemphatically, and slightly frowning at Oliver as if to bespeak hisserious attention to her words: 'is, that if you're crossed by him inthis job you have on hand, you'll prevent his ever telling talesafterwards, by shooting him through the head, and will take your chanceof swinging for it, as you do for a great many other things in the wayof business, every month of your life. '

'That's it!' observed Mr. Sikes, approvingly; 'women can always putthings in fewest words. --Except when it's blowing up; and then theylengthens it out. And now that he's thoroughly up to it, let's havesome supper, and get a snooze before starting. '

In pursuance of this request, Nancy quickly laid the cloth;disappearing for a few minutes, she presently returned with a pot ofporter and a dish of sheep's heads: which gave occasion to severalpleasant witticisms on the part of Mr. Sikes, founded upon the singularcoincidence of 'jemmies' being a can name, common to them, and also toan ingenious implement much used in his profession. Indeed, the worthygentleman, stimulated perhaps by the immediate prospect of being onactive service, was in great spirits and good humour; in proof whereof, it may be here remarked, that he humourously drank all the beer at adraught, and did not utter, on a rough calculation, more thanfour-score oaths during the whole progress of the meal. 

Supper being ended--it may be easily conceived that Oliver had no greatappetite for it--Mr. Sikes disposed of a couple of glasses of spiritsand water, and threw himself on the bed; ordering Nancy, with manyimprecations in case of failure, to call him at five precisely. Oliverstretched himself in his clothes, by command of the same authority, ona mattress upon the floor; and the girl, mending the fire, sat beforeit, in readiness to rouse them at the appointed time. 

For a long time Oliver lay awake, thinking it not impossible that Nancymight seek that opportunity of whispering some further advice; but thegirl sat brooding over the fire, without moving, save now and then totrim the light. Weary with watching and anxiety, he at length fellasleep. 

When he awoke, the table was covered with tea-things, and Sikes wasthrusting various articles into the pockets of his great-coat, whichhung over the back of a chair. Nancy was busily engaged in preparingbreakfast. It was not yet daylight; for the candle was still burning, and it was quite dark outside. A sharp rain, too, was beating againstthe window-panes; and the sky looked black and cloudy. 

'Now, then!' growled Sikes, as Oliver started up; 'half-past five!Look sharp, or you'll get no breakfast; for it's late as it is. '

Oliver was not long in making his toilet; having taken some breakfast, he replied to a surly inquiry from Sikes, by saying that he was quiteready. 

Nancy, scarcely looking at the boy, threw him a handkerchief to tieround his throat; Sikes gave him a large rough cape to button over hisshoulders. Thus attired, he gave his hand to the robber, who, merelypausing to show him with a menacing gesture that he had that samepistol in a side-pocket of his great-coat, clasped it firmly in his, and, exchanging a farewell with Nancy, led him away. 

Oliver turned, for an instant, when they reached the door, in the hopeof meeting a look from the girl. But she had resumed her old seat infront of the fire, and sat, perfectly motionless before it. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE EXPEDITION

It was a cheerless morning when they got into the street; blowing andraining hard; and the clouds looking dull and stormy. The night hadbeen very wet: large pools of water had collected in the road: and thekennels were overflowing. There was a faint glimmering of the comingday in the sky; but it rather aggravated than relieved the gloom of thescene: the sombre light only serving to pale that which the streetlamps afforded, without shedding any warmer or brighter tints upon thewet house-tops, and dreary streets. There appeared to be nobodystirring in that quarter of the town; the windows of the houses wereall closely shut; and the streets through which they passed, werenoiseless and empty. 

By the time they had turned into the Bethnal Green Road, the day hadfairly begun to break. Many of the lamps were already extinguished; afew country waggons were slowly toiling on, towards London; now andthen, a stage-coach, covered with mud, rattled briskly by: the driverbestowing, as he passed, an admonitory lash upon the heavy waggonerwho, by keeping on the wrong side of the road, had endangered hisarriving at the office, a quarter of a minute after his time. Thepublic-houses, with gas-lights burning inside, were already open. Bydegrees, other shops began to be unclosed, and a few scattered peoplewere met with. Then, came straggling groups of labourers going totheir work; then, men and women with fish-baskets on their heads;donkey-carts laden with vegetables; chaise-carts filled with live-stockor whole carcasses of meat; milk-women with pails; an unbrokenconcourse of people, trudging out with various supplies to the easternsuburbs of the town. As they approached the City, the noise andtraffic gradually increased; when they threaded the streets betweenShoreditch and Smithfield, it had swelled into a roar of sound andbustle. It was as light as it was likely to be, till night came onagain, and the busy morning of half the London population had begun. 

Turning down Sun Street and Crown Street, and crossing Finsbury square, Mr. Sikes struck, by way of Chiswell Street, into Barbican: thence intoLong Lane, and so into Smithfield; from which latter place arose atumult of discordant sounds that filled Oliver Twist with amazement. 

It was market-morning. The ground was covered, nearly ankle-deep, withfilth and mire; a thick steam, perpetually rising from the reekingbodies of the cattle, and mingling with the fog, which seemed to restupon the chimney-tops, hung heavily above. All the pens in the centreof the large area, and as many temporary pens as could be crowded intothe vacant space, were filled with sheep; tied up to posts by thegutter side were long lines of beasts and oxen, three or four deep. Countrymen, butchers, drovers, hawkers, boys, thieves, idlers, andvagabonds of every low grade, were mingled together in a mass; thewhistling of drovers, the barking dogs, the bellowing and plunging ofthe oxen, the bleating of sheep, the grunting and squeaking of pigs, the cries of hawkers, the shouts, oaths, and quarrelling on all sides;the ringing of bells and roar of voices, that issued from everypublic-house; the crowding, pushing, driving, beating, whooping andyelling; the hideous and discordant dim that resounded from everycorner of the market; and the unwashed, unshaven, squalid, and dirtyfigures constantly running to and fro, and bursting in and out of thethrong; rendered it a stunning and bewildering scene, which quiteconfounded the senses. 

Mr. Sikes, dragging Oliver after him, elbowed his way through thethickest of the crowd, and bestowed very little attention on thenumerous sights and sounds, which so astonished the boy. He nodded, twice or thrice, to a passing friend; and, resisting as manyinvitations to take a morning dram, pressed steadily onward, until theywere clear of the turmoil, and had made their way through Hosier Laneinto Holborn. 

'Now, young 'un!' said Sikes, looking up at the clock of St. Andrew'sChurch, 'hard upon seven! you must step out. Come, don't lag behindalready, Lazy-legs!'

Mr. Sikes accompanied this speech with a jerk at his little companion'swrist; Oliver, quickening his pace into a kind of trot between a fastwalk and a run, kept up with the rapid strides of the house-breaker aswell as he could. 

They held their course at this rate, until they had passed Hyde Parkcorner, and were on their way to Kensington: when Sikes relaxed hispace, until an empty cart which was at some little distance behind, came up. Seeing 'Hounslow' written on it, he asked the driver with asmuch civility as he could assume, if he would give them a lift as faras Isleworth. 

'Jump up, ' said the man. 'Is that your boy?'

'Yes; he's my boy, ' replied Sikes, looking hard at Oliver, and puttinghis hand abstractedly into the pocket where the pistol was. 

'Your father walks rather too quick for you, don't he, my man?'inquired the driver: seeing that Oliver was out of breath. 

'Not a bit of it, ' replied Sikes, interposing. 'He's used to it. 

Here, take hold of my hand, Ned. In with you!'

Thus addressing Oliver, he helped him into the cart; and the driver, pointing to a heap of sacks, told him to lie down there, and resthimself. 

As they passed the different mile-stones, Oliver wondered, more andmore, where his companion meant to take him. Kensington, Hammersmith, Chiswick, Kew Bridge, Brentford, were all passed; and yet they went onas steadily as if they had only just begun their journey. At length, they came to a public-house called the Coach and Horses; a little waybeyond which, another road appeared to run off. And here, the cartstopped. 

Sikes dismounted with great precipitation, holding Oliver by the handall the while; and lifting him down directly, bestowed a furious lookupon him, and rapped the side-pocket with his fist, in a significantmanner. 

'Good-bye, boy, ' said the man. 

'He's sulky, ' replied Sikes, giving him a shake; 'he's sulky. A youngdog! Don't mind him. '

'Not I!' rejoined the other, getting into his cart. 'It's a fine day, after all. ' And he drove away. 

Sikes waited until he had fairly gone; and then, telling Oliver hemight look about him if he wanted, once again led him onward on hisjourney. 

They turned round to the left, a short way past the public-house; andthen, taking a right-hand road, walked on for a long time: passing manylarge gardens and gentlemen's houses on both sides of the way, andstopping for nothing but a little beer, until they reached a town. Here against the wall of a house, Oliver saw written up in pretty largeletters, 'Hampton. ' They lingered about, in the fields, for somehours. At length they came back into the town; and, turning into anold public-house with a defaced sign-board, ordered some dinner by thekitchen fire. 

The kitchen was an old, low-roofed room; with a great beam across themiddle of the ceiling, and benches, with high backs to them, by thefire; on which were seated several rough men in smock-frocks, drinkingand smoking. They took no notice of Oliver; and very little of Sikes;and, as Sikes took very little notice of them, he and his young comradesat in a corner by themselves, without being much troubled by theircompany. 

They had some cold meat for dinner, and sat so long after it, while Mr. Sikes indulged himself with three or four pipes, that Oliver began tofeel quite certain they were not going any further. Being much tiredwith the walk, and getting up so early, he dozed a little at first;then, quite overpowered by fatigue and the fumes of the tobacco, fellasleep. 

It was quite dark when he was awakened by a push from Sikes. Rousinghimself sufficiently to sit up and look about him, he found that worthyin close fellowship and communication with a labouring man, over a pintof ale. 

'So, you're going on to Lower Halliford, are you?' inquired Sikes. 

'Yes, I am, ' replied the man, who seemed a little the worse--or better, as the case might be--for drinking; 'and not slow about it neither. Myhorse hasn't got a load behind him going back, as he had coming up inthe mornin'; and he won't be long a-doing of it. Here's luck to him. Ecod! he's a good 'un!'

'Could you give my boy and me a lift as far as there?' demanded Sikes, pushing the ale towards his new friend. 

'If you're going directly, I can, ' replied the man, looking out of thepot. 'Are you going to Halliford?'

'Going on to Shepperton, ' replied Sikes. 

'I'm your man, as far as I go, ' replied the other. 'Is all paid, Becky?'

'Yes, the other gentleman's paid, ' replied the girl. 

'I say!' said the man, with tipsy gravity; 'that won't do, you know. '

'Why not?' rejoined Sikes. 'You're a-going to accommodate us, andwot's to prevent my standing treat for a pint or so, in return?'

The stranger reflected upon this argument, with a very profound face;having done so, he seized Sikes by the hand: and declared he was areal good fellow. To which Mr. Sikes replied, he was joking; as, if hehad been sober, there would have been strong reason to suppose he was. 

After the exchange of a few more compliments, they bade the companygood-night, and went out; the girl gathering up the pots and glasses asthey did so, and lounging out to the door, with her hands full, to seethe party start. 

The horse, whose health had been drunk in his absence, was standingoutside: ready harnessed to the cart. Oliver and Sikes got in withoutany further ceremony; and the man to whom he belonged, having lingeredfor a minute or two 'to bear him up, ' and to defy the hostler and theworld to produce his equal, mounted also. Then, the hostler was toldto give the horse his head; and, his head being given him, he made avery unpleasant use of it: tossing it into the air with great disdain, and running into the parlour windows over the way; after performingthose feats, and supporting himself for a short time on his hind-legs, he started off at great speed, and rattled out of the town rightgallantly. 

The night was very dark. A damp mist rose from the river, and themarshy ground about; and spread itself over the dreary fields. It waspiercing cold, too; all was gloomy and black. Not a word was spoken;for the driver had grown sleepy; and Sikes was in no mood to lead himinto conversation. Oliver sat huddled together, in a corner of thecart; bewildered with alarm and apprehension; and figuring strangeobjects in the gaunt trees, whose branches waved grimly to and fro, asif in some fantastic joy at the desolation of the scene. 

As they passed Sunbury Church, the clock struck seven. There was alight in the ferry-house window opposite: which streamed across theroad, and threw into more sombre shadow a dark yew-tree with gravesbeneath it. There was a dull sound of falling water not far off; andthe leaves of the old tree stirred gently in the night wind. It seemedlike quiet music for the repose of the dead. 

Sunbury was passed through, and they came again into the lonely road. Two or three miles more, and the cart stopped. Sikes alighted, tookOliver by the hand, and they once again walked on. 

They turned into no house at Shepperton, as the weary boy had expected;but still kept walking on, in mud and darkness, through gloomy lanesand over cold open wastes, until they came within sight of the lightsof a town at no great distance. On looking intently forward, Oliversaw that the water was just below them, and that they were coming tothe foot of a bridge. 

Sikes kept straight on, until they were close upon the bridge; thenturned suddenly down a bank upon the left. 

'The water!' thought Oliver, turning sick with fear. 'He has broughtme to this lonely place to murder me!'

He was about to throw himself on the ground, and make one struggle forhis young life, when he saw that they stood before a solitary house:all ruinous and decayed. There was a window on each side of thedilapidated entrance; and one story above; but no light was visible. The house was dark, dismantled: and the all appearance, uninhabited. 

Sikes, with Oliver's hand still in his, softly approached the lowporch, and raised the latch. The door yielded to the pressure, andthey passed in together. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE BURGLARY

'Hallo!' cried a loud, hoarse voice, as soon as they set foot in thepassage. 

'Don't make such a row, ' said Sikes, bolting the door. 'Show a glim, Toby. '

'Aha! my pal!' cried the same voice. 'A glim, Barney, a glim! Show thegentleman in, Barney; wake up first, if convenient. '

The speaker appeared to throw a boot-jack, or some such article, at theperson he addressed, to rouse him from his slumbers: for the noise ofa wooden body, falling violently, was heard; and then an indistinctmuttering, as of a man between sleep and awake. 

'Do you hear?' cried the same voice. 'There's Bill Sikes in thepassage with nobody to do the civil to him; and you sleeping there, asif you took laudanum with your meals, and nothing stronger. Are youany fresher now, or do you want the iron candlestick to wake youthoroughly?'

A pair of slipshod feet shuffled, hastily, across the bare floor of theroom, as this interrogatory was put; and there issued, from a door onthe right hand; first, a feeble candle: and next, the form of the sameindividual who has been heretofore described as labouring under theinfirmity of speaking through his nose, and officiating as waiter atthe public-house on Saffron Hill. 

'Bister Sikes!' exclaimed Barney, with real or counterfeit joy; 'cubid, sir; cub id. '

'Here! you get on first, ' said Sikes, putting Oliver in front of him. 'Quicker! or I shall tread upon your heels. '

Muttering a curse upon his tardiness, Sikes pushed Oliver before him;and they entered a low dark room with a smoky fire, two or three brokenchairs, a table, and a very old couch: on which, with his legs muchhigher than his head, a man was reposing at full length, smoking a longclay pipe. He was dressed in a smartly-cut snuff-coloured coat, withlarge brass buttons; an orange neckerchief; a coarse, staring, shawl-pattern waistcoat; and drab breeches. Mr. Crackit (for he itwas) had no very great quantity of hair, either upon his head or face;but what he had, was of a reddish dye, and tortured into long corkscrewcurls, through which he occasionally thrust some very dirty fingers, ornamented with large common rings. He was a trifle above the middlesize, and apparently rather weak in the legs; but this circumstance byno means detracted from his own admiration of his top-boots, which hecontemplated, in their elevated situation, with lively satisfaction. 

'Bill, my boy!' said this figure, turning his head towards the door, 'I'm glad to see you. I was almost afraid you'd given it up: in whichcase I should have made a personal wentur. Hallo!'

Uttering this exclamation in a tone of great surprise, as his eyesrested on Oliver, Mr. Toby Crackit brought himself into a sittingposture, and demanded who that was. 

'The boy. Only the boy!' replied Sikes, drawing a chair towards thefire. 

'Wud of Bister Fagid's lads, ' exclaimed Barney, with a grin. 

'Fagin's, eh!' exclaimed Toby, looking at Oliver. 'Wot an inwalableboy that'll make, for the old ladies' pockets in chapels! His mug is afortin' to him. '

'There--there's enough of that, ' interposed Sikes, impatiently; andstooping over his recumbant friend, he whispered a few words in hisear: at which Mr. Crackit laughed immensely, and honoured Oliver witha long stare of astonishment. 

'Now, ' said Sikes, as he resumed his seat, 'if you'll give us somethingto eat and drink while we're waiting, you'll put some heart in us; orin me, at all events. Sit down by the fire, younker, and restyourself; for you'll have to go out with us again to-night, though notvery far off. '

Oliver looked at Sikes, in mute and timid wonder; and drawing a stoolto the fire, sat with his aching head upon his hands, scarecely knowingwhere he was, or what was passing around him. 

'Here, ' said Toby, as the young Jew placed some fragments of food, anda bottle upon the table, 'Success to the crack!' He rose to honourthe toast; and, carefully depositing his empty pipe in a corner, advanced to the table, filled a glass with spirits, and drank off itscontents. Mr. Sikes did the same. 

'A drain for the boy, ' said Toby, half-filling a wine-glass. 'Down withit, innocence. '

'Indeed, ' said Oliver, looking piteously up into the man's face;'indeed, I--'

'Down with it!' echoed Toby. 'Do you think I don't know what's goodfor you? Tell him to drink it, Bill. '

'He had better!' said Sikes clapping his hand upon his pocket. 'Burn mybody, if he isn't more trouble than a whole family of Dodgers. Drinkit, you perwerse imp; drink it!'

Frightened by the menacing gestures of the two men, Oliver hastilyswallowed the contents of the glass, and immediately fell into aviolent fit of coughing: which delighted Toby Crackit and Barney, andeven drew a smile from the surly Mr. Sikes. 

This done, and Sikes having satisfied his appetite (Oliver could eatnothing but a small crust of bread which they made him swallow), thetwo men laid themselves down on chairs for a short nap. Oliverretained his stool by the fire; Barney wrapped in a blanket, stretchedhimself on the floor: close outside the fender. 

They slept, or appeared to sleep, for some time; nobody stirring butBarney, who rose once or twice to throw coals on the fire. Oliver fellinto a heavy doze: imagining himself straying along the gloomy lanes, or wandering about the dark churchyard, or retracing some one or otherof the scenes of the past day: when he was roused by Toby Crackitjumping up and declaring it was half-past one. 

In an instant, the other two were on their legs, and all were activelyengaged in busy preparation. Sikes and his companion enveloped theirnecks and chins in large dark shawls, and drew on their great-coats;Barney, opening a cupboard, brought forth several articles, which hehastily crammed into the pockets. 

'Barkers for me, Barney, ' said Toby Crackit. 

'Here they are, ' replied Barney, producing a pair of pistols. 'Youloaded them yourself. '

'All right!' replied Toby, stowing them away. 'The persuaders?'

'I've got 'em, ' replied Sikes. 

'Crape, keys, centre-bits, darkies--nothing forgotten?' inquired Toby:fastening a small crowbar to a loop inside the skirt of his coat. 

'All right, ' rejoined his companion. 'Bring them bits of timber, Barney. That's the time of day. '

With these words, he took a thick stick from Barney's hands, who, having delivered another to Toby, busied himself in fastening onOliver's cape. 

'Now then!' said Sikes, holding out his hand. 

Oliver: who was completely stupified by the unwonted exercise, and theair, and the drink which had been forced upon him: put his handmechanically into that which Sikes extended for the purpose. 

'Take his other hand, Toby, ' said Sikes. 'Look out, Barney. '

The man went to the door, and returned to announce that all was quiet. The two robbers issued forth with Oliver between them. Barney, havingmade all fast, rolled himself up as before, and was soon asleep again. 

It was now intensely dark. The fog was much heavier than it had beenin the early part of the night; and the atmosphere was so damp, that, although no rain fell, Oliver's hair and eyebrows, within a few minutesafter leaving the house, had become stiff with the half-frozen moisturethat was floating about. They crossed the bridge, and kept on towardsthe lights which he had seen before. They were at no great distanceoff; and, as they walked pretty briskly, they soon arrived at Chertsey. 

'Slap through the town, ' whispered Sikes; 'there'll be nobody in theway, to-night, to see us. '

Toby acquiesced; and they hurried through the main street of the littletown, which at that late hour was wholly deserted. A dim light shoneat intervals from some bed-room window; and the hoarse barking of dogsoccasionally broke the silence of the night. But there was nobodyabroad. They had cleared the town, as the church-bell struck two. 

Quickening their pace, they turned up a road upon the left hand. Afterwalking about a quarter of a mile, they stopped before a detached housesurrounded by a wall: to the top of which, Toby Crackit, scarcelypausing to take breath, climbed in a twinkling. 

'The boy next, ' said Toby. 'Hoist him up; I'll catch hold of him. '

Before Oliver had time to look round, Sikes had caught him under thearms; and in three or four seconds he and Toby were lying on the grasson the other side. Sikes followed directly. And they stole cautiouslytowards the house. 

And now, for the first time, Oliver, well-nigh mad with grief andterror, saw that housebreaking and robbery, if not murder, were theobjects of the expedition. He clasped his hands together, andinvoluntarily uttered a subdued exclamation of horror. A mist camebefore his eyes; the cold sweat stood upon his ashy face; his limbsfailed him; and he sank upon his knees. 

'Get up!' murmured Sikes, trembling with rage, and drawing the pistolfrom his pocket; 'Get up, or I'll strew your brains upon the grass. '

'Oh! for God's sake let me go!' cried Oliver; 'let me run away and diein the fields. I will never come near London; never, never! Oh! prayhave mercy on me, and do not make me steal. For the love of all thebright Angels that rest in Heaven, have mercy upon me!'

The man to whom this appeal was made, swore a dreadful oath, and hadcocked the pistol, when Toby, striking it from his grasp, placed hishand upon the boy's mouth, and dragged him to the house. 

'Hush!' cried the man; 'it won't answer here. Say another word, andI'll do your business myself with a crack on the head. That makes nonoise, and is quite as certain, and more genteel. Here, Bill, wrenchthe shutter open. He's game enough now, I'll engage. I've seen olderhands of his age took the same way, for a minute or two, on a coldnight. '

Sikes, invoking terrific imprecations upon Fagin's head for sendingOliver on such an errand, plied the crowbar vigorously, but with littlenoise. After some delay, and some assistance from Toby, the shutter towhich he had referred, swung open on its hinges. 

It was a little lattice window, about five feet and a half above theground, at the back of the house: which belonged to a scullery, orsmall brewing-place, at the end of the passage. The aperture was sosmall, that the inmates had probably not thought it worth while todefend it more securely; but it was large enough to admit a boy ofOliver's size, nevertheless. A very brief exercise of Mr. Sike's art, sufficed to overcome the fastening of the lattice; and it soon stoodwide open also. 

'Now listen, you young limb, ' whispered Sikes, drawing a dark lanternfrom his pocket, and throwing the glare full on Oliver's face; 'I'm agoing to put you through there. Take this light; go softly up thesteps straight afore you, and along the little hall, to the streetdoor; unfasten it, and let us in. '

'There's a bolt at the top, you won't be able to reach, ' interposedToby. 'Stand upon one of the hall chairs. There are three there, Bill, with a jolly large blue unicorn and gold pitchfork on 'em: which isthe old lady's arms. '

'Keep quiet, can't you?' replied Sikes, with a threatening look. 'Theroom-door is open, is it?'

'Wide, ' replied Toby, after peeping in to satisfy himself. 'The game ofthat is, that they always leave it open with a catch, so that the dog, who's got a bed in here, may walk up and down the passage when he feelswakeful. Ha! ha! Barney 'ticed him away to-night. So neat!'

Although Mr. Crackit spoke in a scarcely audible whisper, and laughedwithout noise, Sikes imperiously commanded him to be silent, and to getto work. Toby complied, by first producing his lantern, and placing iton the ground; then by planting himself firmly with his head againstthe wall beneath the window, and his hands upon his knees, so as tomake a step of his back. This was no sooner done, than Sikes, mountingupon him, put Oliver gently through the window with his feet first;and, without leaving hold of his collar, planted him safely on thefloor inside. 

'Take this lantern, ' said Sikes, looking into the room. 'You see thestairs afore you?'

Oliver, more dead than alive, gasped out, 'Yes. ' Sikes, pointing tothe street-door with the pistol-barrel, briefly advised him to takenotice that he was within shot all the way; and that if he faltered, hewould fall dead that instant. 

'It's done in a minute, ' said Sikes, in the same low whisper. 'DirectlyI leave go of you, do your work. Hark!'

'What's that?' whispered the other man. 

They listened intently. 

'Nothing, ' said Sikes, releasing his hold of Oliver. 'Now!'

In the short time he had had to collect his senses, the boy had firmlyresolved that, whether he died in the attempt or not, he would make oneeffort to dart upstairs from the hall, and alarm the family. Filledwith this idea, he advanced at once, but stealthily. 

'Come back!' suddenly cried Sikes aloud. 'Back! back!'

Scared by the sudden breaking of the dead stillness of the place, andby a loud cry which followed it, Oliver let his lantern fall, and knewnot whether to advance or fly. 

The cry was repeated--a light appeared--a vision of two terrifiedhalf-dressed men at the top of the stairs swam before his eyes--aflash--a loud noise--a smoke--a crash somewhere, but where he knewnot, --and he staggered back. 

Sikes had disappeared for an instant; but he was up again, and had himby the collar before the smoke had cleared away. He fired his ownpistol after the men, who were already retreating; and dragged the boyup. 

'Clasp your arm tighter, ' said Sikes, as he drew him through thewindow. 'Give me a shawl here. They've hit him. Quick! How the boybleeds!'

Then came the loud ringing of a bell, mingled with the noise offire-arms, and the shouts of men, and the sensation of being carriedover uneven ground at a rapid pace. And then, the noises grew confusedin the distance; and a cold deadly feeling crept over the boy's heart;and he saw or heard no more. 

CHAPTER XXIII

WHICH CONTAINS THE SUBSTANCE OF A PLEASANT CONVERSATION BETWEEN MR. BUMBLE AND A LADY; AND SHOWS THAT EVEN A BEADLE MAY BE SUSCEPTIBLE ONSOME POINTS

The night was bitter cold. The snow lay on the ground, frozen into ahard thick crust, so that only the heaps that had drifted into bywaysand corners were affected by the sharp wind that howled abroad: which, as if expending increased fury on such prey as it found, caught itsavagely up in clouds, and, whirling it into a thousand misty eddies, scattered it in air. Bleak, dark, and piercing cold, it was a nightfor the well-housed and fed to draw round the bright fire and thank Godthey were at home; and for the homeless, starving wretch to lay himdown and die. Many hunger-worn outcasts close their eyes in our barestreets, at such times, who, let their crimes have been what they may, can hardly open them in a more bitter world. 

Such was the aspect of out-of-doors affairs, when Mrs. Corney, thematron of the workhouse to which our readers have been alreadyintroduced as the birthplace of Oliver Twist, sat herself down before acheerful fire in her own little room, and glanced, with no small degreeof complacency, at a small round table: on which stood a tray ofcorresponding size, furnished with all necessary materials for the mostgrateful meal that matrons enjoy. In fact, Mrs. Corney was about tosolace herself with a cup of tea. As she glanced from the table to thefireplace, where the smallest of all possible kettles was singing asmall song in a small voice, her inward satisfaction evidentlyincreased, --so much so, indeed, that Mrs. Corney smiled. 

'Well!' said the matron, leaning her elbow on the table, and lookingreflectively at the fire; 'I'm sure we have all on us a great deal tobe grateful for! A great deal, if we did but know it. Ah!'

Mrs. Corney shook her head mournfully, as if deploring the mentalblindness of those paupers who did not know it; and thrusting a silverspoon (private property) into the inmost recesses of a two-ounce tintea-caddy, proceeded to make the tea. 

How slight a thing will disturb the equanimity of our frail minds! Theblack teapot, being very small and easily filled, ran over while Mrs. Corney was moralising; and the water slightly scalded Mrs. Corney'shand. 

'Drat the pot!' said the worthy matron, setting it down very hastily onthe hob; 'a little stupid thing, that only holds a couple of cups!What use is it of, to anybody! Except, ' said Mrs. Corney, pausing, 'except to a poor desolate creature like me. Oh dear!'

With these words, the matron dropped into her chair, and, once moreresting her elbow on the table, thought of her solitary fate. Thesmall teapot, and the single cup, had awakened in her mind sadrecollections of Mr. Corney (who had not been dead more thanfive-and-twenty years); and she was overpowered. 

'I shall never get another!' said Mrs. Corney, pettishly; 'I shallnever get another--like him. '

Whether this remark bore reference to the husband, or the teapot, isuncertain. It might have been the latter; for Mrs. Corney looked at itas she spoke; and took it up afterwards. She had just tasted her firstcup, when she was disturbed by a soft tap at the room-door. 

'Oh, come in with you!' said Mrs. Corney, sharply. 'Some of the oldwomen dying, I suppose. They always die when I'm at meals. Don't standthere, letting the cold air in, don't. What's amiss now, eh?'

'Nothing, ma'am, nothing, ' replied a man's voice. 

'Dear me!' exclaimed the matron, in a much sweeter tone, 'is that Mr. Bumble?'

'At your service, ma'am, ' said Mr. Bumble, who had been stoppingoutside to rub his shoes clean, and to shake the snow off his coat; andwho now made his appearance, bearing the cocked hat in one hand and abundle in the other. 'Shall I shut the door, ma'am?'

The lady modestly hesitated to reply, lest there should be anyimpropriety in holding an interview with Mr. Bumble, with closed doors. Mr. Bumble taking advantage of the hesitation, and being very coldhimself, shut it without permission. 

'Hard weather, Mr. Bumble, ' said the matron. 

'Hard, indeed, ma'am, ' replied the beadle. 'Anti-porochial weatherthis, ma'am. We have given away, Mrs. Corney, we have given away amatter of twenty quartern loaves and a cheese and a half, this veryblessed afternoon; and yet them paupers are not contented. '

'Of course not. When would they be, Mr. Bumble?' said the matron, sipping her tea. 

'When, indeed, ma'am!' rejoined Mr. Bumble. 'Why here's one man that, in consideration of his wife and large family, has a quartern loaf anda good pound of cheese, full weight. Is he grateful, ma'am? Is hegrateful? Not a copper farthing's worth of it! What does he do, ma'am, but ask for a few coals; if it's only a pocket handkerchieffull, he says! Coals! What would he do with coals? Toast his cheesewith 'em and then come back for more. That's the way with thesepeople, ma'am; give 'em a apron full of coals to-day, and they'll comeback for another, the day after to-morrow, as brazen as alabaster. '

The matron expressed her entire concurrence in this intelligiblesimile; and the beadle went on. 

'I never, ' said Mr. Bumble, 'see anything like the pitch it's got to. The day afore yesterday, a man--you have been a married woman, ma'am, and I may mention it to you--a man, with hardly a rag upon his back(here Mrs. Corney looked at the floor), goes to our overseer's doorwhen he has got company coming to dinner; and says, he must berelieved, Mrs. Corney. As he wouldn't go away, and shocked the companyvery much, our overseer sent him out a pound of potatoes and half apint of oatmeal. "My heart!" says the ungrateful villain, "what's theuse of _this_ to me? You might as well give me a pair of ironspectacles!" "Very good, " says our overseer, taking 'em away again, "you won't get anything else here. " "Then I'll die in the streets!"says the vagrant. "Oh no, you won't, " says our overseer. '

'Ha! ha! That was very good! So like Mr. Grannett, wasn't it?'interposed the matron. 'Well, Mr. Bumble?'

'Well, ma'am, ' rejoined the beadle, 'he went away; and he _did_ die inthe streets. There's a obstinate pauper for you!'

'It beats anything I could have believed, ' observed the matronemphatically. 'But don't you think out-of-door relief a very badthing, any way, Mr. Bumble? You're a gentleman of experience, andought to know. Come. '

'Mrs. Corney, ' said the beadle, smiling as men smile who are consciousof superior information, 'out-of-door relief, properly managed:properly managed, ma'am: is the porochial safeguard. The greatprinciple of out-of-door relief is, to give the paupers exactly whatthey don't want; and then they get tired of coming. '

'Dear me!' exclaimed Mrs. Corney. 'Well, that is a good one, too!'

'Yes. Betwixt you and me, ma'am, ' returned Mr. Bumble, 'that's thegreat principle; and that's the reason why, if you look at any casesthat get into them owdacious newspapers, you'll always observe thatsick families have been relieved with slices of cheese. That's therule now, Mrs. Corney, all over the country. But, however, ' said thebeadle, stopping to unpack his bundle, 'these are official secrets, ma'am; not to be spoken of; except, as I may say, among the porochialofficers, such as ourselves. This is the port wine, ma'am, that theboard ordered for the infirmary; real, fresh, genuine port wine; onlyout of the cask this forenoon; clear as a bell, and no sediment!'

Having held the first bottle up to the light, and shaken it well totest its excellence, Mr. Bumble placed them both on top of a chest ofdrawers; folded the handkerchief in which they had been wrapped; put itcarefully in his pocket; and took up his hat, as if to go. 

'You'll have a very cold walk, Mr. Bumble, ' said the matron. 

'It blows, ma'am, ' replied Mr. Bumble, turning up his coat-collar, 'enough to cut one's ears off. '

The matron looked, from the little kettle, to the beadle, who wasmoving towards the door; and as the beadle coughed, preparatory tobidding her good-night, bashfully inquired whether--whether he wouldn'ttake a cup of tea?

Mr. Bumble instantaneously turned back his collar again; laid his hatand stick upon a chair; and drew another chair up to the table. As heslowly seated himself, he looked at the lady. She fixed her eyes uponthe little teapot. Mr. Bumble coughed again, and slightly smiled. 

Mrs. Corney rose to get another cup and saucer from the closet. As shesat down, her eyes once again encountered those of the gallant beadle;she coloured, and applied herself to the task of making his tea. AgainMr. Bumble coughed--louder this time than he had coughed yet. 

'Sweet? Mr. Bumble?' inquired the matron, taking up the sugar-basin. 

'Very sweet, indeed, ma'am, ' replied Mr. Bumble. He fixed his eyes onMrs. Corney as he said this; and if ever a beadle looked tender, Mr. Bumble was that beadle at that moment. 

The tea was made, and handed in silence. Mr. Bumble, having spread ahandkerchief over his knees to prevent the crumbs from sullying thesplendour of his shorts, began to eat and drink; varying theseamusements, occasionally, by fetching a deep sigh; which, however, hadno injurious effect upon his appetite, but, on the contrary, ratherseemed to facilitate his operations in the tea and toast department. 

'You have a cat, ma'am, I see, ' said Mr. Bumble, glancing at one who, in the centre of her family, was basking before the fire; 'and kittenstoo, I declare!'

'I am so fond of them, Mr. Bumble, you can't think, ' replied thematron. 'They're _so_ happy, _so_ frolicsome, and _so_ cheerful, thatthey are quite companions for me. '

'Very nice animals, ma'am, ' replied Mr. Bumble, approvingly; 'so verydomestic. '

'Oh, yes!' rejoined the matron with enthusiasm; 'so fond of their hometoo, that it's quite a pleasure, I'm sure. '

'Mrs. Corney, ma'am, ' said Mr. Bumble, slowly, and marking the timewith his teaspoon, 'I mean to say this, ma'am; that any cat, or kitten, that could live with you, ma'am, and _not_ be fond of its home, must bea ass, ma'am. '

'Oh, Mr. Bumble!' remonstrated Mrs. Corney. 

'It's of no use disguising facts, ma'am, ' said Mr. Bumble, slowlyflourishing the teaspoon with a kind of amorous dignity which made himdoubly impressive; 'I would drown it myself, with pleasure. '

'Then you're a cruel man, ' said the matron vivaciously, as she held outher hand for the beadle's cup; 'and a very hard-hearted man besides. '

'Hard-hearted, ma'am?' said Mr. Bumble. 'Hard?' Mr. Bumble resignedhis cup without another word; squeezed Mrs. Corney's little finger asshe took it; and inflicting two open-handed slaps upon his lacedwaistcoat, gave a mighty sigh, and hitched his chair a very littlemorsel farther from the fire. 

It was a round table; and as Mrs. Corney and Mr. Bumble had beensitting opposite each other, with no great space between them, andfronting the fire, it will be seen that Mr. Bumble, in receding fromthe fire, and still keeping at the table, increased the distancebetween himself and Mrs. Corney; which proceeding, some prudent readerswill doubtless be disposed to admire, and to consider an act of greatheroism on Mr. Bumble's part: he being in some sort tempted by time, place, and opportunity, to give utterance to certain soft nothings, which however well they may become the lips of the light andthoughtless, do seem immeasurably beneath the dignity of judges of theland, members of parliament, ministers of state, lord mayors, and othergreat public functionaries, but more particularly beneath thestateliness and gravity of a beadle: who (as is well known) should bethe sternest and most inflexible among them all. 

Whatever were Mr. Bumble's intentions, however (and no doubt they wereof the best): it unfortunately happened, as has been twice beforeremarked, that the table was a round one; consequently Mr. Bumble, moving his chair by little and little, soon began to diminish thedistance between himself and the matron; and, continuing to travelround the outer edge of the circle, brought his chair, in time, closeto that in which the matron was seated. 

Indeed, the two chairs touched; and when they did so, Mr. Bumblestopped. 

Now, if the matron had moved her chair to the right, she would havebeen scorched by the fire; and if to the left, she must have falleninto Mr. Bumble's arms; so (being a discreet matron, and no doubtforeseeing these consequences at a glance) she remained where she was, and handed Mr. Bumble another cup of tea. 

'Hard-hearted, Mrs. Corney?' said Mr. Bumble, stirring his tea, andlooking up into the matron's face; 'are _you_ hard-hearted, Mrs. Corney?'

'Dear me!' exclaimed the matron, 'what a very curious question from asingle man. What can you want to know for, Mr. Bumble?'

The beadle drank his tea to the last drop; finished a piece of toast;whisked the crumbs off his knees; wiped his lips; and deliberatelykissed the matron. 

'Mr. Bumble!' cried that discreet lady in a whisper; for the fright wasso great, that she had quite lost her voice, 'Mr. Bumble, I shallscream!' Mr. Bumble made no reply; but in a slow and dignified manner, put his arm round the matron's waist. 

As the lady had stated her intention of screaming, of course she wouldhave screamed at this additional boldness, but that the exertion wasrendered unnecessary by a hasty knocking at the door: which was nosooner heard, than Mr. Bumble darted, with much agility, to the winebottles, and began dusting them with great violence: while the matronsharply demanded who was there. 

It is worthy of remark, as a curious physical instance of the efficacyof a sudden surprise in counteracting the effects of extreme fear, thather voice had quite recovered all its official asperity. 

'If you please, mistress, ' said a withered old female pauper, hideouslyugly: putting her head in at the door, 'Old Sally is a-going fast. '

'Well, what's that to me?' angrily demanded the matron. 'I can't keepher alive, can I?'

'No, no, mistress, ' replied the old woman, 'nobody can; she's farbeyond the reach of help. I've seen a many people die; little babesand great strong men; and I know when death's a-coming, well enough. But she's troubled in her mind: and when the fits are not on her, --andthat's not often, for she is dying very hard, --she says she has gotsomething to tell, which you must hear. She'll never die quiet tillyou come, mistress. '

At this intelligence, the worthy Mrs. Corney muttered a variety ofinvectives against old women who couldn't even die without purposelyannoying their betters; and, muffling herself in a thick shawl whichshe hastily caught up, briefly requested Mr. Bumble to stay till shecame back, lest anything particular should occur. Bidding themessenger walk fast, and not be all night hobbling up the stairs, shefollowed her from the room with a very ill grace, scolding all the way. 

Mr. Bumble's conduct on being left to himself, was rather inexplicable. He opened the closet, counted the teaspoons, weighed the sugar-tongs, closely inspected a silver milk-pot to ascertain that it was of thegenuine metal, and, having satisfied his curiosity on these points, puton his cocked hat corner-wise, and danced with much gravity fourdistinct times round the table. 

Having gone through this very extraordinary performance, he took offthe cocked hat again, and, spreading himself before the fire with hisback towards it, seemed to be mentally engaged in taking an exactinventory of the furniture. 

CHAPTER XXIV

TREATS ON A VERY POOR SUBJECT. BUT IS A SHORT ONE, AND MAY BE FOUND OFIMPORTANCE IN THIS HISTORY

It was no unfit messenger of death, who had disturbed the quiet of thematron's room. Her body was bent by age; her limbs trembled withpalsy; her face, distorted into a mumbling leer, resembled more thegrotesque shaping of some wild pencil, than the work of Nature's hand. 

Alas! How few of Nature's faces are left alone to gladden us withtheir beauty! The cares, and sorrows, and hungerings, of the world, change them as they change hearts; and it is only when those passionssleep, and have lost their hold for ever, that the troubled clouds passoff, and leave Heaven's surface clear. It is a common thing for thecountenances of the dead, even in that fixed and rigid state, tosubside into the long-forgotten expression of sleeping infancy, andsettle into the very look of early life; so calm, so peaceful, do theygrow again, that those who knew them in their happy childhood, kneel bythe coffin's side in awe, and see the Angel even upon earth. 

The old crone tottered along the passages, and up the stairs, mutteringsome indistinct answers to the chidings of her companion; being atlength compelled to pause for breath, she gave the light into her hand, and remained behind to follow as she might: while the more nimblesuperior made her way to the room where the sick woman lay. 

It was a bare garret-room, with a dim light burning at the farther end. There was another old woman watching by the bed; the parishapothecary's apprentice was standing by the fire, making a toothpickout of a quill. 

'Cold night, Mrs. Corney, ' said this young gentleman, as the matronentered. 

'Very cold, indeed, sir, ' replied the mistress, in her most civiltones, and dropping a curtsey as she spoke. 

'You should get better coals out of your contractors, ' said theapothecary's deputy, breaking a lump on the top of the fire with therusty poker; 'these are not at all the sort of thing for a cold night. '

'They're the board's choosing, sir, ' returned the matron. 'The leastthey could do, would be to keep us pretty warm: for our places arehard enough. '

The conversation was here interrupted by a moan from the sick woman. 

'Oh!' said the young mag, turning his face towards the bed, as if hehad previously quite forgotten the patient, 'it's all U. P. There, Mrs. Corney. '

'It is, is it, sir?' asked the matron. 

'If she lasts a couple of hours, I shall be surprised, ' said theapothecary's apprentice, intent upon the toothpick's point. 'It's abreak-up of the system altogether. Is she dozing, old lady?'

The attendant stooped over the bed, to ascertain; and nodded in theaffirmative. 

'Then perhaps she'll go off in that way, if you don't make a row, ' saidthe young man. 'Put the light on the floor. She won't see it there. '

The attendant did as she was told: shaking her head meanwhile, tointimate that the woman would not die so easily; having done so, sheresumed her seat by the side of the other nurse, who had by this timereturned. The mistress, with an expression of impatience, wrappedherself in her shawl, and sat at the foot of the bed. 

The apothecary's apprentice, having completed the manufacture of thetoothpick, planted himself in front of the fire and made good use of itfor ten minutes or so: when apparently growing rather dull, he wishedMrs. Corney joy of her job, and took himself off on tiptoe. 

When they had sat in silence for some time, the two old women rose fromthe bed, and crouching over the fire, held out their withered hands tocatch the heat. The flame threw a ghastly light on their shrivelledfaces, and made their ugliness appear terrible, as, in this position, they began to converse in a low voice. 

'Did she say any more, Anny dear, while I was gone?' inquired themessenger. 

'Not a word, ' replied the other. 'She plucked and tore at her arms fora little time; but I held her hands, and she soon dropped off. Shehasn't much strength in her, so I easily kept her quiet. I ain't soweak for an old woman, although I am on parish allowance; no, no!'

'Did she drink the hot wine the doctor said she was to have?' demandedthe first. 

'I tried to get it down, ' rejoined the other. 'But her teeth weretight set, and she clenched the mug so hard that it was as much as Icould do to get it back again. So I drank it; and it did me good!'

Looking cautiously round, to ascertain that they were not overheard, the two hags cowered nearer to the fire, and chuckled heartily. 

'I mind the time, ' said the first speaker, 'when she would have donethe same, and made rare fun of it afterwards. '

'Ay, that she would, ' rejoined the other; 'she had a merry heart. 'Amany, many, beautiful corpses she laid out, as nice and neat aswaxwork. My old eyes have seen them--ay, and those old hands touchedthem too; for I have helped her, scores of times. '

Stretching forth her trembling fingers as she spoke, the old creatureshook them exultingly before her face, and fumbling in her pocket, brought out an old time-discoloured tin snuff-box, from which she shooka few grains into the outstretched palm of her companion, and a fewmore into her own. While they were thus employed, the matron, who hadbeen impatiently watching until the dying woman should awaken from herstupor, joined them by the fire, and sharply asked how long she was towait?

'Not long, mistress, ' replied the second woman, looking up into herface. 'We have none of us long to wait for Death. Patience, patience!He'll be here soon enough for us all. '

'Hold your tongue, you doting idiot!' said the matron sternly. 'You, Martha, tell me; has she been in this way before?'

'Often, ' answered the first woman. 

'But will never be again, ' added the second one; 'that is, she'll neverwake again but once--and mind, mistress, that won't be for long!'

'Long or short, ' said the matron, snappishly, 'she won't find me herewhen she does wake; take care, both of you, how you worry me again fornothing. It's no part of my duty to see all the old women in the housedie, and I won't--that's more. Mind that, you impudent old harridans. If you make a fool of me again, I'll soon cure you, I warrant you!'

She was bouncing away, when a cry from the two women, who had turnedtowards the bed, caused her to look round. The patient had raisedherself upright, and was stretching her arms towards them. 

'Who's that?' she cried, in a hollow voice. 

'Hush, hush!' said one of the women, stooping over her. 'Lie down, liedown!'

'I'll never lie down again alive!' said the woman, struggling. 'I_will_ tell her! Come here! Nearer! Let me whisper in your ear. '

She clutched the matron by the arm, and forcing her into a chair by thebedside, was about to speak, when looking round, she caught sight ofthe two old women bending forward in the attitude of eager listeners. 

'Turn them away, ' said the woman, drowsily; 'make haste! make haste!'

The two old crones, chiming in together, began pouring out many piteouslamentations that the poor dear was too far gone to know her bestfriends; and were uttering sundry protestations that they would neverleave her, when the superior pushed them from the room, closed thedoor, and returned to the bedside. On being excluded, the old ladieschanged their tone, and cried through the keyhole that old Sally wasdrunk; which, indeed, was not unlikely; since, in addition to amoderate dose of opium prescribed by the apothecary, she was labouringunder the effects of a final taste of gin-and-water which had beenprivily administered, in the openness of their hearts, by the worthyold ladies themselves. 

'Now listen to me, ' said the dying woman aloud, as if making a greateffort to revive one latent spark of energy. 'In this very room--inthis very bed--I once nursed a pretty young creetur', that was broughtinto the house with her feet cut and bruised with walking, and allsoiled with dust and blood. She gave birth to a boy, and died. Let methink--what was the year again!'

'Never mind the year, ' said the impatient auditor; 'what about her?'

'Ay, ' murmured the sick woman, relapsing into her former drowsy state, 'what about her?--what about--I know!' she cried, jumping fiercely up:her face flushed, and her eyes starting from her head--'I robbed her, so I did! She wasn't cold--I tell you she wasn't cold, when I stoleit!'

'Stole what, for God's sake?' cried the matron, with a gesture as ifshe would call for help. 

'_It_!' replied the woman, laying her hand over the other's mouth. 'Theonly thing she had. She wanted clothes to keep her warm, and food toeat; but she had kept it safe, and had it in her bosom. It was gold, Itell you! Rich gold, that might have saved her life!'

'Gold!' echoed the matron, bending eagerly over the woman as she fellback. 'Go on, go on--yes--what of it? Who was the mother? When wasit?'

'She charge me to keep it safe, ' replied the woman with a groan, 'andtrusted me as the only woman about her. I stole it in my heart whenshe first showed it me hanging round her neck; and the child's death, perhaps, is on me besides! They would have treated him better, if theyhad known it all!'

'Known what?' asked the other. 'Speak!'

'The boy grew so like his mother, ' said the woman, rambling on, and notheeding the question, 'that I could never forget it when I saw hisface. Poor girl! poor girl! She was so young, too! Such a gentlelamb! Wait; there's more to tell. I have not told you all, have I?'

'No, no, ' replied the matron, inclining her head to catch the words, asthey came more faintly from the dying woman. 'Be quick, or it may betoo late!'

'The mother, ' said the woman, making a more violent effort than before;'the mother, when the pains of death first came upon her, whispered inmy ear that if her baby was born alive, and thrived, the day might comewhen it would not feel so much disgraced to hear its poor young mothernamed. "And oh, kind Heaven!" she said, folding her thin handstogether, "whether it be boy or girl, raise up some friends for it inthis troubled world, and take pity upon a lonely desolate child, abandoned to its mercy!"'

'The boy's name?' demanded the matron. 

'They _called_ him Oliver, ' replied the woman, feebly. 'The gold Istole was--'

'Yes, yes--what?' cried the other. 

She was bending eagerly over the woman to hear her reply; but drewback, instinctively, as she once again rose, slowly and stiffly, into asitting posture; then, clutching the coverlid with both hands, mutteredsome indistinct sounds in her throat, and fell lifeless on the bed. 

 * * * * *

'Stone dead!' said one of the old women, hurrying in as soon as thedoor was opened. 

'And nothing to tell, after all, ' rejoined the matron, walkingcarelessly away. 

The two crones, to all appearance, too busily occupied in thepreparations for their dreadful duties to make any reply, were leftalone, hovering about the body. 

CHAPTER XXV

WHEREIN THIS HISTORY REVERTS TO MR. FAGIN AND COMPANY

While these things were passing in the country workhouse, Mr. Fagin satin the old den--the same from which Oliver had been removed by thegirl--brooding over a dull, smoky fire. He held a pair of bellows uponhis knee, with which he had apparently been endeavouring to rouse itinto more cheerful action; but he had fallen into deep thought; andwith his arms folded on them, and his chin resting on his thumbs, fixedhis eyes, abstractedly, on the rusty bars. 

At a table behind him sat the Artful Dodger, Master Charles Bates, andMr. Chitling: all intent upon a game of whist; the Artful taking dummyagainst Master Bates and Mr. Chitling. The countenance of thefirst-named gentleman, peculiarly intelligent at all times, acquiredgreat additional interest from his close observance of the game, andhis attentive perusal of Mr. Chitling's hand; upon which, from time totime, as occasion served, he bestowed a variety of earnest glances:wisely regulating his own play by the result of his observations uponhis neighbour's cards. It being a cold night, the Dodger wore his hat, as, indeed, was often his custom within doors. He also sustained aclay pipe between his teeth, which he only removed for a brief spacewhen he deemed it necessary to apply for refreshment to a quart potupon the table, which stood ready filled with gin-and-water for theaccommodation of the company. 

Master Bates was also attentive to the play; but being of a moreexcitable nature than his accomplished friend, it was observable thathe more frequently applied himself to the gin-and-water, and moreoverindulged in many jests and irrelevant remarks, all highly unbecoming ascientific rubber. Indeed, the Artful, presuming upon their closeattachment, more than once took occasion to reason gravely with hiscompanion upon these improprieties; all of which remonstrances, MasterBates received in extremely good part; merely requesting his friend tobe 'blowed, ' or to insert his head in a sack, or replying with someother neatly-turned witticism of a similar kind, the happy applicationof which, excited considerable admiration in the mind of Mr. Chitling. It was remarkable that the latter gentleman and his partner invariablylost; and that the circumstance, so far from angering Master Bates, appeared to afford him the highest amusement, inasmuch as he laughedmost uproariously at the end of every deal, and protested that he hadnever seen such a jolly game in all his born days. 

'That's two doubles and the rub, ' said Mr. Chitling, with a very longface, as he drew half-a-crown from his waistcoat-pocket. 'I never seesuch a feller as you, Jack; you win everything. Even when we've goodcards, Charley and I can't make nothing of 'em. '

Either the master or the manner of this remark, which was made veryruefully, delighted Charley Bates so much, that his consequent shout oflaughter roused the Jew from his reverie, and induced him to inquirewhat was the matter. 

'Matter, Fagin!' cried Charley. 'I wish you had watched the play. Tommy Chitling hasn't won a point; and I went partners with him againstthe Artfull and dumb. '

'Ay, ay!' said the Jew, with a grin, which sufficiently demonstratedthat he was at no loss to understand the reason. 'Try 'em again, Tom;try 'em again. '

'No more of it for me, thank 'ee, Fagin, ' replied Mr. Chitling; 'I'vehad enough. That 'ere Dodger has such a run of luck that there's nostanding again' him. '

'Ha! ha! my dear, ' replied the Jew, 'you must get up very early in themorning, to win against the Dodger. '

'Morning!' said Charley Bates; 'you must put your boots on over-night, and have a telescope at each eye, and a opera-glass between yourshoulders, if you want to come over him. '

Mr. Dawkins received these handsome compliments with much philosophy, and offered to cut any gentleman in company, for the firstpicture-card, at a shilling at a time. Nobody accepting the challenge, and his pipe being by this time smoked out, he proceeded to amusehimself by sketching a ground-plan of Newgate on the table with thepiece of chalk which had served him in lieu of counters; whistling, meantime, with peculiar shrillness. 

'How precious dull you are, Tommy!' said the Dodger, stopping shortwhen there had been a long silence; and addressing Mr. Chitling. 'Whatdo you think he's thinking of, Fagin?'

'How should I know, my dear?' replied the Jew, looking round as heplied the bellows. 'About his losses, maybe; or the little retirementin the country that he's just left, eh? Ha! ha! Is that it, my dear?'

'Not a bit of it, ' replied the Dodger, stopping the subject ofdiscourse as Mr. Chitling was about to reply. 'What do _you_ say, Charley?'

'_I_ should say, ' replied Master Bates, with a grin, 'that he wasuncommon sweet upon Betsy. See how he's a-blushing! Oh, my eye!here's a merry-go-rounder! Tommy Chitling's in love! Oh, Fagin, Fagin! what a spree!'

Thoroughly overpowered with the notion of Mr. Chitling being the victimof the tender passion, Master Bates threw himself back in his chairwith such violence, that he lost his balance, and pitched over upon thefloor; where (the accident abating nothing of his merriment) he lay atfull length until his laugh was over, when he resumed his formerposition, and began another laugh. 

'Never mind him, my dear, ' said the Jew, winking at Mr. Dawkins, andgiving Master Bates a reproving tap with the nozzle of the bellows. 'Betsy's a fine girl. Stick up to her, Tom. Stick up to her. '

'What I mean to say, Fagin, ' replied Mr. Chitling, very red in theface, 'is, that that isn't anything to anybody here. '

'No more it is, ' replied the Jew; 'Charley will talk. Don't mind him, my dear; don't mind him. Betsy's a fine girl. Do as she bids you, Tom, and you will make your fortune. '

'So I _do_ do as she bids me, ' replied Mr. Chitling; 'I shouldn't havebeen milled, if it hadn't been for her advice. But it turned out agood job for you; didn't it, Fagin! And what's six weeks of it? Itmust come, some time or another, and why not in the winter time whenyou don't want to go out a-walking so much; eh, Fagin?'

'Ah, to be sure, my dear, ' replied the Jew. 

'You wouldn't mind it again, Tom, would you, ' asked the Dodger, winkingupon Charley and the Jew, 'if Bet was all right?'

'I mean to say that I shouldn't, ' replied Tom, angrily. 'There, now. Ah! Who'll say as much as that, I should like to know; eh, Fagin?'

'Nobody, my dear, ' replied the Jew; 'not a soul, Tom. I don't know oneof 'em that would do it besides you; not one of 'em, my dear. '

'I might have got clear off, if I'd split upon her; mightn't I, Fagin?'angrily pursued the poor half-witted dupe. 'A word from me would havedone it; wouldn't it, Fagin?'

'To be sure it would, my dear, ' replied the Jew. 

'But I didn't blab it; did I, Fagin?' demanded Tom, pouring questionupon question with great volubility. 

'No, no, to be sure, ' replied the Jew; 'you were too stout-hearted forthat. A deal too stout, my dear!'

'Perhaps I was, ' rejoined Tom, looking round; 'and if I was, what's tolaugh at, in that; eh, Fagin?'

The Jew, perceiving that Mr. Chitling was considerably roused, hastenedto assure him that nobody was laughing; and to prove the gravity of thecompany, appealed to Master Bates, the principal offender. But, unfortunately, Charley, in opening his mouth to reply that he was nevermore serious in his life, was unable to prevent the escape of such aviolent roar, that the abused Mr. Chitling, without any preliminaryceremonies, rushed across the room and aimed a blow at the offender;who, being skilful in evading pursuit, ducked to avoid it, and chosehis time so well that it lighted on the chest of the merry oldgentleman, and caused him to stagger to the wall, where he stoodpanting for breath, while Mr. Chitling looked on in intense dismay. 

'Hark!' cried the Dodger at this moment, 'I heard the tinkler. 'Catching up the light, he crept softly upstairs. 

The bell was rung again, with some impatience, while the party were indarkness. After a short pause, the Dodger reappeared, and whisperedFagin mysteriously. 

'What!' cried the Jew, 'alone?'

The Dodger nodded in the affirmative, and, shading the flame of thecandle with his hand, gave Charley Bates a private intimation, in dumbshow, that he had better not be funny just then. Having performed thisfriendly office, he fixed his eyes on the Jew's face, and awaited hisdirections. 

The old man bit his yellow fingers, and meditated for some seconds; hisface working with agitation the while, as if he dreaded something, andfeared to know the worst. At length he raised his head. 

'Where is he?' he asked. 

The Dodger pointed to the floor above, and made a gesture, as if toleave the room. 

'Yes, ' said the Jew, answering the mute inquiry; 'bring him down. Hush!Quiet, Charley! Gently, Tom! Scarce, scarce!'

This brief direction to Charley Bates, and his recent antagonist, wassoftly and immediately obeyed. There was no sound of their whereabout, when the Dodger descended the stairs, bearing the light in his hand, and followed by a man in a coarse smock-frock; who, after casting ahurried glance round the room, pulled off a large wrapper which hadconcealed the lower portion of his face, and disclosed: all haggard, unwashed, and unshorn: the features of flash Toby Crackit. 

'How are you, Faguey?' said this worthy, nodding to the Jew. 'Pop thatshawl away in my castor, Dodger, so that I may know where to find itwhen I cut; that's the time of day! You'll be a fine young cracksmanafore the old file now. '

With these words he pulled up the smock-frock; and, winding it roundhis middle, drew a chair to the fire, and placed his feet upon the hob. 

'See there, Faguey, ' he said, pointing disconsolately to his top boots;'not a drop of Day and Martin since you know when; not a bubble ofblacking, by Jove! But don't look at me in that way, man. All ingood time. I can't talk about business till I've eat and drank; soproduce the sustainance, and let's have a quiet fill-out for the firsttime these three days!'

The Jew motioned to the Dodger to place what eatables there were, uponthe table; and, seating himself opposite the housebreaker, waited hisleisure. 

To judge from appearances, Toby was by no means in a hurry to open theconversation. At first, the Jew contented himself with patientlywatching his countenance, as if to gain from its expression some clueto the intelligence he brought; but in vain. 

He looked tired and worn, but there was the same complacent repose uponhis features that they always wore: and through dirt, and beard, andwhisker, there still shone, unimpaired, the self-satisfied smirk offlash Toby Crackit. Then the Jew, in an agony of impatience, watchedevery morsel he put into his mouth; pacing up and down the room, meanwhile, in irrepressible excitement. It was all of no use. Tobycontinued to eat with the utmost outward indifference, until he couldeat no more; then, ordering the Dodger out, he closed the door, mixed aglass of spirits and water, and composed himself for talking. 

'First and foremost, Faguey, ' said Toby. 

'Yes, yes!' interposed the Jew, drawing up his chair. 

Mr. Crackit stopped to take a draught of spirits and water, and todeclare that the gin was excellent; then placing his feet against thelow mantelpiece, so as to bring his boots to about the level of hiseye, he quietly resumed. 

'First and foremost, Faguey, ' said the housebreaker, 'how's Bill?'

'What!' screamed the Jew, starting from his seat. 

'Why, you don't mean to say--' began Toby, turning pale. 

'Mean!' cried the Jew, stamping furiously on the ground. 'Where arethey? Sikes and the boy! Where are they? Where have they been?Where are they hiding? Why have they not been here?'

'The crack failed, ' said Toby faintly. 

'I know it, ' replied the Jew, tearing a newspaper from his pocket andpointing to it. 'What more?'

'They fired and hit the boy. We cut over the fields at the back, withhim between us--straight as the crow flies--through hedge and ditch. They gave chase. Damme! the whole country was awake, and the dogs uponus. '

'The boy!'

'Bill had him on his back, and scudded like the wind. We stopped totake him between us; his head hung down, and he was cold. They wereclose upon our heels; every man for himself, and each from the gallows!We parted company, and left the youngster lying in a ditch. Alive ordead, that's all I know about him. '

The Jew stopped to hear no more; but uttering a loud yell, and twininghis hands in his hair, rushed from the room, and from the house. 

CHAPTER XXVI

IN WHICH A MYSTERIOUS CHARACTER APPEARS UPON THE SCENE; AND MANYTHINGS, INSEPARABLE FROM THIS HISTORY, ARE DONE AND PERFORMED

The old man had gained the street corner, before he began to recoverthe effect of Toby Crackit's intelligence. He had relaxed nothing ofhis unusual speed; but was still pressing onward, in the same wild anddisordered manner, when the sudden dashing past of a carriage: and aboisterous cry from the foot passengers, who saw his danger: drove himback upon the pavement. Avoiding, as much as was possible, all themain streets, and skulking only through the by-ways and alleys, he atlength emerged on Snow Hill. Here he walked even faster than before;nor did he linger until he had again turned into a court; when, as ifconscious that he was now in his proper element, he fell into his usualshuffling pace, and seemed to breathe more freely. 

Near to the spot on which Snow Hill and Holborn Hill meet, opens, uponthe right hand as you come out of the City, a narrow and dismal alley, leading to Saffron Hill. In its filthy shops are exposed for sale hugebunches of second-hand silk handkerchiefs, of all sizes and patterns;for here reside the traders who purchase them from pick-pockets. Hundreds of these handkerchiefs hang dangling from pegs outside thewindows or flaunting from the door-posts; and the shelves, within, arepiled with them. Confined as the limits of Field Lane are, it has itsbarber, its coffee-shop, its beer-shop, and its fried-fish warehouse. It is a commercial colony of itself: the emporium of petty larceny:visited at early morning, and setting-in of dusk, by silent merchants, who traffic in dark back-parlours, and who go as strangely as theycome. Here, the clothesman, the shoe-vamper, and the rag-merchant, display their goods, as sign-boards to the petty thief; here, stores ofold iron and bones, and heaps of mildewy fragments of woollen-stuff andlinen, rust and rot in the grimy cellars. 

It was into this place that the Jew turned. He was well known to thesallow denizens of the lane; for such of them as were on the look-outto buy or sell, nodded, familiarly, as he passed along. He replied totheir salutations in the same way; but bestowed no closer recognitionuntil he reached the further end of the alley; when he stopped, toaddress a salesman of small stature, who had squeezed as much of hisperson into a child's chair as the chair would hold, and was smoking apipe at his warehouse door. 

'Why, the sight of you, Mr. Fagin, would cure the hoptalmy!' said thisrespectable trader, in acknowledgment of the Jew's inquiry after hishealth. 

'The neighbourhood was a little too hot, Lively, ' said Fagin, elevatinghis eyebrows, and crossing his hands upon his shoulders. 

'Well, I've heerd that complaint of it, once or twice before, ' repliedthe trader; 'but it soon cools down again; don't you find it so?'

Fagin nodded in the affirmative. Pointing in the direction of SaffronHill, he inquired whether any one was up yonder to-night. 

'At the Cripples?' inquired the man. 

The Jew nodded. 

'Let me see, ' pursued the merchant, reflecting. 

'Yes, there's some half-dozen of 'em gone in, that I knows. I don'tthink your friend's there. '

'Sikes is not, I suppose?' inquired the Jew, with a disappointedcountenance. 

'_Non istwentus_, as the lawyers say, ' replied the little man, shakinghis head, and looking amazingly sly. 'Have you got anything in my lineto-night?'

'Nothing to-night, ' said the Jew, turning away. 

'Are you going up to the Cripples, Fagin?' cried the little man, calling after him. 'Stop! I don't mind if I have a drop there withyou!'

But as the Jew, looking back, waved his hand to intimate that hepreferred being alone; and, moreover, as the little man could not veryeasily disengage himself from the chair; the sign of the Cripples was, for a time, bereft of the advantage of Mr. Lively's presence. By thetime he had got upon his legs, the Jew had disappeared; so Mr. Lively, after ineffectually standing on tiptoe, in the hope of catching sightof him, again forced himself into the little chair, and, exchanging ashake of the head with a lady in the opposite shop, in which doubt andmistrust were plainly mingled, resumed his pipe with a grave demeanour. 

The Three Cripples, or rather the Cripples; which was the sign by whichthe establishment was familiarly known to its patrons: was thepublic-house in which Mr. Sikes and his dog have already figured. Merely making a sign to a man at the bar, Fagin walked straightupstairs, and opening the door of a room, and softly insinuatinghimself into the chamber, looked anxiously about: shading his eyes withhis hand, as if in search of some particular person. 

The room was illuminated by two gas-lights; the glare of which wasprevented by the barred shutters, and closely-drawn curtains of fadedred, from being visible outside. The ceiling was blackened, to preventits colour from being injured by the flaring of the lamps; and theplace was so full of dense tobacco smoke, that at first it was scarcelypossible to discern anything more. By degrees, however, as some of itcleared away through the open door, an assemblage of heads, as confusedas the noises that greeted the ear, might be made out; and as the eyegrew more accustomed to the scene, the spectator gradually became awareof the presence of a numerous company, male and female, crowded round along table: at the upper end of which, sat a chairman with a hammer ofoffice in his hand; while a professional gentleman with a bluish nose, and his face tied up for the benefit of a toothache, presided at ajingling piano in a remote corner. 

As Fagin stepped softly in, the professional gentleman, running overthe keys by way of prelude, occasioned a general cry of order for asong; which having subsided, a young lady proceeded to entertain thecompany with a ballad in four verses, between each of which theaccompanyist played the melody all through, as loud as he could. Whenthis was over, the chairman gave a sentiment, after which, theprofessional gentleman on the chairman's right and left volunteered aduet, and sang it, with great applause. 

It was curious to observe some faces which stood out prominently fromamong the group. There was the chairman himself, (the landlord of thehouse, ) a coarse, rough, heavy built fellow, who, while the songs wereproceeding, rolled his eyes hither and thither, and, seeming to givehimself up to joviality, had an eye for everything that was done, andan ear for everything that was said--and sharp ones, too. Near himwere the singers: receiving, with professional indifference, thecompliments of the company, and applying themselves, in turn, to adozen proffered glasses of spirits and water, tendered by their moreboisterous admirers; whose countenances, expressive of almost everyvice in almost every grade, irresistibly attracted the attention, bytheir very repulsiveness. Cunning, ferocity, and drunkeness in all itsstages, were there, in their strongest aspect; and women: some with thelast lingering tinge of their early freshness almost fading as youlooked: others with every mark and stamp of their sex utterly beatenout, and presenting but one loathsome blank of profligacy and crime;some mere girls, others but young women, and none past the prime oflife; formed the darkest and saddest portion of this dreary picture. 

Fagin, troubled by no grave emotions, looked eagerly from face to facewhile these proceedings were in progress; but apparently withoutmeeting that of which he was in search. Succeeding, at length, incatching the eye of the man who occupied the chair, he beckoned to himslightly, and left the room, as quietly as he had entered it. 

'What can I do for you, Mr. Fagin?' inquired the man, as he followedhim out to the landing. 'Won't you join us? They'll be delighted, every one of 'em. '

The Jew shook his head impatiently, and said in a whisper, 'Is _he_here?'

'No, ' replied the man. 

'And no news of Barney?' inquired Fagin. 

'None, ' replied the landlord of the Cripples; for it was he. 'He won'tstir till it's all safe. Depend on it, they're on the scent downthere; and that if he moved, he'd blow upon the thing at once. He'sall right enough, Barney is, else I should have heard of him. I'llpound it, that Barney's managing properly. Let him alone for that. '

'Will _he_ be here to-night?' asked the Jew, laying the same emphasison the pronoun as before. 

'Monks, do you mean?' inquired the landlord, hesitating. 

'Hush!' said the Jew. 'Yes. '

'Certain, ' replied the man, drawing a gold watch from his fob; 'Iexpected him here before now. If you'll wait ten minutes, he'll be--'

'No, no, ' said the Jew, hastily; as though, however desirous he mightbe to see the person in question, he was nevertheless relieved by hisabsence. 'Tell him I came here to see him; and that he must come to meto-night. No, say to-morrow. As he is not here, to-morrow will betime enough. '

'Good!' said the man. 'Nothing more?'

'Not a word now, ' said the Jew, descending the stairs. 

'I say, ' said the other, looking over the rails, and speaking in ahoarse whisper; 'what a time this would be for a sell! I've got PhilBarker here: so drunk, that a boy might take him!'

'Ah! But it's not Phil Barker's time, ' said the Jew, looking up. 

'Phil has something more to do, before we can afford to part with him;so go back to the company, my dear, and tell them to lead merrylives--_while they last_. Ha! ha! ha!'

The landlord reciprocated the old man's laugh; and returned to hisguests. The Jew was no sooner alone, than his countenance resumed itsformer expression of anxiety and thought. After a brief reflection, hecalled a hack-cabriolet, and bade the man drive towards Bethnal Green. He dismissed him within some quarter of a mile of Mr. Sikes'sresidence, and performed the short remainder of the distance, on foot. 

'Now, ' muttered the Jew, as he knocked at the door, 'if there is anydeep play here, I shall have it out of you, my girl, cunning as youare. '

She was in her room, the woman said. Fagin crept softly upstairs, andentered it without any previous ceremony. The girl was alone; lyingwith her head upon the table, and her hair straggling over it. 

'She has been drinking, ' thought the Jew, cooly, 'or perhaps she isonly miserable. '

The old man turned to close the door, as he made this reflection; thenoise thus occasioned, roused the girl. She eyed his crafty facenarrowly, as she inquired to his recital of Toby Crackit's story. Whenit was concluded, she sank into her former attitude, but spoke not aword. She pushed the candle impatiently away; and once or twice as shefeverishly changed her position, shuffled her feet upon the ground; butthis was all. 

During the silence, the Jew looked restlessly about the room, as if toassure himself that there were no appearances of Sikes having covertlyreturned. Apparently satisfied with his inspection, he coughed twiceor thrice, and made as many efforts to open a conversation; but thegirl heeded him no more than if he had been made of stone. At lengthhe made another attempt; and rubbing his hands together, said, in hismost conciliatory tone, 'And where should you think Bill was now, my dear?'

The girl moaned out some half intelligible reply, that she could nottell; and seemed, from the smothered noise that escaped her, to becrying. 

'And the boy, too, ' said the Jew, straining his eyes to catch a glimpseof her face. 'Poor leetle child! Left in a ditch, Nance; only think!'

'The child, ' said the girl, suddenly looking up, 'is better where heis, than among us; and if no harm comes to Bill from it, I hope he liesdead in the ditch and that his young bones may rot there. '

'What!' cried the Jew, in amazement. 

'Ay, I do, ' returned the girl, meeting his gaze. 'I shall be glad tohave him away from my eyes, and to know that the worst is over. Ican't bear to have him about me. The sight of him turns me againstmyself, and all of you. '

'Pooh!' said the Jew, scornfully. 'You're drunk. '

'Am I?' cried the girl bitterly. 'It's no fault of yours, if I am not!You'd never have me anything else, if you had your will, exceptnow;--the humour doesn't suit you, doesn't it?'

'No!' rejoined the Jew, furiously. 'It does not. '

'Change it, then!' responded the girl, with a laugh. 

'Change it!' exclaimed the Jew, exasperated beyond all bounds by hiscompanion's unexpected obstinacy, and the vexation of the night, 'I_will_ change it! Listen to me, you drab. Listen to me, who with sixwords, can strangle Sikes as surely as if I had his bull's throatbetween my fingers now. If he comes back, and leaves the boy behindhim; if he gets off free, and dead or alive, fails to restore him tome; murder him yourself if you would have him escape Jack Ketch. Anddo it the moment he sets foot in this room, or mind me, it will be toolate!'

'What is all this?' cried the girl involuntarily. 

'What is it?' pursued Fagin, mad with rage. 'When the boy's worthhundreds of pounds to me, am I to lose what chance threw me in the wayof getting safely, through the whims of a drunken gang that I couldwhistle away the lives of! And me bound, too, to a born devil thatonly wants the will, and has the power to, to--'

Panting for breath, the old man stammered for a word; and in thatinstant checked the torrent of his wrath, and changed his wholedemeanour. A moment before, his clenched hands had grasped the air;his eyes had dilated; and his face grown livid with passion; but now, he shrunk into a chair, and, cowering together, trembled with theapprehension of having himself disclosed some hidden villainy. After ashort silence, he ventured to look round at his companion. He appearedsomewhat reassured, on beholding her in the same listless attitude fromwhich he had first roused her. 

'Nancy, dear!' croaked the Jew, in his usual voice. 'Did you mind me, dear?'

'Don't worry me now, Fagin!' replied the girl, raising her headlanguidly. 'If Bill has not done it this time, he will another. He hasdone many a good job for you, and will do many more when he can; andwhen he can't he won't; so no more about that. '

'Regarding this boy, my dear?' said the Jew, rubbing the palms of hishands nervously together. 

'The boy must take his chance with the rest, ' interrupted Nancy, hastily; 'and I say again, I hope he is dead, and out of harm's way, and out of yours, --that is, if Bill comes to no harm. And if Toby gotclear off, Bill's pretty sure to be safe; for Bill's worth two of Tobyany time. '

'And about what I was saying, my dear?' observed the Jew, keeping hisglistening eye steadily upon her. 

'Your must say it all over again, if it's anything you want me to do, 'rejoined Nancy; 'and if it is, you had better wait till to-morrow. Youput me up for a minute; but now I'm stupid again. '

Fagin put several other questions: all with the same drift ofascertaining whether the girl had profited by his unguarded hints; but, she answered them so readily, and was withal so utterly unmoved by hissearching looks, that his original impression of her being more than atrifle in liquor, was confirmed. Nancy, indeed, was not exempt from afailing which was very common among the Jew's female pupils; and inwhich, in their tenderer years, they were rather encouraged thanchecked. Her disordered appearance, and a wholesale perfume of Genevawhich pervaded the apartment, afforded strong confirmatory evidence ofthe justice of the Jew's supposition; and when, after indulging in thetemporary display of violence above described, she subsided, first intodullness, and afterwards into a compound of feelings: under theinfluence of which she shed tears one minute, and in the next gaveutterance to various exclamations of 'Never say die!' and diverscalculations as to what might be the amount of the odds so long as alady or gentleman was happy, Mr. Fagin, who had had considerableexperience of such matters in his time, saw, with great satisfaction, that she was very far gone indeed. 

Having eased his mind by this discovery; and having accomplished histwofold object of imparting to the girl what he had, that night, heard, and of ascertaining, with his own eyes, that Sikes had not returned, Mr. Fagin again turned his face homeward: leaving his young friendasleep, with her head upon the table. 

It was within an hour of midnight. The weather being dark, andpiercing cold, he had no great temptation to loiter. The sharp windthat scoured the streets, seemed to have cleared them of passengers, asof dust and mud, for few people were abroad, and they were to allappearance hastening fast home. It blew from the right quarter for theJew, however, and straight before it he went: trembling, and shivering, as every fresh gust drove him rudely on his way. 

He had reached the corner of his own street, and was already fumblingin his pocket for the door-key, when a dark figure emerged from aprojecting entrance which lay in deep shadow, and, crossing the road, glided up to him unperceived. 

'Fagin!' whispered a voice close to his ear. 

'Ah!' said the Jew, turning quickly round, 'is that--'

'Yes!' interrupted the stranger. 'I have been lingering here these twohours. Where the devil have you been?'

'On your business, my dear, ' replied the Jew, glancing uneasily at hiscompanion, and slackening his pace as he spoke. 'On your business allnight. '

'Oh, of course!' said the stranger, with a sneer. 'Well; and what'scome of it?'

'Nothing good, ' said the Jew. 

'Nothing bad, I hope?' said the stranger, stopping short, and turning astartled look on his companion. 

The Jew shook his head, and was about to reply, when the stranger, interrupting him, motioned to the house, before which they had by thistime arrived: remarking, that he had better say what he had got tosay, under cover: for his blood was chilled with standing about solong, and the wind blew through him. 

Fagin looked as if he could have willingly excused himself from takinghome a visitor at that unseasonable hour; and, indeed, mutteredsomething about having no fire; but his companion repeating his requestin a peremptory manner, he unlocked the door, and requested him toclose it softly, while he got a light. 

'It's as dark as the grave, ' said the man, groping forward a few steps. 'Make haste!'

'Shut the door, ' whispered Fagin from the end of the passage. As hespoke, it closed with a loud noise. 

'That wasn't my doing, ' said the other man, feeling his way. 'The windblew it to, or it shut of its own accord: one or the other. Look sharpwith the light, or I shall knock my brains out against something inthis confounded hole. '

Fagin stealthily descended the kitchen stairs. After a short absence, he returned with a lighted candle, and the intelligence that TobyCrackit was asleep in the back room below, and that the boys were inthe front one. Beckoning the man to follow him, he led the wayupstairs. 

'We can say the few words we've got to say in here, my dear, ' said theJew, throwing open a door on the first floor; 'and as there are holesin the shutters, and we never show lights to our neighbours, we'll setthe candle on the stairs. There!'

With those words, the Jew, stooping down, placed the candle on an upperflight of stairs, exactly opposite to the room door. This done, he ledthe way into the apartment; which was destitute of all movables save abroken arm-chair, and an old couch or sofa without covering, whichstood behind the door. Upon this piece of furniture, the stranger sathimself with the air of a weary man; and the Jew, drawing up thearm-chair opposite, they sat face to face. It was not quite dark; thedoor was partially open; and the candle outside, threw a feeblereflection on the opposite wall. 

They conversed for some time in whispers. Though nothing of theconversation was distinguishable beyond a few disjointed words here andthere, a listener might easily have perceived that Fagin appeared to bedefending himself against some remarks of the stranger; and that thelatter was in a state of considerable irritation. They might have beentalking, thus, for a quarter of an hour or more, when Monks--by whichname the Jew had designated the strange man several times in the courseof their colloquy--said, raising his voice a little, 'I tell you again, it was badly planned. Why not have kept him hereamong the rest, and made a sneaking, snivelling pickpocket of him atonce?'

'Only hear him!' exclaimed the Jew, shrugging his shoulders. 

'Why, do you mean to say you couldn't have done it, if you had chosen?'demanded Monks, sternly. 'Haven't you done it, with other boys, scoresof times? If you had had patience for a twelvemonth, at most, couldn'tyou have got him convicted, and sent safely out of the kingdom; perhapsfor life?'

'Whose turn would that have served, my dear?' inquired the Jew humbly. 

'Mine, ' replied Monks. 

'But not mine, ' said the Jew, submissively. 'He might have become ofuse to me. When there are two parties to a bargain, it is onlyreasonable that the interests of both should be consulted; is it, mygood friend?'

'What then?' demanded Monks. 

'I saw it was not easy to train him to the business, ' replied the Jew;'he was not like other boys in the same circumstances. '

'Curse him, no!' muttered the man, 'or he would have been a thief, longago. '

'I had no hold upon him to make him worse, ' pursued the Jew, anxiouslywatching the countenance of his companion. 'His hand was not in. Ihad nothing to frighten him with; which we always must have in thebeginning, or we labour in vain. What could I do? Send him out withthe Dodger and Charley? We had enough of that, at first, my dear; Itrembled for us all. '

'_That_ was not my doing, ' observed Monks. 

'No, no, my dear!' renewed the Jew. 'And I don't quarrel with it now;because, if it had never happened, you might never have clapped eyes onthe boy to notice him, and so led to the discovery that it was him youwere looking for. Well! I got him back for you by means of the girl;and then _she_ begins to favour him. '

'Throttle the girl!' said Monks, impatiently. 

'Why, we can't afford to do that just now, my dear, ' replied the Jew, smiling; 'and, besides, that sort of thing is not in our way; or, oneof these days, I might be glad to have it done. I know what thesegirls are, Monks, well. As soon as the boy begins to harden, she'llcare no more for him, than for a block of wood. You want him made athief. If he is alive, I can make him one from this time; and, if--if--' said the Jew, drawing nearer to the other, --'it's not likely, mind, --but if the worst comes to the worst, and he is dead--'

'It's no fault of mine if he is!' interposed the other man, with a lookof terror, and clasping the Jew's arm with trembling hands. 'Mindthat. Fagin! I had no hand in it. Anything but his death, I told youfrom the first. I won't shed blood; it's always found out, and hauntsa man besides. If they shot him dead, I was not the cause; do you hearme? Fire this infernal den! What's that?'

'What!' cried the Jew, grasping the coward round the body, with botharms, as he sprung to his feet. 'Where?'

'Yonder! replied the man, glaring at the opposite wall. 'The shadow!I saw the shadow of a woman, in a cloak and bonnet, pass along thewainscot like a breath!'

The Jew released his hold, and they rushed tumultuously from the room. The candle, wasted by the draught, was standing where it had beenplaced. It showed them only the empty staircase, and their own whitefaces. They listened intently: a profound silence reigned throughoutthe house. 

'It's your fancy, ' said the Jew, taking up the light and turning to hiscompanion. 

'I'll swear I saw it!' replied Monks, trembling. 'It was bendingforward when I saw it first; and when I spoke, it darted away. '

The Jew glanced contemptuously at the pale face of his associate, and, telling him he could follow, if he pleased, ascended the stairs. Theylooked into all the rooms; they were cold, bare, and empty. Theydescended into the passage, and thence into the cellars below. Thegreen damp hung upon the low walls; the tracks of the snail and slugglistened in the light of the candle; but all was still as death. 

'What do you think now?' said the Jew, when they had regained thepassage. 'Besides ourselves, there's not a creature in the houseexcept Toby and the boys; and they're safe enough. See here!'

As a proof of the fact, the Jew drew forth two keys from his pocket;and explained, that when he first went downstairs, he had locked themin, to prevent any intrusion on the conference. 

This accumulated testimony effectually staggered Mr. Monks. Hisprotestations had gradually become less and less vehement as theyproceeded in their search without making any discovery; and, now, hegave vent to several very grim laughs, and confessed it could only havebeen his excited imagination. He declined any renewal of theconversation, however, for that night: suddenly remembering that itwas past one o'clock. And so the amiable couple parted. 

CHAPTER XXVII

ATONES FOR THE UNPOLITENESS OF A FORMER CHAPTER; WHICH DESERTED A LADY, MOST UNCEREMONIOUSLY

As it would be, by no means, seemly in a humble author to keep somighty a personage as a beadle waiting, with his back to the fire, andthe skirts of his coat gathered up under his arms, until such time asit might suit his pleasure to relieve him; and as it would still lessbecome his station, or his gallantry to involve in the same neglect alady on whom that beadle had looked with an eye of tenderness andaffection, and in whose ear he had whispered sweet words, which, comingfrom such a quarter, might well thrill the bosom of maid or matron ofwhatsoever degree; the historian whose pen traces these words--trustingthat he knows his place, and that he entertains a becoming reverencefor those upon earth to whom high and important authority isdelegated--hastens to pay them that respect which their positiondemands, and to treat them with all that duteous ceremony which theirexalted rank, and (by consequence) great virtues, imperatively claim athis hands. Towards this end, indeed, he had purposed to introduce, inthis place, a dissertation touching the divine right of beadles, andelucidative of the position, that a beadle can do no wrong: whichcould not fail to have been both pleasurable and profitable to theright-minded reader but which he is unfortunately compelled, by want oftime and space, to postpone to some more convenient and fittingopportunity; on the arrival of which, he will be prepared to show, thata beadle properly constituted: that is to say, a parochial beadle, attached to a parochial workhouse, and attending in his officialcapacity the parochial church: is, in right and virtue of his office, possessed of all the excellences and best qualities of humanity; andthat to none of those excellences, can mere companies' beadles, orcourt-of-law beadles, or even chapel-of-ease beadles (save the last, and they in a very lowly and inferior degree), lay the remotestsustainable claim. 

Mr. Bumble had re-counted the teaspoons, re-weighed the sugar-tongs, made a closer inspection of the milk-pot, and ascertained to a nicetythe exact condition of the furniture, down to the very horse-hair seatsof the chairs; and had repeated each process full half a dozen times;before he began to think that it was time for Mrs. Corney to return. Thinking begets thinking; as there were no sounds of Mrs. Corney'sapproach, it occured to Mr. Bumble that it would be an innocent andvirtuous way of spending the time, if he were further to allay hiscuriousity by a cursory glance at the interior of Mrs. Corney's chestof drawers. 

Having listened at the keyhole, to assure himself that nobody wasapproaching the chamber, Mr. Bumble, beginning at the bottom, proceededto make himself acquainted with the contents of the three long drawers:which, being filled with various garments of good fashion and texture, carefully preserved between two layers of old newspapers, speckled withdried lavender: seemed to yield him exceeding satisfaction. Arriving, in course of time, at the right-hand corner drawer (in which was thekey), and beholding therein a small padlocked box, which, being shaken, gave forth a pleasant sound, as of the chinking of coin, Mr. Bumblereturned with a stately walk to the fireplace; and, resuming his oldattitude, said, with a grave and determined air, 'I'll do it!' Hefollowed up this remarkable declaration, by shaking his head in awaggish manner for ten minutes, as though he were remonstrating withhimself for being such a pleasant dog; and then, he took a view of hislegs in profile, with much seeming pleasure and interest. 

He was still placidly engaged in this latter survey, when Mrs. Corney, hurrying into the room, threw herself, in a breathless state, on achair by the fireside, and covering her eyes with one hand, placed theother over her heart, and gasped for breath. 

'Mrs. Corney, ' said Mr. Bumble, stooping over the matron, 'what isthis, ma'am? Has anything happened, ma'am? Pray answer me: I'mon--on--' Mr. Bumble, in his alarm, could not immediately think of theword 'tenterhooks, ' so he said 'broken bottles. '

'Oh, Mr. Bumble!' cried the lady, 'I have been so dreadfully put out!'

'Put out, ma'am!' exclaimed Mr. Bumble; 'who has dared to--? I know!'said Mr. Bumble, checking himself, with native majesty, 'this is themwicious paupers!'

'It's dreadful to think of!' said the lady, shuddering. 

'Then _don't_ think of it, ma'am, ' rejoined Mr. Bumble. 

'I can't help it, ' whimpered the lady. 

'Then take something, ma'am, ' said Mr. Bumble soothingly. 'A little ofthe wine?'

'Not for the world!' replied Mrs. Corney. 'I couldn't, --oh! The topshelf in the right-hand corner--oh!' Uttering these words, the goodlady pointed, distractedly, to the cupboard, and underwent a convulsionfrom internal spasms. Mr. Bumble rushed to the closet; and, snatchinga pint green-glass bottle from the shelf thus incoherently indicated, filled a tea-cup with its contents, and held it to the lady's lips. 

'I'm better now, ' said Mrs. Corney, falling back, after drinking halfof it. 

Mr. Bumble raised his eyes piously to the ceiling in thankfulness; and, bringing them down again to the brim of the cup, lifted it to his nose. 

'Peppermint, ' exclaimed Mrs. Corney, in a faint voice, smiling gentlyon the beadle as she spoke. 'Try it! There's a little--a littlesomething else in it. '

Mr. Bumble tasted the medicine with a doubtful look; smacked his lips;took another taste; and put the cup down empty. 

'It's very comforting, ' said Mrs. Corney. 

'Very much so indeed, ma'am, ' said the beadle. As he spoke, he drew achair beside the matron, and tenderly inquired what had happened todistress her. 

'Nothing, ' replied Mrs. Corney. 'I am a foolish, excitable, weakcreetur. '

'Not weak, ma'am, ' retorted Mr. Bumble, drawing his chair a littlecloser. 'Are you a weak creetur, Mrs. Corney?'

'We are all weak creeturs, ' said Mrs. Corney, laying down a generalprinciple. 

'So we are, ' said the beadle. 

Nothing was said on either side, for a minute or two afterwards. By theexpiration of that time, Mr. Bumble had illustrated the position byremoving his left arm from the back of Mrs. Corney's chair, where ithad previously rested, to Mrs. Corney's apron-string, round which itgradually became entwined. 

'We are all weak creeturs, ' said Mr. Bumble. 

Mrs. Corney sighed. 

'Don't sigh, Mrs. Corney, ' said Mr. Bumble. 

'I can't help it, ' said Mrs. Corney. And she sighed again. 

'This is a very comfortable room, ma'am, ' said Mr. Bumble lookinground. 'Another room, and this, ma'am, would be a complete thing. '

'It would be too much for one, ' murmured the lady. 

'But not for two, ma'am, ' rejoined Mr. Bumble, in soft accents. 'Eh, Mrs. Corney?'

Mrs. Corney drooped her head, when the beadle said this; the beadledrooped his, to get a view of Mrs. Corney's face. Mrs. Corney, withgreat propriety, turned her head away, and released her hand to get ather pocket-handkerchief; but insensibly replaced it in that of Mr. Bumble. 

'The board allows you coals, don't they, Mrs. Corney?' inquired thebeadle, affectionately pressing her hand. 

'And candles, ' replied Mrs. Corney, slightly returning the pressure. 

'Coals, candles, and house-rent free, ' said Mr. Bumble. 'Oh, Mrs. Corney, what an Angel you are!'

The lady was not proof against this burst of feeling. She sank intoMr. Bumble's arms; and that gentleman in his agitation, imprinted apassionate kiss upon her chaste nose. 

'Such porochial perfection!' exclaimed Mr. Bumble, rapturously. 'Youknow that Mr. Slout is worse to-night, my fascinator?'

'Yes, ' replied Mrs. Corney, bashfully. 

'He can't live a week, the doctor says, ' pursued Mr. Bumble. 'He is themaster of this establishment; his death will cause a wacancy; thatwacancy must be filled up. Oh, Mrs. Corney, what a prospect thisopens! What a opportunity for a jining of hearts and housekeepings!'

Mrs. Corney sobbed. 

'The little word?' said Mr. Bumble, bending over the bashful beauty. 'The one little, little, little word, my blessed Corney?'

'Ye--ye--yes!' sighed out the matron. 

'One more, ' pursued the beadle; 'compose your darling feelings for onlyone more. When is it to come off?'

Mrs. Corney twice essayed to speak: and twice failed. At lengthsummoning up courage, she threw her arms around Mr. Bumble's neck, andsaid, it might be as soon as ever he pleased, and that he was 'airresistible duck. '

Matters being thus amicably and satisfactorily arranged, the contractwas solemnly ratified in another teacupful of the peppermint mixture;which was rendered the more necessary, by the flutter and agitation ofthe lady's spirits. While it was being disposed of, she acquainted Mr. Bumble with the old woman's decease. 

'Very good, ' said that gentleman, sipping his peppermint; 'I'll call atSowerberry's as I go home, and tell him to send to-morrow morning. Wasit that as frightened you, love?'

'It wasn't anything particular, dear, ' said the lady evasively. 

'It must have been something, love, ' urged Mr. Bumble. 'Won't you tellyour own B. ?'

'Not now, ' rejoined the lady; 'one of these days. After we're married, dear. '

'After we're married!' exclaimed Mr. Bumble. 'It wasn't any impudencefrom any of them male paupers as--'

'No, no, love!' interposed the lady, hastily. 

'If I thought it was, ' continued Mr. Bumble; 'if I thought as any oneof 'em had dared to lift his wulgar eyes to that lovely countenance--'

'They wouldn't have dared to do it, love, ' responded the lady. 

'They had better not!' said Mr. Bumble, clenching his fist. 'Let me seeany man, porochial or extra-porochial, as would presume to do it; and Ican tell him that he wouldn't do it a second time!'

Unembellished by any violence of gesticulation, this might have seemedno very high compliment to the lady's charms; but, as Mr. Bumbleaccompanied the threat with many warlike gestures, she was much touchedwith this proof of his devotion, and protested, with great admiration, that he was indeed a dove. 

The dove then turned up his coat-collar, and put on his cocked hat;and, having exchanged a long and affectionate embrace with his futurepartner, once again braved the cold wind of the night: merely pausing, for a few minutes, in the male paupers' ward, to abuse them a little, with the view of satisfying himself that he could fill the office ofworkhouse-master with needful acerbity. Assured of his qualifications, Mr. Bumble left the building with a light heart, and bright visions ofhis future promotion: which served to occupy his mind until he reachedthe shop of the undertaker. 

Now, Mr. And Mrs. Sowerberry having gone out to tea and supper: andNoah Claypole not being at any time disposed to take upon himself agreater amount of physical exertion than is necessary to a convenientperformance of the two functions of eating and drinking, the shop wasnot closed, although it was past the usual hour of shutting-up. Mr. Bumble tapped with his cane on the counter several times; but, attracting no attention, and beholding a light shining through theglass-window of the little parlour at the back of the shop, he madebold to peep in and see what was going forward; and when he saw whatwas going forward, he was not a little surprised. 

The cloth was laid for supper; the table was covered with bread andbutter, plates and glasses; a porter-pot and a wine-bottle. At theupper end of the table, Mr. Noah Claypole lolled negligently in aneasy-chair, with his legs thrown over one of the arms: an openclasp-knife in one hand, and a mass of buttered bread in the other. Close beside him stood Charlotte, opening oysters from a barrel: whichMr. Claypole condescended to swallow, with remarkable avidity. A morethan ordinary redness in the region of the young gentleman's nose, anda kind of fixed wink in his right eye, denoted that he was in a slightdegree intoxicated; these symptoms were confirmed by the intense relishwith which he took his oysters, for which nothing but a strongappreciation of their cooling properties, in cases of internal fever, could have sufficiently accounted. 

'Here's a delicious fat one, Noah, dear!' said Charlotte; 'try him, do;only this one. '

'What a delicious thing is a oyster!' remarked Mr. Claypole, after hehad swallowed it. 'What a pity it is, a number of 'em should ever makeyou feel uncomfortable; isn't it, Charlotte?'

'It's quite a cruelty, ' said Charlotte. 

'So it is, ' acquiesced Mr. Claypole. 'An't yer fond of oysters?'

'Not overmuch, ' replied Charlotte. 'I like to see you eat 'em, Noahdear, better than eating 'em myself. '

'Lor!' said Noah, reflectively; 'how queer!'

'Have another, ' said Charlotte. 'Here's one with such a beautiful, delicate beard!'

'I can't manage any more, ' said Noah. 'I'm very sorry. Come here, Charlotte, and I'll kiss yer. '

'What!' said Mr. Bumble, bursting into the room. 'Say that again, sir. '

Charlotte uttered a scream, and hid her face in her apron. Mr. Claypole, without making any further change in his position thansuffering his legs to reach the ground, gazed at the beadle in drunkenterror. 

'Say it again, you wile, owdacious fellow!' said Mr. Bumble. 'How dareyou mention such a thing, sir? And how dare you encourage him, youinsolent minx? Kiss her!' exclaimed Mr. Bumble, in strong indignation. 'Faugh!'

'I didn't mean to do it!' said Noah, blubbering. 'She's alwaysa-kissing of me, whether I like it, or not. '

'Oh, Noah, ' cried Charlotte, reproachfully. 

'Yer are; yer know yer are!' retorted Noah. 'She's always a-doin' ofit, Mr. Bumble, sir; she chucks me under the chin, please, sir; andmakes all manner of love!'

'Silence!' cried Mr. Bumble, sternly. 'Take yourself downstairs, ma'am. Noah, you shut up the shop; say another word till your mastercomes home, at your peril; and, when he does come home, tell him thatMr. Bumble said he was to send a old woman's shell after breakfastto-morrow morning. Do you hear sir? Kissing!' cried Mr. Bumble, holding up his hands. 'The sin and wickedness of the lower orders inthis porochial district is frightful! If Parliament don't take theirabominable courses under consideration, this country's ruined, and thecharacter of the peasantry gone for ever!' With these words, thebeadle strode, with a lofty and gloomy air, from the undertaker'spremises. 

And now that we have accompanied him so far on his road home, and havemade all necessary preparations for the old woman's funeral, let us seton foot a few inquires after young Oliver Twist, and ascertain whetherhe be still lying in the ditch where Toby Crackit left him. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

LOOKS AFTER OLIVER, AND PROCEEDS WITH HIS ADVENTURES

'Wolves tear your throats!' muttered Sikes, grinding his teeth. 'I wishI was among some of you; you'd howl the hoarser for it. '

As Sikes growled forth this imprecation, with the most desperateferocity that his desperate nature was capable of, he rested the bodyof the wounded boy across his bended knee; and turned his head, for aninstant, to look back at his pursuers. 

There was little to be made out, in the mist and darkness; but the loudshouting of men vibrated through the air, and the barking of theneighbouring dogs, roused by the sound of the alarm bell, resounded inevery direction. 

'Stop, you white-livered hound!' cried the robber, shouting after TobyCrackit, who, making the best use of his long legs, was already ahead. 'Stop!'

The repetition of the word, brought Toby to a dead stand-still. For hewas not quite satisfied that he was beyond the range of pistol-shot;and Sikes was in no mood to be played with. 

'Bear a hand with the boy, ' cried Sikes, beckoning furiously to hisconfederate. 'Come back!'

Toby made a show of returning; but ventured, in a low voice, broken forwant of breath, to intimate considerable reluctance as he came slowlyalong. 

'Quicker!' cried Sikes, laying the boy in a dry ditch at his feet, anddrawing a pistol from his pocket. 'Don't play booty with me. '

At this moment the noise grew louder. Sikes, again looking round, could discern that the men who had given chase were already climbingthe gate of the field in which he stood; and that a couple of dogs weresome paces in advance of them. 

'It's all up, Bill!' cried Toby; 'drop the kid, and show 'em yourheels. ' With this parting advice, Mr. Crackit, preferring the chanceof being shot by his friend, to the certainty of being taken by hisenemies, fairly turned tail, and darted off at full speed. Sikesclenched his teeth; took one look around; threw over the prostrate formof Oliver, the cape in which he had been hurriedly muffled; ran alongthe front of the hedge, as if to distract the attention of thosebehind, from the spot where the boy lay; paused, for a second, beforeanother hedge which met it at right angles; and whirling his pistolhigh into the air, cleared it at a bound, and was gone. 

'Ho, ho, there!' cried a tremulous voice in the rear. 'Pincher!Neptune! Come here, come here!'

The dogs, who, in common with their masters, seemed to have noparticular relish for the sport in which they were engaged, readilyanswered to the command. Three men, who had by this time advanced somedistance into the field, stopped to take counsel together. 

'My advice, or, leastways, I should say, my _orders_, is, ' said thefattest man of the party, 'that we 'mediately go home again. '

'I am agreeable to anything which is agreeable to Mr. Giles, ' said ashorter man; who was by no means of a slim figure, and who was verypale in the face, and very polite: as frightened men frequently are. 

'I shouldn't wish to appear ill-mannered, gentlemen, ' said the third, who had called the dogs back, 'Mr. Giles ought to know. '

'Certainly, ' replied the shorter man; 'and whatever Mr. Giles says, itisn't our place to contradict him. No, no, I know my sitiwation!Thank my stars, I know my sitiwation. ' To tell the truth, the littleman _did_ seem to know his situation, and to know perfectly well thatit was by no means a desirable one; for his teeth chattered in his headas he spoke. 

'You are afraid, Brittles, ' said Mr. Giles. 

'I an't, ' said Brittles. 

'You are, ' said Giles. 

'You're a falsehood, Mr. Giles, ' said Brittles. 

'You're a lie, Brittles, ' said Mr. Giles. 

Now, these four retorts arose from Mr. Giles's taunt; and Mr. Giles'staunt had arisen from his indignation at having the responsibility ofgoing home again, imposed upon himself under cover of a compliment. The third man brought the dispute to a close, most philosophically. 

'I'll tell you what it is, gentlemen, ' said he, 'we're all afraid. '

'Speak for yourself, sir, ' said Mr. Giles, who was the palest of theparty. 

'So I do, ' replied the man. 'It's natural and proper to be afraid, under such circumstances. I am. '

'So am I, ' said Brittles; 'only there's no call to tell a man he is, sobounceably. '

These frank admissions softened Mr. Giles, who at once owned that _he_was afraid; upon which, they all three faced about, and ran back againwith the completest unanimity, until Mr. Giles (who had the shortestwind of the party, as was encumbered with a pitchfork) most handsomelyinsisted on stopping, to make an apology for his hastiness of speech. 

'But it's wonderful, ' said Mr. Giles, when he had explained, 'what aman will do, when his blood is up. I should have committed murder--Iknow I should--if we'd caught one of them rascals. '

As the other two were impressed with a similar presentiment; and astheir blood, like his, had all gone down again; some speculation ensuedupon the cause of this sudden change in their temperament. 

'I know what it was, ' said Mr. Giles; 'it was the gate. '

'I shouldn't wonder if it was, ' exclaimed Brittles, catching at theidea. 

'You may depend upon it, ' said Giles, 'that that gate stopped the flowof the excitement. I felt all mine suddenly going away, as I wasclimbing over it. '

By a remarkable coincidence, the other two had been visited with thesame unpleasant sensation at that precise moment. It was quiteobvious, therefore, that it was the gate; especially as there was nodoubt regarding the time at which the change had taken place, becauseall three remembered that they had come in sight of the robbers at theinstant of its occurance. 

This dialogue was held between the two men who had surprised theburglars, and a travelling tinker who had been sleeping in an outhouse, and who had been roused, together with his two mongrel curs, to join inthe pursuit. Mr. Giles acted in the double capacity of butler andsteward to the old lady of the mansion; Brittles was a lad of all-work:who, having entered her service a mere child, was treated as apromising young boy still, though he was something past thirty. 

Encouraging each other with such converse as this; but, keeping veryclose together, notwithstanding, and looking apprehensively round, whenever a fresh gust rattled through the boughs; the three men hurriedback to a tree, behind which they had left their lantern, lest itslight should inform the thieves in what direction to fire. Catching upthe light, they made the best of their way home, at a good round trot;and long after their dusky forms had ceased to be discernible, thelight might have been seen twinkling and dancing in the distance, likesome exhalation of the damp and gloomy atmosphere through which it wasswiftly borne. 

The air grew colder, as day came slowly on; and the mist rolled alongthe ground like a dense cloud of smoke. The grass was wet; thepathways, and low places, were all mire and water; the damp breath ofan unwholesome wind went languidly by, with a hollow moaning. Still, Oliver lay motionless and insensible on the spot where Sikes had lefthim. 

Morning drew on apace. The air become more sharp and piercing, as itsfirst dull hue--the death of night, rather than the birth ofday--glimmered faintly in the sky. The objects which had looked dimand terrible in the darkness, grew more and more defined, and graduallyresolved into their familiar shapes. The rain came down, thick andfast, and pattered noisily among the leafless bushes. But, Oliver feltit not, as it beat against him; for he still lay stretched, helplessand unconscious, on his bed of clay. 

At length, a low cry of pain broke the stillness that prevailed; anduttering it, the boy awoke. His left arm, rudely bandaged in a shawl, hung heavy and useless at his side; the bandage was saturated withblood. He was so weak, that he could scarcely raise himself into asitting posture; when he had done so, he looked feebly round for help, and groaned with pain. Trembling in every joint, from cold andexhaustion, he made an effort to stand upright; but, shuddering fromhead to foot, fell prostrate on the ground. 

After a short return of the stupor in which he had been so longplunged, Oliver: urged by a creeping sickness at his heart, whichseemed to warn him that if he lay there, he must surely die: got uponhis feet, and essayed to walk. His head was dizzy, and he staggered toand fro like a drunken man. But he kept up, nevertheless, and, withhis head drooping languidly on his breast, went stumbling onward, heknew not whither. 

And now, hosts of bewildering and confused ideas came crowding on hismind. He seemed to be still walking between Sikes and Crackit, whowere angrily disputing--for the very words they said, sounded in hisears; and when he caught his own attention, as it were, by making someviolent effort to save himself from falling, he found that he wastalking to them. Then, he was alone with Sikes, plodding on as on theprevious day; and as shadowy people passed them, he felt the robber'sgrasp upon his wrist. Suddenly, he started back at the report offirearms; there rose into the air, loud cries and shouts; lightsgleamed before his eyes; all was noise and tumult, as some unseen handbore him hurriedly away. Through all these rapid visions, there ran anundefined, uneasy consciousness of pain, which wearied and tormentedhim incessantly. 

Thus he staggered on, creeping, almost mechanically, between the barsof gates, or through hedge-gaps as they came in his way, until hereached a road. Here the rain began to fall so heavily, that it rousedhim. 

He looked about, and saw that at no great distance there was a house, which perhaps he could reach. Pitying his condition, they might havecompassion on him; and if they did not, it would be better, he thought, to die near human beings, than in the lonely open fields. He summonedup all his strength for one last trial, and bent his faltering stepstowards it. 

As he drew nearer to this house, a feeling come over him that he hadseen it before. He remembered nothing of its details; but the shapeand aspect of the building seemed familiar to him. 

That garden wall! On the grass inside, he had fallen on his knees lastnight, and prayed the two men's mercy. It was the very house they hadattempted to rob. 

Oliver felt such fear come over him when he recognised the place, that, for the instant, he forgot the agony of his wound, and thought only offlight. Flight! He could scarcely stand: and if he were in fullpossession of all the best powers of his slight and youthful frame, whither could he fly? He pushed against the garden-gate; it wasunlocked, and swung open on its hinges. He tottered across the lawn;climbed the steps; knocked faintly at the door; and, his whole strengthfailing him, sunk down against one of the pillars of the little portico. 

It happened that about this time, Mr. Giles, Brittles, and the tinker, were recruiting themselves, after the fatigues and terrors of thenight, with tea and sundries, in the kitchen. Not that it was Mr. Giles's habit to admit to too great familiarity the humbler servants:towards whom it was rather his wont to deport himself with a loftyaffability, which, while it gratified, could not fail to remind them ofhis superior position in society. But, death, fires, and burglary, make all men equals; so Mr. Giles sat with his legs stretched outbefore the kitchen fender, leaning his left arm on the table, while, with his right, he illustrated a circumstantial and minute account ofthe robbery, to which his bearers (but especially the cook andhousemaid, who were of the party) listened with breathless interest. 

'It was about half-past two, ' said Mr. Giles, 'or I wouldn't swear thatit mightn't have been a little nearer three, when I woke up, and, turning round in my bed, as it might be so, (here Mr. Giles turnedround in his chair, and pulled the corner of the table-cloth over himto imitate bed-clothes, ) I fancied I heerd a noise. '

At this point of the narrative the cook turned pale, and asked thehousemaid to shut the door: who asked Brittles, who asked the tinker, who pretended not to hear. 

'--Heerd a noise, ' continued Mr. Giles. 'I says, at first, "This isillusion"; and was composing myself off to sleep, when I heerd thenoise again, distinct. '

'What sort of a noise?' asked the cook. 

'A kind of a busting noise, ' replied Mr. Giles, looking round him. 

'More like the noise of powdering a iron bar on a nutmeg-grater, 'suggested Brittles. 

'It was, when _you_ heerd it, sir, ' rejoined Mr. Giles; 'but, at thistime, it had a busting sound. I turned down the clothes'; continuedGiles, rolling back the table-cloth, 'sat up in bed; and listened. '

The cook and housemaid simultaneously ejaculated 'Lor!' and drew theirchairs closer together. 

'I heerd it now, quite apparent, ' resumed Mr. Giles. '"Somebody, " Isays, "is forcing of a door, or window; what's to be done? I'll call upthat poor lad, Brittles, and save him from being murdered in his bed;or his throat, " I says, "may be cut from his right ear to his left, without his ever knowing it. "'

Here, all eyes were turned upon Brittles, who fixed his upon thespeaker, and stared at him, with his mouth wide open, and his faceexpressive of the most unmitigated horror. 

'I tossed off the clothes, ' said Giles, throwing away the table-cloth, and looking very hard at the cook and housemaid, 'got softly out ofbed; drew on a pair of--'

'Ladies present, Mr. Giles, ' murmured the tinker. 

'--Of _shoes_, sir, ' said Giles, turning upon him, and laying greatemphasis on the word; 'seized the loaded pistol that always goesupstairs with the plate-basket; and walked on tiptoes to his room. "Brittles, " I says, when I had woke him, "don't be frightened!"'

'So you did, ' observed Brittles, in a low voice. 

'"We're dead men, I think, Brittles, " I says, ' continued Giles; '"butdon't be frightened. "'

'_Was_ he frightened?' asked the cook. 

'Not a bit of it, ' replied Mr. Giles. 'He was as firm--ah! pretty nearas firm as I was. '

'I should have died at once, I'm sure, if it had been me, ' observed thehousemaid. 

'You're a woman, ' retorted Brittles, plucking up a little. 

'Brittles is right, ' said Mr. Giles, nodding his head, approvingly;'from a woman, nothing else was to be expected. We, being men, took adark lantern that was standing on Brittle's hob, and groped our waydownstairs in the pitch dark, --as it might be so. '

Mr. Giles had risen from his seat, and taken two steps with his eyesshut, to accompany his description with appropriate action, when hestarted violently, in common with the rest of the company, and hurriedback to his chair. The cook and housemaid screamed. 

'It was a knock, ' said Mr. Giles, assuming perfect serenity. 'Open thedoor, somebody. '

Nobody moved. 

'It seems a strange sort of a thing, a knock coming at such a time inthe morning, ' said Mr. Giles, surveying the pale faces which surroundedhim, and looking very blank himself; 'but the door must be opened. Doyou hear, somebody?'

Mr. Giles, as he spoke, looked at Brittles; but that young man, beingnaturally modest, probably considered himself nobody, and so held thatthe inquiry could not have any application to him; at all events, hetendered no reply. Mr. Giles directed an appealing glance at thetinker; but he had suddenly fallen asleep. The women were out of thequestion. 

'If Brittles would rather open the door, in the presence of witnesses, 'said Mr. Giles, after a short silence, 'I am ready to make one. '

'So am I, ' said the tinker, waking up, as suddenly as he had fallenasleep. 

Brittles capitulated on these terms; and the party being somewhatre-assured by the discovery (made on throwing open the shutters) thatit was now broad day, took their way upstairs; with the dogs in front. The two women, who were afraid to stay below, brought up the rear. Bythe advice of Mr. Giles, they all talked very loud, to warn anyevil-disposed person outside, that they were strong in numbers; and bya master-stoke of policy, originating in the brain of the sameingenious gentleman, the dogs' tails were well pinched, in the hall, tomake them bark savagely. 

These precautions having been taken, Mr. Giles held on fast by thetinker's arm (to prevent his running away, as he pleasantly said), andgave the word of command to open the door. Brittles obeyed; the group, peeping timorously over each other's shoulders, beheld no moreformidable object than poor little Oliver Twist, speechless andexhausted, who raised his heavy eyes, and mutely solicited theircompassion. 

'A boy!' exclaimed Mr. Giles, valiantly, pushing the tinker into thebackground. 'What's the matter with the--eh?--Why--Brittles--lookhere--don't you know?'

Brittles, who had got behind the door to open it, no sooner saw Oliver, than he uttered a loud cry. Mr. Giles, seizing the boy by one leg andone arm (fortunately not the broken limb) lugged him straight into thehall, and deposited him at full length on the floor thereof. 

'Here he is!' bawled Giles, calling in a state of great excitement, upthe staircase; 'here's one of the thieves, ma'am! Here's a thief, miss!Wounded, miss! I shot him, miss; and Brittles held the light. '

'--In a lantern, miss, ' cried Brittles, applying one hand to the sideof his mouth, so that his voice might travel the better. 

The two women-servants ran upstairs to carry the intelligence that Mr. Giles had captured a robber; and the tinker busied himself inendeavouring to restore Oliver, lest he should die before he could behanged. In the midst of all this noise and commotion, there was hearda sweet female voice, which quelled it in an instant. 

'Giles!' whispered the voice from the stair-head. 

'I'm here, miss, ' replied Mr. Giles. 'Don't be frightened, miss; Iain't much injured. He didn't make a very desperate resistance, miss!I was soon too many for him. '

'Hush!' replied the young lady; 'you frighten my aunt as much as thethieves did. Is the poor creature much hurt?'

'Wounded desperate, miss, ' replied Giles, with indescribablecomplacency. 

'He looks as if he was a-going, miss, ' bawled Brittles, in the samemanner as before. 'Wouldn't you like to come and look at him, miss, incase he should?'

'Hush, pray; there's a good man!' rejoined the lady. 'Wait quietlyonly one instant, while I speak to aunt. '

With a footstep as soft and gentle as the voice, the speaker trippedaway. She soon returned, with the direction that the wounded personwas to be carried, carefully, upstairs to Mr. Giles's room; and thatBrittles was to saddle the pony and betake himself instantly toChertsey: from which place, he was to despatch, with all speed, aconstable and doctor. 

'But won't you take one look at him, first, miss?' asked Mr. Giles, with as much pride as if Oliver were some bird of rare plumage, that hehad skilfully brought down. 'Not one little peep, miss?'

'Not now, for the world, ' replied the young lady. 'Poor fellow! Oh!treat him kindly, Giles for my sake!'

The old servant looked up at the speaker, as she turned away, with aglance as proud and admiring as if she had been his own child. Then, bending over Oliver, he helped to carry him upstairs, with the care andsolicitude of a woman. 

CHAPTER XXIX

HAS AN INTRODUCTORY ACCOUNT OF THE INMATES OF THE HOUSE, TO WHICHOLIVER RESORTED

In a handsome room: though its furniture had rather the air ofold-fashioned comfort, than of modern elegance: there sat two ladiesat a well-spread breakfast-table. Mr. Giles, dressed with scrupulouscare in a full suit of black, was in attendance upon them. He hadtaken his station some half-way between the side-board and thebreakfast-table; and, with his body drawn up to its full height, hishead thrown back, and inclined the merest trifle on one side, his leftleg advanced, and his right hand thrust into his waist-coat, while hisleft hung down by his side, grasping a waiter, looked like one wholaboured under a very agreeable sense of his own merits and importance. 

Of the two ladies, one was well advanced in years; but the high-backedoaken chair in which she sat, was not more upright than she. Dressedwith the utmost nicety and precision, in a quaint mixture of by-gonecostume, with some slight concessions to the prevailing taste, whichrather served to point the old style pleasantly than to impair itseffect, she sat, in a stately manner, with her hands folded on thetable before her. Her eyes (and age had dimmed but little of theirbrightness) were attentively upon her young companion. 

The younger lady was in the lovely bloom and spring-time of womanhood;at that age, when, if ever angels be for God's good purposes enthronedin mortal forms, they may be, without impiety, supposed to abide insuch as hers. 

She was not past seventeen. Cast in so slight and exquisite a mould;so mild and gentle; so pure and beautiful; that earth seemed not herelement, nor its rough creatures her fit companions. The veryintelligence that shone in her deep blue eye, and was stamped upon hernoble head, seemed scarcely of her age, or of the world; and yet thechanging expression of sweetness and good humour, the thousand lightsthat played about the face, and left no shadow there; above all, thesmile, the cheerful, happy smile, were made for Home, and firesidepeace and happiness. 

She was busily engaged in the little offices of the table. Chancing toraise her eyes as the elder lady was regarding her, she playfully putback her hair, which was simply braided on her forehead; and threw intoher beaming look, such an expression of affection and artlessloveliness, that blessed spirits might have smiled to look upon her. 

'And Brittles has been gone upwards of an hour, has he?' asked the oldlady, after a pause. 

'An hour and twelve minutes, ma'am, ' replied Mr. Giles, referring to asilver watch, which he drew forth by a black ribbon. 

'He is always slow, ' remarked the old lady. 

'Brittles always was a slow boy, ma'am, ' replied the attendant. Andseeing, by the bye, that Brittles had been a slow boy for upwards ofthirty years, there appeared no great probability of his ever being afast one. 

'He gets worse instead of better, I think, ' said the elder lady. 

'It is very inexcusable in him if he stops to play with any otherboys, ' said the young lady, smiling. 

Mr. Giles was apparently considering the propriety of indulging in arespectful smile himself, when a gig drove up to the garden-gate: outof which there jumped a fat gentleman, who ran straight up to the door:and who, getting quickly into the house by some mysterious process, burst into the room, and nearly overturned Mr. Giles and thebreakfast-table together. 

'I never heard of such a thing!' exclaimed the fat gentleman. 'My dearMrs. Maylie--bless my soul--in the silence of the night, too--I _never_heard of such a thing!'

With these expressions of condolence, the fat gentleman shook handswith both ladies, and drawing up a chair, inquired how they foundthemselves. 

'You ought to be dead; positively dead with the fright, ' said the fatgentleman. 'Why didn't you send? Bless me, my man should have come ina minute; and so would I; and my assistant would have been delighted;or anybody, I'm sure, under such circumstances. Dear, dear! Sounexpected! In the silence of the night, too!'

The doctor seemed expecially troubled by the fact of the robbery havingbeen unexpected, and attempted in the night-time; as if it were theestablished custom of gentlemen in the housebreaking way to transactbusiness at noon, and to make an appointment, by post, a day or twoprevious. 

'And you, Miss Rose, ' said the doctor, turning to the young lady, 'I--'

'Oh! very much so, indeed, ' said Rose, interrupting him; 'but there isa poor creature upstairs, whom aunt wishes you to see. '

'Ah! to be sure, ' replied the doctor, 'so there is. That was yourhandiwork, Giles, I understand. '

Mr. Giles, who had been feverishly putting the tea-cups to rights, blushed very red, and said that he had had that honour. 

'Honour, eh?' said the doctor; 'well, I don't know; perhaps it's ashonourable to hit a thief in a back kitchen, as to hit your man attwelve paces. Fancy that he fired in the air, and you've fought aduel, Giles. '

Mr. Giles, who thought this light treatment of the matter an unjustattempt at diminishing his glory, answered respectfully, that it wasnot for the like of him to judge about that; but he rather thought itwas no joke to the opposite party. 

'Gad, that's true!' said the doctor. 'Where is he? Show me the way. I'll look in again, as I come down, Mrs. Maylie. That's the littlewindow that he got in at, eh? Well, I couldn't have believed it!'

Talking all the way, he followed Mr. Giles upstairs; and while he isgoing upstairs, the reader may be informed, that Mr. Losberne, asurgeon in the neighbourhood, known through a circuit of ten milesround as 'the doctor, ' had grown fat, more from good-humour than fromgood living: and was as kind and hearty, and withal as eccentric anold bachelor, as will be found in five times that space, by anyexplorer alive. 

The doctor was absent, much longer than either he or the ladies hadanticipated. A large flat box was fetched out of the gig; and abedroom bell was rung very often; and the servants ran up and downstairs perpetually; from which tokens it was justly concluded thatsomething important was going on above. At length he returned; and inreply to an anxious inquiry after his patient; looked very mysterious, and closed the door, carefully. 

'This is a very extraordinary thing, Mrs. Maylie, ' said the doctor, standing with his back to the door, as if to keep it shut. 

'He is not in danger, I hope?' said the old lady. 

'Why, that would _not_ be an extraordinary thing, under thecircumstances, ' replied the doctor; 'though I don't think he is. Haveyou seen the thief?'

'No, ' rejoined the old lady. 

'Nor heard anything about him?'

'No. '

'I beg your pardon, ma'am, interposed Mr. Giles; 'but I was going totell you about him when Doctor Losberne came in. '

The fact was, that Mr. Giles had not, at first, been able to bring hismind to the avowal, that he had only shot a boy. Such commendationshad been bestowed upon his bravery, that he could not, for the life ofhim, help postponing the explanation for a few delicious minutes;during which he had flourished, in the very zenith of a briefreputation for undaunted courage. 

'Rose wished to see the man, ' said Mrs. Maylie, 'but I wouldn't hear ofit. '

'Humph!' rejoined the doctor. 'There is nothing very alarming in hisappearance. Have you any objection to see him in my presence?'

'If it be necessary, ' replied the old lady, 'certainly not. '

'Then I think it is necessary, ' said the doctor; 'at all events, I amquite sure that you would deeply regret not having done so, if youpostponed it. He is perfectly quiet and comfortable now. Allowme--Miss Rose, will you permit me? Not the slightest fear, I pledgeyou my honour!'

CHAPTER XXX

RELATES WHAT OLIVER'S NEW VISITORS THOUGHT OF HIM

With many loquacious assurances that they would be agreeably surprisedin the aspect of the criminal, the doctor drew the young lady's armthrough one of his; and offering his disengaged hand to Mrs. Maylie, led them, with much ceremony and stateliness, upstairs. 

'Now, ' said the doctor, in a whisper, as he softly turned the handle ofa bedroom-door, 'let us hear what you think of him. He has not beenshaved very recently, but he don't look at all ferociousnotwithstanding. Stop, though! Let me first see that he is invisiting order. '

Stepping before them, he looked into the room. Motioning them toadvance, he closed the door when they had entered; and gently drew backthe curtains of the bed. Upon it, in lieu of the dogged, black-visagedruffian they had expected to behold, there lay a mere child: worn withpain and exhaustion, and sunk into a deep sleep. His wounded arm, bound and splintered up, was crossed upon his breast; his head reclinedupon the other arm, which was half hidden by his long hair, as itstreamed over the pillow. 

The honest gentleman held the curtain in his hand, and looked on, for aminute or so, in silence. Whilst he was watching the patient thus, theyounger lady glided softly past, and seating herself in a chair by thebedside, gathered Oliver's hair from his face. As she stooped overhim, her tears fell upon his forehead. 

The boy stirred, and smiled in his sleep, as though these marks of pityand compassion had awakened some pleasant dream of a love and affectionhe had never known. Thus, a strain of gentle music, or the rippling ofwater in a silent place, or the odour of a flower, or the mention of afamiliar word, will sometimes call up sudden dim remembrances of scenesthat never were, in this life; which vanish like a breath; which somebrief memory of a happier existence, long gone by, would seem to haveawakened; which no voluntary exertion of the mind can ever recall. 

'What can this mean?' exclaimed the elder lady. 'This poor child cannever have been the pupil of robbers!'

'Vice, ' said the surgeon, replacing the curtain, 'takes up her abode inmany temples; and who can say that a fair outside shell not enshrineher?'

'But at so early an age!' urged Rose. 

'My dear young lady, ' rejoined the surgeon, mournfully shaking hishead; 'crime, like death, is not confined to the old and witheredalone. The youngest and fairest are too often its chosen victims. '

'But, can you--oh! can you really believe that this delicate boy hasbeen the voluntary associate of the worst outcasts of society?' saidRose. 

The surgeon shook his head, in a manner which intimated that he fearedit was very possible; and observing that they might disturb thepatient, led the way into an adjoining apartment. 

'But even if he has been wicked, ' pursued Rose, 'think how young he is;think that he may never have known a mother's love, or the comfort of ahome; that ill-usage and blows, or the want of bread, may have drivenhim to herd with men who have forced him to guilt. Aunt, dear aunt, for mercy's sake, think of this, before you let them drag this sickchild to a prison, which in any case must be the grave of all hischances of amendment. Oh! as you love me, and know that I have neverfelt the want of parents in your goodness and affection, but that Imight have done so, and might have been equally helpless andunprotected with this poor child, have pity upon him before it is toolate!'

'My dear love, ' said the elder lady, as she folded the weeping girl toher bosom, 'do you think I would harm a hair of his head?'

'Oh, no!' replied Rose, eagerly. 

'No, surely, ' said the old lady; 'my days are drawing to their close:and may mercy be shown to me as I show it to others! What can I do tosave him, sir?'

'Let me think, ma'am, ' said the doctor; 'let me think. '

Mr. Losberne thrust his hands into his pockets, and took several turnsup and down the room; often stopping, and balancing himself on histoes, and frowning frightfully. After various exclamations of 'I'vegot it now' and 'no, I haven't, ' and as many renewals of the walkingand frowning, he at length made a dead halt, and spoke as follows:

'I think if you give me a full and unlimited commission to bully Giles, and that little boy, Brittles, I can manage it. Giles is a faithfulfellow and an old servant, I know; but you can make it up to him in athousand ways, and reward him for being such a good shot besides. Youdon't object to that?'

'Unless there is some other way of preserving the child, ' replied Mrs. Maylie. 

'There is no other, ' said the doctor. 'No other, take my word for it. '

'Then my aunt invests you with full power, ' said Rose, smiling throughher tears; 'but pray don't be harder upon the poor fellows than isindispensably necessary. '

'You seem to think, ' retorted the doctor, 'that everybody is disposedto be hard-hearted to-day, except yourself, Miss Rose. I only hope, forthe sake of the rising male sex generally, that you may be found in asvulnerable and soft-hearted a mood by the first eligible young fellowwho appeals to your compassion; and I wish I were a young fellow, thatI might avail myself, on the spot, of such a favourable opportunity fordoing so, as the present. '

'You are as great a boy as poor Brittles himself, ' returned Rose, blushing. 

'Well, ' said the doctor, laughing heartily, 'that is no very difficultmatter. But to return to this boy. The great point of our agreementis yet to come. He will wake in an hour or so, I dare say; andalthough I have told that thick-headed constable-fellow downstairs thathe musn't be moved or spoken to, on peril of his life, I think we mayconverse with him without danger. Now I make this stipulation--that Ishall examine him in your presence, and that, if, from what he says, wejudge, and I can show to the satisfaction of your cool reason, that heis a real and thorough bad one (which is more than possible), he shallbe left to his fate, without any farther interference on my part, atall events. '

'Oh no, aunt!' entreated Rose. 

'Oh yes, aunt!' said the doctor. 'Is is a bargain?'

'He cannot be hardened in vice, ' said Rose; 'It is impossible. '

'Very good, ' retorted the doctor; 'then so much the more reason foracceding to my proposition. '

Finally the treaty was entered into; and the parties thereunto sat downto wait, with some impatience, until Oliver should awake. 

The patience of the two ladies was destined to undergo a longer trialthan Mr. Losberne had led them to expect; for hour after hour passedon, and still Oliver slumbered heavily. It was evening, indeed, beforethe kind-hearted doctor brought them the intelligence, that he was atlength sufficiently restored to be spoken to. The boy was very ill, hesaid, and weak from the loss of blood; but his mind was so troubledwith anxiety to disclose something, that he deemed it better to givehim the opportunity, than to insist upon his remaining quiet until nextmorning: which he should otherwise have done. 

The conference was a long one. Oliver told them all his simplehistory, and was often compelled to stop, by pain and want of strength. It was a solemn thing, to hear, in the darkened room, the feeble voiceof the sick child recounting a weary catalogue of evils and calamitieswhich hard men had brought upon him. Oh! if when we oppress and grindour fellow-creatures, we bestowed but one thought on the dark evidencesof human error, which, like dense and heavy clouds, are rising, slowlyit is true, but not less surely, to Heaven, to pour theirafter-vengeance on our heads; if we heard but one instant, inimagination, the deep testimony of dead men's voices, which no powercan stifle, and no pride shut out; where would be the injury andinjustice, the suffering, misery, cruelty, and wrong, that each day'slife brings with it!

Oliver's pillow was smoothed by gentle hands that night; and lovelinessand virtue watched him as he slept. He felt calm and happy, and couldhave died without a murmur. 

The momentous interview was no sooner concluded, and Oliver composed torest again, than the doctor, after wiping his eyes, and condemning themfor being weak all at once, betook himself downstairs to open upon Mr. Giles. And finding nobody about the parlours, it occurred to him, thathe could perhaps originate the proceedings with better effect in thekitchen; so into the kitchen he went. 

There were assembled, in that lower house of the domestic parliament, the women-servants, Mr. Brittles, Mr. Giles, the tinker (who hadreceived a special invitation to regale himself for the remainder ofthe day, in consideration of his services), and the constable. Thelatter gentleman had a large staff, a large head, large features, andlarge half-boots; and he looked as if he had been taking aproportionate allowance of ale--as indeed he had. 

The adventures of the previous night were still under discussion; forMr. Giles was expatiating upon his presence of mind, when the doctorentered; Mr. Brittles, with a mug of ale in his hand, was corroboratingeverything, before his superior said it. 

'Sit still!' said the doctor, waving his hand. 

'Thank you, sir, said Mr. Giles. 'Misses wished some ale to be givenout, sir; and as I felt no ways inclined for my own little room, sir, and was disposed for company, I am taking mine among 'em here. '

Brittles headed a low murmur, by which the ladies and gentlemengenerally were understood to express the gratification they derivedfrom Mr. Giles's condescension. Mr. Giles looked round with apatronising air, as much as to say that so long as they behavedproperly, he would never desert them. 

'How is the patient to-night, sir?' asked Giles. 

'So-so'; returned the doctor. 'I am afraid you have got yourself intoa scrape there, Mr. Giles. '

'I hope you don't mean to say, sir, ' said Mr. Giles, trembling, 'thathe's going to die. If I thought it, I should never be happy again. Iwouldn't cut a boy off: no, not even Brittles here; not for all theplate in the county, sir. '

'That's not the point, ' said the doctor, mysteriously. 'Mr. Giles, areyou a Protestant?'

'Yes, sir, I hope so, ' faltered Mr. Giles, who had turned very pale. 

'And what are _you_, boy?' said the doctor, turning sharply uponBrittles. 

'Lord bless me, sir!' replied Brittles, starting violently; 'I'm thesame as Mr. Giles, sir. '

'Then tell me this, ' said the doctor, 'both of you, both of you! Areyou going to take upon yourselves to swear, that that boy upstairs isthe boy that was put through the little window last night? Out withit! Come! We are prepared for you!'

The doctor, who was universally considered one of the best-temperedcreatures on earth, made this demand in such a dreadful tone of anger, that Giles and Brittles, who were considerably muddled by ale andexcitement, stared at each other in a state of stupefaction. 

'Pay attention to the reply, constable, will you?' said the doctor, shaking his forefinger with great solemnity of manner, and tapping thebridge of his nose with it, to bespeak the exercise of that worthy'sutmost acuteness. 'Something may come of this before long. '

The constable looked as wise as he could, and took up his staff ofoffice: which had been reclining indolently in the chimney-corner. 

'It's a simple question of identity, you will observe, ' said the doctor. 

'That's what it is, sir, ' replied the constable, coughing with greatviolence; for he had finished his ale in a hurry, and some of it hadgone the wrong way. 

'Here's the house broken into, ' said the doctor, 'and a couple of mencatch one moment's glimpse of a boy, in the midst of gunpowder smoke, and in all the distraction of alarm and darkness. Here's a boy comesto that very same house, next morning, and because he happens to havehis arm tied up, these men lay violent hands upon him--by doing which, they place his life in great danger--and swear he is the thief. Now, the question is, whether these men are justified by the fact; if not, in what situation do they place themselves?'

The constable nodded profoundly. He said, if that wasn't law, he wouldbe glad to know what was. 

'I ask you again, ' thundered the doctor, 'are you, on your solemnoaths, able to identify that boy?'

Brittles looked doubtfully at Mr. Giles; Mr. Giles looked doubtfully atBrittles; the constable put his hand behind his ear, to catch thereply; the two women and the tinker leaned forward to listen; thedoctor glanced keenly round; when a ring was heard at the gate, and atthe same moment, the sound of wheels. 

'It's the runners!' cried Brittles, to all appearance much relieved. 

'The what?' exclaimed the doctor, aghast in his turn. 

'The Bow Street officers, sir, ' replied Brittles, taking up a candle;'me and Mr. Giles sent for 'em this morning. '

'What?' cried the doctor. 

'Yes, ' replied Brittles; 'I sent a message up by the coachman, and Ionly wonder they weren't here before, sir. '

'You did, did you? Then confound your--slow coaches down here; that'sall, ' said the doctor, walking away. 

CHAPTER XXXI

INVOLVES A CRITICAL POSITION

'Who's that?' inquired Brittles, opening the door a little way, withthe chain up, and peeping out, shading the candle with his hand. 

'Open the door, ' replied a man outside; 'it's the officers from BowStreet, as was sent to to-day. '

Much comforted by this assurance, Brittles opened the door to its fullwidth, and confronted a portly man in a great-coat; who walked in, without saying anything more, and wiped his shoes on the mat, as coollyas if he lived there. 

'Just send somebody out to relieve my mate, will you, young man?' saidthe officer; 'he's in the gig, a-minding the prad. Have you got acoach 'us here, that you could put it up in, for five or ten minutes?'

Brittles replying in the affirmative, and pointing out the building, the portly man stepped back to the garden-gate, and helped hiscompanion to put up the gig: while Brittles lighted them, in a stateof great admiration. This done, they returned to the house, and, beingshown into a parlour, took off their great-coats and hats, and showedlike what they were. 

The man who had knocked at the door, was a stout personage of middleheight, aged about fifty: with shiny black hair, cropped pretty close;half-whiskers, a round face, and sharp eyes. The other was ared-headed, bony man, in top-boots; with a rather ill-favouredcountenance, and a turned-up sinister-looking nose. 

'Tell your governor that Blathers and Duff is here, will you?' said thestouter man, smoothing down his hair, and laying a pair of handcuffs onthe table. 'Oh! Good-evening, master. Can I have a word or two withyou in private, if you please?'

This was addressed to Mr. Losberne, who now made his appearance; thatgentleman, motioning Brittles to retire, brought in the two ladies, andshut the door. 

'This is the lady of the house, ' said Mr. Losberne, motioning towardsMrs. Maylie. 

Mr. Blathers made a bow. Being desired to sit down, he put his hat onthe floor, and taking a chair, motioned to Duff to do the same. Thelatter gentleman, who did not appear quite so much accustomed to goodsociety, or quite so much at his ease in it--one of the two--seatedhimself, after undergoing several muscular affections of the limbs, andthe head of his stick into his mouth, with some embarrassment. 

'Now, with regard to this here robbery, master, ' said Blathers. 'Whatare the circumstances?'

Mr. Losberne, who appeared desirous of gaining time, recounted them atgreat length, and with much circumlocution. Messrs. Blathers and Dufflooked very knowing meanwhile, and occasionally exchanged a nod. 

'I can't say, for certain, till I see the work, of course, ' saidBlathers; 'but my opinion at once is, --I don't mind committing myselfto that extent, --that this wasn't done by a yokel; eh, Duff?'

'Certainly not, ' replied Duff. 

'And, translating the word yokel for the benefit of the ladies, Iapprehend your meaning to be, that this attempt was not made by acountryman?' said Mr. Losberne, with a smile. 

'That's it, master, ' replied Blathers. 'This is all about the robbery, is it?'

'All, ' replied the doctor. 

'Now, what is this, about this here boy that the servants are a-talkingon?' said Blathers. 

'Nothing at all, ' replied the doctor. 'One of the frightened servantschose to take it into his head, that he had something to do with thisattempt to break into the house; but it's nonsense: sheer absurdity. '

'Wery easy disposed of, if it is, ' remarked Duff. 

'What he says is quite correct, ' observed Blathers, nodding his head ina confirmatory way, and playing carelessly with the handcuffs, as ifthey were a pair of castanets. 'Who is the boy? What account does hegive of himself? Where did he come from? He didn't drop out of theclouds, did he, master?'

'Of course not, ' replied the doctor, with a nervous glance at the twoladies. 'I know his whole history: but we can talk about thatpresently. You would like, first, to see the place where the thievesmade their attempt, I suppose?'

'Certainly, ' rejoined Mr. Blathers. 'We had better inspect thepremises first, and examine the servants afterwards. That's the usualway of doing business. '

Lights were then procured; and Messrs. Blathers and Duff, attended bythe native constable, Brittles, Giles, and everybody else in short, went into the little room at the end of the passage and looked out atthe window; and afterwards went round by way of the lawn, and looked inat the window; and after that, had a candle handed out to inspect theshutter with; and after that, a lantern to trace the footsteps with;and after that, a pitchfork to poke the bushes with. This done, amidstthe breathless interest of all beholders, they came in again; and Mr. Giles and Brittles were put through a melodramatic representation oftheir share in the previous night's adventures: which they performedsome six times over: contradicting each other, in not more than oneimportant respect, the first time, and in not more than a dozen thelast. This consummation being arrived at, Blathers and Duff clearedthe room, and held a long council together, compared with which, forsecrecy and solemnity, a consultation of great doctors on the knottiestpoint in medicine, would be mere child's play. 

Meanwhile, the doctor walked up and down the next room in a very uneasystate; and Mrs. Maylie and Rose looked on, with anxious faces. 

'Upon my word, ' he said, making a halt, after a great number of veryrapid turns, 'I hardly know what to do. '

'Surely, ' said Rose, 'the poor child's story, faithfully repeated tothese men, will be sufficient to exonerate him. '

'I doubt it, my dear young lady, ' said the doctor, shaking his head. 'I don't think it would exonerate him, either with them, or with legalfunctionaries of a higher grade. What is he, after all, they wouldsay? A runaway. Judged by mere worldly considerations andprobabilities, his story is a very doubtful one. '

'You believe it, surely?' interrupted Rose. 

'_I_ believe it, strange as it is; and perhaps I may be an old fool fordoing so, ' rejoined the doctor; 'but I don't think it is exactly thetale for a practical police-officer, nevertheless. '

'Why not?' demanded Rose. 

'Because, my pretty cross-examiner, ' replied the doctor: 'because, viewed with their eyes, there are many ugly points about it; he canonly prove the parts that look ill, and none of those that look well. Confound the fellows, they _will_ have the why and the wherefore, andwill take nothing for granted. On his own showing, you see, he hasbeen the companion of thieves for some time past; he has been carriedto a police-officer, on a charge of picking a gentleman's pocket; hehas been taken away, forcibly, from that gentleman's house, to a placewhich he cannot describe or point out, and of the situation of which hehas not the remotest idea. He is brought down to Chertsey, by men whoseem to have taken a violent fancy to him, whether he will or no; andis put through a window to rob a house; and then, just at the verymoment when he is going to alarm the inmates, and so do the very thingthat would set him all to rights, there rushes into the way, ablundering dog of a half-bred butler, and shoots him! As if on purposeto prevent his doing any good for himself! Don't you see all this?'

'I see it, of course, ' replied Rose, smiling at the doctor'simpetuosity; 'but still I do not see anything in it, to criminate thepoor child. '

'No, ' replied the doctor; 'of course not! Bless the bright eyes ofyour sex! They never see, whether for good or bad, more than one sideof any question; and that is, always, the one which first presentsitself to them. '

Having given vent to this result of experience, the doctor put hishands into his pockets, and walked up and down the room with evengreater rapidity than before. 

'The more I think of it, ' said the doctor, 'the more I see that it willoccasion endless trouble and difficulty if we put these men inpossession of the boy's real story. I am certain it will not bebelieved; and even if they can do nothing to him in the end, still thedragging it forward, and giving publicity to all the doubts that willbe cast upon it, must interfere, materially, with your benevolent planof rescuing him from misery. '

'Oh! what is to be done?' cried Rose. 'Dear, dear! why did they sendfor these people?'

'Why, indeed!' exclaimed Mrs. Maylie. 'I would not have had them here, for the world. '

'All I know is, ' said Mr. Losberne, at last: sitting down with a kindof desperate calmness, 'that we must try and carry it off with a boldface. The object is a good one, and that must be our excuse. The boyhas strong symptoms of fever upon him, and is in no condition to betalked to any more; that's one comfort. We must make the best of it;and if bad be the best, it is no fault of ours. Come in!'

'Well, master, ' said Blathers, entering the room followed by hiscolleague, and making the door fast, before he said any more. 'Thiswarn't a put-up thing. '

'And what the devil's a put-up thing?' demanded the doctor, impatiently. 

'We call it a put-up robbery, ladies, ' said Blathers, turning to them, as if he pitied their ignorance, but had a contempt for the doctor's, 'when the servants is in it. '

'Nobody suspected them, in this case, ' said Mrs. Maylie. 

'Wery likely not, ma'am, ' replied Blathers; 'but they might have beenin it, for all that. '

'More likely on that wery account, ' said Duff. 

'We find it was a town hand, ' said Blathers, continuing his report;'for the style of work is first-rate. '

'Wery pretty indeed it is, ' remarked Duff, in an undertone. 

'There was two of 'em in it, ' continued Blathers; 'and they had a boywith 'em; that's plain from the size of the window. That's all to besaid at present. We'll see this lad that you've got upstairs at once, if you please. '

'Perhaps they will take something to drink first, Mrs. Maylie?' saidthe doctor: his face brightening, as if some new thought had occurredto him. 

'Oh! to be sure!' exclaimed Rose, eagerly. 'You shall have itimmediately, if you will. '

'Why, thank you, miss!' said Blathers, drawing his coat-sleeve acrosshis mouth; 'it's dry work, this sort of duty. Anythink that's handy, miss; don't put yourself out of the way, on our accounts. '

'What shall it be?' asked the doctor, following the young lady to thesideboard. 

'A little drop of spirits, master, if it's all the same, ' repliedBlathers. 'It's a cold ride from London, ma'am; and I always find thatspirits comes home warmer to the feelings. '

This interesting communication was addressed to Mrs. Maylie, whoreceived it very graciously. While it was being conveyed to her, thedoctor slipped out of the room. 

'Ah!' said Mr. Blathers: not holding his wine-glass by the stem, butgrasping the bottom between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand:and placing it in front of his chest; 'I have seen a good many piecesof business like this, in my time, ladies. '

'That crack down in the back lane at Edmonton, Blathers, ' said Mr. Duff, assisting his colleague's memory. 

'That was something in this way, warn't it?' rejoined Mr. Blathers;'that was done by Conkey Chickweed, that was. '

'You always gave that to him' replied Duff. 'It was the Family Pet, Itell you. Conkey hadn't any more to do with it than I had. '

'Get out!' retorted Mr. Blathers; 'I know better. Do you mind thattime when Conkey was robbed of his money, though? What a start thatwas! Better than any novel-book _I_ ever see!'

'What was that?' inquired Rose: anxious to encourage any symptoms ofgood-humour in the unwelcome visitors. 

'It was a robbery, miss, that hardly anybody would have been downupon, ' said Blathers. 'This here Conkey Chickweed--'

'Conkey means Nosey, ma'am, ' interposed Duff. 

'Of course the lady knows that, don't she?' demanded Mr. Blathers. 'Always interrupting, you are, partner! This here Conkey Chickweed, miss, kept a public-house over Battlebridge way, and he had a cellar, where a good many young lords went to see cock-fighting, andbadger-drawing, and that; and a wery intellectual manner the sports wasconducted in, for I've seen 'em off'en. He warn't one of the family, at that time; and one night he was robbed of three hundred andtwenty-seven guineas in a canvas bag, that was stole out of his bedroomin the dead of night, by a tall man with a black patch over his eye, who had concealed himself under the bed, and after committing therobbery, jumped slap out of window: which was only a story high. Hewas wery quick about it. But Conkey was quick, too; for he fired ablunderbuss arter him, and roused the neighbourhood. They set up ahue-and-cry, directly, and when they came to look about 'em, found thatConkey had hit the robber; for there was traces of blood, all the wayto some palings a good distance off; and there they lost 'em. However, he had made off with the blunt; and, consequently, the name of Mr. Chickweed, licensed witler, appeared in the Gazette among the otherbankrupts; and all manner of benefits and subscriptions, and I don'tknow what all, was got up for the poor man, who was in a wery low stateof mind about his loss, and went up and down the streets, for three orfour days, a pulling his hair off in such a desperate manner that manypeople was afraid he might be going to make away with himself. One dayhe came up to the office, all in a hurry, and had a private interviewwith the magistrate, who, after a deal of talk, rings the bell, andorders Jem Spyers in (Jem was a active officer), and tells him to goand assist Mr. Chickweed in apprehending the man as robbed his house. "I see him, Spyers, " said Chickweed, "pass my house yesterday morning, ""Why didn't you up, and collar him!" says Spyers. "I was so struck allof a heap, that you might have fractured my skull with a toothpick, "says the poor man; "but we're sure to have him; for between ten andeleven o'clock at night he passed again. " Spyers no sooner heard this, than he put some clean linen and a comb, in his pocket, in case heshould have to stop a day or two; and away he goes, and sets himselfdown at one of the public-house windows behind the little red curtain, with his hat on, all ready to bolt out, at a moment's notice. He wassmoking his pipe here, late at night, when all of a sudden Chickweedroars out, "Here he is! Stop thief! Murder!" Jem Spyers dashes out;and there he sees Chickweed, a-tearing down the street full cry. Awaygoes Spyers; on goes Chickweed; round turns the people; everybody roarsout, "Thieves!" and Chickweed himself keeps on shouting, all the time, like mad. Spyers loses sight of him a minute as he turns a corner;shoots round; sees a little crowd; dives in; "Which is the man?""D--me!" says Chickweed, "I've lost him again!" It was a remarkableoccurrence, but he warn't to be seen nowhere, so they went back to thepublic-house. Next morning, Spyers took his old place, and looked out, from behind the curtain, for a tall man with a black patch over hiseye, till his own two eyes ached again. At last, he couldn't helpshutting 'em, to ease 'em a minute; and the very moment he did so, hehears Chickweed a-roaring out, "Here he is!" Off he starts once more, with Chickweed half-way down the street ahead of him; and after twiceas long a run as the yesterday's one, the man's lost again! This wasdone, once or twice more, till one-half the neighbours gave out thatMr. Chickweed had been robbed by the devil, who was playing tricks withhim arterwards; and the other half, that poor Mr. Chickweed had gonemad with grief. '

'What did Jem Spyers say?' inquired the doctor; who had returned to theroom shortly after the commencement of the story. 

'Jem Spyers, ' resumed the officer, 'for a long time said nothing atall, and listened to everything without seeming to, which showed heunderstood his business. But, one morning, he walked into the bar, andtaking out his snuffbox, says "Chickweed, I've found out who done thishere robbery. " "Have you?" said Chickweed. "Oh, my dear Spyers, onlylet me have wengeance, and I shall die contented! Oh, my dear Spyers, where is the villain!" "Come!" said Spyers, offering him a pinch ofsnuff, "none of that gammon! You did it yourself. " So he had; and agood bit of money he had made by it, too; and nobody would never havefound it out, if he hadn't been so precious anxious to keep upappearances!' said Mr. Blathers, putting down his wine-glass, andclinking the handcuffs together. 

'Very curious, indeed, ' observed the doctor. 'Now, if you please, youcan walk upstairs. '

'If _you_ please, sir, ' returned Mr. Blathers. Closely following Mr. Losberne, the two officers ascended to Oliver's bedroom; Mr. Gilespreceding the party, with a lighted candle. 

Oliver had been dozing; but looked worse, and was more feverish than hehad appeared yet. Being assisted by the doctor, he managed to sit upin bed for a minute or so; and looked at the strangers without at allunderstanding what was going forward--in fact, without seeming torecollect where he was, or what had been passing. 

'This, ' said Mr. Losberne, speaking softly, but with great vehemencenotwithstanding, 'this is the lad, who, being accidently wounded by aspring-gun in some boyish trespass on Mr. What-d' ye-call-him'sgrounds, at the back here, comes to the house for assistance thismorning, and is immediately laid hold of and maltreated, by thatingenious gentleman with the candle in his hand: who has placed hislife in considerable danger, as I can professionally certify. '

Messrs. Blathers and Duff looked at Mr. Giles, as he was thusrecommended to their notice. The bewildered butler gazed from themtowards Oliver, and from Oliver towards Mr. Losberne, with a mostludicrous mixture of fear and perplexity. 

'You don't mean to deny that, I suppose?' said the doctor, layingOliver gently down again. 

'It was all done for the--for the best, sir, ' answered Giles. 'I amsure I thought it was the boy, or I wouldn't have meddled with him. Iam not of an inhuman disposition, sir. '

'Thought it was what boy?' inquired the senior officer. 

'The housebreaker's boy, sir!' replied Giles. 'They--they certainlyhad a boy. '

'Well? Do you think so now?' inquired Blathers. 

'Think what, now?' replied Giles, looking vacantly at his questioner. 

'Think it's the same boy, Stupid-head?' rejoined Blathers, impatiently. 

'I don't know; I really don't know, ' said Giles, with a ruefulcountenance. 'I couldn't swear to him. '

'What do you think?' asked Mr. Blathers. 

'I don't know what to think, ' replied poor Giles. 'I don't think it isthe boy; indeed, I'm almost certain that it isn't. You know it can'tbe. '

'Has this man been a-drinking, sir?' inquired Blathers, turning to thedoctor. 

'What a precious muddle-headed chap you are!' said Duff, addressing Mr. Giles, with supreme contempt. 

Mr. Losberne had been feeling the patient's pulse during this shortdialogue; but he now rose from the chair by the bedside, and remarked, that if the officers had any doubts upon the subject, they wouldperhaps like to step into the next room, and have Brittles before them. 

Acting upon this suggestion, they adjourned to a neighbouringapartment, where Mr. Brittles, being called in, involved himself andhis respected superior in such a wonderful maze of fresh contradictionsand impossibilities, as tended to throw no particular light onanything, but the fact of his own strong mystification; except, indeed, his declarations that he shouldn't know the real boy, if he were putbefore him that instant; that he had only taken Oliver to be he, because Mr. Giles had said he was; and that Mr. Giles had, five minutespreviously, admitted in the kitchen, that he began to be very muchafraid he had been a little too hasty. 

Among other ingenious surmises, the question was then raised, whetherMr. Giles had really hit anybody; and upon examination of the fellowpistol to that which he had fired, it turned out to have no moredestructive loading than gunpowder and brown paper: a discovery whichmade a considerable impression on everybody but the doctor, who haddrawn the ball about ten minutes before. Upon no one, however, did itmake a greater impression than on Mr. Giles himself; who, afterlabouring, for some hours, under the fear of having mortally wounded afellow-creature, eagerly caught at this new idea, and favoured it tothe utmost. Finally, the officers, without troubling themselves verymuch about Oliver, left the Chertsey constable in the house, and tookup their rest for that night in the town; promising to return the nextmorning. 

With the next morning, there came a rumour, that two men and a boy werein the cage at Kingston, who had been apprehended over night undersuspicious circumstances; and to Kingston Messrs. Blathers and Duffjourneyed accordingly. The suspicious circumstances, however, resolvingthemselves, on investigation, into the one fact, that they had beendiscovered sleeping under a haystack; which, although a great crime, isonly punishable by imprisonment, and is, in the merciful eye of theEnglish law, and its comprehensive love of all the King's subjects, held to be no satisfactory proof, in the absence of all other evidence, that the sleeper, or sleepers, have committed burglary accompanied withviolence, and have therefore rendered themselves liable to thepunishment of death; Messrs. Blathers and Duff came back again, as wiseas they went. 

In short, after some more examination, and a great deal moreconversation, a neighbouring magistrate was readily induced to take thejoint bail of Mrs. Maylie and Mr. Losberne for Oliver's appearance ifhe should ever be called upon; and Blathers and Duff, being rewardedwith a couple of guineas, returned to town with divided opinions on thesubject of their expedition: the latter gentleman on a matureconsideration of all the circumstances, inclining to the belief thatthe burglarious attempt had originated with the Family Pet; and theformer being equally disposed to concede the full merit of it to thegreat Mr. Conkey Chickweed. 

Meanwhile, Oliver gradually throve and prospered under the united careof Mrs. Maylie, Rose, and the kind-hearted Mr. Losberne. If ferventprayers, gushing from hearts overcharged with gratitude, be heard inheaven--and if they be not, what prayers are!--the blessings which theorphan child called down upon them, sunk into their souls, diffusingpeace and happiness. 

CHAPTER XXXII

OF THE HAPPY LIFE OLIVER BEGAN TO LEAD WITH HIS KIND FRIENDS

Oliver's ailings were neither slight nor few. In addition to the painand delay attendant on a broken limb, his exposure to the wet and coldhad brought on fever and ague: which hung about him for many weeks, and reduced him sadly. But, at length, he began, by slow degrees, toget better, and to be able to say sometimes, in a few tearful words, how deeply he felt the goodness of the two sweet ladies, and howardently he hoped that when he grew strong and well again, he could dosomething to show his gratitude; only something, which would let themsee the love and duty with which his breast was full; something, however slight, which would prove to them that their gentle kindnesshad not been cast away; but that the poor boy whom their charity hadrescued from misery, or death, was eager to serve them with his wholeheart and soul. 

'Poor fellow!' said Rose, when Oliver had been one day feeblyendeavouring to utter the words of thankfulness that rose to his palelips; 'you shall have many opportunities of serving us, if you will. We are going into the country, and my aunt intends that you shallaccompany us. The quiet place, the pure air, and all the pleasure andbeauties of spring, will restore you in a few days. We will employ youin a hundred ways, when you can bear the trouble. '

'The trouble!' cried Oliver. 'Oh! dear lady, if I could but work foryou; if I could only give you pleasure by watering your flowers, orwatching your birds, or running up and down the whole day long, to makeyou happy; what would I give to do it!'

'You shall give nothing at all, ' said Miss Maylie, smiling; 'for, as Itold you before, we shall employ you in a hundred ways; and if you onlytake half the trouble to please us, that you promise now, you will makeme very happy indeed. '

'Happy, ma'am!' cried Oliver; 'how kind of you to say so!'

'You will make me happier than I can tell you, ' replied the young lady. 'To think that my dear good aunt should have been the means of rescuingany one from such sad misery as you have described to us, would be anunspeakable pleasure to me; but to know that the object of her goodnessand compassion was sincerely grateful and attached, in consequence, would delight me, more than you can well imagine. Do you understandme?' she inquired, watching Oliver's thoughtful face. 

'Oh yes, ma'am, yes!' replied Oliver eagerly; 'but I was thinking thatI am ungrateful now. '

'To whom?' inquired the young lady. 

'To the kind gentleman, and the dear old nurse, who took so much careof me before, ' rejoined Oliver. 'If they knew how happy I am, theywould be pleased, I am sure. '

'I am sure they would, ' rejoined Oliver's benefactress; 'and Mr. Losberne has already been kind enough to promise that when you are wellenough to bear the journey, he will carry you to see them. '

'Has he, ma'am?' cried Oliver, his face brightening with pleasure. 'Idon't know what I shall do for joy when I see their kind faces onceagain!'

In a short time Oliver was sufficiently recovered to undergo thefatigue of this expedition. One morning he and Mr. Losberne set out, accordingly, in a little carriage which belonged to Mrs. Maylie. Whenthey came to Chertsey Bridge, Oliver turned very pale, and uttered aloud exclamation. 

'What's the matter with the boy?' cried the doctor, as usual, all in abustle. 'Do you see anything--hear anything--feel anything--eh?'

'That, sir, ' cried Oliver, pointing out of the carriage window. 'Thathouse!'

'Yes; well, what of it? Stop coachman. Pull up here, ' cried thedoctor. 'What of the house, my man; eh?'

'The thieves--the house they took me to!' whispered Oliver. 

'The devil it is!' cried the doctor. 'Hallo, there! let me out!'

But, before the coachman could dismount from his box, he had tumbledout of the coach, by some means or other; and, running down to thedeserted tenement, began kicking at the door like a madman. 

'Halloa?' said a little ugly hump-backed man: opening the door sosuddenly, that the doctor, from the very impetus of his last kick, nearly fell forward into the passage. 'What's the matter here?'

'Matter!' exclaimed the other, collaring him, without a moment'sreflection. 'A good deal. Robbery is the matter. '

'There'll be Murder the matter, too, ' replied the hump-backed man, coolly, 'if you don't take your hands off. Do you hear me?'

'I hear you, ' said the doctor, giving his captive a hearty shake. 

'Where's--confound the fellow, what's his rascally name--Sikes; that'sit. Where's Sikes, you thief?'

The hump-backed man stared, as if in excess of amazement andindignation; then, twisting himself, dexterously, from the doctor'sgrasp, growled forth a volley of horrid oaths, and retired into thehouse. Before he could shut the door, however, the doctor had passedinto the parlour, without a word of parley. 

He looked anxiously round; not an article of furniture; not a vestigeof anything, animate or inanimate; not even the position of thecupboards; answered Oliver's description!

'Now!' said the hump-backed man, who had watched him keenly, 'what doyou mean by coming into my house, in this violent way? Do you want torob me, or to murder me? Which is it?'

'Did you ever know a man come out to do either, in a chariot and pair, you ridiculous old vampire?' said the irritable doctor. 

'What do you want, then?' demanded the hunchback. 'Will you takeyourself off, before I do you a mischief? Curse you!'

'As soon as I think proper, ' said Mr. Losberne, looking into the otherparlour; which, like the first, bore no resemblance whatever toOliver's account of it. 'I shall find you out, some day, my friend. '

'Will you?' sneered the ill-favoured cripple. 'If you ever want me, I'm here. I haven't lived here mad and all alone, for five-and-twentyyears, to be scared by you. You shall pay for this; you shall pay forthis. ' And so saying, the mis-shapen little demon set up a yell, anddanced upon the ground, as if wild with rage. 

'Stupid enough, this, ' muttered the doctor to himself; 'the boy musthave made a mistake. Here! Put that in your pocket, and shut yourselfup again. ' With these words he flung the hunchback a piece of money, and returned to the carriage. 

The man followed to the chariot door, uttering the wildest imprecationsand curses all the way; but as Mr. Losberne turned to speak to thedriver, he looked into the carriage, and eyed Oliver for an instantwith a glance so sharp and fierce and at the same time so furious andvindictive, that, waking or sleeping, he could not forget it for monthsafterwards. He continued to utter the most fearful imprecations, untilthe driver had resumed his seat; and when they were once more on theirway, they could see him some distance behind: beating his feet upon theground, and tearing his hair, in transports of real or pretended rage. 

'I am an ass!' said the doctor, after a long silence. 'Did you knowthat before, Oliver?'

'No, sir. '

'Then don't forget it another time. '

'An ass, ' said the doctor again, after a further silence of someminutes. 'Even if it had been the right place, and the right fellowshad been there, what could I have done, single-handed? And if I had hadassistance, I see no good that I should have done, except leading to myown exposure, and an unavoidable statement of the manner in which Ihave hushed up this business. That would have served me right, though. I am always involving myself in some scrape or other, by acting onimpulse. It might have done me good. '

Now, the fact was that the excellent doctor had never acted uponanything but impulse all through his life, and it was no bad complimentto the nature of the impulses which governed him, that so far frombeing involved in any peculiar troubles or misfortunes, he had thewarmest respect and esteem of all who knew him. If the truth must betold, he was a little out of temper, for a minute or two, at beingdisappointed in procuring corroborative evidence of Oliver's story onthe very first occasion on which he had a chance of obtaining any. Hesoon came round again, however; and finding that Oliver's replies tohis questions, were still as straightforward and consistent, and stilldelivered with as much apparent sincerity and truth, as they had everbeen, he made up his mind to attach full credence to them, from thattime forth. 

As Oliver knew the name of the street in which Mr. Brownlow resided, they were enabled to drive straight thither. When the coach turnedinto it, his heart beat so violently, that he could scarcely draw hisbreath. 

'Now, my boy, which house is it?' inquired Mr. Losberne. 

'That! That!' replied Oliver, pointing eagerly out of the window. 'The white house. Oh! make haste! Pray make haste! I feel as if Ishould die: it makes me tremble so. '

'Come, come!' said the good doctor, patting him on the shoulder. 'Youwill see them directly, and they will be overjoyed to find you safe andwell. '

'Oh! I hope so!' cried Oliver. 'They were so good to me; so very, very good to me. '

The coach rolled on. It stopped. No; that was the wrong house; thenext door. It went on a few paces, and stopped again. Oliver looked upat the windows, with tears of happy expectation coursing down his face. 

Alas! the white house was empty, and there was a bill in the window. 'To Let. '

'Knock at the next door, ' cried Mr. Losberne, taking Oliver's arm inhis. 'What has become of Mr. Brownlow, who used to live in theadjoining house, do you know?'

The servant did not know; but would go and inquire. She presentlyreturned, and said, that Mr. Brownlow had sold off his goods, and goneto the West Indies, six weeks before. Oliver clasped his hands, andsank feebly backward. 

'Has his housekeeper gone too?' inquired Mr. Losberne, after a moment'spause. 

'Yes, sir'; replied the servant. 'The old gentleman, the housekeeper, and a gentleman who was a friend of Mr. Brownlow's, all went together. '

'Then turn towards home again, ' said Mr. Losberne to the driver; 'anddon't stop to bait the horses, till you get out of this confoundedLondon!'

'The book-stall keeper, sir?' said Oliver. 'I know the way there. Seehim, pray, sir! Do see him!'

'My poor boy, this is disappointment enough for one day, ' said thedoctor. 'Quite enough for both of us. If we go to the book-stallkeeper's, we shall certainly find that he is dead, or has set his houseon fire, or run away. No; home again straight!' And in obedience tothe doctor's impulse, home they went. 

This bitter disappointment caused Oliver much sorrow and grief, even inthe midst of his happiness; for he had pleased himself, many timesduring his illness, with thinking of all that Mr. Brownlow and Mrs. Bedwin would say to him: and what delight it would be to tell them howmany long days and nights he had passed in reflecting on what they haddone for him, and in bewailing his cruel separation from them. The hopeof eventually clearing himself with them, too, and explaining how hehad been forced away, had buoyed him up, and sustained him, under manyof his recent trials; and now, the idea that they should have gone sofar, and carried with them the belief that he was an impostor and arobber--a belief which might remain uncontradicted to his dyingday--was almost more than he could bear. 

The circumstance occasioned no alteration, however, in the behaviour ofhis benefactors. After another fortnight, when the fine warm weatherhad fairly begun, and every tree and flower was putting forth its youngleaves and rich blossoms, they made preparations for quitting the houseat Chertsey, for some months. 

Sending the plate, which had so excited Fagin's cupidity, to thebanker's; and leaving Giles and another servant in care of the house, they departed to a cottage at some distance in the country, and tookOliver with them. 

Who can describe the pleasure and delight, the peace of mind and softtranquillity, the sickly boy felt in the balmy air, and among the greenhills and rich woods, of an inland village! Who can tell how scenes ofpeace and quietude sink into the minds of pain-worn dwellers in closeand noisy places, and carry their own freshness, deep into their jadedhearts! Men who have lived in crowded, pent-up streets, through livesof toil, and who have never wished for change; men, to whom custom hasindeed been second nature, and who have come almost to love each brickand stone that formed the narrow boundaries of their daily walks; eventhey, with the hand of death upon them, have been known to yearn atlast for one short glimpse of Nature's face; and, carried far from thescenes of their old pains and pleasures, have seemed to pass at onceinto a new state of being. Crawling forth, from day to day, to somegreen sunny spot, they have had such memories wakened up within them bythe sight of the sky, and hill and plain, and glistening water, that aforetaste of heaven itself has soothed their quick decline, and theyhave sunk into their tombs, as peacefully as the sun whose setting theywatched from their lonely chamber window but a few hours before, fadedfrom their dim and feeble sight! The memories which peaceful countryscenes call up, are not of this world, nor of its thoughts and hopes. Their gentle influence may teach us how to weave fresh garlands for thegraves of those we loved: may purify our thoughts, and bear downbefore it old enmity and hatred; but beneath all this, there lingers, in the least reflective mind, a vague and half-formed consciousness ofhaving held such feelings long before, in some remote and distant time, which calls up solemn thoughts of distant times to come, and bends downpride and worldliness beneath it. 

It was a lovely spot to which they repaired. Oliver, whose days hadbeen spent among squalid crowds, and in the midst of noise andbrawling, seemed to enter on a new existence there. The rose andhoneysuckle clung to the cottage walls; the ivy crept round the trunksof the trees; and the garden-flowers perfumed the air with deliciousodours. Hard by, was a little churchyard; not crowded with tallunsightly gravestones, but full of humble mounds, covered with freshturf and moss: beneath which, the old people of the village lay atrest. Oliver often wandered here; and, thinking of the wretched gravein which his mother lay, would sometimes sit him down and sob unseen;but, when he raised his eyes to the deep sky overhead, he would ceaseto think of her as lying in the ground, and would weep for her, sadly, but without pain. 

It was a happy time. The days were peaceful and serene; the nightsbrought with them neither fear nor care; no languishing in a wretchedprison, or associating with wretched men; nothing but pleasant andhappy thoughts. Every morning he went to a white-headed old gentleman, who lived near the little church: who taught him to read better, and towrite: and who spoke so kindly, and took such pains, that Oliver couldnever try enough to please him. Then, he would walk with Mrs. Maylieand Rose, and hear them talk of books; or perhaps sit near them, insome shady place, and listen whilst the young lady read: which he couldhave done, until it grew too dark to see the letters. Then, he had hisown lesson for the next day to prepare; and at this, he would workhard, in a little room which looked into the garden, till evening cameslowly on, when the ladies would walk out again, and he with them:listening with such pleasure to all they said: and so happy if theywanted a flower that he could climb to reach, or had forgotten anythinghe could run to fetch: that he could never be quick enough about it. When it became quite dark, and they returned home, the young lady wouldsit down to the piano, and play some pleasant air, or sing, in a lowand gentle voice, some old song which it pleased her aunt to hear. There would be no candles lighted at such times as these; and Oliverwould sit by one of the windows, listening to the sweet music, in aperfect rapture. 

And when Sunday came, how differently the day was spent, from any wayin which he had ever spent it yet! and how happily too; like all theother days in that most happy time! There was the little church, inthe morning, with the green leaves fluttering at the windows: thebirds singing without: and the sweet-smelling air stealing in at thelow porch, and filling the homely building with its fragrance. The poorpeople were so neat and clean, and knelt so reverently in prayer, thatit seemed a pleasure, not a tedious duty, their assembling theretogether; and though the singing might be rude, it was real, andsounded more musical (to Oliver's ears at least) than any he had everheard in church before. Then, there were the walks as usual, and manycalls at the clean houses of the labouring men; and at night, Oliverread a chapter or two from the Bible, which he had been studying allthe week, and in the performance of which duty he felt more proud andpleased, than if he had been the clergyman himself. 

In the morning, Oliver would be a-foot by six o'clock, roaming thefields, and plundering the hedges, far and wide, for nosegays of wildflowers, with which he would return laden, home; and which it tookgreat care and consideration to arrange, to the best advantage, for theembellishment of the breakfast-table. There was fresh groundsel, too, for Miss Maylie's birds, with which Oliver, who had been studying thesubject under the able tuition of the village clerk, would decorate thecages, in the most approved taste. When the birds were made all spruceand smart for the day, there was usually some little commission ofcharity to execute in the village; or, failing that, there was rarecricket-playing, sometimes, on the green; or, failing that, there wasalways something to do in the garden, or about the plants, to whichOliver (who had studied this science also, under the same master, whowas a gardener by trade, ) applied himself with hearty good-will, untilMiss Rose made her appearance: when there were a thousandcommendations to be bestowed on all he had done. 

So three months glided away; three months which, in the life of themost blessed and favoured of mortals, might have been unmingledhappiness, and which, in Oliver's were true felicity. With the purestand most amiable generosity on one side; and the truest, warmest, soul-felt gratitude on the other; it is no wonder that, by the end ofthat short time, Oliver Twist had become completely domesticated withthe old lady and her niece, and that the fervent attachment of hisyoung and sensitive heart, was repaid by their pride in, and attachmentto, himself. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

WHEREIN THE HAPPINESS OF OLIVER AND HIS FRIENDS, EXPERIENCES A SUDDENCHECK

Spring flew swiftly by, and summer came. If the village had beenbeautiful at first it was now in the full glow and luxuriance of itsrichness. The great trees, which had looked shrunken and bare in theearlier months, had now burst into strong life and health; andstretching forth their green arms over the thirsty ground, convertedopen and naked spots into choice nooks, where was a deep and pleasantshade from which to look upon the wide prospect, steeped in sunshine, which lay stretched beyond. The earth had donned her mantle ofbrightest green; and shed her richest perfumes abroad. It was theprime and vigour of the year; all things were glad and flourishing. 

Still, the same quiet life went on at the little cottage, and the samecheerful serenity prevailed among its inmates. Oliver had long sincegrown stout and healthy; but health or sickness made no difference inhis warm feelings of a great many people. He was still the samegentle, attached, affectionate creature that he had been when pain andsuffering had wasted his strength, and when he was dependent for everyslight attention, and comfort on those who tended him. 

One beautiful night, when they had taken a longer walk than wascustomary with them: for the day had been unusually warm, and therewas a brilliant moon, and a light wind had sprung up, which wasunusually refreshing. Rose had been in high spirits, too, and they hadwalked on, in merry conversation, until they had far exceeded theirordinary bounds. Mrs. Maylie being fatigued, they returned more slowlyhome. The young lady merely throwing off her simple bonnet, sat downto the piano as usual. After running abstractedly over the keys for afew minutes, she fell into a low and very solemn air; and as she playedit, they heard a sound as if she were weeping. 

'Rose, my dear!' said the elder lady. 

Rose made no reply, but played a little quicker, as though the wordshad roused her from some painful thoughts. 

'Rose, my love!' cried Mrs. Maylie, rising hastily, and bending overher. 'What is this? In tears! My dear child, what distresses you?'

'Nothing, aunt; nothing, ' replied the young lady. 'I don't know whatit is; I can't describe it; but I feel--'

'Not ill, my love?' interposed Mrs. Maylie. 

'No, no! Oh, not ill!' replied Rose: shuddering as though some deadlychillness were passing over her, while she spoke; 'I shall be betterpresently. Close the window, pray!'

Oliver hastened to comply with her request. The young lady, making aneffort to recover her cheerfulness, strove to play some livelier tune;but her fingers dropped powerless over the keys. Covering her face withher hands, she sank upon a sofa, and gave vent to the tears which shewas now unable to repress. 

'My child!' said the elderly lady, folding her arms about her, 'I neversaw you so before. '

'I would not alarm you if I could avoid it, ' rejoined Rose; 'but indeedI have tried very hard, and cannot help this. I fear I _am_ ill, aunt. '

She was, indeed; for, when candles were brought, they saw that in thevery short time which had elapsed since their return home, the hue ofher countenance had changed to a marble whiteness. Its expression hadlost nothing of its beauty; but it was changed; and there was ananxious haggard look about the gentle face, which it had never wornbefore. Another minute, and it was suffused with a crimson flush: anda heavy wildness came over the soft blue eye. Again this disappeared, like the shadow thrown by a passing cloud; and she was once more deadlypale. 

Oliver, who watched the old lady anxiously, observed that she wasalarmed by these appearances; and so in truth, was he; but seeing thatshe affected to make light of them, he endeavoured to do the same, andthey so far succeeded, that when Rose was persuaded by her aunt toretire for the night, she was in better spirits; and appeared even inbetter health: assuring them that she felt certain she should rise inthe morning, quite well. 

'I hope, ' said Oliver, when Mrs. Maylie returned, 'that nothing is thematter? She don't look well to-night, but--'

The old lady motioned to him not to speak; and sitting herself down ina dark corner of the room, remained silent for some time. At length, she said, in a trembling voice:

'I hope not, Oliver. I have been very happy with her for some years:too happy, perhaps. It may be time that I should meet with somemisfortune; but I hope it is not this. '

'What?' inquired Oliver. 

'The heavy blow, ' said the old lady, 'of losing the dear girl who hasso long been my comfort and happiness. '

'Oh! God forbid!' exclaimed Oliver, hastily. 

'Amen to that, my child!' said the old lady, wringing her hands. 

'Surely there is no danger of anything so dreadful?' said Oliver. 'Twohours ago, she was quite well. '

'She is very ill now, ' rejoined Mrs. Maylies; 'and will be worse, I amsure. My dear, dear Rose! Oh, what shall I do without her!'

She gave way to such great grief, that Oliver, suppressing his ownemotion, ventured to remonstrate with her; and to beg, earnestly, that, for the sake of the dear young lady herself, she would be more calm. 

'And consider, ma'am, ' said Oliver, as the tears forced themselves intohis eyes, despite of his efforts to the contrary. 'Oh! consider howyoung and good she is, and what pleasure and comfort she gives to allabout her. I am sure--certain--quite certain--that, for your sake, whoare so good yourself; and for her own; and for the sake of all shemakes so happy; she will not die. Heaven will never let her die soyoung. '

'Hush!' said Mrs. Maylie, laying her hand on Oliver's head. 'You thinklike a child, poor boy. But you teach me my duty, notwithstanding. Ihad forgotten it for a moment, Oliver, but I hope I may be pardoned, for I am old, and have seen enough of illness and death to know theagony of separation from the objects of our love. I have seen enough, too, to know that it is not always the youngest and best who are sparedto those that love them; but this should give us comfort in our sorrow;for Heaven is just; and such things teach us, impressively, that thereis a brighter world than this; and that the passage to it is speedy. God's will be done! I love her; and He knows how well!'

Oliver was surprised to see that as Mrs. Maylie said these words, shechecked her lamentations as though by one effort; and drawing herselfup as she spoke, became composed and firm. He was still moreastonished to find that this firmness lasted; and that, under all thecare and watching which ensued, Mrs. Maylie was every ready andcollected: performing all the duties which had devolved upon her, steadily, and, to all external appearances, even cheerfully. But hewas young, and did not know what strong minds are capable of, undertrying circumstances. How should he, when their possessors so seldomknow themselves?

An anxious night ensued. When morning came, Mrs. Maylie's predictionswere but too well verified. Rose was in the first stage of a high anddangerous fever. 

'We must be active, Oliver, and not give way to useless grief, ' saidMrs. Maylie, laying her finger on her lip, as she looked steadily intohis face; 'this letter must be sent, with all possible expedition, toMr. Losberne. It must be carried to the market-town: which is not morethan four miles off, by the footpath across the field: and thencedispatched, by an express on horseback, straight to Chertsey. Thepeople at the inn will undertake to do this: and I can trust to you tosee it done, I know. '

Oliver could make no reply, but looked his anxiety to be gone at once. 

'Here is another letter, ' said Mrs. Maylie, pausing to reflect; 'butwhether to send it now, or wait until I see how Rose goes on, Iscarcely know. I would not forward it, unless I feared the worst. '

'Is it for Chertsey, too, ma'am?' inquired Oliver; impatient to executehis commission, and holding out his trembling hand for the letter. 

'No, ' replied the old lady, giving it to him mechanically. Oliverglanced at it, and saw that it was directed to Harry Maylie, Esquire, at some great lord's house in the country; where, he could not make out. 

'Shall it go, ma'am?' asked Oliver, looking up, impatiently. 

'I think not, ' replied Mrs. Maylie, taking it back. 'I will wait untilto-morrow. '

With these words, she gave Oliver her purse, and he started off, without more delay, at the greatest speed he could muster. 

Swiftly he ran across the fields, and down the little lanes whichsometimes divided them: now almost hidden by the high corn on eitherside, and now emerging on an open field, where the mowers and haymakerswere busy at their work: nor did he stop once, save now and then, fora few seconds, to recover breath, until he came, in a great heat, andcovered with dust, on the little market-place of the market-town. 

Here he paused, and looked about for the inn. There were a white bank, and a red brewery, and a yellow town-hall; and in one corner there wasa large house, with all the wood about it painted green: before whichwas the sign of 'The George. ' To this he hastened, as soon as itcaught his eye. 

He spoke to a postboy who was dozing under the gateway; and who, afterhearing what he wanted, referred him to the ostler; who after hearingall he had to say again, referred him to the landlord; who was a tallgentleman in a blue neckcloth, a white hat, drab breeches, and bootswith tops to match, leaning against a pump by the stable-door, pickinghis teeth with a silver toothpick. 

This gentleman walked with much deliberation into the bar to make outthe bill: which took a long time making out: and after it was ready, and paid, a horse had to be saddled, and a man to be dressed, whichtook up ten good minutes more. Meanwhile Oliver was in such adesperate state of impatience and anxiety, that he felt as if he couldhave jumped upon the horse himself, and galloped away, full tear, tothe next stage. At length, all was ready; and the little parcel havingbeen handed up, with many injunctions and entreaties for its speedydelivery, the man set spurs to his horse, and rattling over the unevenpaving of the market-place, was out of the town, and galloping alongthe turnpike-road, in a couple of minutes. 

As it was something to feel certain that assistance was sent for, andthat no time had been lost, Oliver hurried up the inn-yard, with asomewhat lighter heart. He was turning out of the gateway when heaccidently stumbled against a tall man wrapped in a cloak, who was atthat moment coming out of the inn door. 

'Hah!' cried the man, fixing his eyes on Oliver, and suddenlyrecoiling. 'What the devil's this?'

'I beg your pardon, sir, ' said Oliver; 'I was in a great hurry to gethome, and didn't see you were coming. '

'Death!' muttered the man to himself, glaring at the boy with his largedark eyes. 'Who would have thought it! Grind him to ashes! He'd startup from a stone coffin, to come in my way!'

'I am sorry, ' stammered Oliver, confused by the strange man's wildlook. 'I hope I have not hurt you!'

'Rot you!' murmured the man, in a horrible passion; between hisclenched teeth; 'if I had only had the courage to say the word, I mighthave been free of you in a night. Curses on your head, and black deathon your heart, you imp! What are you doing here?'

The man shook his fist, as he uttered these words incoherently. Headvanced towards Oliver, as if with the intention of aiming a blow athim, but fell violently on the ground: writhing and foaming, in a fit. 

Oliver gazed, for a moment, at the struggles of the madman (for such hesupposed him to be); and then darted into the house for help. Havingseen him safely carried into the hotel, he turned his face homewards, running as fast as he could, to make up for lost time: and recallingwith a great deal of astonishment and some fear, the extraordinarybehaviour of the person from whom he had just parted. 

The circumstance did not dwell in his recollection long, however: forwhen he reached the cottage, there was enough to occupy his mind, andto drive all considerations of self completely from his memory. 

Rose Maylie had rapidly grown worse; before mid-night she wasdelirious. A medical practitioner, who resided on the spot, was inconstant attendance upon her; and after first seeing the patient, hehad taken Mrs. Maylie aside, and pronounced her disorder to be one of amost alarming nature. 'In fact, ' he said, 'it would be little short ofa miracle, if she recovered. '

How often did Oliver start from his bed that night, and stealing out, with noiseless footstep, to the staircase, listen for the slightestsound from the sick chamber! How often did a tremble shake his frame, and cold drops of terror start upon his brow, when a sudden tramplingof feet caused him to fear that something too dreadful to think of, hadeven then occurred! And what had been the fervency of all the prayershe had ever muttered, compared with those he poured forth, now, in theagony and passion of his supplication for the life and health of thegentle creature, who was tottering on the deep grave's verge!

Oh! the suspense, the fearful, acute suspense, of standing idly bywhile the life of one we dearly love, is trembling in the balance! Oh!the racking thoughts that crowd upon the mind, and make the heart beatviolently, and the breath come thick, by the force of the images theyconjure up before it; the desperate anxiety _to be doing something_ torelieve the pain, or lessen the danger, which we have no power toalleviate; the sinking of soul and spirit, which the sad remembrance ofour helplessness produces; what tortures can equal these; whatreflections or endeavours can, in the full tide and fever of the time, allay them!

Morning came; and the little cottage was lonely and still. People spokein whispers; anxious faces appeared at the gate, from time to time;women and children went away in tears. All the livelong day, and forhours after it had grown dark, Oliver paced softly up and down thegarden, raising his eyes every instant to the sick chamber, andshuddering to see the darkened window, looking as if death laystretched inside. Late that night, Mr. Losberne arrived. 'It ishard, ' said the good doctor, turning away as he spoke; 'so young; somuch beloved; but there is very little hope. '

Another morning. The sun shone brightly; as brightly as if it lookedupon no misery or care; and, with every leaf and flower in full bloomabout her; with life, and health, and sounds and sights of joy, surrounding her on every side: the fair young creature lay, wastingfast. Oliver crept away to the old churchyard, and sitting down on oneof the green mounds, wept and prayed for her, in silence. 

There was such peace and beauty in the scene; so much of brightness andmirth in the sunny landscape; such blithesome music in the songs of thesummer birds; such freedom in the rapid flight of the rook, careeringoverhead; so much of life and joyousness in all; that, when the boyraised his aching eyes, and looked about, the thought instinctivelyoccurred to him, that this was not a time for death; that Rose couldsurely never die when humbler things were all so glad and gay; thatgraves were for cold and cheerless winter: not for sunlight andfragrance. He almost thought that shrouds were for the old andshrunken; and that they never wrapped the young and graceful form intheir 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 ofhumble mourners entered the gate: wearing white favours; for the corpsewas young. They stood uncovered by a grave; and there was a mother--amother once--among the weeping train. But the sun shone brightly, andthe birds sang on. 

Oliver turned homeward, thinking on the many kindnesses he had receivedfrom the young lady, and wishing that the time could come again, thathe might never cease showing her how grateful and attached he was. Hehad no cause for self-reproach on the score of neglect, or want ofthought, for he had been devoted to her service; and yet a hundredlittle occasions rose up before him, on which he fancied he might havebeen more zealous, and more earnest, and wished he had been. We needbe careful how we deal with those about us, when every death carries tosome small circle of survivors, thoughts of so much omitted, and solittle done--of so many things forgotten, and so many more which mighthave been repaired! There is no remorse so deep as that which isunavailing; 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 bedsideof her niece; and he trembled to think what change could have drivenher away. He learnt that she had fallen into a deep sleep, from whichshe 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 mealwas removed, with looks which showed that their thoughts wereelsewhere, they watched the sun as he sank lower and lower, and, atlength, cast over sky and earth those brilliant hues which herald hisdeparture. Their quick ears caught the sound of an approachingfootstep. They both involuntarily darted to the door, as Mr. Losberneentered. 

'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, shewill live to bless us all, for years to come. '

The lady fell upon her knees, and tried to fold her hands together; butthe energy which had supported her so long, fled up to Heaven with herfirst thanksgiving; and she sank into the friendly arms which wereextended to receive her. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

CONTAINS SOME INTRODUCTORY PARTICULARS RELATIVE TO A YOUNG GENTLEMANWHO NOW ARRIVES UPON THE SCENE; AND A NEW ADVENTURE WHICH HAPPENED TOOLIVER

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

The night was fast closing in, when he returned homeward: laden withflowers which he had culled, with peculiar care, for the adornment ofthe sick chamber. As he walked briskly along the road, he heard behindhim, the noise of some vehicle, approaching at a furious pace. Lookinground, he saw that it was a post-chaise, driven at great speed; and asthe horses were galloping, and the road was narrow, he stood leaningagainst a gate until it should have passed him. 

As it dashed on, Oliver caught a glimpse of a man in a white nightcap, whose face seemed familiar to him, although his view was so brief thathe could not identify the person. In another second or two, thenightcap was thrust out of the chaise-window, and a stentorian voicebellowed to the driver to stop: which he did, as soon as he could pullup his horses. Then, the nightcap once again appeared: and the samevoice called Oliver by his name. 

'Here!' cried the voice. 'Oliver, what's the news? Miss Rose! MasterO-li-ver!'

'Is is you, Giles?' cried Oliver, running up to the chaise-door. 

Giles popped out his nightcap again, preparatory to making some reply, when he was suddenly pulled back by a young gentleman who occupied theother 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 hoursago; and Mr. Losberne says, that all danger is at an end. '

The gentleman said not 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 yourpart, 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 maybelieve me. Mr. Losberne's words were, that she would live to bless usall for many years to come. I heard him say so. '

The tears stood in Oliver's eyes as he recalled the scene which was thebeginning of so much happiness; and the gentleman turned his face away, and remained silent, for some minutes. Oliver thought he heard himsob, more than once; but he feared to interrupt him by any freshremark--for he could well guess what his feelings were--and so stoodapart, feigning to be occupied with his nosegay. 

All this time, Mr. Giles, with the white nightcap on, had been sittingon the steps of the chaise, supporting an elbow on each knee, andwiping his eyes with a blue cotton pocket-handkerchief dotted withwhite spots. That the honest fellow had not been feigning emotion, wasabundantly demonstrated by the very red eyes with which he regarded theyoung 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 timebefore I see her. You can say I am coming. '

'I beg your pardon, Mr. Harry, ' said Giles: giving a final polish tohis ruffled countenance with the handkerchief; 'but if you would leavethe postboy to say that, I should be very much obliged to you. Itwouldn't be proper for the maids to see me in this state, sir; I shouldnever have any more authority with them if they did. '

'Well, ' rejoined Harry Maylie, smiling, 'you can do as you like. Lethim go on with the luggage, if you wish it, and do you follow with us. Only first exchange that nightcap for some more appropriate covering, or we shall be taken for madmen. '

Mr. Giles, reminded of his unbecoming costume, snatched off andpocketed his nightcap; 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 muchinterest and curiosity at the new comer. He seemed aboutfive-and-twenty years of age, and was of the middle height; hiscountenance was frank and handsome; and his demeanor easy andprepossessing. Notwithstanding the difference between youth and age, he bore so strong a likeness to the old lady, that Oliver would havehad no great difficulty in imagining their relationship, if he had notalready spoken of her as his mother. 

Mrs. Maylie was anxiously waiting to receive her son when he reachedthe cottage. The meeting did not take place without great emotion onboth sides. 

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

'I did, ' replied Mrs. Maylie; 'but, on reflection, I determined to keepback the letter until I had heard Mr. Losberne's opinion. '

'But why, ' said the young man, 'why run the chance of that occurringwhich so nearly happened? If Rose had--I cannot utter that wordnow--if this illness had terminated differently, how could you everhave forgiven yourself! How could I ever have know happiness again!'

'If that _had_ been the case, Harry, ' said Mrs. Maylie, 'I fear yourhappiness would have been effectually blighted, and that your arrivalhere, a day sooner or a day later, would have been of very, very littleimport. '

'And who can wonder if it be so, mother?' rejoined the young man; 'orwhy should I say, _if_?--It is--it is--you know it, mother--you mustknow it!'

'I know that she deserves the best and purest love the heart of man canoffer, ' said Mrs. Maylie; 'I know that the devotion and affection ofher nature require no ordinary return, but one that shall be deep andlasting. If I did not feel this, and know, besides, that a changedbehaviour in one she loved would break her heart, I should not feel mytask so difficult of performance, or have to encounter so manystruggles in my own bosom, when I take what seems to me to be thestrict line of duty. '

'This is unkind, mother, ' said Harry. 'Do you still suppose that I ama boy ignorant of my own mind, and mistaking the impulses of my ownsoul?'

'I think, my dear son, ' returned Mrs. Maylie, laying her hand upon hisshoulder, 'that youth has many generous impulses which do not last; andthat among them are some, which, being gratified, become only the morefleeting. Above all, I think' said the lady, fixing her eyes on herson's face, 'that if an enthusiastic, ardent, and ambitious man marry awife on whose name there is a stain, which, though it originate in nofault of hers, may be visited by cold and sordid people upon her, andupon his children also: and, in exact proportion to his success in theworld, be cast in his teeth, and made the subject of sneers againsthim: he may, no matter how generous and good his nature, one dayrepent of the connection he formed in early life. And she may have thepain of knowing that he does so. '

'Mother, ' said the young man, impatiently, 'he would be a selfishbrute, unworthy alike of the name of man and of the woman you describe, who acted thus. '

'You think so now, Harry, ' replied his mother. 

'And ever will!' said the young man. 'The mental agony I havesuffered, during the last two days, wrings from me the avowal to you ofa passion which, as you well know, is not one of yesterday, nor one Ihave lightly formed. On Rose, sweet, gentle girl! my heart is set, asfirmly as ever heart of man was set on woman. I have no thought, noview, no hope in life, beyond her; and if you oppose me in this greatstake, you take my peace and happiness in your hands, and cast them tothe wind. Mother, think better of this, and of me, and do notdisregard the happiness of which you seem to think so little. '

'Harry, ' said Mrs. Maylie, 'it is because I think so much of warm andsensitive hearts, that I would spare them from being wounded. But wehave said enough, and more than enough, on this matter, just now. '

'Let it rest with Rose, then, ' interposed Harry. 'You will not pressthese overstrained opinions of yours, so far, as to throw any obstaclein my way?'

'I will not, ' rejoined Mrs. Maylie; 'but I would have you consider--'

'I _have_ considered!' was the impatient reply; 'Mother, I haveconsidered, years and years. I have considered, ever since I have beencapable of serious reflection. My feelings remain unchanged, as theyever will; and why should I suffer the pain of a delay in giving themvent, which can be productive of no earthly good? No! Before I leavethis place, Rose shall hear me. '

'She shall, ' said Mrs. Maylie. 

'There is something in your manner, which would almost imply that shewill hear me coldly, mother, ' said the young man. 

'Not coldly, ' rejoined the old lady; 'far from it. '

'How then?' urged the young man. 'She has formed no other attachment?'

'No, indeed, ' replied his mother; 'you have, or I mistake, too strong ahold on her affections already. What I would say, ' resumed the oldlady, stopping her son as he was about to speak, 'is this. Before youstake your all on this chance; before you suffer yourself to be carriedto the highest point of hope; reflect for a few moments, my dear child, on Rose's history, and consider what effect the knowledge of herdoubtful birth may have on her decision: devoted as she is to us, withall the intensity of her noble mind, and with that perfect sacrifice ofself which, in all matters, great or trifling, has always been hercharacteristic. '

'What do you mean?'

'That I leave you to discover, ' replied Mrs. Maylie. 'I must go backto her. God bless you!'

'I shall see you again to-night?' said the young man, eagerly. 

'By and by, ' replied the lady; 'when I leave Rose. '

'You will tell her I am here?' said Harry. 

'Of course, ' replied Mrs. Maylie. 

'And say how anxious I have been, and how much I have suffered, and howI long to see her. You will not refuse to do this, mother?'

'No, ' said the old lady; 'I will tell her all. ' And pressing her son'shand, affectionately, she hastened from the room. 

Mr. Losberne and Oliver had remained at another end of the apartmentwhile this hurried conversation was proceeding. The former now heldout his hand to Harry Maylie; and hearty salutations were exchangedbetween them. The doctor then communicated, in reply to multifariousquestions from his young friend, a precise account of his patient'ssituation; which was quite as consolatory and full of promise, asOliver's statement had encouraged him to hope; and to the whole ofwhich, Mr. Giles, who affected to be busy about the luggage, listenedwith greedy ears. 

'Have you shot anything particular, lately, Giles?' inquired thedoctor, when he had concluded. 

'Nothing particular, sir, ' replied Mr. Giles, colouring up to the eyes. 

'Nor catching any thieves, nor identifying any house-breakers?' saidthe doctor. 

'None at all, sir, ' replied Mr. Giles, with much gravity. 

'Well, ' said the doctor, 'I am sorry to hear it, because you do thatsort of thing admirably. Pray, how is Brittles?'

'The boy is very well, sir, ' said Mr. Giles, recovering his usual toneof patronage; 'and sends his respectful duty, sir. '

'That's well, ' said the doctor. 'Seeing you here, reminds me, Mr. Giles, that on the day before that on which I was called away sohurriedly, I executed, at the request of your good mistress, a smallcommission in your favour. Just step into this corner a moment, willyou?'

Mr. Giles walked into the corner with much importance, and some wonder, and was honoured with a short whispering conference with the doctor, onthe termination of which, he made a great many bows, and retired withsteps of unusual stateliness. The subject matter of this conferencewas not disclosed in the parlour, but the kitchen was speedilyenlightened concerning it; for Mr. Giles walked straight thither, andhaving called for a mug of ale, announced, with an air of majesty, which was highly effective, that it had pleased his mistress, inconsideration of his gallant behaviour on the occasion of thatattempted robbery, to deposit, in the local savings-bank, the sum offive-and-twenty pounds, for his sole use and benefit. At this, the twowomen-servants lifted up their hands and eyes, and supposed that Mr. Giles, pulling out his shirt-frill, replied, 'No, no'; and that if theyobserved that he was at all haughty to his inferiors, he would thankthem to tell him so. And then he made a great many other remarks, noless illustrative of his humility, which were received with equalfavour and applause, and were, withal, as original and as much to thepurpose, as the remarks of great men commonly are. 

Above stairs, the remainder of the evening passed cheerfully away; forthe doctor was in high spirits; and however fatigued or thoughtfulHarry Maylie might have been at first, he was not proof against theworthy gentleman's good humour, which displayed itself in a greatvariety of sallies and professional recollections, and an abundance ofsmall jokes, which struck Oliver as being the drollest things he hadever heard, and caused him to laugh proportionately; to the evidentsatisfaction of the doctor, who laughed immoderately at himself, andmade Harry laugh almost as heartily, by the very force of sympathy. So, they were as pleasant a party as, under the circumstances, theycould well have been; and it was late before they retired, with lightand thankful hearts, to take that rest of which, after the doubt andsuspense they had recently undergone, they stood much in need. 

Oliver rose next morning, in better heart, and went about his usualoccupations, with more hope and pleasure than he had known for manydays. The birds were once more hung out, to sing, in their old places;and the sweetest wild flowers that could be found, were once moregathered to gladden Rose with their beauty. The melancholy which hadseemed to the sad eyes of the anxious boy to hang, for days past, overevery object, beautiful as all were, was dispelled by magic. The dewseemed to sparkle more brightly on the green leaves; the air to rustleamong them with a sweeter music; and the sky itself to look more blueand bright. Such is the influence which the condition of our ownthoughts, exercise, even over the appearance of external objects. Menwho look on nature, and their fellow-men, and cry that all is dark andgloomy, are in the right; but the sombre colours are reflections fromtheir own jaundiced eyes and hearts. The real hues are delicate, andneed a clearer vision. 

It is worthy of remark, and Oliver did not fail to note it at the time, that his morning expeditions were no longer made alone. Harry Maylie, after the very first morning when he met Oliver coming laden home, wasseized with such a passion for flowers, and displayed such a taste intheir arrangement, as left his young companion far behind. If Oliverwere behindhand in these respects, he knew where the best were to befound; and morning after morning they scoured the country together, andbrought home the fairest that blossomed. The window of the younglady's chamber was opened now; for she loved to feel the rich summerair stream in, and revive her with its freshness; but there alwaysstood in water, just inside the lattice, one particular little bunch, which was made up with great care, every morning. Oliver could nothelp noticing that the withered flowers were never thrown away, although the little vase was regularly replenished; nor, could he helpobserving, that whenever the doctor came into the garden, he invariablycast his eyes up to that particular corner, and nodded his head mostexpressively, as he set forth on his morning's walk. Pending theseobservations, the days were flying by; and Rose was rapidly recovering. 

Nor did Oliver's time hang heavy on his hands, although the young ladyhad not yet left her chamber, and there were no evening walks, save nowand then, for a short distance, with Mrs. Maylie. He applied himself, with redoubled assiduity, to the instructions of the white-headed oldgentleman, and laboured so hard that his quick progress surprised evenhimself. It was while he was engaged in this pursuit, that he wasgreatly startled and distressed by a most unexpected occurrence. 

The little room in which he was accustomed to sit, when busy at hisbooks, was on the ground-floor, at the back of the house. It was quitea cottage-room, with a lattice-window: around which were clusters ofjessamine and honeysuckle, that crept over the casement, and filled theplace with their delicious perfume. It looked into a garden, whence awicket-gate opened into a small paddock; all beyond, was finemeadow-land and wood. There was no other dwelling near, in thatdirection; and the prospect it commanded was very extensive. 

One beautiful evening, when the first shades of twilight were beginningto settle upon the earth, Oliver sat at this window, intent upon hisbooks. He had been poring over them for some time; and, as the day hadbeen uncommonly sultry, and he had exerted himself a great deal, it isno disparagement to the authors, whoever they may have been, to say, that gradually and by slow degrees, he fell asleep. 

There is a kind of sleep that steals upon us sometimes, which, while itholds the body prisoner, does not free the mind from a sense of thingsabout it, and enable it to ramble at its pleasure. So far as anoverpowering heaviness, a prostration of strength, and an utterinability to control our thoughts or power of motion, can be calledsleep, this is it; and yet, we have a consciousness of all that isgoing on about us, and, if we dream at such a time, words which arereally spoken, or sounds which really exist at the moment, accommodatethemselves with surprising readiness to our visions, until reality andimagination become so strangely blended that it is afterwards almostmatter of impossibility to separate the two. Nor is this, the moststriking phenomenon incidental to such a state. It is an undoubtedfact, that although our senses of touch and sight be for the time dead, yet our sleeping thoughts, and the visionary scenes that pass beforeus, will be influenced and materially influenced, by the _mere silentpresence_ of some external object; which may not have been near us whenwe closed our eyes: and of whose vicinity we have had no wakingconsciousness. 

Oliver knew, perfectly well, that he was in his own little room; thathis books were lying on the table before him; that the sweet air wasstirring among the creeping plants outside. And yet he was asleep. Suddenly, the scene changed; the air became close and confined; and hethought, with a glow of terror, that he was in the Jew's house again. There sat the hideous old man, in his accustomed corner, pointing athim, and whispering to another man, with his face averted, who satbeside him. 

'Hush, my dear!' he thought he heard the Jew say; 'it is he, sureenough. Come away. '

'He!' the other man seemed to answer; 'could I mistake him, think you?If a crowd of ghosts were to put themselves into his exact shape, andhe stood amongst them, there is something that would tell me how topoint him out. If you buried him fifty feet deep, and took me acrosshis grave, I fancy I should know, if there wasn't a mark above it, thathe lay buried there?'

The man seemed to say this, with such dreadful hatred, that Oliverawoke with the fear, and started up. 

Good Heaven! what was that, which sent the blood tingling to hisheart, and deprived him of his voice, and of power to move!There--there--at the window--close before him--so close, that he couldhave almost touched him before he started back: with his eyes peeringinto the room, and meeting his: there stood the Jew! And beside him, white with rage or fear, or both, were the scowling features of the manwho had accosted him in the inn-yard. 

It was but an instant, a glance, a flash, before his eyes; and theywere gone. But they had recognised him, and he them; and their lookwas as firmly impressed upon his memory, as if it had been deeplycarved in stone, and set before him from his birth. He stood transfixedfor a moment; then, leaping from the window into the garden, calledloudly for help. 

CHAPTER XXXV

CONTAINING THE UNSATISFACTORY RESULT OF OLIVER'S ADVENTURE; AND ACONVERSATION OF SOME IMPORTANCE BETWEEN HARRY MAYLIE AND ROSE

When the inmates of the house, attracted by Oliver's cries, hurried tothe spot from which they proceeded, they found him, pale and agitated, pointing in the direction of the meadows behind the house, and scarcelyable to articulate the words, 'The Jew! the Jew!'

Mr. Giles was at a loss to comprehend what this outcry meant; but HarryMaylie, whose perceptions were something quicker, and who had heardOliver's history from his mother, understood it at once. 

'What direction did he take?' he asked, catching up a heavy stick whichwas standing in a corner. 

'That, ' replied Oliver, pointing out the course the man had taken; 'Imissed them in an instant. '

'Then, they are in the ditch!' said Harry. 'Follow! And keep as nearme, as you can. ' So saying, he sprang over the hedge, and darted offwith a speed which rendered it matter of exceeding difficulty for theothers to keep near him. 

Giles followed as well as he could; and Oliver followed too; and in thecourse of a minute or two, Mr. Losberne, who had been out walking, andjust then returned, tumbled over the hedge after them, and pickinghimself up with more agility than he could have been supposed topossess, struck into the same course at no contemptible speed, shoutingall the while, most prodigiously, to know what was the matter. 

On they all went; nor stopped they once to breathe, until the leader, striking off into an angle of the field indicated by Oliver, began tosearch, narrowly, the ditch and hedge adjoining; which afforded timefor the remainder of the party to come up; and for Oliver tocommunicate to Mr. Losberne the circumstances that had led to sovigorous a pursuit. 

The search was all in vain. There were not even the traces of recentfootsteps, to be seen. They stood now, on the summit of a little hill, commanding the open fields in every direction for three or four miles. There was the village in the hollow on the left; but, in order to gainthat, after pursuing the track Oliver had pointed out, the men musthave made a circuit of open ground, which it was impossible they couldhave accomplished in so short a time. A thick wood skirted themeadow-land in another direction; but they could not have gained thatcovert for the same reason. 

'It must have been a dream, Oliver, ' said Harry Maylie. 

'Oh no, indeed, sir, ' replied Oliver, shuddering at the veryrecollection of the old wretch's countenance; 'I saw him too plainlyfor that. I saw them both, as plainly as I see you now. '

'Who was the other?' inquired Harry and Mr. Losberne, together. 

'The very same man I told you of, who came so suddenly upon me at theinn, ' said Oliver. 'We had our eyes fixed full upon each other; and Icould swear to him. '

'They took this way?' demanded Harry: 'are you sure?'

'As I am that the men were at the window, ' replied Oliver, pointingdown, as he spoke, to the hedge which divided the cottage-garden fromthe meadow. 'The tall man leaped over, just there; and the Jew, running a few paces to the right, crept through that gap. '

The two gentlemen watched Oliver's earnest face, as he spoke, andlooking from him to each other, seemed to feel satisfied of theaccuracy of what he said. Still, in no direction were there anyappearances of the trampling of men in hurried flight. The grass waslong; but it was trodden down nowhere, save where their own feet hadcrushed it. The sides and brinks of the ditches were of damp clay; butin no one place could they discern the print of men's shoes, or theslightest mark which would indicate that any feet had pressed theground for hours before. 

'This is strange!' said Harry. 

'Strange?' echoed the doctor. 'Blathers and Duff, themselves, couldmake nothing of it. '

Notwithstanding the evidently useless nature of their search, they didnot desist until the coming on of night rendered its furtherprosecution hopeless; and even then, they gave it up with reluctance. Giles was dispatched to the different ale-houses in the village, furnished with the best description Oliver could give of the appearanceand dress of the strangers. Of these, the Jew was, at all events, sufficiently remarkable to be remembered, supposing he had been seendrinking, or loitering about; but Giles returned without anyintelligence, calculated to dispel or lessen the mystery. 

On the next day, fresh search was made, and the inquiries renewed; butwith no better success. On the day following, Oliver and Mr. Maylierepaired to the market-town, in the hope of seeing or hearing somethingof the men there; but this effort was equally fruitless. After a fewdays, the affair began to be forgotten, as most affairs are, whenwonder, having no fresh food to support it, dies away of itself. 

Meanwhile, Rose was rapidly recovering. She had left her room: wasable to go out; and mixing once more with the family, carried joy intothe hearts of all. 

But, although this happy change had a visible effect on the littlecircle; and although cheerful voices and merry laughter were once moreheard in the cottage; there was at times, an unwonted restraint uponsome there: even upon Rose herself: which Oliver could not fail toremark. Mrs. Maylie and her son were often closeted together for along time; and more than once Rose appeared with traces of tears uponher face. After Mr. Losberne had fixed a day for his departure toChertsey, these symptoms increased; and it became evident thatsomething was in progress which affected the peace of the young lady, and of somebody else besides. 

At length, one morning, when Rose was alone in the breakfast-parlour, Harry Maylie entered; and, with some hesitation, begged permission tospeak with her for a few moments. 

'A few--a very few--will suffice, Rose, ' said the young man, drawinghis chair towards her. 'What I shall have to say, has alreadypresented itself to your mind; the most cherished hopes of my heart arenot unknown to you, though from my lips you have not heard them stated. '

Rose had been very pale from the moment of his entrance; but that mighthave been the effect of her recent illness. She merely bowed; andbending over some plants that stood near, waited in silence for him toproceed. 

'I--I--ought to have left here, before, ' said Harry. 

'You should, indeed, ' replied Rose. 'Forgive me for saying so, but Iwish you had. '

'I was brought here, by the most dreadful and agonising of allapprehensions, ' said the young man; 'the fear of losing the one dearbeing on whom my every wish and hope are fixed. You had been dying;trembling between earth and heaven. We know that when the young, thebeautiful, and good, are visited with sickness, their pure spiritsinsensibly turn towards their bright home of lasting rest; we know, Heaven help us! that the best and fairest of our kind, too often fadein blooming. '

There were tears in the eyes of the gentle girl, as these words werespoken; and when one fell upon the flower over which she bent, andglistened brightly in its cup, making it more beautiful, it seemed asthough the outpouring of her fresh young heart, claimed kindrednaturally, with the loveliest things in nature. 

'A creature, ' continued the young man, passionately, 'a creature asfair and innocent of guile as one of God's own angels, flutteredbetween life and death. Oh! who could hope, when the distant world towhich she was akin, half opened to her view, that she would return tothe sorrow and calamity of this! Rose, Rose, to know that you werepassing away like some soft shadow, which a light from above, castsupon the earth; to have no hope that you would be spared to those wholinger here; hardly to know a reason why you should be; to feel thatyou belonged to that bright sphere whither so many of the fairest andthe best have winged their early flight; and yet to pray, amid allthese consolations, that you might be restored to those who lovedyou--these were distractions almost too great to bear. They were mine, by day and night; and with them, came such a rushing torrent of fears, and apprehensions, and selfish regrets, lest you should die, and neverknow how devotedly I loved you, as almost bore down sense and reason inits course. You recovered. Day by day, and almost hour by hour, somedrop of health came back, and mingling with the spent and feeble streamof life which circulated languidly within you, swelled it again to ahigh and rushing tide. I have watched you change almost from death, tolife, with eyes that turned blind with their eagerness and deepaffection. Do not tell me that you wish I had lost this; for it hassoftened my heart to all mankind. '

'I did not mean that, ' said Rose, weeping; 'I only wish you had lefthere, that you might have turned to high and noble pursuits again; topursuits well worthy of you. '

'There is no pursuit more worthy of me: more worthy of the highestnature that exists: than the struggle to win such a heart as yours, 'said the young man, taking her hand. 'Rose, my own dear Rose! Foryears--for years--I have loved you; hoping to win my way to fame, andthen come proudly home and tell you it had been pursued only for you toshare; thinking, in my daydreams, how I would remind you, in that happymoment, of the many silent tokens I had given of a boy's attachment, and claim your hand, as in redemption of some old mute contract thathad been sealed between us! That time has not arrived; but here, withnot fame won, and no young vision realised, I offer you the heart solong your own, and stake my all upon the words with which you greet theoffer. '

'Your behaviour has ever been kind and noble. ' said Rose, mastering theemotions by which she was agitated. 'As you believe that I am notinsensible or ungrateful, so hear my answer. '

'It is, that I may endeavour to deserve you; it is, dear Rose?'

'It is, ' replied Rose, 'that you must endeavour to forget me; not asyour old and dearly-attached companion, for that would wound me deeply;but, as the object of your love. Look into the world; think how manyhearts you would be proud to gain, are there. Confide some otherpassion to me, if you will; I will be the truest, warmest, and mostfaithful friend you have. '

There was a pause, during which, Rose, who had covered her face withone hand, gave free vent to her tears. Harry still retained the other. 

'And your reasons, Rose, ' he said, at length, in a low voice; 'yourreasons for this decision?'

'You have a right to know them, ' rejoined Rose. 'You can say nothingto alter my resolution. It is a duty that I must perform. I owe it, alike to others, and to myself. '

'To yourself?'

'Yes, Harry. I owe it to myself, that I, a friendless, portionless, girl, with a blight upon my name, should not give your friends reasonto suspect that I had sordidly yielded to your first passion, andfastened myself, a clog, on all your hopes and projects. I owe it toyou and yours, to prevent you from opposing, in the warmth of yourgenerous nature, this great obstacle to your progress in the world. '

'If your inclinations chime with your sense of duty--' Harry began. 

'They do not, ' replied Rose, colouring deeply. 

'Then you return my love?' said Harry. 'Say but that, dear Rose; saybut that; and soften the bitterness of this hard disappointment!'

'If I could have done so, without doing heavy wrong to him I loved, 'rejoined Rose, 'I could have--'

'Have received this declaration very differently?' said Harry. 'Do notconceal that from me, at least, Rose. '

'I could, ' said Rose. 'Stay!' she added, disengaging her hand, 'whyshould we prolong this painful interview? Most painful to me, and yetproductive of lasting happiness, notwithstanding; for it _will_ behappiness to know that I once held the high place in your regard whichI now occupy, and every triumph you achieve in life will animate mewith new fortitude and firmness. Farewell, Harry! As we have metto-day, we meet no more; but in other relations than those in whichthis conversation have placed us, we may be long and happily entwined;and may every blessing that the prayers of a true and earnest heart cancall down from the source of all truth and sincerity, cheer and prosperyou!'

'Another word, Rose, ' said Harry. 'Your reason in your own words. From your own lips, let me hear it!'

'The prospect before you, ' answered Rose, firmly, 'is a brilliant one. All the honours to which great talents and powerful connections canhelp men in public life, are in store for you. But those connectionsare proud; and I will neither mingle with such as may hold in scorn themother who gave me life; nor bring disgrace or failure on the son ofher who has so well supplied that mother's place. In a word, ' said theyoung lady, turning away, as her temporary firmness forsook her, 'thereis a stain upon my name, which the world visits on innocent heads. Iwill carry it into no blood but my own; and the reproach shall restalone on me. '

'One word more, Rose. Dearest Rose! one more!' cried Harry, throwinghimself before her. 'If I had been less--less fortunate, the worldwould call it--if some obscure and peaceful life had been mydestiny--if I had been poor, sick, helpless--would you have turned fromme then? Or has my probable advancement to riches and honour, giventhis scruple birth?'

'Do not press me to reply, ' answered Rose. 'The question does notarise, and never will. It is unfair, almost unkind, to urge it. '

'If your answer be what I almost dare to hope it is, ' retorted Harry, 'it will shed a gleam of happiness upon my lonely way, and light thepath before me. It is not an idle thing to do so much, by theutterance of a few brief words, for one who loves you beyond all else. Oh, Rose: in the name of my ardent and enduring attachment; in the nameof all I have suffered for you, and all you doom me to undergo; answerme this one question!'

'Then, if your lot had been differently cast, ' rejoined Rose; 'if youhad been even a little, but not so far, above me; if I could have beena help and comfort to you in any humble scene of peace and retirement, and not a blot and drawback in ambitious and distinguished crowds; Ishould have been spared this trial. I have every reason to be happy, very happy, now; but then, Harry, I own I should have been happier. '

Busy recollections of old hopes, cherished as a girl, long ago, crowdedinto the mind of Rose, while making this avowal; but they brought tearswith them, as old hopes will when they come back withered; and theyrelieved her. 

'I cannot help this weakness, and it makes my purpose stronger, ' saidRose, extending her hand. 'I must leave you now, indeed. '

'I ask one promise, ' said Harry. 'Once, and only once more, --saywithin a year, but it may be much sooner, --I may speak to you again onthis subject, for the last time. '

'Not to press me to alter my right determination, ' replied Rose, with amelancholy smile; 'it will be useless. '

'No, ' said Harry; 'to hear you repeat it, if you will--finally repeatit! I will lay at your feet, whatever of station of fortune I maypossess; and if you still adhere to your present resolution, will notseek, by word or act, to change it. '

'Then let it be so, ' rejoined Rose; 'it is but one pang the more, andby that time I may be enabled to bear it better. '

She extended her hand again. But the young man caught her to hisbosom; and imprinting one kiss on her beautiful forehead, hurried fromthe room. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

IS A VERY SHORT ONE, AND MAY APPEAR OF NO GREAT IMPORTANCE IN ITSPLACE, BUT IT SHOULD BE READ NOTWITHSTANDING, AS A SEQUEL TO THE LAST, AND A KEY TO ONE THAT WILL FOLLOW WHEN ITS TIME ARRIVES

'And so you are resolved to be my travelling companion this morning;eh?' said the doctor, as Harry Maylie joined him and Oliver at thebreakfast-table. 'Why, you are not in the same mind or intention twohalf-hours together!'

'You will tell me a different tale one of these days, ' said Harry, colouring without any perceptible reason. 

'I hope I may have good cause to do so, ' replied Mr. Losberne; 'thoughI confess I don't think I shall. But yesterday morning you had made upyour mind, in a great hurry, to stay here, and to accompany yourmother, like a dutiful son, to the sea-side. Before noon, you announcethat you are going to do me the honour of accompanying me as far as Igo, on your road to London. And at night, you urge me, with greatmystery, to start before the ladies are stirring; the consequence ofwhich is, that young Oliver here is pinned down to his breakfast whenhe ought to be ranging the meadows after botanical phenomena of allkinds. Too bad, isn't it, Oliver?'

'I should have been very sorry not to have been at home when you andMr. Maylie went away, sir, ' rejoined Oliver. 

'That's a fine fellow, ' said the doctor; 'you shall come and see mewhen you return. But, to speak seriously, Harry; has any communicationfrom the great nobs produced this sudden anxiety on your part to begone?'

'The great nobs, ' replied Harry, 'under which designation, I presume, you include my most stately uncle, have not communicated with me atall, since I have been here; nor, at this time of the year, is itlikely that anything would occur to render necessary my immediateattendance among them. '

'Well, ' said the doctor, 'you are a queer fellow. But of course theywill get you into parliament at the election before Christmas, andthese sudden shiftings and changes are no bad preparation for politicallife. There's something in that. Good training is always desirable, whether the race be for place, cup, or sweepstakes. '

Harry Maylie looked as if he could have followed up this short dialogueby one or two remarks that would have staggered the doctor not alittle; but he contented himself with saying, 'We shall see, ' andpursued the subject no farther. The post-chaise drove up to the doorshortly afterwards; and Giles coming in for the luggage, the gooddoctor bustled out, to see it packed. 

'Oliver, ' said Harry Maylie, in a low voice, 'let me speak a word withyou. '

Oliver walked into the window-recess to which Mr. Maylie beckoned him;much surprised at the mixture of sadness and boisterous spirits, whichhis whole behaviour displayed. 

'You can write well now?' said Harry, laying his hand upon his arm. 

'I hope so, sir, ' replied Oliver. 

'I shall not be at home again, perhaps for some time; I wish you wouldwrite to me--say once a fort-night: every alternate Monday: to theGeneral Post Office in London. Will you?'

'Oh! certainly, sir; I shall be proud to do it, ' exclaimed Oliver, greatly delighted with the commission. 

'I should like to know how--how my mother and Miss Maylie are, ' saidthe young man; 'and you can fill up a sheet by telling me what walksyou take, and what you talk about, and whether she--they, I mean--seemhappy and quite well. You understand me?'

'Oh! quite, sir, quite, ' replied Oliver. 

'I would rather you did not mention it to them, ' said Harry, hurryingover his words; 'because it might make my mother anxious to write to meoftener, and it is a trouble and worry to her. Let it be a secretbetween you and me; and mind you tell me everything! I depend uponyou. '

Oliver, quite elated and honoured by a sense of his importance, faithfully promised to be secret and explicit in his communications. Mr. Maylie took leave of him, with many assurances of his regard andprotection. 

The doctor was in the chaise; Giles (who, it had been arranged, shouldbe left behind) held the door open in his hand; and the women-servantswere in the garden, looking on. Harry cast one slight glance at thelatticed window, and jumped into the carriage. 

'Drive on!' he cried, 'hard, fast, full gallop! Nothing short offlying will keep pace with me, to-day. '

'Halloa!' cried the doctor, letting down the front glass in a greathurry, and shouting to the postillion; 'something very short of flyingwill keep pace with _me_. Do you hear?'

Jingling and clattering, till distance rendered its noise inaudible, and its rapid progress only perceptible to the eye, the vehicle woundits way along the road, almost hidden in a cloud of dust: now whollydisappearing, and now becoming visible again, as intervening objects, or the intricacies of the way, permitted. It was not until even thedusty cloud was no longer to be seen, that the gazers dispersed. 

And there was one looker-on, who remained with eyes fixed upon the spotwhere the carriage had disappeared, long after it was many miles away;for, behind the white curtain which had shrouded her from view whenHarry raised his eyes towards the window, sat Rose herself. 

'He seems in high spirits and happy, ' she said, at length. 'I fearedfor a time he might be otherwise. I was mistaken. I am very, veryglad. '

Tears are signs of gladness as well as grief; but those which courseddown Rose's face, as she sat pensively at the window, still gazing inthe same direction, seemed to tell more of sorrow than of joy. 

CHAPTER XXXVII

IN WHICH THE READER MAY PERCEIVE A CONTRAST, NOT UNCOMMON INMATRIMONIAL CASES

Mr. Bumble sat in the workhouse parlour, with his eyes moodily fixed onthe cheerless grate, whence, as it was summer time, no brighter gleamproceeded, than the reflection of certain sickly rays of the sun, whichwere sent back from its cold and shining surface. A paper fly-cagedangled from the ceiling, to which he occasionally raised his eyes ingloomy thought; and, as the heedless insects hovered round the gaudynet-work, Mr. Bumble would heave a deep sigh, while a more gloomyshadow overspread his countenance. Mr. Bumble was meditating; it mightbe that the insects brought to mind, some painful passage in his ownpast life. 

Nor was Mr. Bumble's gloom the only thing calculated to awaken apleasing melancholy in the bosom of a spectator. There were not wantingother appearances, and those closely connected with his own person, which announced that a great change had taken place in the position ofhis affairs. The laced coat, and the cocked hat; where were they? Hestill wore knee-breeches, and dark cotton stockings on his netherlimbs; but they were not _the_ breeches. The coat was wide-skirted;and in that respect like _the_ coat, but, oh how different! The mightycocked hat was replaced by a modest round one. Mr. Bumble was nolonger a beadle. 

There are some promotions in life, which, independent of the moresubstantial rewards they offer, require peculiar value and dignity fromthe coats and waistcoats connected with them. A field-marshal has hisuniform; a bishop his silk apron; a counsellor his silk gown; a beadlehis cocked hat. Strip the bishop of his apron, or the beadle of hishat and lace; what are they? Men. Mere men. Dignity, and evenholiness too, sometimes, are more questions of coat and waistcoat thansome people imagine. 

Mr. Bumble had married Mrs. Corney, and was master of the workhouse. Another beadle had come into power. On him the cocked hat, gold-lacedcoat, and staff, had all three descended. 

'And to-morrow two months it was done!' said Mr. Bumble, with a sigh. 'It seems a age. '

Mr. Bumble might have meant that he had concentrated a whole existenceof happiness into the short space of eight weeks; but the sigh--therewas a vast deal of meaning in the sigh. 

'I sold myself, ' said Mr. Bumble, pursuing the same train of relection, 'for six teaspoons, a pair of sugar-tongs, and a milk-pot; with a smallquantity of second-hand furniture, and twenty pound in money. I wentvery reasonable. Cheap, dirt cheap!'

'Cheap!' cried a shrill voice in Mr. Bumble's ear: 'you would have beendear at any price; and dear enough I paid for you, Lord above knowsthat!'

Mr. Bumble turned, and encountered the face of his interesting consort, who, imperfectly comprehending the few words she had overheard of hiscomplaint, had hazarded the foregoing remark at a venture. 

'Mrs. Bumble, ma'am!' said Mr. Bumble, with a sentimental sternness. 

'Well!' cried the lady. 

'Have the goodness to look at me, ' said Mr. Bumble, fixing his eyesupon her. (If she stands such a eye as that, ' said Mr. Bumble tohimself, 'she can stand anything. It is a eye I never knew to failwith paupers. If it fails with her, my power is gone. ')

Whether an exceedingly small expansion of eye be sufficient to quellpaupers, who, being lightly fed, are in no very high condition; orwhether the late Mrs. Corney was particularly proof against eagleglances; are matters of opinion. The matter of fact, is, that thematron was in no way overpowered by Mr. Bumble's scowl, but, on thecontrary, treated it with great disdain, and even raised a laughthereat, which sounded as though it were genuine. 

On hearing this most unexpected sound, Mr. Bumble looked, firstincredulous, and afterwards amazed. He then relapsed into his formerstate; nor did he rouse himself until his attention was again awakenedby the voice of his partner. 

'Are you going to sit snoring there, all day?' inquired Mrs. Bumble. 

'I am going to sit here, as long as I think proper, ma'am, ' rejoinedMr. Bumble; 'and although I was _not_ snoring, I shall snore, gape, sneeze, laugh, or cry, as the humour strikes me; such being myprerogative. '

'_Your_ prerogative!' sneered Mrs. Bumble, with ineffable contempt. 

'I said the word, ma'am, ' said Mr. Bumble. 'The prerogative of a manis to command. '

'And what's the prerogative of a woman, in the name of Goodness?' criedthe relict of Mr. Corney deceased. 

'To obey, ma'am, ' thundered Mr. Bumble. 'Your late unfortunate husbandshould have taught it you; and then, perhaps, he might have been alivenow. I wish he was, poor man!'

Mrs. Bumble, seeing at a glance, that the decisive moment had nowarrived, and that a blow struck for the mastership on one side orother, must necessarily be final and conclusive, no sooner heard thisallusion to the dead and gone, than she dropped into a chair, and witha loud scream that Mr. Bumble was a hard-hearted brute, fell into aparoxysm of tears. 

But, tears were not the things to find their way to Mr. Bumble's soul;his heart was waterproof. Like washable beaver hats that improve withrain, his nerves were rendered stouter and more vigorous, by showers oftears, which, being tokens of weakness, and so far tacit admissions ofhis own power, pleased and exalted him. He eyed his good lady withlooks of great satisfaction, and begged, in an encouraging manner, thatshe should cry her hardest: the exercise being looked upon, by thefaculty, as strongly conducive to health. 

'It opens the lungs, washes the countenance, exercises the eyes, andsoftens down the temper, ' said Mr. Bumble. 'So cry away. '

As he discharged himself of this pleasantry, Mr. Bumble took his hatfrom a peg, and putting it on, rather rakishly, on one side, as a manmight, who felt he had asserted his superiority in a becoming manner, thrust his hands into his pockets, and sauntered towards the door, withmuch ease and waggishness depicted in his whole appearance. 

Now, Mrs. Corney that was, had tried the tears, because they were lesstroublesome than a manual assault; but, she was quite prepared to maketrial of the latter mode of proceeding, as Mr. Bumble was not long indiscovering. 

The first proof he experienced of the fact, was conveyed in a hollowsound, immediately succeeded by the sudden flying off of his hat to theopposite end of the room. This preliminary proceeding laying bare hishead, the expert lady, clasping him tightly round the throat with onehand, inflicted a shower of blows (dealt with singular vigour anddexterity) upon it with the other. This done, she created a littlevariety by scratching his face, and tearing his hair; and, having, bythis time, inflicted as much punishment as she deemed necessary for theoffence, she pushed him over a chair, which was luckily well situatedfor the purpose: and defied him to talk about his prerogative again, if he dared. 

'Get up!' said Mrs. Bumble, in a voice of command. 'And take yourselfaway from here, unless you want me to do something desperate. '

Mr. Bumble rose with a very rueful countenance: wondering much whatsomething desperate might be. Picking up his hat, he looked towardsthe door. 

'Are you going?' demanded Mrs. Bumble. 

'Certainly, my dear, certainly, ' rejoined Mr. Bumble, making a quickermotion towards the door. 'I didn't intend to--I'm going, my dear! Youare so very violent, that really I--'

At this instant, Mrs. Bumble stepped hastily forward to replace thecarpet, which had been kicked up in the scuffle. Mr. Bumbleimmediately darted out of the room, without bestowing another thoughton his unfinished sentence: leaving the late Mrs. Corney in fullpossession of the field. 

Mr. Bumble was fairly taken by surprise, and fairly beaten. He had adecided propensity for bullying: derived no inconsiderable pleasurefrom the exercise of petty cruelty; and, consequently, was (it isneedless to say) a coward. This is by no means a disparagement to hischaracter; for many official personages, who are held in high respectand admiration, are the victims of similar infirmities. The remark ismade, indeed, rather in his favour than otherwise, and with a view ofimpressing the reader with a just sense of his qualifications foroffice. 

But, the measure of his degradation was not yet full. After making atour of the house, and thinking, for the first time, that the poor-lawsreally were too hard on people; and that men who ran away from theirwives, leaving them chargeable to the parish, ought, in justice to bevisited with no punishment at all, but rather rewarded as meritoriousindividuals who had suffered much; Mr. Bumble came to a room where someof the female paupers were usually employed in washing the parishlinen: when the sound of voices in conversation, now proceeded. 

'Hem!' said Mr. Bumble, summoning up all his native dignity. 'Thesewomen at least shall continue to respect the prerogative. Hallo! hallothere! What do you mean by this noise, you hussies?'

With these words, Mr. Bumble opened the door, and walked in with a veryfierce and angry manner: which was at once exchanged for a mosthumiliated and cowering air, as his eyes unexpectedly rested on theform of his lady wife. 

'My dear, ' said Mr. Bumble, 'I didn't know you were here. '

'Didn't know I was here!' repeated Mrs. Bumble. 'What do _you_ dohere?'

'I thought they were talking rather too much to be doing their workproperly, my dear, ' replied Mr. Bumble: glancing distractedly at acouple of old women at the wash-tub, who were comparing notes ofadmiration at the workhouse-master's humility. 

'_You_ thought they were talking too much?' said Mrs. Bumble. 'Whatbusiness is it of yours?'

'Why, my dear--' urged Mr. Bumble submissively. 

'What business is it of yours?' demanded Mrs. Bumble, again. 

'It's very true, you're matron here, my dear, ' submitted Mr. Bumble;'but I thought you mightn't be in the way just then. '

'I'll tell you what, Mr. Bumble, ' returned his lady. 'We don't wantany of your interference. You're a great deal too fond of poking yournose into things that don't concern you, making everybody in the houselaugh, the moment your back is turned, and making yourself look like afool every hour in the day. Be off; come!'

Mr. Bumble, seeing with excruciating feelings, the delight of the twoold paupers, who were tittering together most rapturously, hesitatedfor an instant. Mrs. Bumble, whose patience brooked no delay, caughtup a bowl of soap-suds, and motioning him towards the door, ordered himinstantly to depart, on pain of receiving the contents upon his portlyperson. 

What could Mr. Bumble do? He looked dejectedly round, and slunk away;and, as he reached the door, the titterings of the paupers broke into ashrill chuckle of irrepressible delight. It wanted but this. He wasdegraded in their eyes; he had lost caste and station before the verypaupers; he had fallen from all the height and pomp of beadleship, tothe lowest depth of the most snubbed hen-peckery. 

'All in two months!' said Mr. Bumble, filled with dismal thoughts. 'Two months! No more than two months ago, I was not only my ownmaster, but everybody else's, so far as the porochial workhouse wasconcerned, and now!--'

It was too much. Mr. Bumble boxed the ears of the boy who opened thegate for him (for he had reached the portal in his reverie); andwalked, distractedly, into the street. 

He walked up one street, and down another, until exercise had abatedthe first passion of his grief; and then the revulsion of feeling madehim thirsty. He passed a great many public-houses; but, at lengthpaused before one in a by-way, whose parlour, as he gathered from ahasty peep over the blinds, was deserted, save by one solitarycustomer. It began to rain, heavily, at the moment. This determinedhim. Mr. Bumble stepped in; and ordering something to drink, as hepassed the bar, entered the apartment into which he had looked from thestreet. 

The man who was seated there, was tall and dark, and wore a largecloak. He had the air of a stranger; and seemed, by a certainhaggardness in his look, as well as by the dusty soils on his dress, tohave travelled some distance. He eyed Bumble askance, as he entered, but scarcely deigned to nod his head in acknowledgment of hissalutation. 

Mr. Bumble had quite dignity enough for two; supposing even that thestranger had been more familiar: so he drank his gin-and-water insilence, and read the paper with great show of pomp and circumstance. 

It so happened, however: as it will happen very often, when men fallinto company under such circumstances: that Mr. Bumble felt, every nowand then, a powerful inducement, which he could not resist, to steal alook at the stranger: and that whenever he did so, he withdrew hiseyes, in some confusion, to find that the stranger was at that momentstealing a look at him. Mr. Bumble's awkwardness was enhanced by thevery remarkable expression of the stranger's eye, which was keen andbright, but shadowed by a scowl of distrust and suspicion, unlikeanything he had ever observed before, and repulsive to behold. 

When they had encountered each other's glance several times in thisway, the stranger, in a harsh, deep voice, broke silence. 

'Were you looking for me, ' he said, 'when you peered in at the window?'

'Not that I am aware of, unless you're Mr. --' Here Mr. Bumble stoppedshort; for he was curious to know the stranger's name, and thought inhis impatience, he might supply the blank. 

'I see you were not, ' said the stranger; an expression of quiet sarcasmplaying about his mouth; 'or you have known my name. You don't knowit. I would recommend you not to ask for it. '

'I meant no harm, young man, ' observed Mr. Bumble, majestically. 

'And have done none, ' said the stranger. 

Another silence succeeded this short dialogue: which was again brokenby the stranger. 

'I have seen you before, I think?' said he. 'You were differentlydressed at that time, and I only passed you in the street, but I shouldknow you again. You were beadle here, once; were you not?'

'I was, ' said Mr. Bumble, in some surprise; 'porochial beadle. '

'Just so, ' rejoined the other, nodding his head. 'It was in thatcharacter I saw you. What are you now?'

'Master of the workhouse, ' rejoined Mr. Bumble, slowly andimpressively, to check any undue familiarity the stranger mightotherwise assume. 'Master of the workhouse, young man!'

'You have the same eye to your own interest, that you always had, Idoubt not?' resumed the stranger, looking keenly into Mr. Bumble'seyes, as he raised them in astonishment at the question. 

'Don't scruple to answer freely, man. I know you pretty well, you see. '

'I suppose, a married man, ' replied Mr. Bumble, shading his eyes withhis hand, and surveying the stranger, from head to foot, in evidentperplexity, 'is not more averse to turning an honest penny when he can, than a single one. Porochial officers are not so well paid that theycan afford to refuse any little extra fee, when it comes to them in acivil and proper manner. '

The stranger smiled, and nodded his head again: as much to say, he hadnot mistaken his man; then rang the bell. 

'Fill this glass again, ' he said, handing Mr. Bumble's empty tumbler tothe landlord. 'Let it be strong and hot. You like it so, I suppose?'

'Not too strong, ' replied Mr. Bumble, with a delicate cough. 

'You understand what that means, landlord!' said the stranger, drily. 

The host smiled, disappeared, and shortly afterwards returned with asteaming jorum: of which, the first gulp brought the water into Mr. Bumble's eyes. 

'Now listen to me, ' said the stranger, after closing the door andwindow. 'I came down to this place, to-day, to find you out; and, byone of those chances which the devil throws in the way of his friendssometimes, you walked into the very room I was sitting in, while youwere uppermost in my mind. I want some information from you. I don'task you to give it for nothing, slight as it is. Put up that, to beginwith. '

As he spoke, he pushed a couple of sovereigns across the table to hiscompanion, carefully, as though unwilling that the chinking of moneyshould be heard without. When Mr. Bumble had scrupulously examined thecoins, to see that they were genuine, and had put them up, with muchsatisfaction, in his waistcoat-pocket, he went on:

'Carry your memory back--let me see--twelve years, last winter. '

'It's a long time, ' said Mr. Bumble. 'Very good. I've done it. '

'The scene, the workhouse. '

'Good!'

'And the time, night. '

'Yes. '

'And the place, the crazy hole, wherever it was, in which miserabledrabs brought forth the life and health so often denied tothemselves--gave birth to puling children for the parish to rear; andhid their shame, rot 'em in the grave!'

'The lying-in room, I suppose?' said Mr. Bumble, not quite followingthe stranger's excited description. 

'Yes, ' said the stranger. 'A boy was born there. '

'A many boys, ' observed Mr. Bumble, shaking his head, despondingly. 

'A murrain on the young devils!' cried the stranger; 'I speak of one; ameek-looking, pale-faced boy, who was apprenticed down here, to acoffin-maker--I wish he had made his coffin, and screwed his body init--and who afterwards ran away to London, as it was supposed. 

'Why, you mean Oliver! Young Twist!' said Mr. Bumble; 'I remember him, of course. There wasn't a obstinater young rascal--'

'It's not of him I want to hear; I've heard enough of him, ' said thestranger, stopping Mr. Bumble in the outset of a tirade on the subjectof poor Oliver's vices. 'It's of a woman; the hag that nursed hismother. Where is she?'

'Where is she?' said Mr. Bumble, whom the gin-and-water had renderedfacetious. 'It would be hard to tell. There's no midwifery there, whichever place she's gone to; so I suppose she's out of employment, anyway. '

'What do you mean?' demanded the stranger, sternly. 

'That she died last winter, ' rejoined Mr. Bumble. 

The man looked fixedly at him when he had given this information, andalthough he did not withdraw his eyes for some time afterwards, hisgaze gradually became vacant and abstracted, and he seemed lost inthought. For some time, he appeared doubtful whether he ought to berelieved or disappointed by the intelligence; but at length he breathedmore freely; and withdrawing his eyes, observed that it was no greatmatter. With that he rose, as if to depart. 

But Mr. Bumble was cunning enough; and he at once saw that anopportunity was opened, for the lucrative disposal of some secret inthe possession of his better half. He well remembered the night of oldSally's death, which the occurrences of that day had given him goodreason to recollect, as the occasion on which he had proposed to Mrs. Corney; and although that lady had never confided to him the disclosureof which she had been the solitary witness, he had heard enough to knowthat it related to something that had occurred in the old woman'sattendance, as workhouse nurse, upon the young mother of Oliver Twist. Hastily calling this circumstance to mind, he informed the stranger, with an air of mystery, that one woman had been closeted with the oldharridan shortly before she died; and that she could, as he had reasonto believe, throw some light on the subject of his inquiry. 

'How can I find her?' said the stranger, thrown off his guard; andplainly showing that all his fears (whatever they were) were arousedafresh by the intelligence. 

'Only through me, ' rejoined Mr. Bumble. 

'When?' cried the stranger, hastily. 

'To-morrow, ' rejoined Bumble. 

'At nine in the evening, ' said the stranger, producing a scrap ofpaper, and writing down upon it, an obscure address by the water-side, in characters that betrayed his agitation; 'at nine in the evening, bring her to me there. I needn't tell you to be secret. It's yourinterest. '

With these words, he led the way to the door, after stopping to pay forthe liquor that had been drunk. Shortly remarking that their roadswere different, he departed, without more ceremony than an emphaticrepetition of the hour of appointment for the following night. 

On glancing at the address, the parochial functionary observed that itcontained no name. The stranger had not gone far, so he made after himto ask it. 

'What do you want?' cried the man, turning quickly round, as Bumbletouched him on the arm. 'Following me?'

'Only to ask a question, ' said the other, pointing to the scrap ofpaper. 'What name am I to ask for?'

'Monks!' rejoined the man; and strode hastily, away. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII

CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF WHAT PASSED BETWEEN MR. AND MRS. BUMBLE, ANDMR. MONKS, AT THEIR NOCTURNAL INTERVIEW

It was a dull, close, overcast summer evening. The clouds, which hadbeen threatening all day, spread out in a dense and sluggish mass ofvapour, already yielded large drops of rain, and seemed to presage aviolent thunder-storm, when Mr. And Mrs. Bumble, turning out of themain street of the town, directed their course towards a scatteredlittle colony of ruinous houses, distant from it some mile and a-half, or thereabouts, and erected on a low unwholesome swamp, bordering uponthe river. 

They were both wrapped in old and shabby outer garments, which might, perhaps, serve the double purpose of protecting their persons from therain, and sheltering them from observation. The husband carried alantern, from which, however, no light yet shone; and trudged on, a fewpaces in front, as though--the way being dirty--to give his wife thebenefit of treading in his heavy footprints. They went on, in profoundsilence; every now and then, Mr. Bumble relaxed his pace, and turnedhis head as if to make sure that his helpmate was following; then, discovering that she was close at his heels, he mended his rate ofwalking, and proceeded, at a considerable increase of speed, towardstheir place of destination. 

This was far from being a place of doubtful character; for it had longbeen known as the residence of none but low ruffians, who, undervarious pretences of living by their labour, subsisted chiefly onplunder and crime. It was a collection of mere hovels: some, hastilybuilt with loose bricks: others, of old worm-eaten ship-timber: jumbledtogether without any attempt at order or arrangement, and planted, forthe most part, within a few feet of the river's bank. A few leakyboats drawn up on the mud, and made fast to the dwarf wall whichskirted it: and here and there an oar or coil of rope: appeared, atfirst, to indicate that the inhabitants of these miserable cottagespursued some avocation on the river; but a glance at the shattered anduseless condition of the articles thus displayed, would have led apasser-by, without much difficulty, to the conjecture that they weredisposed there, rather for the preservation of appearances, than withany view to their being actually employed. 

In the heart of this cluster of huts; and skirting the river, which itsupper stories overhung; stood a large building, formerly used as amanufactory of some kind. It had, in its day, probably furnishedemployment to the inhabitants of the surrounding tenements. But it hadlong since gone to ruin. The rat, the worm, and the action of thedamp, had weakened and rotted the piles on which it stood; and aconsiderable portion of the building had already sunk down into thewater; while the remainder, tottering and bending over the dark stream, seemed to wait a favourable opportunity of following its old companion, and involving itself in the same fate. 

It was before this ruinous building that the worthy couple paused, asthe first peal of distant thunder reverberated in the air, and the raincommenced pouring violently down. 

'The place should be somewhere here, ' said Bumble, consulting a scrapof paper he held in his hand. 

'Halloa there!' cried a voice from above. 

Following the sound, Mr. Bumble raised his head and descried a manlooking out of a door, breast-high, on the second story. 

'Stand still, a minute, ' cried the voice; 'I'll be with you directly. 'With which the head disappeared, and the door closed. 

'Is that the man?' asked Mr. Bumble's good lady. 

Mr. Bumble nodded in the affirmative. 

'Then, mind what I told you, ' said the matron: 'and be careful to sayas little as you can, or you'll betray us at once. '

Mr. Bumble, who had eyed the building with very rueful looks, wasapparently about to express some doubts relative to the advisability ofproceeding any further with the enterprise just then, when he wasprevented by the appearance of Monks: who opened a small door, nearwhich they stood, and beckoned them inwards. 

'Come in!' he cried impatiently, stamping his foot upon the ground. 'Don't keep me here!'

The woman, who had hesitated at first, walked boldly in, without anyother invitation. Mr. Bumble, who was ashamed or afraid to lag behind, followed: obviously very ill at ease and with scarcely any of thatremarkable dignity which was usually his chief characteristic. 

'What the devil made you stand lingering there, in the wet?' saidMonks, turning round, and addressing Bumble, after he had bolted thedoor behind them. 

'We--we were only cooling ourselves, ' stammered Bumble, lookingapprehensively about him. 

'Cooling yourselves!' retorted Monks. 'Not all the rain that everfell, or ever will fall, will put as much of hell's fire out, as a mancan carry about with him. You won't cool yourself so easily; don'tthink it!'

With this agreeable speech, Monks turned short upon the matron, andbent his gaze upon her, till even she, who was not easily cowed, wasfain to withdraw her eyes, and turn them towards the ground. 

'This is the woman, is it?' demanded Monks. 

'Hem! That is the woman, ' replied Mr. Bumble, mindful of his wife'scaution. 

'You think women never can keep secrets, I suppose?' said the matron, interposing, and returning, as she spoke, the searching look of Monks. 

'I know they will always keep _one_ till it's found out, ' said Monks. 

'And what may that be?' asked the matron. 

'The loss of their own good name, ' replied Monks. 'So, by the samerule, if a woman's a party to a secret that might hang or transporther, I'm not afraid of her telling it to anybody; not I! Do youunderstand, mistress?'

'No, ' rejoined the matron, slightly colouring as she spoke. 

'Of course you don't!' said Monks. 'How should you?'

Bestowing something half-way between a smile and a frown upon his twocompanions, and again beckoning them to follow him, the man hastenedacross the apartment, which was of considerable extent, but low in theroof. He was preparing to ascend a steep staircase, or rather ladder, leading to another floor of warehouses above: when a bright flash oflightning streamed down the aperture, and a peal of thunder followed, which shook the crazy building to its centre. 

'Hear it!' he cried, shrinking back. 'Hear it! Rolling and crashingon as if it echoed through a thousand caverns where the devils werehiding from it. I hate the sound!'

He remained silent for a few moments; and then, removing his handssuddenly from his face, showed, to the unspeakable discomposure of Mr. Bumble, that it was much distorted and discoloured. 

'These fits come over me, now and then, ' said Monks, observing hisalarm; 'and thunder sometimes brings them on. Don't mind me now; it'sall over for this once. '

Thus speaking, he led the way up the ladder; and hastily closing thewindow-shutter of the room into which it led, lowered a lantern whichhung at the end of a rope and pulley passed through one of the heavybeams in the ceiling: and which cast a dim light upon an old table andthree chairs that were placed beneath it. 

'Now, ' said Monks, when they had all three seated themselves, 'thesooner we come to our business, the better for all. The woman knowwhat it is, does she?'

The question was addressed to Bumble; but his wife anticipated thereply, by intimating that she was perfectly acquainted with it. 

'He is right in saying that you were with this hag the night she died;and that she told you something--'

'About the mother of the boy you named, ' replied the matroninterrupting him. 'Yes. '

'The first question is, of what nature was her communication?' saidMonks. 

'That's the second, ' observed the woman with much deliberation. 'Thefirst is, what may the communication be worth?'

'Who the devil can tell that, without knowing of what kind it is?'asked Monks. 

'Nobody better than you, I am persuaded, ' answered Mrs. Bumble: who didnot want for spirit, as her yoke-fellow could abundantly testify. 

'Humph!' said Monks significantly, and with a look of eager inquiry;'there may be money's worth to get, eh?'

'Perhaps there may, ' was the composed reply. 

'Something that was taken from her, ' said Monks. 'Something that shewore. Something that--'

'You had better bid, ' interrupted Mrs. Bumble. 'I have heard enough, already, to assure me that you are the man I ought to talk to. '

Mr. Bumble, who had not yet been admitted by his better half into anygreater share of the secret than he had originally possessed, listenedto this dialogue with outstretched neck and distended eyes: which hedirected towards his wife and Monks, by turns, in undisguisedastonishment; increased, if possible, when the latter sternly demanded, what sum was required for the disclosure. 

'What's it worth to you?' asked the woman, as collectedly as before. 

'It may be nothing; it may be twenty pounds, ' replied Monks. 'Speakout, and let me know which. '

'Add five pounds to the sum you have named; give me five-and-twentypounds in gold, ' said the woman; 'and I'll tell you all I know. Notbefore. '

'Five-and-twenty pounds!' exclaimed Monks, drawing back. 

'I spoke as plainly as I could, ' replied Mrs. Bumble. 'It's not alarge sum, either. '

'Not a large sum for a paltry secret, that may be nothing when it'stold!' cried Monks impatiently; 'and which has been lying dead fortwelve years past or more!'

'Such matters keep well, and, like good wine, often double their valuein course of time, ' answered the matron, still preserving the resoluteindifference she had assumed. 'As to lying dead, there are those whowill lie dead for twelve thousand years to come, or twelve million, foranything you or I know, who will tell strange tales at last!'

'What if I pay it for nothing?' asked Monks, hesitating. 

'You can easily take it away again, ' replied the matron. 'I am but awoman; alone here; and unprotected. '

'Not alone, my dear, nor unprotected, neither, ' submitted Mr. Bumble, in a voice tremulous with fear: '_I_ am here, my dear. And besides, 'said Mr. Bumble, his teeth chattering as he spoke, 'Mr. Monks is toomuch of a gentleman to attempt any violence on porochial persons. Mr. Monks is aware that I am not a young man, my dear, and also that I am alittle run to seed, as I may say; bu he has heerd: I say I have nodoubt Mr. Monks has heerd, my dear: that I am a very determinedofficer, with very uncommon strength, if I'm once roused. I only wanta little rousing; that's all. '

As Mr. Bumble spoke, he made a melancholy feint of grasping his lanternwith fierce determination; and plainly showed, by the alarmedexpression of every feature, that he _did_ want a little rousing, andnot a little, prior to making any very warlike demonstration: unless, indeed, against paupers, or other person or persons trained down forthe purpose. 

'You are a fool, ' said Mrs. Bumble, in reply; 'and had better hold yourtongue. '

'He had better have cut it out, before he came, if he can't speak in alower tone, ' said Monks, grimly. 'So! He's your husband, eh?'

'He my husband!' tittered the matron, parrying the question. 

'I thought as much, when you came in, ' rejoined Monks, marking theangry glance which the lady darted at her spouse as she spoke. 'Somuch the better; I have less hesitation in dealing with two people, when I find that there's only one will between them. I'm in earnest. See here!'

He thrust his hand into a side-pocket; and producing a canvas bag, toldout twenty-five sovereigns on the table, and pushed them over to thewoman. 

'Now, ' he said, 'gather them up; and when this cursed peal of thunder, which I feel is coming up to break over the house-top, is gone, let'shear your story. '

The thunder, which seemed in fact much nearer, and to shiver and breakalmost over their heads, having subsided, Monks, raising his face fromthe table, bent forward to listen to what the woman should say. Thefaces of the three nearly touched, as the two men leant over the smalltable in their eagerness to hear, and the woman also leant forward torender her whisper audible. The sickly rays of the suspended lanternfalling directly upon them, aggravated the paleness and anxiety oftheir countenances: which, encircled by the deepest gloom and darkness, looked ghastly in the extreme. 

'When this woman, that we called old Sally, died, ' the matron began, 'she and I were alone. '

'Was there no one by?' asked Monks, in the same hollow whisper; 'Nosick wretch or idiot in some other bed? No one who could hear, andmight, by possibility, understand?'

'Not a soul, ' replied the woman; 'we were alone. _I_ stood alonebeside the body when death came over it. '

'Good, ' said Monks, regarding her attentively. 'Go on. '

'She spoke of a young creature, ' resumed the matron, 'who had brought achild into the world some years before; not merely in the same room, but in the same bed, in which she then lay dying. '

'Ay?' said Monks, with quivering lip, and glancing over his shoulder, 'Blood! How things come about!'

'The child was the one you named to him last night, ' said the matron, nodding carelessly towards her husband; 'the mother this nurse hadrobbed. '

'In life?' asked Monks. 

'In death, ' replied the woman, with something like a shudder. 'Shestole from the corpse, when it had hardly turned to one, that which thedead mother had prayed her, with her last breath, to keep for theinfant's sake. '

'She sold it, ' cried Monks, with desperate eagerness; 'did she sell it?Where? When? To whom? How long before?'

'As she told me, with great difficulty, that she had done this, ' saidthe matron, 'she fell back and died. '

'Without saying more?' cried Monks, in a voice which, from its verysuppression, seemed only the more furious. 'It's a lie! I'll not beplayed with. She said more. I'll tear the life out of you both, butI'll know what it was. '

'She didn't utter another word, ' said the woman, to all appearanceunmoved (as Mr. Bumble was very far from being) by the strange man'sviolence; 'but she clutched my gown, violently, with one hand, whichwas partly closed; and when I saw that she was dead, and so removed thehand by force, I found it clasped a scrap of dirty paper. '

'Which contained--' interposed Monks, stretching forward. 

'Nothing, ' replied the woman; 'it was a pawnbroker's duplicate. '

'For what?' demanded Monks. 

'In good time I'll tell you. ' said the woman. 'I judge that she hadkept the trinket, for some time, in the hope of turning it to betteraccount; and then had pawned it; and had saved or scraped togethermoney to pay the pawnbroker's interest year by year, and prevent itsrunning out; so that if anything came of it, it could still beredeemed. Nothing had come of it; and, as I tell you, she died withthe scrap of paper, all worn and tattered, in her hand. The time wasout in two days; I thought something might one day come of it too; andso redeemed the pledge. '

'Where is it now?' asked Monks quickly. 

'_There_, ' replied the woman. And, as if glad to be relieved of it, she hastily threw upon the table a small kid bag scarcely large enoughfor a French watch, which Monks pouncing upon, tore open with tremblinghands. It contained a little gold locket: in which were two locks ofhair, and a plain gold wedding-ring. 

'It has the word "Agnes" engraved on the inside, ' said the woman. 

'There is a blank left for the surname; and then follows the date;which is within a year before the child was born. I found out that. '

'And this is all?' said Monks, after a close and eager scrutiny of thecontents of the little packet. 

'All, ' replied the woman. 

Mr. Bumble drew a long breath, as if he were glad to find that thestory was over, and no mention made of taking the five-and-twentypounds back again; and now he took courage to wipe the perspirationwhich had been trickling over his nose, unchecked, during the whole ofthe previous dialogue. 

'I know nothing of the story, beyond what I can guess at, ' said hiswife addressing Monks, after a short silence; 'and I want to knownothing; for it's safer not. But I may ask you two questions, may I?'

'You may ask, ' said Monks, with some show of surprise; 'but whether Ianswer or not is another question. '

'--Which makes three, ' observed Mr. Bumble, essaying a stroke offacetiousness. 

'Is that what you expected to get from me?' demanded the matron. 

'It is, ' replied Monks. 'The other question?'

'What do you propose to do with it? Can it be used against me?'

'Never, ' rejoined Monks; 'nor against me either. See here! But don'tmove a step forward, or your life is not worth a bulrush. '

With these words, he suddenly wheeled the table aside, and pulling aniron ring in the boarding, threw back a large trap-door which openedclose at Mr. Bumble's feet, and caused that gentleman to retire severalpaces backward, with great precipitation. 

'Look down, ' said Monks, lowering the lantern into the gulf. 'Don'tfear me. I could have let you down, quietly enough, when you wereseated over it, if that had been my game. '

Thus encouraged, the matron drew near to the brink; and even Mr. Bumblehimself, impelled by curiousity, ventured to do the same. The turbidwater, swollen by the heavy rain, was rushing rapidly on below; and allother sounds were lost in the noise of its plashing and eddying againstthe green and slimy piles. There had once been a water-mill beneath;the tide foaming and chafing round the few rotten stakes, and fragmentsof machinery that yet remained, seemed to dart onward, with a newimpulse, when freed from the obstacles which had unavailingly attemptedto stem its headlong course. 

'If you flung a man's body down there, where would it be to-morrowmorning?' said Monks, swinging the lantern to and fro in the dark well. 

'Twelve miles down the river, and cut to pieces besides, ' repliedBumble, recoiling at the thought. 

Monks drew the little packet from his breast, where he had hurriedlythrust it; and tying it to a leaden weight, which had formed a part ofsome pulley, and was lying on the floor, dropped it into the stream. It fell straight, and true as a die; clove the water with a scarcelyaudible splash; and was gone. 

The three looking into each other's faces, seemed to breathe morefreely. 

'There!' said Monks, closing the trap-door, which fell heavily backinto its former position. 'If the sea ever gives up its dead, as bookssay it will, it will keep its gold and silver to itself, and that trashamong it. We have nothing more to say, and may break up our pleasantparty. '

'By all means, ' observed Mr. Bumble, with great alacrity. 

'You'll keep a quiet tongue in your head, will you?' said Monks, with athreatening look. 'I am not afraid of your wife. '

'You may depend upon me, young man, ' answered Mr. Bumble, bowinghimself gradually towards the ladder, with excessive politeness. 'Oneverybody's account, young man; on my own, you know, Mr. Monks. '

'I am glad, for your sake, to hear it, ' remarked Monks. 'Light yourlantern! And get away from here as fast as you can. '

It was fortunate that the conversation terminated at this point, or Mr. Bumble, who had bowed himself to within six inches of the ladder, wouldinfallibly have pitched headlong into the room below. He lighted hislantern from that which Monks had detached from the rope, and nowcarried in his hand; and making no effort to prolong the discourse, descended in silence, followed by his wife. Monks brought up the rear, after pausing on the steps to satisfy himself that there were no othersounds to be heard than the beating of the rain without, and therushing of the water. 

They traversed the lower room, slowly, and with caution; for Monksstarted at every shadow; and Mr. Bumble, holding his lantern a footabove the ground, walked not only with remarkable care, but with amarvellously light step for a gentleman of his figure: lookingnervously about him for hidden trap-doors. The gate at which they hadentered, was softly unfastened and opened by Monks; merely exchanging anod with their mysterious acquaintance, the married couple emerged intothe wet and darkness outside. 

They were no sooner gone, than Monks, who appeared to entertain aninvincible repugnance to being left alone, called to a boy who had beenhidden somewhere below. Bidding him go first, and bear the light, hereturned to the chamber he had just quitted. 

CHAPTER XXXIX

INTRODUCES SOME RESPECTABLE CHARACTERS WITH WHOM THE READER IS ALREADYACQUAINTED, AND SHOWS HOW MONKS AND THE JEW LAID THEIR WORTHY HEADSTOGETHER

On the evening following that upon which the three worthies mentionedin the last chapter, disposed of their little matter of business astherein narrated, Mr. William Sikes, awakening from a nap, drowsilygrowled forth an inquiry what time of night it was. 

The room in which Mr. Sikes propounded this question, was not one ofthose he had tenanted, previous to the Chertsey expedition, although itwas in the same quarter of the town, and was situated at no greatdistance from his former lodgings. It was not, in appearance, sodesirable a habitation as his old quarters: being a mean andbadly-furnished apartment, of very limited size; lighted only by onesmall window in the shelving roof, and abutting on a close and dirtylane. Nor were there wanting other indications of the good gentleman'shaving gone down in the world of late: for a great scarcity offurniture, and total absence of comfort, together with thedisappearance of all such small moveables as spare clothes and linen, bespoke a state of extreme poverty; while the meagre and attenuatedcondition of Mr. Sikes himself would have fully confirmed thesesymptoms, if they had stood in any need of corroboration. 

The housebreaker was lying on the bed, wrapped in his white great-coat, by way of dressing-gown, and displaying a set of features in no degreeimproved by the cadaverous hue of illness, and the addition of a soilednightcap, and a stiff, black beard of a week's growth. The dog sat atthe bedside: now eyeing his master with a wistful look, and nowpricking his ears, and uttering a low growl as some noise in thestreet, or in the lower part of the house, attracted his attention. Seated by the window, busily engaged in patching an old waistcoat whichformed a portion of the robber's ordinary dress, was a female: so paleand reduced with watching and privation, that there would have beenconsiderable difficulty in recognising her as the same Nancy who hasalready figured in this tale, but for the voice in which she replied toMr. Sikes's question. 

'Not long gone seven, ' said the girl. 'How do you feel to-night, Bill?'

'As weak as water, ' replied Mr. Sikes, with an imprecation on his eyesand limbs. 'Here; lend us a hand, and let me get off this thunderingbed anyhow. '

Illness had not improved Mr. Sikes's temper; for, as the girl raisedhim up and led him to a chair, he muttered various curses on herawkwardness, and struck her. 

'Whining are you?' said Sikes. 'Come! Don't stand snivelling there. If you can't do anything better than that, cut off altogether. D'yehear me?'

'I hear you, ' replied the girl, turning her face aside, and forcing alaugh. 'What fancy have you got in your head now?'

'Oh! you've thought better of it, have you?' growled Sikes, marking thetear which trembled in her eye. 'All the better for you, you have. '

'Why, you don't mean to say, you'd be hard upon me to-night, Bill, 'said the girl, laying her hand upon his shoulder. 

'No!' cried Mr. Sikes. 'Why not?'

'Such a number of nights, ' said the girl, with a touch of woman'stenderness, which communicated something like sweetness of tone, evento her voice: 'such a number of nights as I've been patient with you, nursing and caring for you, as if you had been a child: and this thefirst that I've seen you like yourself; you wouldn't have served me asyou did just now, if you'd thought of that, would you? Come, come; sayyou wouldn't. '

'Well, then, ' rejoined Mr. Sikes, 'I wouldn't. Why, damme, now, thegirls's whining again!'

'It's nothing, ' said the girl, throwing herself into a chair. 'Don'tyou seem to mind me. It'll soon be over. '

'What'll be over?' demanded Mr. Sikes in a savage voice. 'What fooleryare you up to, now, again? Get up and bustle about, and don't comeover me with your woman's nonsense. '

At any other time, this remonstrance, and the tone in which it wasdelivered, would have had the desired effect; but the girl being reallyweak and exhausted, dropped her head over the back of the chair, andfainted, before Mr. Sikes could get out a few of the appropriate oathswith which, on similar occasions, he was accustomed to garnish histhreats. Not knowing, very well, what to do, in this uncommonemergency; for Miss Nancy's hysterics were usually of that violent kindwhich the patient fights and struggles out of, without much assistance;Mr. Sikes tried a little blasphemy: and finding that mode of treatmentwholly ineffectual, called for assistance. 

'What's the matter here, my dear?' said Fagin, looking in. 

'Lend a hand to the girl, can't you?' replied Sikes impatiently. 'Don'tstand chattering and grinning at me!'

With an exclamation of surprise, Fagin hastened to the girl'sassistance, while Mr. John Dawkins (otherwise the Artful Dodger), whohad followed his venerable friend into the room, hastily deposited onthe floor a bundle with which he was laden; and snatching a bottle fromthe grasp of Master Charles Bates who came close at his heels, uncorkedit in a twinkling with his teeth, and poured a portion of its contentsdown the patient's throat: previously taking a taste, himself, toprevent mistakes. 

'Give her a whiff of fresh air with the bellows, Charley, ' said Mr. Dawkins; 'and you slap her hands, Fagin, while Bill undoes thepetticuts. '

These united restoratives, administered with great energy: especiallythat department consigned to Master Bates, who appeared to consider hisshare in the proceedings, a piece of unexampled pleasantry: were notlong in producing the desired effect. The girl gradually recovered hersenses; and, staggering to a chair by the bedside, hid her face uponthe pillow: leaving Mr. Sikes to confront the new comers, in someastonishment at their unlooked-for appearance. 

'Why, what evil wind has blowed you here?' he asked Fagin. 

'No evil wind at all, my dear, for evil winds blow nobody any good; andI've brought something good with me, that you'll be glad to see. Dodger, my dear, open the bundle; and give Bill the little trifles thatwe spent all our money on, this morning. '

In compliance with Mr. Fagin's request, the Artful untied this bundle, which was of large size, and formed of an old table-cloth; and handedthe articles it contained, one by one, to Charley Bates: who placedthem on the table, with various encomiums on their rarity andexcellence. 

'Sitch a rabbit pie, Bill, ' exclaimed that young gentleman, disclosingto view a huge pasty; 'sitch delicate creeturs, with sitch tenderlimbs, Bill, that the wery bones melt in your mouth, and there's nooccasion to pick 'em; half a pound of seven and six-penny green, soprecious strong that if you mix it with biling water, it'll go nigh toblow the lid of the tea-pot off; a pound and a half of moist sugar thatthe niggers didn't work at all at, afore they got it up to sitch apitch of goodness, --oh no! Two half-quartern brans; pound of bestfresh; piece of double Glo'ster; and, to wind up all, some of therichest sort you ever lushed!'

Uttering this last panegyric, Master Bates produced, from one of hisextensive pockets, a full-sized wine-bottle, carefully corked; whileMr. Dawkins, at the same instant, poured out a wine-glassful of rawspirits from the bottle he carried: which the invalid tossed down histhroat without a moment's hesitation. 

'Ah!' said Fagin, rubbing his hands with great satisfaction. 'You'lldo, Bill; you'll do now. '

'Do!' exclaimed Mr. Sikes; 'I might have been done for, twenty timesover, afore you'd have done anything to help me. What do you mean byleaving a man in this state, three weeks and more, you false-heartedwagabond?'

'Only hear him, boys!' said Fagin, shrugging his shoulders. 'And uscome to bring him all these beau-ti-ful things. '

'The things is well enough in their way, ' observed Mr. Sikes: a littlesoothed as he glanced over the table; 'but what have you got to say foryourself, why you should leave me here, down in the mouth, health, blunt, and everything else; and take no more notice of me, all thismortal time, than if I was that 'ere dog. --Drive him down, Charley!'

'I never see such a jolly dog as that, ' cried Master Bates, doing as hewas desired. 'Smelling the grub like a old lady a going to market!He'd make his fortun' on the stage that dog would, and rewive thedrayma besides. '

'Hold your din, ' cried Sikes, as the dog retreated under the bed: stillgrowling angrily. 'What have you got to say for yourself, you witheredold fence, eh?'

'I was away from London, a week and more, my dear, on a plant, ' repliedthe Jew. 

'And what about the other fortnight?' demanded Sikes. 'What about theother fortnight that you've left me lying here, like a sick rat in hishole?'

'I couldn't help it, Bill. I can't go into a long explanation beforecompany; but I couldn't help it, upon my honour. '

'Upon your what?' growled Sikes, with excessive disgust. 'Here! Cut meoff a piece of that pie, one of you boys, to take the taste of that outof my mouth, or it'll choke me dead. '

'Don't be out of temper, my dear, ' urged Fagin, submissively. 'I havenever forgot you, Bill; never once. '

'No! I'll pound it that you han't, ' replied Sikes, with a bitter grin. 'You've been scheming and plotting away, every hour that I have laidshivering and burning here; and Bill was to do this; and Bill was to dothat; and Bill was to do it all, dirt cheap, as soon as he got well:and was quite poor enough for your work. If it hadn't been for thegirl, I might have died. '

'There now, Bill, ' remonstrated Fagin, eagerly catching at the word. 'If it hadn't been for the girl! Who but poor ould Fagin was the meansof your having such a handy girl about you?'

'He says true enough there!' said Nancy, coming hastily forward. 'Lethim be; let him be. '

Nancy's appearance gave a new turn to the conversation; for the boys, receiving a sly wink from the wary old Jew, began to ply her withliquor: of which, however, she took very sparingly; while Fagin, assuming an unusual flow of spirits, gradually brought Mr. Sikes into abetter temper, by affecting to regard his threats as a little pleasantbanter; and, moreover, by laughing very heartily at one or two roughjokes, which, after repeated applications to the spirit-bottle, hecondescended to make. 

'It's all very well, ' said Mr. Sikes; 'but I must have some blunt fromyou to-night. '

'I haven't a piece of coin about me, ' replied the Jew. 

'Then you've got lots at home, ' retorted Sikes; 'and I must have somefrom there. '

'Lots!' cried Fagin, holding up is hands. 'I haven't so much aswould--'

'I don't know how much you've got, and I dare say you hardly knowyourself, as it would take a pretty long time to count it, ' said Sikes;'but I must have some to-night; and that's flat. '

'Well, well, ' said Fagin, with a sigh, 'I'll send the Artful roundpresently. '

'You won't do nothing of the kind, ' rejoined Mr. Sikes. 'The Artful's adeal too artful, and would forget to come, or lose his way, or getdodged by traps and so be perwented, or anything for an excuse, if youput him up to it. Nancy shall go to the ken and fetch it, to make allsure; and I'll lie down and have a snooze while she's gone. '

After a great deal of haggling and squabbling, Fagin beat down theamount of the required advance from five pounds to three pounds fourand sixpence: protesting with many solemn asseverations that that wouldonly leave him eighteen-pence to keep house with; Mr. Sikes sullenlyremarking that if he couldn't get any more he must accompany him home;with the Dodger and Master Bates put the eatables in the cupboard. TheJew then, taking leave of his affectionate friend, returned homeward, attended by Nancy and the boys: Mr. Sikes, meanwhile, flinging himselfon the bed, and composing himself to sleep away the time until theyoung lady's return. 

In due course, they arrived at Fagin's abode, where they found TobyCrackit and Mr. Chitling intent upon their fifteenth game at cribbage, which it is scarcely necessary to say the latter gentleman lost, andwith it, his fifteenth and last sixpence: much to the amusement of hisyoung friends. Mr. Crackit, apparently somewhat ashamed at being foundrelaxing himself with a gentleman so much his inferior in station andmental endowments, yawned, and inquiring after Sikes, took up his hatto go. 

'Has nobody been, Toby?' asked Fagin. 

'Not a living leg, ' answered Mr. Crackit, pulling up his collar; 'it'sbeen as dull as swipes. You ought to stand something handsome, Fagin, to recompense me for keeping house so long. Damme, I'm as flat as ajuryman; and should have gone to sleep, as fast as Newgate, if I hadn'thad the good natur' to amuse this youngster. Horrid dull, I'm blessedif I an't!'

With these and other ejaculations of the same kind, Mr. Toby Crackitswept up his winnings, and crammed them into his waistcoat pocket witha haughty air, as though such small pieces of silver were whollybeneath the consideration of a man of his figure; this done, heswaggered out of the room, with so much elegance and gentility, thatMr. Chitling, bestowing numerous admiring glances on his legs and bootstill they were out of sight, assured the company that he considered hisacquaintance cheap at fifteen sixpences an interview, and that hedidn't value his losses the snap of his little finger. 

'Wot a rum chap you are, Tom!' said Master Bates, highly amused by thisdeclaration. 

'Not a bit of it, ' replied Mr. Chitling. 'Am I, Fagin?'

'A very clever fellow, my dear, ' said Fagin, patting him on theshoulder, and winking to his other pupils. 

'And Mr. Crackit is a heavy swell; an't he, Fagin?' asked Tom. 

'No doubt at all of that, my dear. '

'And it is a creditable thing to have his acquaintance; an't it, Fagin?' pursued Tom. 

'Very much so, indeed, my dear. They're only jealous, Tom, because hewon't give it to them. '

'Ah!' cried Tom, triumphantly, 'that's where it is! He has cleaned meout. But I can go and earn some more, when I like; can't I, Fagin?'

'To be sure you can, and the sooner you go the better, Tom; so make upyour loss at once, and don't lose any more time. Dodger! Charley!It's time you were on the lay. Come! It's near ten, and nothing doneyet. '

In obedience to this hint, the boys, nodding to Nancy, took up theirhats, and left the room; the Dodger and his vivacious friend indulging, as they went, in many witticisms at the expense of Mr. Chitling; inwhose conduct, it is but justice to say, there was nothing veryconspicuous or peculiar: inasmuch as there are a great number ofspirited young bloods upon town, who pay a much higher price than Mr. Chitling for being seen in good society: and a great number of finegentlemen (composing the good society aforesaid) who established theirreputation upon very much the same footing as flash Toby Crackit. 

'Now, ' said Fagin, when they had left the room, 'I'll go and get youthat cash, Nancy. This is only the key of a little cupboard where Ikeep a few odd things the boys get, my dear. I never lock up my money, for I've got none to lock up, my dear--ha! ha! ha!--none to lock up. It's a poor trade, Nancy, and no thanks; but I'm fond of seeing theyoung people about me; and I bear it all, I bear it all. Hush!' hesaid, hastily concealing the key in his breast; 'who's that? Listen!'

The girl, who was sitting at the table with her arms folded, appearedin no way interested in the arrival: or to care whether the person, whoever he was, came or went: until the murmur of a man's voicereached her ears. The instant she caught the sound, she tore off herbonnet and shawl, with the rapidity of lightning, and thrust them underthe table. The Jew, turning round immediately afterwards, she muttereda complaint of the heat: in a tone of languor that contrasted, veryremarkably, with the extreme haste and violence of this action: which, however, had been unobserved by Fagin, who had his back towards her atthe time. 

'Bah!' he whispered, as though nettled by the interruption; 'it's theman I expected before; he's coming downstairs. Not a word about themoney while he's here, Nance. He won't stop long. Not ten minutes, mydear. '

Laying his skinny forefinger upon his lip, the Jew carried a candle tothe door, as a man's step was heard upon the stairs without. Hereached it, at the same moment as the visitor, who, coming hastily intothe room, was close upon the girl before he observed her. 

It was Monks. 

'Only one of my young people, ' said Fagin, observing that Monks drewback, on beholding a stranger. 'Don't move, Nancy. '

The girl drew closer to the table, and glancing at Monks with an air ofcareless levity, withdrew her eyes; but as he turned towards Fagin, shestole another look; so keen and searching, and full of purpose, that ifthere had been any bystander to observe the change, he could hardlyhave believed the two looks to have proceeded from the same person. 

'Any news?' inquired Fagin. 

'Great. '

'And--and--good?' asked Fagin, hesitating as though he feared to vexthe other man by being too sanguine. 

'Not bad, any way, ' replied Monks with a smile. 'I have been promptenough this time. Let me have a word with you. '

The girl drew closer to the table, and made no offer to leave the room, although she could see that Monks was pointing to her. The Jew:perhaps fearing she might say something aloud about the money, if heendeavoured to get rid of her: pointed upward, and took Monks out ofthe room. 

'Not that infernal hole we were in before, ' she could hear the man sayas they went upstairs. Fagin laughed; and making some reply which didnot reach her, seemed, by the creaking of the boards, to lead hiscompanion to the second story. 

Before the sound of their footsteps had ceased to echo through thehouse, the girl had slipped off her shoes; and drawing her gown looselyover her head, and muffling her arms in it, stood at the door, listening with breathless interest. The moment the noise ceased, sheglided from the room; ascended the stairs with incredible softness andsilence; and was lost in the gloom above. 

The room remained deserted for a quarter of an hour or more; the girlglided back with the same unearthly tread; and, immediately afterwards, the two men were heard descending. Monks went at once into the street;and the Jew crawled upstairs again for the money. When he returned, the girl was adjusting her shawl and bonnet, as if preparing to be gone. 

'Why, Nance!' exclaimed the Jew, starting back as he put down thecandle, 'how pale you are!'

'Pale!' echoed the girl, shading her eyes with her hands, as if to looksteadily at him. 

'Quite horrible. What have you been doing to yourself?'

'Nothing that I know of, except sitting in this close place for I don'tknow how long and all, ' replied the girl carelessly. 'Come! Let me getback; that's a dear. '

With a sigh for every piece of money, Fagin told the amount into herhand. They parted without more conversation, merely interchanging a'good-night. '

When the girl got into the open street, she sat down upon a doorstep;and seemed, for a few moments, wholly bewildered and unable to pursueher way. Suddenly she arose; and hurrying on, in a direction quiteopposite to that in which Sikes was awaiting her returned, quickenedher pace, until it gradually resolved into a violent run. Aftercompletely exhausting herself, she stopped to take breath: and, as ifsuddenly recollecting herself, and deploring her inability to dosomething she was bent upon, wrung her hands, and burst into tears. 

It might be that her tears relieved her, or that she felt the fullhopelessness of her condition; but she turned back; and hurrying withnearly as great rapidity in the contrary direction; partly to recoverlost time, and partly to keep pace with the violent current of her ownthoughts: soon reached the dwelling where she had left thehousebreaker. 

If she betrayed any agitation, when she presented herself to Mr. Sikes, he did not observe it; for merely inquiring if she had brought themoney, and receiving a reply in the affirmative, he uttered a growl ofsatisfaction, and replacing his head upon the pillow, resumed theslumbers which her arrival had interrupted. 

It was fortunate for her that the possession of money occasioned him somuch employment next day in the way of eating and drinking; and withalhad so beneficial an effect in smoothing down the asperities of histemper; that he had neither time nor inclination to be very criticalupon her behaviour and deportment. That she had all the abstracted andnervous manner of one who is on the eve of some bold and hazardousstep, which it has required no common struggle to resolve upon, wouldhave been obvious to the lynx-eyed Fagin, who would most probably havetaken the alarm at once; but Mr. Sikes lacking the niceties ofdiscrimination, and being troubled with no more subtle misgivings thanthose which resolve themselves into a dogged roughness of behaviourtowards everybody; and being, furthermore, in an unusually amiablecondition, as has been already observed; saw nothing unusual in herdemeanor, and indeed, troubled himself so little about her, that, hadher agitation been far more perceptible than it was, it would have beenvery unlikely to have awakened his suspicions. 

As that day closed in, the girl's excitement increased; and, when nightcame on, and she sat by, watching until the housebreaker should drinkhimself asleep, there was an unusual paleness in her cheek, and a firein her eye, that even Sikes observed with astonishment. 

Mr. Sikes being weak from the fever, was lying in bed, taking hot waterwith his gin to render it less inflammatory; and had pushed his glasstowards Nancy to be replenished for the third or fourth time, whenthese symptoms first struck him. 

'Why, burn my body!' said the man, raising himself on his hands as hestared the girl in the face. 'You look like a corpse come to lifeagain. What's the matter?'

'Matter!' replied the girl. 'Nothing. What do you look at me so hardfor?'

'What foolery is this?' demanded Sikes, grasping her by the arm, andshaking her roughly. 'What is it? What do you mean? What are youthinking of?'

'Of many things, Bill, ' replied the girl, shivering, and as she did so, pressing her hands upon her eyes. 'But, Lord! What odds in that?'

The tone of forced gaiety in which the last words were spoken, seemedto produce a deeper impression on Sikes than the wild and rigid lookwhich had preceded them. 

'I tell you wot it is, ' said Sikes; 'if you haven't caught the fever, and got it comin' on, now, there's something more than usual in thewind, and something dangerous too. You're not a-going to--. No, damme! you wouldn't do that!'

'Do what?' asked the girl. 

'There ain't, ' said Sikes, fixing his eyes upon her, and muttering thewords to himself; 'there ain't a stauncher-hearted gal going, or I'dhave cut her throat three months ago. She's got the fever coming on;that's it. '

Fortifying himself with this assurance, Sikes drained the glass to thebottom, and then, with many grumbling oaths, called for his physic. The girl jumped up, with great alacrity; poured it quickly out, butwith her back towards him; and held the vessel to his lips, while hedrank off the contents. 

'Now, ' said the robber, 'come and sit aside of me, and put on your ownface; or I'll alter it so, that you won't know it agin when you do wantit. '

The girl obeyed. Sikes, locking her hand in his, fell back upon thepillow: turning his eyes upon her face. They closed; opened again;closed once more; again opened. He shifted his position restlessly;and, after dozing again, and again, for two or three minutes, and asoften springing up with a look of terror, and gazing vacantly abouthim, was suddenly stricken, as it were, while in the very attitude ofrising, into a deep and heavy sleep. The grasp of his hand relaxed;the upraised arm fell languidly by his side; and he lay like one in aprofound trance. 

'The laudanum has taken effect at last, ' murmured the girl, as she rosefrom the bedside. 'I may be too late, even now. '

She hastily dressed herself in her bonnet and shawl: looking fearfullyround, from time to time, as if, despite the sleeping draught, sheexpected every moment to feel the pressure of Sikes's heavy hand uponher shoulder; then, stooping softly over the bed, she kissed therobber's lips; and then opening and closing the room-door withnoiseless touch, hurried from the house. 

A watchman was crying half-past nine, down a dark passage through whichshe had to pass, in gaining the main thoroughfare. 

'Has it long gone the half-hour?' asked the girl. 

'It'll strike the hour in another quarter, ' said the man: raising hislantern to her face. 

'And I cannot get there in less than an hour or more, ' muttered Nancy:brushing swiftly past him, and gliding rapidly down the street. 

Many of the shops were already closing in the back lanes and avenuesthrough which she tracked her way, in making from Spitalfields towardsthe West-End of London. The clock struck ten, increasing herimpatience. She tore along the narrow pavement: elbowing thepassengers from side to side; and darting almost under the horses'heads, crossed crowded streets, where clusters of persons were eagerlywatching their opportunity to do the like. 

'The woman is mad!' said the people, turning to look after her as sherushed away. 

When she reached the more wealthy quarter of the town, the streets werecomparatively deserted; and here her headlong progress excited a stillgreater curiosity in the stragglers whom she hurried past. Somequickened their pace behind, as though to see whither she was hasteningat such an unusual rate; and a few made head upon her, and looked back, surprised at her undiminished speed; but they fell off one by one; andwhen she neared her place of destination, she was alone. 

It was a family hotel in a quiet but handsome street near Hyde Park. As the brilliant light of the lamp which burnt before its door, guidedher to the spot, the clock struck eleven. She had loitered for a fewpaces as though irresolute, and making up her mind to advance; but thesound determined her, and she stepped into the hall. The porter's seatwas vacant. She looked round with an air of incertitude, and advancedtowards the stairs. 

'Now, young woman!' said a smartly-dressed female, looking out from adoor behind her, 'who do you want here?'

'A lady who is stopping in this house, ' answered the girl. 

'A lady!' was the reply, accompanied with a scornful look. 'What lady?'

'Miss Maylie, ' said Nancy. 

The young woman, who had by this time, noted her appearance, repliedonly by a look of virtuous disdain; and summoned a man to answer her. To him, Nancy repeated her request. 

'What name am I to say?' asked the waiter. 

'It's of no use saying any, ' replied Nancy. 

'Nor business?' said the man. 

'No, nor that neither, ' rejoined the girl. 'I must see the lady. '

'Come!' said the man, pushing her towards the door. 'None of this. Take yourself off. '

'I shall be carried out if I go!' said the girl violently; 'and I canmake that a job that two of you won't like to do. Isn't there anybodyhere, ' she said, looking round, 'that will see a simple message carriedfor a poor wretch like me?'

This appeal produced an effect on a good-tempered-faced man-cook, whowith some of the other servants was looking on, and who stepped forwardto interfere. 

'Take it up for her, Joe; can't you?' said this person. 

'What's the good?' replied the man. 'You don't suppose the young ladywill see such as her; do you?'

This allusion to Nancy's doubtful character, raised a vast quantity ofchaste wrath in the bosoms of four housemaids, who remarked, with greatfervour, that the creature was a disgrace to her sex; and stronglyadvocated her being thrown, ruthlessly, into the kennel. 

'Do what you like with me, ' said the girl, turning to the men again;'but do what I ask you first, and I ask you to give this message forGod Almighty's sake. '

The soft-hearted cook added his intercession, and the result was thatthe man who had first appeared undertook its delivery. 

'What's it to be?' said the man, with one foot on the stairs. 

'That a young woman earnestly asks to speak to Miss Maylie alone, ' saidNancy; 'and that if the lady will only hear the first word she has tosay, she will know whether to hear her business, or to have her turnedout of doors as an impostor. '

'I say, ' said the man, 'you're coming it strong!'

'You give the message, ' said the girl firmly; 'and let me hear theanswer. '

The man ran upstairs. Nancy remained, pale and almost breathless, listening with quivering lip to the very audible expressions of scorn, of which the chaste housemaids were very prolific; and of which theybecame still more so, when the man returned, and said the young womanwas to walk upstairs. 

'It's no good being proper in this world, ' said the first housemaid. 

'Brass can do better than the gold what has stood the fire, ' said thesecond. 

The third contented herself with wondering 'what ladies was made of';and the fourth took the first in a quartette of 'Shameful!' with whichthe Dianas concluded. 

Regardless of all this: for she had weightier matters at heart: Nancyfollowed the man, with trembling limbs, to a small ante-chamber, lighted by a lamp from the ceiling. Here he left her, and retired. 

CHAPTER XL

A STRANGE INTERVIEW, WHICH IS A SEQUEL TO THE LAST CHAMBER

The girl's life had been squandered in the streets, and among the mostnoisome of the stews and dens of London, but there was something of thewoman's original nature left in her still; and when she heard a lightstep approaching the door opposite to that by which she had entered, and thought of the wide contrast which the small room would in anothermoment contain, she felt burdened with the sense of her own deep shame, and shrunk as though she could scarcely bear the presence of her withwhom she had sought this interview. 

But struggling with these better feelings was pride, --the vice of thelowest and most debased creatures no less than of the high andself-assured. The miserable companion of thieves and ruffians, thefallen outcast of low haunts, the associate of the scourings of thejails and hulks, living within the shadow of the gallows itself, --eventhis degraded being felt too proud to betray a feeble gleam of thewomanly feeling which she thought a weakness, but which alone connectedher with that humanity, of which her wasting life had obliterated somany, many traces when a very child. 

She raised her eyes sufficiently to observe that the figure whichpresented itself was that of a slight and beautiful girl; then, bendingthem on the ground, she tossed her head with affected carelessness asshe said:

'It's a hard matter to get to see you, lady. If I had taken offence, and gone away, as many would have done, you'd have been sorry for itone day, and not without reason either. '

'I am very sorry if any one has behaved harshly to you, ' replied Rose. 'Do not think of that. Tell me why you wished to see me. I am theperson you inquired for. '

The kind tone of this answer, the sweet voice, the gentle manner, theabsence of any accent of haughtiness or displeasure, took the girlcompletely by surprise, and she burst into tears. 

'Oh, lady, lady!' she said, clasping her hands passionately before herface, 'if there was more like you, there would be fewer like me, --therewould--there would!'

'Sit down, ' said Rose, earnestly. 'If you are in poverty or afflictionI shall be truly glad to relieve you if I can, --I shall indeed. Sitdown. '

'Let me stand, lady, ' said the girl, still weeping, 'and do not speakto me so kindly till you know me better. It is growing late. Is--is--that door shut?'

'Yes, ' said Rose, recoiling a few steps, as if to be nearer assistancein case she should require it. 'Why?'

'Because, ' said the girl, 'I am about to put my life and the lives ofothers in your hands. I am the girl that dragged little Oliver back toold Fagin's on the night he went out from the house in Pentonville. '

'You!' said Rose Maylie. 

'I, lady!' replied the girl. 'I am the infamous creature you haveheard of, that lives among the thieves, and that never from the firstmoment I can recollect my eyes and senses opening on London streetshave known any better life, or kinder words than they have given me, sohelp me God! Do not mind shrinking openly from me, lady. I am youngerthan you would think, to look at me, but I am well used to it. Thepoorest women fall back, as I make my way along the crowded pavement. '

'What dreadful things are these!' said Rose, involuntarily falling fromher strange companion. 

'Thank Heaven upon your knees, dear lady, ' cried the girl, 'that youhad friends to care for and keep you in your childhood, and that youwere never in the midst of cold and hunger, and riot and drunkenness, and--and--something worse than all--as I have been from my cradle. Imay use the word, for the alley and the gutter were mine, as they willbe my deathbed. '

'I pity you!' said Rose, in a broken voice. 'It wrings my heart tohear you!'

'Heaven bless you for your goodness!' rejoined the girl. 'If you knewwhat I am sometimes, you would pity me, indeed. But I have stolen awayfrom those who would surely murder me, if they knew I had been here, totell you what I have overheard. Do you know a man named Monks?'

'No, ' said Rose. 

'He knows you, ' replied the girl; 'and knew you were here, for it wasby hearing him tell the place that I found you out. '

'I never heard the name, ' said Rose. 

'Then he goes by some other amongst us, ' rejoined the girl, 'which Imore than thought before. Some time ago, and soon after Oliver was putinto your house on the night of the robbery, I--suspecting thisman--listened to a conversation held between him and Fagin in the dark. I found out, from what I heard, that Monks--the man I asked you about, you know--'

'Yes, ' said Rose, 'I understand. '

'--That Monks, ' pursued the girl, 'had seen him accidently with two ofour boys on the day we first lost him, and had known him directly to bethe same child that he was watching for, though I couldn't make outwhy. A bargain was struck with Fagin, that if Oliver was got back heshould have a certain sum; and he was to have more for making him athief, which this Monks wanted for some purpose of his own. '

'For what purpose?' asked Rose. 

'He caught sight of my shadow on the wall as I listened, in the hope offinding out, ' said the girl; 'and there are not many people besides methat could have got out of their way in time to escape discovery. ButI did; and I saw him no more till last night. '

'And what occurred then?'

'I'll tell you, lady. Last night he came again. Again they wentupstairs, and I, wrapping myself up so that my shadow would not betrayme, again listened at the door. The first words I heard Monks say werethese: "So the only proofs of the boy's identity lie at the bottom ofthe river, and the old hag that received them from the mother isrotting in her coffin. " They laughed, and talked of his success indoing this; and Monks, talking on about the boy, and getting very wild, said that though he had got the young devil's money safely now, he'drather have had it the other way; for, what a game it would have beento have brought down the boast of the father's will, by driving himthrough every jail in town, and then hauling him up for some capitalfelony which Fagin could easily manage, after having made a good profitof him besides. '

'What is all this!' said Rose. 

'The truth, lady, though it comes from my lips, ' replied the girl. 'Then, he said, with oaths common enough in my ears, but strange toyours, that if he could gratify his hatred by taking the boy's lifewithout bringing his own neck in danger, he would; but, as he couldn't, he'd be upon the watch to meet him at every turn in life; and if hetook advantage of his birth and history, he might harm him yet. "Inshort, Fagin, " he says, "Jew as you are, you never laid such snares asI'll contrive for my young brother, Oliver. "'

'His brother!' exclaimed Rose. 

'Those were his words, ' said Nancy, glancing uneasily round, as she hadscarcely ceased to do, since she began to speak, for a vision of Sikeshaunted her perpetually. 'And more. When he spoke of you and the otherlady, and said it seemed contrived by Heaven, or the devil, againsthim, that Oliver should come into your hands, he laughed, and saidthere was some comfort in that too, for how many thousands and hundredsof thousands of pounds would you not give, if you had them, to know whoyour two-legged spaniel was. '

'You do not mean, ' said Rose, turning very pale, 'to tell me that thiswas said in earnest?'

'He spoke in hard and angry earnest, if a man ever did, ' replied thegirl, shaking her head. 'He is an earnest man when his hatred is up. I know many who do worse things; but I'd rather listen to them all adozen times, than to that Monks once. It is growing late, and I haveto reach home without suspicion of having been on such an errand asthis. I must get back quickly. '

'But what can I do?' said Rose. 'To what use can I turn thiscommunication without you? Back! Why do you wish to return tocompanions you paint in such terrible colors? If you repeat thisinformation to a gentleman whom I can summon in an instant from thenext room, you can be consigned to some place of safety without half anhour's delay. '

'I wish to go back, ' said the girl. 'I must go back, because--how canI tell such things to an innocent lady like you?--because among the menI have told you of, there is one: the most desperate among them all;that I can't leave: no, not even to be saved from the life I amleading now. '

'Your having interfered in this dear boy's behalf before, ' said Rose;'your coming here, at so great a risk, to tell me what you have heard;your manner, which convinces me of the truth of what you say; yourevident contrition, and sense of shame; all lead me to believe that youmight yet be reclaimed. Oh!' said the earnest girl, folding her handsas the tears coursed down her face, 'do not turn a deaf ear to theentreaties of one of your own sex; the first--the first, I do believe, who ever appealed to you in the voice of pity and compassion. Do hearmy words, and let me save you yet, for better things. '

'Lady, ' cried the girl, sinking on her knees, 'dear, sweet, angel lady, you _are_ the first that ever blessed me with such words as these, andif I had heard them years ago, they might have turned me from a life ofsin and sorrow; but it is too late, it is too late!'

'It is never too late, ' said Rose, 'for penitence and atonement. '

'It is, ' cried the girl, writhing in agony of her mind; 'I cannot leavehim now! I could not be his death. '

'Why should you be?' asked Rose. 

'Nothing could save him, ' cried the girl. 'If I told others what Ihave told you, and led to their being taken, he would be sure to die. He is the boldest, and has been so cruel!'

'Is it possible, ' cried Rose, 'that for such a man as this, you canresign every future hope, and the certainty of immediate rescue? It ismadness. '

'I don't know what it is, ' answered the girl; 'I only know that it isso, and not with me alone, but with hundreds of others as bad andwretched as myself. I must go back. Whether it is God's wrath for thewrong I have done, I do not know; but I am drawn back to him throughevery suffering and ill usage; and I should be, I believe, if I knewthat I was to die by his hand at last. '

'What am I to do?' said Rose. 'I should not let you depart from methus. '

'You should, lady, and I know you will, ' rejoined the girl, rising. 'You will not stop my going because I have trusted in your goodness, and forced no promise from you, as I might have done. '

'Of what use, then, is the communication you have made?' said Rose. 'This mystery must be investigated, or how will its disclosure to me, benefit Oliver, whom you are anxious to serve?'

'You must have some kind gentleman about you that will hear it as asecret, and advise you what to do, ' rejoined the girl. 

'But where can I find you again when it is necessary?' asked Rose. 'Ido not seek to know where these dreadful people live, but where willyou be walking or passing at any settled period from this time?'

'Will you promise me that you will have my secret strictly kept, andcome alone, or with the only other person that knows it; and that Ishall not be watched or followed?' asked the girl. 

'I promise you solemnly, ' answered Rose. 

'Every Sunday night, from eleven until the clock strikes twelve, ' saidthe girl without hesitation, 'I will walk on London Bridge if I amalive. '

'Stay another moment, ' interposed Rose, as the girl moved hurriedlytowards the door. 'Think once again on your own condition, and theopportunity you have of escaping from it. You have a claim on me: notonly as the voluntary bearer of this intelligence, but as a woman lostalmost beyond redemption. Will you return to this gang of robbers, andto this man, when a word can save you? What fascination is it that cantake you back, and make you cling to wickedness and misery? Oh! isthere no chord in your heart that I can touch! Is there nothing left, to which I can appeal against this terrible infatuation!'

'When ladies as young, and good, and beautiful as you are, ' replied thegirl steadily, 'give away your hearts, love will carry you alllengths--even such as you, who have home, friends, other admirers, everything, to fill them. When such as I, who have no certain roof butthe coffinlid, and no friend in sickness or death but the hospitalnurse, set our rotten hearts on any man, and let him fill the placethat has been a blank through all our wretched lives, who can hope tocure us? Pity us, lady--pity us for having only one feeling of thewoman left, and for having that turned, by a heavy judgment, from acomfort and a pride, into a new means of violence and suffering. '

'You will, ' said Rose, after a pause, 'take some money from me, whichmay enable you to live without dishonesty--at all events until we meetagain?'

'Not a penny, ' replied the girl, waving her hand. 

'Do not close your heart against all my efforts to help you, ' saidRose, stepping gently forward. 'I wish to serve you indeed. '

'You would serve me best, lady, ' replied the girl, wringing her hands, 'if you could take my life at once; for I have felt more grief to thinkof what I am, to-night, than I ever did before, and it would besomething not to die in the hell in which I have lived. God bless you, sweet lady, and send as much happiness on your head as I have broughtshame on mine!'

Thus speaking, and sobbing aloud, the unhappy creature turned away;while Rose Maylie, overpowered by this extraordinary interview, whichhad more the semblance of a rapid dream than an actual occurrence, sankinto a chair, and endeavoured to collect her wandering thoughts. 

CHAPTER XLI

CONTAINING FRESH DISCOVERIES, AND SHOWING THAT SUPRISES, LIKEMISFORTUNES, SELDOM COME ALONE

Her situation was, indeed, one of no common trial and difficulty. Whileshe felt the most eager and burning desire to penetrate the mystery inwhich Oliver's history was enveloped, she could not but hold sacred theconfidence which the miserable woman with whom she had just conversed, had reposed in her, as a young and guileless girl. Her words andmanner had touched Rose Maylie's heart; and, mingled with her love forher 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 departingfor some weeks to a distant part of the coast. It was now midnight ofthe first day. What course of action could she determine upon, whichcould be adopted in eight-and-forty hours? Or how could she postponethe journey without exciting suspicion?

Mr. Losberne was with them, and would be for the next two days; butRose was too well acquainted with the excellent gentleman'simpetuosity, and foresaw too clearly the wrath with which, in the firstexplosion of his indignation, he would regard the instrument ofOliver's recapture, to trust him with the secret, when herrepresentations in the girl's behalf could be seconded by noexperienced person. These were all reasons for the greatest cautionand most circumspect behaviour in communicating it to Mrs. Maylie, whose first impulse would infallibly be to hold a conference with theworthy 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 reason. Once the thought occurred to her of seekingassistance from Harry; but this awakened the recollection of their lastparting, and it seemed unworthy of her to call him back, when--thetears rose to her eyes as she pursued this train of reflection--hemight have by this time learnt to forget her, and to be happier away. 

Disturbed by these different reflections; inclining now to one courseand then to another, and again recoiling from all, as each successiveconsideration presented itself to her mind; Rose passed a sleepless andanxious night. After more communing with herself next day, she arrivedat the desperate conclusion of consulting Harry. 

'If it be painful to him, ' she thought, 'to come back here, how painfulit will be to me! But perhaps he will not come; he may write, or hemay come himself, and studiously abstain from meeting me--he did whenhe went away. I hardly thought he would; but it was better for usboth. ' And here Rose dropped the pen, and turned away, as though thevery 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, andhad considered and reconsidered the first line of her letter withoutwriting the first word, when Oliver, who had been walking in thestreets, with Mr. Giles for a body-guard, entered the room in suchbreathless haste and violent agitation, as seemed to betoken some newcause of alarm. 

'What makes you look so flurried?' 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 beable to know that I have told you 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 toarticulate, 'the gentleman who was so good to me--Mr. Brownlow, that wehave 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 tohim, for he didn't see me, and I trembled so, that I was not able to goup to him. But Giles asked, for me, whether he lived there, and theysaid he did. Look here, ' said Oliver, opening a scrap of paper, 'hereit 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 speakagain!'

With her attention not a little distracted by these and a great manyother incoherent exclamations of joy, Rose read the address, which wasCraven Street, in the Strand. She very soon determined upon turningthe discovery to account. 

'Quick!' she said. 'Tell them to fetch a hackney-coach, and be readyto go with me. I will take you there directly, without a minute's lossof 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 fiveminutes they were on their way to Craven Street. When they arrivedthere, Rose left Oliver in the coach, under pretence of preparing theold gentleman to receive him; and sending up her card by the servant, requested to see Mr. Brownlow on very pressing business. The servantsoon returned, to beg that she would walk upstairs; and following himinto an upper room, Miss Maylie was presented to an elderly gentlemanof benevolent appearance, in a bottle-green coat. At no great distancefrom whom, was seated another old gentleman, in nankeen breeches andgaiters; who did not look particularly benevolent, and who was sittingwith his hands clasped on the top of a thick stick, and his chinpropped thereupon. 

'Dear me, ' said the gentleman, in the bottle-green coat, hastily risingwith great politeness, 'I beg your pardon, young lady--I imagined itwas some importunate person who--I beg you will excuse me. Be seated, pray. '

'Mr. Brownlow, I believe, sir?' said Rose, glancing from the othergentleman 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 ourinterview, I need not give that gentleman the trouble of going away. If I am correctly informed, he is cognizant of the business on which Iwish to speak to you. '

Mr. Brownlow inclined his head. Mr. Grimwig, who had made one verystiff bow, and risen from his chair, made another very stiff bow, anddropped into it again. 

'I shall surprise you very much, I have no doubt, ' said Rose, naturallyembarrassed; 'but you once showed great benevolence and goodness to avery dear young friend of mine, and I am sure you will take an interestin 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 beenaffecting to dip into a large book that lay on the table, upset it witha great crash, and falling back in his chair, discharged from hisfeatures every expression but one of unmitigated wonder, and indulgedin a prolonged and vacant stare; then, as if ashamed of having betrayedso much emotion, he jerked himself, as it were, by a convulsion intohis former attitude, and looking out straight before him emitted a longdeep whistle, which seemed, at last, not to be discharged on empty air, but to die away in the innermost recesses of his stomach. 

Mr. Browlow was no less surprised, although his astonishment was notexpressed in the same eccentric manner. He drew his chair nearer toMiss Maylie's, and said, 'Do me the favour, my dear young lady, to leave entirely out of thequestion that goodness and benevolence of which you speak, and of whichnobody else knows anything; and if you have it in your power to produceany evidence which will alter the unfavourable opinion I was onceinduced to entertain of that poor child, in Heaven's name put me inpossession 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 muscleof 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 hisyears, has planted in his breast affections and feelings which would dohonour to many who have numbered his days six 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, Idon't see the application of that remark. '

'Do not heed my friend, Miss Maylie, ' said Mr. Brownlow; 'he does notmean what he says. '

'Yes, he does, ' growled Mr. Grimwig. 

'No, he does not, ' said Mr. Brownlow, obviously rising in wrath as hespoke. 

'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 the floor. 

Having gone thus far, the two old gentlemen severally took snuff, andafterwards shook hands, according to their invariable custom. 

'Now, Miss Maylie, ' said Mr. Brownlow, 'to return to the subject inwhich your humanity is so much interested. Will you let me know whatintelligence you have of this poor child: allowing me to promise thatI exhausted every means in my power of discovering him, and that sinceI have been absent from this country, my first impression that he hadimposed upon me, and had been persuaded by his former associates to robme, has been considerably shaken. '

Rose, who had had time to collect her thoughts, at once related, in afew natural words, all that had befallen Oliver since he left Mr. Brownlow's house; reserving Nancy's information for that gentleman'sprivate ear, and concluding with the assurance that his only sorrow, for some months past, had been not being able to meet with his formerbenefactor and friend. 

'Thank God!' said the old gentleman. 'This is great happiness to me, great happiness. But you have not told me where he is now, MissMaylie. You must pardon my finding fault with you, --but why not havebrought him?'

'He is waiting in a coach at the door, ' replied Rose. 

'At this door!' cried the old gentleman. With which he hurried out ofthe room, down the stairs, up the coachsteps, and into the coach, without another word. 

When the room-door closed behind him, Mr. Grimwig lifted up his head, and converting one of the hind legs of his chair into a pivot, described three distinct circles with the assistance of his stick andthe table; sitting in it all the time. After performing thisevolution, he rose and limped as fast as he could up and down the roomat least a dozen times, and then stopping suddenly before Rose, kissedher without the slightest preface. 

'Hush!' he said, as the young lady rose in some alarm at this unusualproceeding. 'Don't be afraid. I'm old enough to be your grandfather. You're a sweet girl. I like you. Here they are!'

In fact, as he threw himself at one dexterous dive into his formerseat, Mr. Brownlow returned, accompanied by Oliver, whom Mr. Grimwigreceived very graciously; and if the gratification of that moment hadbeen the only reward for all her anxiety and care in Oliver's behalf, Rose Maylie would have been well repaid. 

'There is somebody else who should not be forgotten, by the bye, ' saidMr. Brownlow, ringing the bell. 'Send Mrs. Bedwin here, if you please. '

The old housekeeper answered the summons with all dispatch; anddropping a curtsey at the door, waited for orders. 

'Why, you get blinder every day, Bedwin, ' said Mr. Brownlow, rathertestily. 

'Well, that I do, sir, ' replied the old lady. 'People's eyes, at mytime of life, don't improve with age, sir. '

'I could have told you that, ' rejoined Mr. Brownlow; 'but put on yourglasses, and see if you can't find out what you were wanted for, willyou?'

The old lady began to rummage in her pocket for her spectacles. ButOliver's patience was not proof against this new trial; and yielding tohis first impulse, he sprang into her arms. 

'God be good to me!' cried the old lady, embracing him; 'it is myinnocent boy!'

'My dear old nurse!' cried Oliver. 

'He would come back--I knew he would, ' said the old lady, holding himin her arms. 'How well he looks, and how like a gentleman's son he isdressed again! Where have you been, this long, long while? Ah! thesame sweet face, but not so pale; the same soft eye, but not so sad. Ihave never forgotten them or his quiet smile, but have seen them everyday, side by side with those of my own dear children, dead and gonesince I was a lightsome young creature. ' Running on thus, and nowholding Oliver from her to mark how he had grown, now clasping him toher and passing her fingers fondly through his hair, the good soullaughed and wept upon his neck by turns. 

Leaving her and Oliver to compare notes at leisure, Mr. Brownlow ledthe way into another room; and there, heard from Rose a full narrationof her interview with Nancy, which occasioned him no little surpriseand perplexity. Rose also explained her reasons for not confiding inher friend Mr. Losberne in the first instance. The old gentlemanconsidered that she had acted prudently, and readily undertook to holdsolemn conference with the worthy doctor himself. To afford him anearly opportunity for the execution of this design, it was arrangedthat he should call at the hotel at eight o'clock that evening, andthat in the meantime Mrs. Maylie should be cautiously informed of allthat had occurred. These preliminaries adjusted, Rose and Oliverreturned home. 

Rose had by no means overrated the measure of the good doctor's wrath. Nancy's history was no sooner unfolded to him, than he poured forth ashower of mingled threats and execrations; threatened to make her thefirst victim of the combined ingenuity of Messrs. Blathers and Duff;and actually put on his hat preparatory to sallying forth to obtain theassistance of those worthies. And, doubtless, he would, in this firstoutbreak, have carried the intention into effect without a moment'sconsideration of the consequences, if he had not been restrained, inpart, by corresponding violence on the side of Mr. Brownlow, who washimself of an irascible temperament, and party by such arguments andrepresentations as seemed best calculated to dissuade him from hishotbrained purpose. 

'Then what the devil is to be done?' said the impetuous doctor, whenthey had rejoined the two ladies. 'Are we to pass a vote of thanks toall these vagabonds, male and female, and beg them to accept a hundredpounds, or so, apiece, as a trifling mark of our esteem, and someslight acknowledgment of their kindness to Oliver?'

'Not exactly that, ' rejoined Mr. Brownlow, laughing; 'but we mustproceed gently and with great care. '

'Gentleness and care, ' exclaimed the doctor. 'I'd send them one andall to--'

'Never mind where, ' interposed Mr. Brownlow. 'But reflect whethersending them anywhere is likely to attain the object we have in view. '

'What object?' asked the doctor. 

'Simply, the discovery of Oliver's parentage, and regaining for him theinheritance of which, if this story be true, he has been fraudulentlydeprived. '

'Ah!' said Mr. Losberne, cooling himself with his pocket-handkerchief;'I almost forgot that. '

'You see, ' pursued Mr. Brownlow; 'placing this poor girl entirely outof the question, and supposing it were possible to bring thesescoundrels to justice without compromising her safety, what good shouldwe bring about?'

'Hanging a few of them at least, in all probability, ' suggested thedoctor, 'and transporting the rest. '

'Very good, ' replied Mr. Brownlow, smiling; 'but no doubt they willbring that about for themselves in the fulness of time, and if we stepin to forestall them, it seems to me that we shall be performing a veryQuixotic act, in direct opposition to our own interest--or at least toOliver's, which is the same thing. '

'How?' inquired the doctor. 

'Thus. It is quite clear that we shall have extreme difficulty ingetting to the bottom of this mystery, unless we can bring this man, Monks, upon his knees. That can only be done by stratagem, and bycatching him when he is not surrounded by these people. For, supposehe were apprehended, we have no proof against him. He is not even (sofar as we know, or as the facts appear to us) concerned with the gangin any of their robberies. If he were not discharged, it is veryunlikely that he could receive any further punishment than beingcommitted to prison as a rogue and vagabond; and of course everafterwards his mouth would be so obstinately closed that he might aswell, for our purposes, be deaf, dumb, blind, and an idiot. '

'Then, ' said the doctor impetuously, 'I put it to you again, whetheryou think it reasonable that this promise to the girl should beconsidered binding; a promise made with the best and kindestintentions, but really--'

'Do not discuss the point, my dear young lady, pray, ' said Mr. Brownlow, interrupting Rose as she was about to speak. 'The promiseshall be kept. I don't think it will, in the slightest degree, interfere with our proceedings. But, before we can resolve upon anyprecise course of action, it will be necessary to see the girl; toascertain from her whether she will point out this Monks, on theunderstanding that he is to be dealt with by us, and not by the law;or, if she will not, or cannot do that, to procure from her such anaccount of his haunts and description of his person, as will enable usto identify him. She cannot be seen until next Sunday night; this isTuesday. I would suggest that in the meantime, we remain perfectlyquiet, and keep these matters secret even from Oliver himself. '

Although Mr. Losberne received with many wry faces a proposal involvinga delay of five whole days, he was fain to admit that no better courseoccurred to him just then; and as both Rose and Mrs. Maylie sided verystrongly with Mr. Brownlow, that gentleman's proposition was carriedunanimously. 

'I should like, ' he said, 'to call in the aid of my friend Grimwig. Heis a strange creature, but a shrewd one, and might prove of materialassistance to us; I should say that he was bred a lawyer, and quittedthe Bar in disgust because he had only one brief and a motion ofcourse, in twenty years, though whether that is recommendation or not, you must determine for yourselves. '

'I have no objection to your calling in your friend if I may call inmine, ' said the doctor. 

'We must put it to the vote, ' replied Mr. Brownlow, 'who may he be?'

'That lady's son, and this young lady's--very old friend, ' said thedoctor, motioning towards Mrs. Maylie, and concluding with anexpressive glance at her niece. 

Rose blushed deeply, but she did not make any audible objection to thismotion (possibly she felt in a hopeless minority); and Harry Maylie andMr. Grimwig were accordingly added to the committee. 

'We stay in town, of course, ' said Mrs. Maylie, 'while there remainsthe slightest prospect of prosecuting this inquiry with a chance ofsuccess. I will spare neither trouble nor expense in behalf of theobject in which we are all so deeply interested, and I am content toremain here, if it be for twelve months, so long as you assure me thatany hope remains. '

'Good!' rejoined Mr. Brownlow. 'And as I see on the faces about me, adisposition to inquire how it happened that I was not in the way tocorroborate Oliver's tale, and had so suddenly left the kingdom, let mestipulate that I shall be asked no questions until such time as I maydeem it expedient to forestall them by telling my own story. Believeme, I make this request with good reason, for I might otherwise excitehopes destined never to be realised, and only increase difficulties anddisappointments already quite numerous enough. Come! Supper has beenannounced, and young Oliver, who is all alone in the next room, willhave begun to think, by this time, that we have wearied of his company, and entered into some dark conspiracy to thrust him forth upon theworld. '

With these words, the old gentleman gave his hand to Mrs. Maylie, andescorted her into the supper-room. Mr. Losberne followed, leadingRose; and the council was, for the present, effectually broken up. 

CHAPTER XLII

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE OF OLIVER'S, EXHIBITING DECIDED MARKS OF GENIUS, BECOMES A PUBLIC CHARACTER IN THE METROPOLIS

Upon the night when Nancy, having lulled Mr. Sikes to sleep, hurried onher self-imposed mission to Rose Maylie, there advanced towards London, by the Great North Road, two persons, upon whom it is expedient thatthis history should bestow some attention. 

They were a man and woman; or perhaps they would be better described asa male and female: for the former was one of those long-limbed, knock-kneed, shambling, bony people, to whom it is difficult to assignany precise age, --looking as they do, when they are yet boys, likeundergrown men, and when they are almost men, like overgrown boys. Thewoman was young, but of a robust and hardy make, as she need have beento bear the weight of the heavy bundle which was strapped to her back. Her companion was not encumbered with much luggage, as there merelydangled from a stick which he carried over his shoulder, a small parcelwrapped in a common handkerchief, and apparently light enough. Thiscircumstance, added to the length of his legs, which were of unusualextent, enabled him with much ease to keep some half-dozen paces inadvance of his companion, to whom he occasionally turned with animpatient jerk of the head: as if reproaching her tardiness, andurging her to greater exertion. 

Thus, they had toiled along the dusty road, taking little heed of anyobject within sight, save when they stepped aside to allow a widerpassage for the mail-coaches which were whirling out of town, untilthey passed through Highgate archway; when the foremost travellerstopped and called impatiently to his companion, 'Come on, can't yer? What a lazybones yer are, Charlotte. '

'It's a heavy load, I can tell you, ' said the female, coming up, almostbreathless with fatigue. 

'Heavy! What are yer talking about? What are yer made for?' rejoinedthe male traveller, changing his own little bundle as he spoke, to theother shoulder. 'Oh, there yer are, resting again! Well, if yer ain'tenough to tire anybody's patience out, I don't know what is!'

'Is it much farther?' asked the woman, resting herself against a bank, and looking up with the perspiration streaming from her face. 

'Much farther! Yer as good as there, ' said the long-legged tramper, pointing out before him. 'Look there! Those are the lights of London. '

'They're a good two mile off, at least, ' said the woman despondingly. 

'Never mind whether they're two mile off, or twenty, ' said NoahClaypole; for he it was; 'but get up and come on, or I'll kick yer, andso I give yer notice. '

As Noah's red nose grew redder with anger, and as he crossed the roadwhile speaking, as if fully prepared to put his threat into execution, the woman rose without any further remark, and trudged onward by hisside. 

'Where do you mean to stop for the night, Noah?' she asked, after theyhad walked a few hundred yards. 

'How should I know?' replied Noah, whose temper had been considerablyimpaired by walking. 

'Near, I hope, ' said Charlotte. 

'No, not near, ' replied Mr. Claypole. 'There! Not near; so don'tthink it. '

'Why not?'

'When I tell yer that I don't mean to do a thing, that's enough, without any why or because either, ' replied Mr. Claypole with dignity. 

'Well, you needn't be so cross, ' said his companion. 

'A pretty thing it would be, wouldn't it to go and stop at the veryfirst public-house outside the town, so that Sowerberry, if he come upafter us, might poke in his old nose, and have us taken back in a cartwith handcuffs on, ' said Mr. Claypole in a jeering tone. 'No! I shallgo and lose myself among the narrowest streets I can find, and not stoptill we come to the very out-of-the-wayest house I can set eyes on. 'Cod, yer may thanks yer stars I've got a head; for if we hadn't gone, at first, the wrong road a purpose, and come back across country, yer'dhave been locked up hard and fast a week ago, my lady. And serve yerright for being a fool. '

'I know I ain't as cunning as you are, ' replied Charlotte; 'but don'tput all the blame on me, and say I should have been locked up. Youwould have been if I had been, any way. '

'Yer took the money from the till, yer know yer did, ' said Mr. Claypole. 

'I took it for you, Noah, dear, ' rejoined Charlotte. 

'Did I keep it?' asked Mr. Claypole. 

'No; you trusted in me, and let me carry it like a dear, and so youare, ' said the lady, chucking him under the chin, and drawing her armthrough his. 

This was indeed the case; but as it was not Mr. Claypole's habit torepose a blind and foolish confidence in anybody, it should beobserved, in justice to that gentleman, that he had trusted Charlotteto this extent, in order that, if they were pursued, the money might befound on her: which would leave him an opportunity of asserting hisinnocence of any theft, and would greatly facilitate his chances ofescape. Of course, he entered at this juncture, into no explanation ofhis motives, and they walked on very lovingly together. 

In pursuance of this cautious plan, Mr. Claypole went on, withouthalting, until he arrived at the Angel at Islington, where he wiselyjudged, from the crowd of passengers and numbers of vehicles, thatLondon began in earnest. Just pausing to observe which appeared themost crowded streets, and consequently the most to be avoided, hecrossed into Saint John's Road, and was soon deep in the obscurity ofthe intricate and dirty ways, which, lying between Gray's Inn Lane andSmithfield, render that part of the town one of the lowest and worstthat improvement has left in the midst of London. 

Through these streets, Noah Claypole walked, dragging Charlotte afterhim; now stepping into the kennel to embrace at a glance the wholeexternal character of some small public-house; now jogging on again, assome fancied appearance induced him to believe it too public for hispurpose. At length, he stopped in front of one, more humble inappearance and more dirty than any he had yet seen; and, having crossedover and surveyed it from the opposite pavement, graciously announcedhis intention of putting up there, for the night. 

'So give us the bundle, ' said Noah, unstrapping it from the woman'sshoulders, and slinging it over his own; 'and don't yer speak, exceptwhen yer spoke to. What's the name of the house--t-h-r--three what?'

'Cripples, ' said Charlotte. 

'Three Cripples, ' repeated Noah, 'and a very good sign too. Now, then!Keep close at my heels, and come along. ' With these injunctions, hepushed the rattling door with his shoulder, and entered the house, followed by his companion. 

There was nobody in the bar but a young Jew, who, with his two elbowson the counter, was reading a dirty newspaper. He stared very hard atNoah, and Noah stared very hard at him. 

If Noah had been attired in his charity-boy's dress, there might havebeen some reason for the Jew opening his eyes so wide; but as he haddiscarded the coat and badge, and wore a short smock-frock over hisleathers, there seemed no particular reason for his appearance excitingso much attention in a public-house. 

'Is this the Three Cripples?' asked Noah. 

'That is the dabe of this 'ouse, ' replied the Jew. 

'A gentleman we met on the road, coming up from the country, recommended us here, ' said Noah, nudging Charlotte, perhaps to call herattention to this most ingenious device for attracting respect, andperhaps to warn her to betray no surprise. 'We want to sleep hereto-night. '

'I'b dot certaid you cad, ' said Barney, who was the attendant sprite;'but I'll idquire. '

'Show us the tap, and give us a bit of cold meat and a drop of beerwhile yer inquiring, will yer?' said Noah. 

Barney complied by ushering them into a small back-room, and settingthe required viands before them; having done which, he informed thetravellers that they could be lodged that night, and left the amiablecouple to their refreshment. 

Now, this back-room was immediately behind the bar, and some stepslower, so that any person connected with the house, undrawing a smallcurtain which concealed a single pane of glass fixed in the wall of thelast-named apartment, about five feet from its flooring, could not onlylook down upon any guests in the back-room without any great hazard ofbeing observed (the glass being in a dark angle of the wall, betweenwhich and a large upright beam the observer had to thrust himself), butcould, by applying his ear to the partition, ascertain with tolerabledistinctness, their subject of conversation. The landlord of the househad not withdrawn his eye from this place of espial for five minutes, and Barney had only just returned from making the communication aboverelated, when Fagin, in the course of his evening's business, came intothe bar to inquire after some of his young pupils. 

'Hush!' said Barney: 'stradegers id the next roob. '

'Strangers!' repeated the old man in a whisper. 

'Ah! Ad rub uds too, ' added Barney. 'Frob the cuttry, but subthig inyour way, or I'b bistaked. '

Fagin appeared to receive this communication with great interest. 

Mounting a stool, he cautiously applied his eye to the pane of glass, from which secret post he could see Mr. Claypole taking cold beef fromthe dish, and porter from the pot, and administering homeopathic dosesof both to Charlotte, who sat patiently by, eating and drinking at hispleasure. 

'Aha!' he whispered, looking round to Barney, 'I like that fellow'slooks. He'd be of use to us; he knows how to train the girl already. Don't make as much noise as a mouse, my dear, and let me hear 'emtalk--let me hear 'em. '

He again applied his eye to the glass, and turning his ear to thepartition, listened attentively: with a subtle and eager look upon hisface, that might have appertained to some old goblin. 

'So I mean to be a gentleman, ' said Mr. Claypole, kicking out his legs, and continuing a conversation, the commencement of which Fagin hadarrived too late to hear. 'No more jolly old coffins, Charlotte, but agentleman's life for me: and, if yer like, yer shall be a lady. '

'I should like that well enough, dear, ' replied Charlotte; 'but tillsain't to be emptied every day, and people to get clear off after it. '

'Tills be blowed!' said Mr. Claypole; 'there's more things besidestills to be emptied. '

'What do you mean?' asked his companion. 

'Pockets, women's ridicules, houses, mail-coaches, banks!' said Mr. Claypole, rising with the porter. 

'But you can't do all that, dear, ' said Charlotte. 

'I shall look out to get into company with them as can, ' replied Noah. 'They'll be able to make us useful some way or another. Why, youyourself are worth fifty women; I never see such a precious sly anddeceitful creetur as yer can be when I let yer. '

'Lor, how nice it is to hear yer say so!' exclaimed Charlotte, imprinting a kiss upon his ugly face. 

'There, that'll do: don't yer be too affectionate, in case I'm crosswith yer, ' said Noah, disengaging himself with great gravity. 'Ishould like to be the captain of some band, and have the whopping of'em, and follering 'em about, unbeknown to themselves. That would suitme, if there was good profit; and if we could only get in with somegentleman of this sort, I say it would be cheap at that twenty-poundnote you've got, --especially as we don't very well know how to get ridof it ourselves. '

After expressing this opinion, Mr. Claypole looked into the porter-potwith an aspect of deep wisdom; and having well shaken its contents, nodded condescendingly to Charlotte, and took a draught, wherewith heappeared greatly refreshed. He was meditating another, when the suddenopening of the door, and the appearance of a stranger, interrupted him. 

The stranger was Mr. Fagin. And very amiable he looked, and a very lowbow he made, as he advanced, and setting himself down at the nearesttable, ordered something to drink of the grinning Barney. 

'A pleasant night, sir, but cool for the time of year, ' said Fagin, rubbing his hands. 'From the country, I see, sir?'

'How do yer see that?' asked Noah Claypole. 

'We have not so much dust as that in London, ' replied Fagin, pointingfrom Noah's shoes to those of his companion, and from them to the twobundles. 

'Yer a sharp feller, ' said Noah. 'Ha! ha! only hear that, Charlotte!'

'Why, one need be sharp in this town, my dear, ' replied the Jew, sinking his voice to a confidential whisper; 'and that's the truth. '

Fagin followed up this remark by striking the side of his nose with hisright forefinger, --a gesture which Noah attempted to imitate, thoughnot with complete success, in consequence of his own nose not beinglarge enough for the purpose. However, Mr. Fagin seemed to interpretthe endeavour as expressing a perfect coincidence with his opinion, andput about the liquor which Barney reappeared with, in a very friendlymanner. 

'Good stuff that, ' observed Mr. Claypole, smacking his lips. 

'Dear!' said Fagin. 'A man need be always emptying a till, or apocket, or a woman's reticule, or a house, or a mail-coach, or a bank, if he drinks it regularly. '

Mr. Claypole no sooner heard this extract from his own remarks than hefell back in his chair, and looked from the Jew to Charlotte with acountenance of ashy paleness and excessive terror. 

'Don't mind me, my dear, ' said Fagin, drawing his chair closer. 'Ha!ha! it was lucky it was only me that heard you by chance. It was verylucky it was only me. '

'I didn't take it, ' stammered Noah, no longer stretching out his legslike an independent gentleman, but coiling them up as well as he couldunder his chair; 'it was all her doing; yer've got it now, Charlotte, yer know yer have. '

'No matter who's got it, or who did it, my dear, ' replied Fagin, glancing, nevertheless, with a hawk's eye at the girl and the twobundles. 'I'm in that way myself, and I like you for it. '

'In what way?' asked Mr. Claypole, a little recovering. 

'In that way of business, ' rejoined Fagin; 'and so are the people ofthe house. You've hit the right nail upon the head, and are as safehere as you could be. There is not a safer place in all this town thanis the Cripples; that is, when I like to make it so. And I have takena fancy to you and the young woman; so I've said the word, and you maymake your minds easy. '

Noah Claypole's mind might have been at ease after this assurance, buthis body certainly was not; for he shuffled and writhed about, intovarious uncouth positions: eyeing his new friend meanwhile withmingled fear and suspicion. 

'I'll tell you more, ' said Fagin, after he had reassured the girl, bydint of friendly nods and muttered encouragements. 'I have got a friendthat I think can gratify your darling wish, and put you in the rightway, where you can take whatever department of the business you thinkwill suit you best at first, and be taught all the others. '

'Yer speak as if yer were in earnest, ' replied Noah. 

'What advantage would it be to me to be anything else?' inquired Fagin, shrugging his shoulders. 'Here! Let me have a word with you outside. '

'There's no occasion to trouble ourselves to move, ' said Noah, gettinghis legs by gradual degrees abroad again. 'She'll take the luggageupstairs the while. Charlotte, see to them bundles. '

This mandate, which had been delivered with great majesty, was obeyedwithout the slightest demur; and Charlotte made the best of her way offwith the packages while Noah held the door open and watched her out. 

'She's kept tolerably well under, ain't she?' he asked as he resumedhis seat: in the tone of a keeper who had tamed some wild animal. 

'Quite perfect, ' rejoined Fagin, clapping him on the shoulder. 'You'rea genius, my dear. '

'Why, I suppose if I wasn't, I shouldn't be here, ' replied Noah. 'But, I say, she'll be back if yer lose time. '

'Now, what do you think?' said Fagin. 'If you was to like my friend, could you do better than join him?'

'Is he in a good way of business; that's where it is!' responded Noah, winking one of his little eyes. 

'The top of the tree; employs a power of hands; has the very bestsociety in the profession. '

'Regular town-maders?' asked Mr. Claypole. 

'Not a countryman among 'em; and I don't think he'd take you, even onmy recommendation, if he didn't run rather short of assistants justnow, ' replied Fagin. 

'Should I have to hand over?' said Noah, slapping his breeches-pocket. 

'It couldn't possibly be done without, ' replied Fagin, in a mostdecided manner. 

'Twenty pound, though--it's a lot of money!'

'Not when it's in a note you can't get rid of, ' retorted Fagin. 'Numberand date taken, I suppose? Payment stopped at the Bank? Ah! It's notworth much to him. It'll have to go abroad, and he couldn't sell itfor a great deal in the market. '

'When could I see him?' asked Noah doubtfully. 

'To-morrow morning. '

'Where?'

'Here. '

'Um!' said Noah. 'What's the wages?'

'Live like a gentleman--board and lodging, pipes and spirits free--halfof all you earn, and half of all the young woman earns, ' replied Mr. Fagin. 

Whether Noah Claypole, whose rapacity was none of the leastcomprehensive, would have acceded even to these glowing terms, had hebeen a perfectly free agent, is very doubtful; but as he recollectedthat, in the event of his refusal, it was in the power of his newacquaintance to give him up to justice immediately (and more unlikelythings had come to pass), he gradually relented, and said he thoughtthat would suit him. 

'But, yer see, ' observed Noah, 'as she will be able to do a good deal, I should like to take something very light. '

'A little fancy work?' suggested Fagin. 

'Ah! something of that sort, ' replied Noah. 'What do you think wouldsuit me now? Something not too trying for the strength, and not verydangerous, you know. That's the sort of thing!'

'I heard you talk of something in the spy way upon the others, mydear, ' said Fagin. 'My friend wants somebody who would do that well, very much. '

'Why, I did mention that, and I shouldn't mind turning my hand to itsometimes, ' rejoined Mr. Claypole slowly; 'but it wouldn't pay byitself, you know. '

'That's true!' observed the Jew, ruminating or pretending to ruminate. 'No, it might not. '

'What do you think, then?' asked Noah, anxiously regarding him. 'Something in the sneaking way, where it was pretty sure work, and notmuch more risk than being at home. '

'What do you think of the old ladies?' asked Fagin. 'There's a gooddeal of money made in snatching their bags and parcels, and runninground the corner. '

'Don't they holler out a good deal, and scratch sometimes?' asked Noah, shaking his head. 'I don't think that would answer my purpose. Ain'tthere any other line open?'

'Stop!' said Fagin, laying his hand on Noah's knee. 'The kinchin lay. '

'What's that?' demanded Mr. Claypole. 

'The kinchins, my dear, ' said Fagin, 'is the young children that's senton errands by their mothers, with sixpences and shillings; and the layis just to take their money away--they've always got it ready in theirhands, --then knock 'em into the kennel, and walk off very slow, as ifthere were nothing else the matter but a child fallen down and hurtitself. Ha! ha! ha!'

'Ha! ha!' roared Mr. Claypole, kicking up his legs in an ecstasy. 'Lord, that's the very thing!'

'To be sure it is, ' replied Fagin; 'and you can have a few good beatschalked out in Camden Town, and Battle Bridge, and neighborhoods likethat, where they're always going errands; and you can upset as manykinchins as you want, any hour in the day. Ha! ha! ha!'

With this, Fagin poked Mr. Claypole in the side, and they joined in aburst of laughter both long and loud. 

'Well, that's all right!' said Noah, when he had recovered himself, andCharlotte had returned. 'What time to-morrow shall we say?'

'Will ten do?' asked Fagin, adding, as Mr. Claypole nodded assent, 'What name shall I tell my good friend. '

'Mr. Bolter, ' replied Noah, who had prepared himself for suchemergency. 'Mr. Morris Bolter. This is Mrs. Bolter. '

'Mrs. Bolter's humble servant, ' said Fagin, bowing with grotesquepoliteness. 'I hope I shall know her better very shortly. '

'Do you hear the gentleman, Charlotte?' thundered Mr. Claypole. 

'Yes, Noah, dear!' replied Mrs. Bolter, extending her hand. 

'She calls me Noah, as a sort of fond way of talking, ' said Mr. MorrisBolter, late Claypole, turning to Fagin. 'You understand?'

'Oh yes, I understand--perfectly, ' replied Fagin, telling the truth foronce. 'Good-night! Good-night!'

With many adieus and good wishes, Mr. Fagin went his way. NoahClaypole, bespeaking his good lady's attention, proceeded to enlightenher relative to the arrangement he had made, with all that haughtinessand air of superiority, becoming, not only a member of the sterner sex, but a gentleman who appreciated the dignity of a special appointment onthe kinchin lay, in London and its vicinity. 

CHAPTER XLIII

WHEREIN IS SHOWN HOW THE ARTFUL DODGER GOT INTO TROUBLE

'And so it was you that was your own friend, was it?' asked Mr. Claypole, otherwise Bolter, when, by virtue of the compact entered intobetween them, he had removed next day to Fagin's house. ''Cod, Ithought as much last night!'

'Every man's his own friend, my dear, ' replied Fagin, with his mostinsinuating grin. 'He hasn't as good a one as himself anywhere. '

'Except sometimes, ' replied Morris Bolter, assuming the air of a man ofthe world. 'Some people are nobody's enemies but their own, yer know. '

'Don't believe that, ' said Fagin. 'When a man's his own enemy, it'sonly because he's too much his own friend; not because he's careful foreverybody but himself. Pooh! pooh! There ain't such a thing innature. '

'There oughn't to be, if there is, ' replied Mr. Bolter. 

'That stands to reason. Some conjurers say that number three is themagic number, and some say number seven. It's neither, my friend, neither. It's number one. 

'Ha! ha!' cried Mr. Bolter. 'Number one for ever. '

'In a little community like ours, my dear, ' said Fagin, who felt itnecessary to qualify this position, 'we have a general number one, without considering me too as the same, and all the other young people. '

'Oh, the devil!' exclaimed Mr. Bolter. 

'You see, ' pursued Fagin, affecting to disregard this interruption, 'weare so mixed up together, and identified in our interests, that it mustbe so. For instance, it's your object to take care of numberone--meaning yourself. '

'Certainly, ' replied Mr. Bolter. 'Yer about right there. '

'Well! You can't take care of yourself, number one, without takingcare of me, number one. '

'Number two, you mean, ' said Mr. Bolter, who was largely endowed withthe quality of selfishness. 

'No, I don't!' retorted Fagin. 'I'm of the same importance to you, asyou are to yourself. '

'I say, ' interrupted Mr. Bolter, 'yer a very nice man, and I'm veryfond of yer; but we ain't quite so thick together, as all that comesto. '

'Only think, ' said Fagin, shrugging his shoulders, and stretching outhis hands; 'only consider. You've done what's a very pretty thing, andwhat I love you for doing; but what at the same time would put thecravat round your throat, that's so very easily tied and so verydifficult to unloose--in plain English, the halter!'

Mr. Bolter put his hand to his neckerchief, as if he felt itinconveniently tight; and murmured an assent, qualified in tone but notin substance. 

'The gallows, ' continued Fagin, 'the gallows, my dear, is an uglyfinger-post, which points out a very short and sharp turning that hasstopped many a bold fellow's career on the broad highway. To keep inthe easy road, and keep it at a distance, is object number one withyou. '

'Of course it is, ' replied Mr. Bolter. 'What do yer talk about suchthings for?'

'Only to show you my meaning clearly, ' said the Jew, raising hiseyebrows. 'To be able to do that, you depend upon me. To keep mylittle business all snug, I depend upon you. The first is your numberone, the second my number one. The more you value your number one, themore careful you must be of mine; so we come at last to what I told youat first--that a regard for number one holds us all together, and mustdo so, unless we would all go to pieces in company. '

'That's true, ' rejoined Mr. Bolter, thoughtfully. 'Oh! yer a cunningold codger!'

Mr. Fagin saw, with delight, that this tribute to his powers was nomere compliment, but that he had really impressed his recruit with asense of his wily genius, which it was most important that he shouldentertain in the outset of their acquaintance. To strengthen animpression so desirable and useful, he followed up the blow byacquainting him, in some detail, with the magnitude and extent of hisoperations; blending truth and fiction together, as best served hispurpose; and bringing both to bear, with so much art, that Mr. Bolter'srespect visibly increased, and became tempered, at the same time, witha degree of wholesome fear, which it was highly desirable to awaken. 

'It's this mutual trust we have in each other that consoles me underheavy losses, ' said Fagin. 'My best hand was taken from me, yesterdaymorning. '

'You don't mean to say he died?' cried Mr. Bolter. 

'No, no, ' replied Fagin, 'not so bad as that. Not quite so bad. '

'What, I suppose he was--'

'Wanted, ' interposed Fagin. 'Yes, he was wanted. '

'Very particular?' inquired Mr. Bolter. 

'No, ' replied Fagin, 'not very. He was charged with attempting to picka pocket, and they found a silver snuff-box on him, --his own, my dear, his own, for he took snuff himself, and was very fond of it. Theyremanded him till to-day, for they thought they knew the owner. Ah! hewas worth fifty boxes, and I'd give the price of as many to have himback. You should have known the Dodger, my dear; you should have knownthe Dodger. '

'Well, but I shall know him, I hope; don't yer think so?' said Mr. Bolter. 

'I'm doubtful about it, ' replied Fagin, with a sigh. 'If they don'tget any fresh evidence, it'll only be a summary conviction, and weshall have him back again after six weeks or so; but, if they do, it'sa case of lagging. They know what a clever lad he is; he'll be alifer. They'll make the Artful nothing less than a lifer. '

'What do you mean by lagging and a lifer?' demanded Mr. Bolter. 'What'sthe good of talking in that way to me; why don't yer speak so as I canunderstand yer?'

Fagin was about to translate these mysterious expressions into thevulgar tongue; and, being interpreted, Mr. Bolter would have beeninformed that they represented that combination of words, 'transportation for life, ' when the dialogue was cut short by the entryof Master Bates, with his hands in his breeches-pockets, and his facetwisted into a look of semi-comical woe. 

'It's all up, Fagin, ' said Charley, when he and his new companion hadbeen made known to each other. 

'What do you mean?'

'They've found the gentleman as owns the box; two or three more's acoming to 'dentify him; and the Artful's booked for a passage out, 'replied Master Bates. 'I must have a full suit of mourning, Fagin, anda hatband, to wisit him in, afore he sets out upon his travels. Tothink of Jack Dawkins--lummy Jack--the Dodger--the Artful Dodger--goingabroad for a common twopenny-halfpenny sneeze-box! I never thoughthe'd a done it under a gold watch, chain, and seals, at the lowest. Oh, why didn't he rob some rich old gentleman of all his walables, andgo out as a gentleman, and not like a common prig, without no honournor glory!'

With this expression of feeling for his unfortunate friend, MasterBates sat himself on the nearest chair with an aspect of chagrin anddespondency. 

'What do you talk about his having neither honour nor glory for!'exclaimed Fagin, darting an angry look at his pupil. 'Wasn't he alwaysthe top-sawyer among you all! Is there one of you that could touch himor come near him on any scent! Eh?'

'Not one, ' replied Master Bates, in a voice rendered husky by regret;'not one. '

'Then what do you talk of?' replied Fagin angrily; 'what are youblubbering for?'

''Cause it isn't on the rec-ord, is it?' said Charley, chafed intoperfect defiance of his venerable friend by the current of his regrets;''cause it can't come out in the 'dictment; 'cause nobody will neverknow half of what he was. How will he stand in the Newgate Calendar?P'raps not be there at all. Oh, my eye, my eye, wot a blow it is!'

'Ha! ha!' cried Fagin, extending his right hand, and turning to Mr. Bolter in a fit of chuckling which shook him as though he had thepalsy; 'see what a pride they take in their profession, my dear. Ain'tit beautiful?'

Mr. Bolter nodded assent, and Fagin, after contemplating the grief ofCharley Bates for some seconds with evident satisfaction, stepped up tothat young gentleman and patted him on the shoulder. 

'Never mind, Charley, ' said Fagin soothingly; 'it'll come out, it'll besure to come out. They'll all know what a clever fellow he was; he'llshow it himself, and not disgrace his old pals and teachers. Think howyoung he is too! What a distinction, Charley, to be lagged at his timeof life!'

'Well, it is a honour that is!' said Charley, a little consoled. 

'He shall have all he wants, ' continued the Jew. 'He shall be kept inthe Stone Jug, Charley, like a gentleman. Like a gentleman! With hisbeer every day, and money in his pocket to pitch and toss with, if hecan't spend it. '

'No, shall he though?' cried Charley Bates. 

'Ay, that he shall, ' replied Fagin, 'and we'll have a big-wig, Charley:one that's got the greatest gift of the gab: to carry on his defence;and he shall make a speech for himself too, if he likes; and we'll readit all in the papers--"Artful Dodger--shrieks of laughter--here thecourt was convulsed"--eh, Charley, eh?'

'Ha! ha!' laughed Master Bates, 'what a lark that would be, wouldn'tit, Fagin? I say, how the Artful would bother 'em wouldn't he?'

'Would!' cried Fagin. 'He shall--he will!'

'Ah, to be sure, so he will, ' repeated Charley, rubbing his hands. 

'I think I see him now, ' cried the Jew, bending his eyes upon his pupil. 

'So do I, ' cried Charley Bates. 'Ha! ha! ha! so do I. I see it allafore me, upon my soul I do, Fagin. What a game! What a regular game!All the big-wigs trying to look solemn, and Jack Dawkins addressing of'em as intimate and comfortable as if he was the judge's own son makinga speech arter dinner--ha! ha! ha!'

In fact, Mr. Fagin had so well humoured his young friend's eccentricdisposition, that Master Bates, who had at first been disposed toconsider the imprisoned Dodger rather in the light of a victim, nowlooked upon him as the chief actor in a scene of most uncommon andexquisite humour, and felt quite impatient for the arrival of the timewhen his old companion should have so favourable an opportunity ofdisplaying his abilities. 

'We must know how he gets on to-day, by some handy means or other, 'said Fagin. 'Let me think. '

'Shall I go?' asked Charley. 

'Not for the world, ' replied Fagin. 'Are you mad, my dear, stark mad, that you'd walk into the very place where--No, Charley, no. One isenough to lose at a time. '

'You don't mean to go yourself, I suppose?' said Charley with ahumorous leer. 

'That wouldn't quite fit, ' replied Fagin shaking his head. 

'Then why don't you send this new cove?' asked Master Bates, laying hishand on Noah's arm. 'Nobody knows him. '

'Why, if he didn't mind--' observed Fagin. 

'Mind!' interposed Charley. 'What should he have to mind?'

'Really nothing, my dear, ' said Fagin, turning to Mr. Bolter, 'reallynothing. '

'Oh, I dare say about that, yer know, ' observed Noah, backing towardsthe door, and shaking his head with a kind of sober alarm. 'No, no--none of that. It's not in my department, that ain't. '

'Wot department has he got, Fagin?' inquired Master Bates, surveyingNoah's lank form with much disgust. 'The cutting away when there'sanything wrong, and the eating all the wittles when there's everythingright; is that his branch?'

'Never mind, ' retorted Mr. Bolter; 'and don't yer take liberties withyer superiors, little boy, or yer'll find yerself in the wrong shop. '

Master Bates laughed so vehemently at this magnificent threat, that itwas some time before Fagin could interpose, and represent to Mr. Bolterthat he incurred no possible danger in visiting the police-office;that, inasmuch as no account of the little affair in which he hadengaged, nor any description of his person, had yet been forwarded tothe metropolis, it was very probable that he was not even suspected ofhaving resorted to it for shelter; and that, if he were properlydisguised, it would be as safe a spot for him to visit as any inLondon, inasmuch as it would be, of all places, the very last, to whichhe could be supposed likely to resort of his own free will. 

Persuaded, in part, by these representations, but overborne in a muchgreater degree by his fear of Fagin, Mr. Bolter at length consented, with a very bad grace, to undertake the expedition. By Fagin'sdirections, he immediately substituted for his own attire, a waggoner'sfrock, velveteen breeches, and leather leggings: all of which articlesthe Jew had at hand. He was likewise furnished with a felt hat wellgarnished with turnpike tickets; and a carter's whip. Thus equipped, he was to saunter into the office, as some country fellow from CoventGarden market might be supposed to do for the gratification of hiscuriousity; and as he was as awkward, ungainly, and raw-boned a fellowas need be, Mr. Fagin had no fear but that he would look the part toperfection. 

These arrangements completed, he was informed of the necessary signsand tokens by which to recognise the Artful Dodger, and was conveyed byMaster Bates through dark and winding ways to within a very shortdistance of Bow Street. Having described the precise situation of theoffice, and accompanied it with copious directions how he was to walkstraight up the passage, and when he got into the side, and pull offhis hat as he went into the room, Charley Bates bade him hurry onalone, and promised to bide his return on the spot of their parting. 

Noah Claypole, or Morris Bolter as the reader pleases, punctuallyfollowed the directions he had received, which--Master Bates beingpretty well acquainted with the locality--were so exact that he wasenabled to gain the magisterial presence without asking any question, or meeting with any interruption by the way. 

He found himself jostled among a crowd of people, chiefly women, whowere huddled together in a dirty frowsy room, at the upper end of whichwas a raised platform railed off from the rest, with a dock for theprisoners on the left hand against the wall, a box for the witnesses inthe middle, and a desk for the magistrates on the right; the awfullocality last named, being screened off by a partition which concealedthe bench from the common gaze, and left the vulgar to imagine (if theycould) the full majesty of justice. 

There were only a couple of women in the dock, who were nodding totheir admiring friends, while the clerk read some depositions to acouple of policemen and a man in plain clothes who leant over thetable. A jailer stood reclining against the dock-rail, tapping hisnose listlessly with a large key, except when he repressed an unduetendency to conversation among the idlers, by proclaiming silence; orlooked sternly up to bid some woman 'Take that baby out, ' when thegravity of justice was disturbed by feeble cries, half-smothered in themother's shawl, from some meagre infant. The room smelt close andunwholesome; the walls were dirt-discoloured; and the ceilingblackened. There was an old smoky bust over the mantel-shelf, and adusty clock above the dock--the only thing present, that seemed to goon as it ought; for depravity, or poverty, or an habitual acquaintancewith both, had left a taint on all the animate matter, hardly lessunpleasant than the thick greasy scum on every inanimate object thatfrowned upon it. 

Noah looked eagerly about him for the Dodger; but although there wereseveral women who would have done very well for that distinguishedcharacter's mother or sister, and more than one man who might besupposed to bear a strong resemblance to his father, nobody at allanswering the description given him of Mr. Dawkins was to be seen. Hewaited in a state of much suspense and uncertainty until the women, being committed for trial, went flaunting out; and then was quicklyrelieved by the appearance of another prisoner who he felt at oncecould be no other than the object of his visit. 

It was indeed Mr. Dawkins, who, shuffling into the office with the bigcoat sleeves tucked up as usual, his left hand in his pocket, and hishat in his right hand, preceded the jailer, with a rolling gaitaltogether indescribable, and, taking his place in the dock, requestedin an audible voice to know what he was placed in that 'ere disgracefulsitivation for. 

'Hold your tongue, will you?' said the jailer. 

'I'm an Englishman, ain't I?' rejoined the Dodger. 'Where are mypriwileges?'

'You'll get your privileges soon enough, ' retorted the jailer, 'andpepper with 'em. '

'We'll see wot the Secretary of State for the Home Affairs has got tosay to the beaks, if I don't, ' replied Mr. Dawkins. 'Now then! Wot isthis here business? I shall thank the madg'strates to dispose of thishere little affair, and not to keep me while they read the paper, forI've got an appointment with a genelman in the City, and as I am a manof my word and wery punctual in business matters, he'll go away if Iain't there to my time, and then pr'aps ther won't be an action fordamage against them as kep me away. Oh no, certainly not!'

At this point, the Dodger, with a show of being very particular with aview to proceedings to be had thereafter, desired the jailer tocommunicate 'the names of them two files as was on the bench. ' Whichso tickled the spectators, that they laughed almost as heartily asMaster Bates could have done if he had heard the request. 

'Silence there!' cried the jailer. 

'What is this?' inquired one of the magistrates. 

'A pick-pocketing case, your worship. '

'Has the boy ever been here before?'

'He ought to have been, a many times, ' replied the jailer. 'He has beenpretty well everywhere else. _I_ know him well, your worship. '

'Oh! you know me, do you?' cried the Artful, making a note of thestatement. 'Wery good. That's a case of deformation of character, anyway. '

Here there was another laugh, and another cry of silence. 

'Now then, where are the witnesses?' said the clerk. 

'Ah! that's right, ' added the Dodger. 'Where are they? I should liketo see 'em. '

This wish was immediately gratified, for a policeman stepped forwardwho had seen the prisoner attempt the pocket of an unknown gentleman ina crowd, and indeed take a handkerchief therefrom, which, being a veryold one, he deliberately put back again, after trying it on his owncountenance. For this reason, he took the Dodger into custody as soonas he could get near him, and the said Dodger, being searched, had uponhis person a silver snuff-box, with the owner's name engraved upon thelid. This gentleman had been discovered on reference to the CourtGuide, and being then and there present, swore that the snuff-box washis, and that he had missed it on the previous day, the moment he haddisengaged himself from the crowd before referred to. He had alsoremarked a young gentleman in the throng, particularly active in makinghis way about, and that young gentleman was the prisoner before him. 

'Have you anything to ask this witness, boy?' said the magistrate. 

'I wouldn't abase myself by descending to hold no conversation withhim, ' replied the Dodger. 

'Have you anything to say at all?'

'Do you hear his worship ask if you've anything to say?' inquired thejailer, nudging the silent Dodger with his elbow. 

'I beg your pardon, ' said the Dodger, looking up with an air ofabstraction. 'Did you redress yourself to me, my man?'

'I never see such an out-and-out young wagabond, your worship, 'observed the officer with a grin. 'Do you mean to say anything, youyoung shaver?'

'No, ' replied the Dodger, 'not here, for this ain't the shop forjustice: besides which, my attorney is a-breakfasting this morningwith the Wice President of the House of Commons; but I shall havesomething to say elsewhere, and so will he, and so will a wery numerousand 'spectable circle of acquaintance as'll make them beaks wish they'dnever been born, or that they'd got their footmen to hang 'em up totheir own hat-pegs, afore they let 'em come out this morning to try iton upon me. I'll--'

'There! He's fully committed!' interposed the clerk. 'Take him away. '

'Come on, ' said the jailer. 

'Oh ah! I'll come on, ' replied the Dodger, brushing his hat with thepalm of his hand. 'Ah! (to the Bench) it's no use your lookingfrightened; I won't show you no mercy, not a ha'porth of it. _You'll_pay for this, my fine fellers. I wouldn't be you for something! Iwouldn't go free, now, if you was to fall down on your knees and askme. Here, carry me off to prison! Take me away!'

With these last words, the Dodger suffered himself to be led off by thecollar; threatening, till he got into the yard, to make a parliamentarybusiness of it; and then grinning in the officer's face, with greatglee and self-approval. 

Having seen him locked up by himself in a little cell, Noah made thebest of his way back to where he had left Master Bates. After waitinghere some time, he was joined by that young gentleman, who hadprudently abstained from showing himself until he had looked carefullyabroad from a snug retreat, and ascertained that his new friend had notbeen followed by any impertinent person. 

The two hastened back together, to bear to Mr. Fagin the animating newsthat the Dodger was doing full justice to his bringing-up, andestablishing for himself a glorious reputation. 

CHAPTER XLIV

THE TIME ARRIVES FOR NANCY TO REDEEM HER PLEDGE TO ROSE MAYLIE. SHEFAILS. 

Adept as she was, in all the arts of cunning and dissimulation, thegirl Nancy could not wholly conceal the effect which the knowledge ofthe step she had taken, wrought upon her mind. She remembered thatboth the crafty Jew and the brutal Sikes had confided to her schemes, which had been hidden from all others: in the full confidence that shewas trustworthy and beyond the reach of their suspicion. Vile as thoseschemes were, desperate as were their originators, and bitter as wereher feelings towards Fagin, who had led her, step by step, deeper anddeeper down into an abyss of crime and misery, whence was no escape;still, there were times when, even towards him, she felt somerelenting, lest her disclosure should bring him within the iron grasphe had so long eluded, and he should fall at last--richly as he meritedsuch a fate--by her hand. 

But, these were the mere wanderings of a mind unable wholly to detachitself from old companions and associations, though enabled to fixitself steadily on one object, and resolved not to be turned aside byany consideration. Her fears for Sikes would have been more powerfulinducements to recoil while there was yet time; but she had stipulatedthat her secret should be rigidly kept, she had dropped no clue whichcould lead to his discovery, she had refused, even for his sake, arefuge from all the guilt and wretchedness that encompasses her--andwhat more could she do! She was resolved. 

Though all her mental struggles terminated in this conclusion, theyforced themselves upon her, again and again, and left their traces too. She grew pale and thin, even within a few days. At times, she took noheed of what was passing before her, or no part in conversations whereonce, she would have been the loudest. At other times, she laughedwithout merriment, and was noisy without a moment afterwards--she satsilent and dejected, brooding with her head upon her hands, while thevery effort by which she roused herself, told, more forcibly than eventhese indications, that she was ill at ease, and that her thoughts wereoccupied with matters very different and distant from those in thecourse of discussion by her companions. 

It was Sunday night, and the bell of the nearest church struck thehour. Sikes and the Jew were talking, but they paused to listen. Thegirl looked up from the low seat on which she crouched, and listenedtoo. Eleven. 

'An hour this side of midnight, ' said Sikes, raising the blind to lookout and returning to his seat. 'Dark and heavy it is too. A good nightfor business this. '

'Ah!' replied Fagin. 'What a pity, Bill, my dear, that there's nonequite ready to be done. '

'You're right for once, ' replied Sikes gruffly. 'It is a pity, for I'min the humour too. '

Fagin sighed, and shook his head despondingly. 

'We must make up for lost time when we've got things into a good train. That's all I know, ' said Sikes. 

'That's the way to talk, my dear, ' replied Fagin, venturing to pat himon the shoulder. 'It does me good to hear you. '

'Does you good, does it!' cried Sikes. 'Well, so be it. '

'Ha! ha! ha!' laughed Fagin, as if he were relieved by even thisconcession. 'You're like yourself to-night, Bill. Quite likeyourself. '

'I don't feel like myself when you lay that withered old claw on myshoulder, so take it away, ' said Sikes, casting off the Jew's hand. 

'It make you nervous, Bill, --reminds you of being nabbed, does it?'said Fagin, determined not to be offended. 

'Reminds me of being nabbed by the devil, ' returned Sikes. 'There neverwas another man with such a face as yours, unless it was your father, and I suppose _he_ is singeing his grizzled red beard by this time, unless you came straight from the old 'un without any father at allbetwixt you; which I shouldn't wonder at, a bit. '

Fagin offered no reply to this compliment: but, pulling Sikes by thesleeve, pointed his finger towards Nancy, who had taken advantage ofthe foregoing conversation to put on her bonnet, and was now leavingthe room. 

'Hallo!' cried Sikes. 'Nance. Where's the gal going to at this timeof night?'

'Not far. '

'What answer's that?' retorted Sikes. 'Do you hear me?'

'I don't know where, ' replied the girl. 

'Then I do, ' said Sikes, more in the spirit of obstinacy than becausehe had any real objection to the girl going where she listed. 'Nowhere. Sit down. '

'I'm not well. I told you that before, ' rejoined the girl. 'I want abreath of air. '

'Put your head out of the winder, ' replied Sikes. 

'There's not enough there, ' said the girl. 'I want it in the street. '

'Then you won't have it, ' replied Sikes. With which assurance he rose, locked the door, took the key out, and pulling her bonnet from herhead, flung it up to the top of an old press. 'There, ' said therobber. 'Now stop quietly where you are, will you?'

'It's not such a matter as a bonnet would keep me, ' said the girlturning very pale. 'What do you mean, Bill? Do you know what you'redoing?'

'Know what I'm--Oh!' cried Sikes, turning to Fagin, 'she's out of hersenses, you know, or she daren't talk to me in that way. '

'You'll drive me on the something desperate, ' muttered the girl placingboth hands upon her breast, as though to keep down by force someviolent outbreak. 'Let me go, will you, --this minute--this instant. '

'No!' said Sikes. 

'Tell him to let me go, Fagin. He had better. It'll be better forhim. Do you hear me?' cried Nancy stamping her foot upon the ground. 

'Hear you!' repeated Sikes turning round in his chair to confront her. 'Aye! And if I hear you for half a minute longer, the dog shall havesuch a grip on your throat as'll tear some of that screaming voice out. Wot has come over you, you jade! Wot is it?'

'Let me go, ' said the girl with great earnestness; then sitting herselfdown on the floor, before the door, she said, 'Bill, let me go; youdon't know what you are doing. You don't, indeed. For only onehour--do--do!'

'Cut my limbs off one by one!' cried Sikes, seizing her roughly by thearm, 'If I don't think the gal's stark raving mad. Get up. '

'Not till you let me go--not till you let me go--Never--never!'screamed the girl. Sikes looked on, for a minute, watching hisopportunity, and suddenly pinioning her hands dragged her, strugglingand wrestling with him by the way, into a small room adjoining, wherehe sat himself on a bench, and thrusting her into a chair, held herdown by force. She struggled and implored by turns until twelveo'clock had struck, and then, wearied and exhausted, ceased to contestthe point any further. With a caution, backed by many oaths, to makeno more efforts to go out that night, Sikes left her to recover atleisure and rejoined Fagin. 

'Whew!' said the housebreaker wiping the perspiration from his face. 'Wot a precious strange gal that is!'

'You may say that, Bill, ' replied Fagin thoughtfully. 'You may saythat. '

'Wot did she take it into her head to go out to-night for, do youthink?' asked Sikes. 'Come; you should know her better than me. Wotdoes it mean?'

'Obstinacy; woman's obstinacy, I suppose, my dear. '

'Well, I suppose it is, ' growled Sikes. 'I thought I had tamed her, but she's as bad as ever. '

'Worse, ' said Fagin thoughtfully. 'I never knew her like this, forsuch a little cause. '

'Nor I, ' said Sikes. 'I think she's got a touch of that fever in herblood yet, and it won't come out--eh?'

'Like enough. '

'I'll let her a little blood, without troubling the doctor, if she'stook that way again, ' said Sikes. 

Fagin nodded an expressive approval of this mode of treatment. 

'She was hanging about me all day, and night too, when I was stretchedon my back; and you, like a blackhearted wolf as you are, kept yourselfaloof, ' said Sikes. 'We was poor too, all the time, and I think, oneway or other, it's worried and fretted her; and that being shut up hereso long has made her restless--eh?'

'That's it, my dear, ' replied the Jew in a whisper. 'Hush!'

As he uttered these words, the girl herself appeared and resumed herformer seat. Her eyes were swollen and red; she rocked herself to andfro; tossed her head; and, after a little time, burst out laughing. 

'Why, now she's on the other tack!' exclaimed Sikes, turning a look ofexcessive surprise on his companion. 

Fagin nodded to him to take no further notice just then; and, in a fewminutes, the girl subsided into her accustomed demeanour. WhisperingSikes that there was no fear of her relapsing, Fagin took up his hatand bade him good-night. He paused when he reached the room-door, andlooking round, asked if somebody would light him down the dark stairs. 

'Light him down, ' said Sikes, who was filling his pipe. 'It's a pity heshould break his neck himself, and disappoint the sight-seers. Showhim a light. '

Nancy followed the old man downstairs, with a candle. When theyreached the passage, he laid his finger on his lip, and drawing closeto the girl, said, in a whisper. 

'What is it, Nancy, dear?'

'What do you mean?' replied the girl, in the same tone. 

'The reason of all this, ' replied Fagin. 'If _he_'--he pointed withhis skinny fore-finger up the stairs--'is so hard with you (he's abrute, Nance, a brute-beast), why don't you--'

'Well?' said the girl, as Fagin paused, with his mouth almost touchingher ear, and his eyes looking into hers. 

'No matter just now. We'll talk of this again. You have a friend inme, Nance; a staunch friend. I have the means at hand, quiet andclose. If you want revenge on those that treat you like a dog--like adog! worse than his dog, for he humours him sometimes--come to me. Isay, come to me. He is the mere hound of a day, but you know me ofold, Nance. '

'I know you well, ' replied the girl, without manifesting the leastemotion. 'Good-night. '

She shrank back, as Fagin offered to lay his hand on hers, but saidgood-night again, in a steady voice, and, answering his parting lookwith a nod of intelligence, closed the door between them. 

Fagin walked towards his home, intent upon the thoughts that wereworking within his brain. He had conceived the idea--not from what hadjust passed though that had tended to confirm him, but slowly and bydegrees--that Nancy, wearied of the housebreaker's brutality, hadconceived an attachment for some new friend. Her altered manner, herrepeated absences from home alone, her comparative indifference to theinterests of the gang for which she had once been so zealous, and, added to these, her desperate impatience to leave home that night at aparticular hour, all favoured the supposition, and rendered it, to himat least, almost matter of certainty. The object of this new likingwas not among his myrmidons. He would be a valuable acquisition withsuch an assistant as Nancy, and must (thus Fagin argued) be securedwithout delay. 

There was another, and a darker object, to be gained. Sikes knew toomuch, and his ruffian taunts had not galled Fagin the less, because thewounds were hidden. The girl must know, well, that if she shook himoff, she could never be safe from his fury, and that it would be surelywreaked--to the maiming of limbs, or perhaps the loss of life--on theobject of her more recent fancy. 

'With a little persuasion, ' thought Fagin, 'what more likely than thatshe would consent to poison him? Women have done such things, andworse, to secure the same object before now. There would be thedangerous villain: the man I hate: gone; another secured in hisplace; and my influence over the girl, with a knowledge of this crimeto back it, unlimited. '

These things passed through the mind of Fagin, during the short time hesat alone, in the housebreaker's room; and with them uppermost in histhoughts, he had taken the opportunity afterwards afforded him, ofsounding the girl in the broken hints he threw out at parting. Therewas no expression of surprise, no assumption of an inability tounderstand his meaning. The girl clearly comprehended it. Her glanceat parting showed _that_. 

But perhaps she would recoil from a plot to take the life of Sikes, andthat was one of the chief ends to be attained. 'How, ' thought Fagin, ashe crept homeward, 'can I increase my influence with her? What newpower can I acquire?'

Such brains are fertile in expedients. If, without extracting aconfession from herself, he laid a watch, discovered the object of heraltered regard, and threatened to reveal the whole history to Sikes (ofwhom she stood in no common fear) unless she entered into his designs, could he not secure her compliance?

'I can, ' said Fagin, almost aloud. 'She durst not refuse me then. Notfor her life, not for her life! I have it all. The means are ready, and shall be set to work. I shall have you yet!'

He cast back a dark look, and a threatening motion of the hand, towardsthe spot where he had left the bolder villain; and went on his way:busying his bony hands in the folds of his tattered garment, which hewrenched tightly in his grasp, as though there were a hated enemycrushed with every motion of his fingers. 

CHAPTER XLV

NOAH CLAYPOLE IS EMPLOYED BY FAGIN ON A SECRET MISSION

The old man was up, betimes, next morning, and waited impatiently forthe appearance of his new associate, who after a delay that seemedinterminable, at length presented himself, and commenced a voraciousassault on the breakfast. 

'Bolter, ' said Fagin, drawing up a chair and seating himself oppositeMorris Bolter. 

'Well, here I am, ' returned Noah. 'What's the matter? Don't yer askme to do anything till I have done eating. That's a great fault in thisplace. Yer never get time enough over yer meals. '

'You can talk as you eat, can't you?' said Fagin, cursing his dearyoung friend's greediness from the very bottom of his heart. 

'Oh yes, I can talk. I get on better when I talk, ' said Noah, cuttinga monstrous slice of bread. 'Where's Charlotte?'

'Out, ' said Fagin. 'I sent her out this morning with the other youngwoman, because I wanted us to be alone. '

'Oh!' said Noah. 'I wish yer'd ordered her to make some buttered toastfirst. Well. Talk away. Yer won't interrupt me. '

There seemed, indeed, no great fear of anything interrupting him, as hehad evidently sat down with a determination to do a great deal ofbusiness. 

'You did well yesterday, my dear, ' said Fagin. 'Beautiful! Sixshillings and ninepence halfpenny on the very first day! The kinchinlay will be a fortune to you. '

'Don't you forget to add three pint-pots and a milk-can, ' said Mr. Bolter. 

'No, no, my dear. The pint-pots were great strokes of genius: but themilk-can was a perfect masterpiece. '

'Pretty well, I think, for a beginner, ' remarked Mr. Boltercomplacently. 'The pots I took off airy railings, and the milk-can wasstanding by itself outside a public-house. I thought it might getrusty with the rain, or catch cold, yer know. Eh? Ha! ha! ha!'

Fagin affected to laugh very heartily; and Mr. Bolter having had hislaugh out, took a series of large bites, which finished his first hunkof bread and butter, and assisted himself to a second. 

'I want you, Bolter, ' said Fagin, leaning over the table, 'to do apiece of work for me, my dear, that needs great care and caution. '

'I say, ' rejoined Bolter, 'don't yer go shoving me into danger, orsending me any more o' yer police-offices. That don't suit me, thatdon't; and so I tell yer. '

'That's not the smallest danger in it--not the very smallest, ' said theJew; 'it's only to dodge a woman. '

'An old woman?' demanded Mr. Bolter. 

'A young one, ' replied Fagin. 

'I can do that pretty well, I know, ' said Bolter. 'I was a regularcunning sneak when I was at school. What am I to dodge her for? Notto--'

'Not to do anything, but to tell me where she goes, who she sees, and, if possible, what she says; to remember the street, if it is a street, or the house, if it is a house; and to bring me back all theinformation you can. '

'What'll yer give me?' asked Noah, setting down his cup, and lookinghis employer, eagerly, in the face. 

'If you do it well, a pound, my dear. One pound, ' said Fagin, wishingto interest him in the scent as much as possible. 'And that's what Inever gave yet, for any job of work where there wasn't valuableconsideration to be gained. '

'Who is she?' inquired Noah. 

'One of us. '

'Oh Lor!' cried Noah, curling up his nose. 'Yer doubtful of her, areyer?'

'She has found out some new friends, my dear, and I must know who theyare, ' replied Fagin. 

'I see, ' said Noah. 'Just to have the pleasure of knowing them, ifthey're respectable people, eh? Ha! ha! ha! I'm your man. '

'I knew you would be, ' cried Fagin, elated by the success of hisproposal. 

'Of course, of course, ' replied Noah. 'Where is she? Where am I towait for her? Where am I to go?'

'All that, my dear, you shall hear from me. I'll point her out at theproper time, ' said Fagin. 'You keep ready, and leave the rest to me. '

That night, and the next, and the next again, the spy sat booted andequipped in his carter's dress: ready to turn out at a word fromFagin. Six nights passed--six long weary nights--and on each, Fagincame home with a disappointed face, and briefly intimated that it wasnot yet time. On the seventh, he returned earlier, and with anexultation he could not conceal. It was Sunday. 

'She goes abroad to-night, ' said Fagin, 'and on the right errand, I'msure; for she has been alone all day, and the man she is afraid of willnot be back much before daybreak. Come with me. Quick!'

Noah started up without saying a word; for the Jew was in a state ofsuch intense excitement that it infected him. They left the housestealthily, and hurrying through a labyrinth of streets, arrived atlength before a public-house, which Noah recognised as the same inwhich he had slept, on the night of his arrival in London. 

It was past eleven o'clock, and the door was closed. It opened softlyon its hinges as Fagin gave a low whistle. They entered, without noise;and the door was closed behind them. 

Scarcely venturing to whisper, but substituting dumb show for words, Fagin, and the young Jew who had admitted them, pointed out the pane ofglass to Noah, and signed to him to climb up and observe the person inthe adjoining room. 

'Is that the woman?' he asked, scarcely above his breath. 

Fagin nodded yes. 

'I can't see her face well, ' whispered Noah. 'She is looking down, andthe candle is behind her. 

'Stay there, ' whispered Fagin. He signed to Barney, who withdrew. Inan instant, the lad entered the room adjoining, and, under pretence ofsnuffing the candle, moved it in the required position, and, speakingto the girl, caused her to raise her face. 

'I see her now, ' cried the spy. 

'Plainly?'

'I should know her among a thousand. '

He hastily descended, as the room-door opened, and the girl came out. Fagin drew him behind a small partition which was curtained off, andthey held their breaths as she passed within a few feet of their placeof concealment, and emerged by the door at which they had entered. 

'Hist!' cried the lad who held the door. 'Dow. '

Noah exchanged a look with Fagin, and darted out. 

'To the left, ' whispered the lad; 'take the left had, and keep od theother side. '

He did so; and, by the light of the lamps, saw the girl's retreatingfigure, already at some distance before him. He advanced as near as heconsidered prudent, and kept on the opposite side of the street, thebetter to observe her motions. She looked nervously round, twice orthrice, and once stopped to let two men who were following close behindher, pass on. She seemed to gather courage as she advanced, and towalk with a steadier and firmer step. The spy preserved the samerelative distance between them, and followed: with his eye upon her. 

CHAPTER XLVI

THE APPOINTMENT KEPT

The church clocks chimed three quarters past eleven, as two figuresemerged on London Bridge. One, which advanced with a swift and rapidstep, was that of a woman who looked eagerly about her as though inquest of some expected object; the other figure was that of a man, whoslunk along in the deepest shadow he could find, and, at some distance, accommodated his pace to hers: stopping when she stopped: and as shemoved again, creeping stealthily on: but never allowing himself, inthe ardour of his pursuit, to gain upon her footsteps. Thus, theycrossed the bridge, from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore, when thewoman, apparently disappointed in her anxious scrutiny of thefoot-passengers, turned back. The movement was sudden; but he whowatched her, was not thrown off his guard by it; for, shrinking intoone of the recesses which surmount the piers of the bridge, and leaningover the parapet the better to conceal his figure, he suffered her topass on the opposite pavement. When she was about the same distance inadvance as she had been before, he slipped quietly down, and followedher again. At nearly the centre of the bridge, she stopped. The manstopped too. 

It was a very dark night. The day had been unfavourable, and at thathour and place there were few people stirring. Such as there were, hurried quickly past: very possibly without seeing, but certainlywithout noticing, either the woman, or the man who kept her in view. Their appearance was not calculated to attract the importunate regardsof such of London's destitute population, as chanced to take their wayover the bridge that night in search of some cold arch or doorlesshovel wherein to lay their heads; they stood there in silence: neitherspeaking nor spoken to, by any one who passed. 

A mist hung over the river, deepening the red glare of the fires thatburnt upon the small craft moored off the different wharfs, andrendering darker and more indistinct the murky buildings on the banks. The old smoke-stained storehouses on either side, rose heavy and dullfrom the dense mass of roofs and gables, and frowned sternly upon watertoo black to reflect even their lumbering shapes. The tower of oldSaint Saviour's Church, and the spire of Saint Magnus, so long thegiant-warders of the ancient bridge, were visible in the gloom; but theforest of shipping below bridge, and the thickly scattered spires ofchurches above, were nearly all hidden from sight. 

The girl had taken a few restless turns to and fro--closely watchedmeanwhile by her hidden observer--when the heavy bell of St. Paul'stolled for the death of another day. Midnight had come upon thecrowded city. The palace, the night-cellar, the jail, the madhouse:the chambers of birth and death, of health and sickness, the rigid faceof the corpse and the calm sleep of the child: midnight was upon themall. 

The hour had not struck two minutes, when a young lady, accompanied bya grey-haired gentleman, alighted from a hackney-carriage within ashort distance of the bridge, and, having dismissed the vehicle, walkedstraight towards it. They had scarcely set foot upon its pavement, when the girl started, and immediately made towards them. 

They walked onward, looking about them with the air of persons whoentertained some very slight expectation which had little chance ofbeing realised, when they were suddenly joined by this new associate. They halted with an exclamation of surprise, but suppressed itimmediately; for a man in the garments of a countryman came closeup--brushed against them, indeed--at that precise moment. 

'Not here, ' said Nancy hurriedly, 'I am afraid to speak to you here. Come away--out of the public road--down the steps yonder!'

As she uttered these words, and indicated, with her hand, the directionin which she wished them to proceed, the countryman looked round, androughly asking what they took up the whole pavement for, passed on. 

The steps to which the girl had pointed, were those which, on theSurrey bank, and on the same side of the bridge as Saint Saviour'sChurch, form a landing-stairs from the river. To this spot, the manbearing the appearance of a countryman, hastened unobserved; and aftera moment's survey of the place, he began to descend. 

These stairs are a part of the bridge; they consist of three flights. Just below the end of the second, going down, the stone wall on theleft terminates in an ornamental pilaster facing towards the Thames. At this point the lower steps widen: so that a person turning thatangle of the wall, is necessarily unseen by any others on the stairswho chance to be above him, if only a step. The countryman lookedhastily round, when he reached this point; and as there seemed nobetter place of concealment, and, the tide being out, there was plentyof room, he slipped aside, with his back to the pilaster, and therewaited: pretty certain that they would come no lower, and that even ifhe could not hear what was said, he could follow them again, withsafety. 

So tardily stole the time in this lonely place, and so eager was thespy to penetrate the motives of an interview so different from what hehad been led to expect, that he more than once gave the matter up forlost, and persuaded himself, either that they had stopped far above, orhad resorted to some entirely different spot to hold their mysteriousconversation. He was on the point of emerging from his hiding-place, and regaining the road above, when he heard the sound of footsteps, anddirectly afterwards of voices almost close at his ear. 

He drew himself straight upright against the wall, and, scarcelybreathing, listened attentively. 

'This is far enough, ' said a voice, which was evidently that of thegentleman. 'I will not suffer the young lady to go any farther. Manypeople would have distrusted you too much to have come even so far, butyou see I am willing to humour you. '

'To humour me!' cried the voice of the girl whom he had followed. 'You're considerate, indeed, sir. To humour me! Well, well, it's nomatter. '

'Why, for what, ' said the gentleman in a kinder tone, 'for what purposecan you have brought us to this strange place? Why not have let mespeak to you, above there, where it is light, and there is somethingstirring, instead of bringing us to this dark and dismal hole?'

'I told you before, ' replied Nancy, 'that I was afraid to speak to youthere. I don't know why it is, ' said the girl, shuddering, 'but I havesuch a fear and dread upon me to-night that I can hardly stand. '

'A fear of what?' asked the gentleman, who seemed to pity her. 

'I scarcely know of what, ' replied the girl. 'I wish I did. Horriblethoughts of death, and shrouds with blood upon them, and a fear thathas made me burn as if I was on fire, have been upon me all day. I wasreading a book to-night, to wile the time away, and the same thingscame into the print. '

'Imagination, ' said the gentleman, soothing her. 

'No imagination, ' replied the girl in a hoarse voice. 'I'll swear I saw"coffin" written in every page of the book in large blackletters, --aye, and they carried one close to me, in the streetsto-night. '

'There is nothing unusual in that, ' said the gentleman. 'They havepassed me often. '

'_Real ones_, ' rejoined the girl. 'This was not. '

There was something so uncommon in her manner, that the flesh of theconcealed listener crept as he heard the girl utter these words, andthe blood chilled within him. He had never experienced a greaterrelief than in hearing the sweet voice of the young lady as she beggedher to be calm, and not allow herself to become the prey of suchfearful fancies. 

'Speak to her kindly, ' said the young lady to her companion. 'Poorcreature! She seems to need it. '

'Your haughty religious people would have held their heads up to see meas I am to-night, and preached of flames and vengeance, ' cried thegirl. 'Oh, dear lady, why ar'n't those who claim to be God's own folksas gentle and as kind to us poor wretches as you, who, having youth, and beauty, and all that they have lost, might be a little proudinstead of so much humbler?'

'Ah!' said the gentleman. 'A Turk turns his face, after washing itwell, to the East, when he says his prayers; these good people, aftergiving their faces such a rub against the World as to take the smilesoff, turn with no less regularity, to the darkest side of Heaven. Between the Mussulman and the Pharisee, commend me to the first!'

These words appeared to be addressed to the young lady, and wereperhaps uttered with the view of affording Nancy time to recoverherself. The gentleman, shortly afterwards, addressed himself to her. 

'You were not here last Sunday night, ' he said. 

'I couldn't come, ' replied Nancy; 'I was kept by force. '

'By whom?'

'Him that I told the young lady of before. '

'You were not suspected of holding any communication with anybody onthe subject which has brought us here to-night, I hope?' asked the oldgentleman. 

'No, ' replied the girl, shaking her head. 'It's not very easy for meto leave him unless he knows why; I couldn't give him a drink oflaudanum before I came away. '

'Did he awake before you returned?' inquired the gentleman. 

'No; and neither he nor any of them suspect me. '

'Good, ' said the gentleman. 'Now listen to me. '

'I am ready, ' replied the girl, as he paused for a moment. 

'This young lady, ' the gentleman began, 'has communicated to me, and tosome other friends who can be safely trusted, what you told her nearlya fortnight since. I confess to you that I had doubts, at first, whether you were to be implicitly relied upon, but now I firmly believeyou are. '

'I am, ' said the girl earnestly. 

'I repeat that I firmly believe it. To prove to you that I am disposedto trust you, I tell you without reserve, that we propose to extort thesecret, whatever it may be, from the fear of this man Monks. Butif--if--' said the gentleman, 'he cannot be secured, or, if secured, cannot be acted upon as we wish, you must deliver up the Jew. '

'Fagin, ' cried the girl, recoiling. 

'That man must be delivered up by you, ' said the gentleman. 

'I will not do it! I will never do it!' replied the girl. 'Devil thathe is, and worse than devil as he has been to me, I will never do that. '

'You will not?' said the gentleman, who seemed fully prepared for thisanswer. 

'Never!' returned the girl. 

'Tell me why?'

'For one reason, ' rejoined the girl firmly, 'for one reason, that thelady knows and will stand by me in, I know she will, for I have herpromise: and for this other reason, besides, that, bad life as he hasled, I have led a bad life too; there are many of us who have kept thesame courses together, and I'll not turn upon them, who might--any ofthem--have turned upon me, but didn't, bad as they are. '

'Then, ' said the gentleman, quickly, as if this had been the point hehad been aiming to attain; 'put Monks into my hands, and leave him tome to deal with. '

'What if he turns against the others?'

'I promise you that in that case, if the truth is forced from him, there the matter will rest; there must be circumstances in Oliver'slittle history which it would be painful to drag before the public eye, and if the truth is once elicited, they shall go scot free. '

'And if it is not?' suggested the girl. 

'Then, ' pursued the gentleman, 'this Fagin shall not be brought tojustice without your consent. In such a case I could show you reasons, I think, which would induce you to yield it. '

'Have I the lady's promise for that?' asked the girl. 

'You have, ' replied Rose. 'My true and faithful pledge. '

'Monks would never learn how you knew what you do?' said the girl, after a short pause. 

'Never, ' replied the gentleman. 'The intelligence should be brought tobear upon him, that he could never even guess. '

'I have been a liar, and among liars from a little child, ' said thegirl after another interval of silence, 'but I will take your words. '

After receiving an assurance from both, that she might safely do so, she proceeded in a voice so low that it was often difficult for thelistener to discover even the purport of what she said, to describe, byname and situation, the public-house whence she had been followed thatnight. From the manner in which she occasionally paused, it appearedas if the gentleman were making some hasty notes of the information shecommunicated. When she had thoroughly explained the localities of theplace, the best position from which to watch it without excitingobservation, and the night and hour on which Monks was most in thehabit of frequenting it, she seemed to consider for a few moments, forthe purpose of recalling his features and appearances more forcibly toher recollection. 

'He is tall, ' said the girl, 'and a strongly made man, but not stout;he has a lurking walk; and as he walks, constantly looks over hisshoulder, first on one side, and then on the other. Don't forget that, for his eyes are sunk in his head so much deeper than any other man's, that you might almost tell him by that alone. His face is dark, likehis hair and eyes; and, although he can't be more than six or eight andtwenty, withered and haggard. His lips are often discoloured anddisfigured with the marks of teeth; for he has desperate fits, andsometimes even bites his hands and covers them with wounds--why did youstart?' said the girl, stopping suddenly. 

The gentleman replied, in a hurried manner, that he was not consciousof having done so, and begged her to proceed. 

'Part of this, ' said the girl, 'I have drawn out from other people atthe house I tell you of, for I have only seen him twice, and both timeshe was covered up in a large cloak. I think that's all I can give youto know him by. Stay though, ' she added. 'Upon his throat: so highthat you can see a part of it below his neckerchief when he turns hisface: there is--'

'A broad red mark, like a burn or scald?' cried the gentleman. 

'How's this?' said the girl. 'You know him!'

The young lady uttered a cry of surprise, and for a few moments theywere so still that the listener could distinctly hear them breathe. 

'I think I do, ' said the gentleman, breaking silence. 'I should byyour description. We shall see. Many people are singularly like eachother. It may not be the same. '

As he expressed himself to this effect, with assumed carelessness, hetook a step or two nearer the concealed spy, as the latter could tellfrom the distinctness with which he heard him mutter, 'It must be he!'

'Now, ' he said, returning: so it seemed by the sound: to the spotwhere he had stood before, 'you have given us most valuable assistance, young woman, and I wish you to be the better for it. What can I do toserve you?'

'Nothing, ' replied Nancy. 

'You will not persist in saying that, ' rejoined the gentleman, with avoice and emphasis of kindness that might have touched a much harderand more obdurate heart. 'Think now. Tell me. '

'Nothing, sir, ' rejoined the girl, weeping. 'You can do nothing tohelp me. I am past all hope, indeed. '

'You put yourself beyond its pale, ' said the gentleman. 'The past hasbeen a dreary waste with you, of youthful energies mis-spent, and suchpriceless treasures lavished, as the Creator bestows but once and nevergrants again, but, for the future, you may hope. I do not say that itis in our power to offer you peace of heart and mind, for that mustcome as you seek it; but a quiet asylum, either in England, or, if youfear to remain here, in some foreign country, it is not only within thecompass of our ability but our most anxious wish to secure you. Beforethe dawn of morning, before this river wakes to the first glimpse ofday-light, you shall be placed as entirely beyond the reach of yourformer associates, and leave as utter an absence of all trace behindyou, as if you were to disappear from the earth this moment. Come! Iwould not have you go back to exchange one word with any old companion, or take one look at any old haunt, or breathe the very air which ispestilence and death to you. Quit them all, while there is time andopportunity!'

'She will be persuaded now, ' cried the young lady. 'She hesitates, Iam sure. '

'I fear not, my dear, ' said the gentleman. 

'No sir, I do not, ' replied the girl, after a short struggle. 'I amchained to my old life. I loathe and hate it now, but I cannot leaveit. I must have gone too far to turn back, --and yet I don't know, forif you had spoken to me so, some time ago, I should have laughed itoff. But, ' she said, looking hastily round, 'this fear comes over meagain. I must go home. '

'Home!' repeated the young lady, with great stress upon the word. 

'Home, lady, ' rejoined the girl. 'To such a home as I have raised formyself with the work of my whole life. Let us part. I shall be watchedor seen. Go! Go! If I have done you any service all I ask is, thatyou leave me, and let me go my way alone. '

'It is useless, ' said the gentleman, with a sigh. 'We compromise hersafety, perhaps, by staying here. We may have detained her longer thanshe expected already. '

'Yes, yes, ' urged the girl. 'You have. '

'What, ' cried the young lady, 'can be the end of this poor creature'slife!'

'What!' repeated the girl. 'Look before you, lady. Look at that darkwater. How many times do you read of such as I who spring into thetide, and leave no living thing, to care for, or bewail them. It maybe years hence, or it may be only months, but I shall come to that atlast. '

'Do not speak thus, pray, ' returned the young lady, sobbing. 

'It will never reach your ears, dear lady, and God forbid such horrorsshould!' replied the girl. 'Good-night, good-night!'

The gentleman turned away. 

'This purse, ' cried the young lady. 'Take it for my sake, that you mayhave some resource in an hour of need and trouble. '

'No!' replied the girl. 'I have not done this for money. Let me havethat to think of. And yet--give me something that you have worn: Ishould like to have something--no, no, not a ring--your gloves orhandkerchief--anything that I can keep, as having belonged to you, sweet lady. There. Bless you! God bless you. Good-night, good-night!'

The violent agitation of the girl, and the apprehension of somediscovery which would subject her to ill-usage and violence, seemed todetermine the gentleman to leave her, as she requested. 

The sound of retreating footsteps were audible and the voices ceased. 

The two figures of the young lady and her companion soon afterwardsappeared upon the bridge. They stopped at the summit of the stairs. 

'Hark!' cried the young lady, listening. 'Did she call! I thought Iheard her voice. '

'No, my love, ' replied Mr. Brownlow, looking sadly back. 'She has notmoved, and will not till we are gone. '

Rose Maylie lingered, but the old gentleman drew her arm through his, and led her, with gentle force, away. As they disappeared, the girlsunk down nearly at her full length upon one of the stone stairs, andvented the anguish of her heart in bitter tears. 

After a time she arose, and with feeble and tottering steps ascendedthe street. The astonished listener remained motionless on his postfor some minutes afterwards, and having ascertained, with many cautiousglances round him, that he was again alone, crept slowly from hishiding-place, and returned, stealthily and in the shade of the wall, inthe same manner as he had descended. 

Peeping out, more than once, when he reached the top, to make sure thathe was unobserved, Noah Claypole darted away at his utmost speed, andmade for the Jew's house as fast as his legs would carry him. 

CHAPTER XLVII

FATAL CONSEQUENCES

It was nearly two hours before day-break; that time which in the autumnof the year, may be truly called the dead of night; when the streetsare silent and deserted; when even sounds appear to slumber, andprofligacy and riot have staggered home to dream; it was at this stilland silent hour, that Fagin sat watching in his old lair, with face sodistorted and pale, and eyes so red and blood-shot, that he looked lesslike a man, than like some hideous phantom, moist from the grave, andworried by an evil spirit. 

He sat crouching over a cold hearth, wrapped in an old torn coverlet, with his face turned towards a wasting candle that stood upon a tableby his side. His right hand was raised to his lips, and as, absorbedin thought, he hit his long black nails, he disclosed among histoothless gums a few such fangs as should have been a dog's or rat's. 

Stretched upon a mattress on the floor, lay Noah Claypole, fast asleep. Towards him the old man sometimes directed his eyes for an instant, andthen brought them back again to the candle; which with a long-burntwick drooping almost double, and hot grease falling down in clots uponthe table, plainly showed that his thoughts were busy elsewhere. 

Indeed they were. Mortification at the overthrow of his notablescheme; hatred of the girl who had dared to palter with strangers; andutter distrust of the sincerity of her refusal to yield him up; bitterdisappointment at the loss of his revenge on Sikes; the fear ofdetection, and ruin, and death; and a fierce and deadly rage kindled byall; these were the passionate considerations which, following closeupon each other with rapid and ceaseless whirl, shot through the brainof Fagin, as every evil thought and blackest purpose lay working at hisheart. 

He sat without changing his attitude in the least, or appearing to takethe smallest heed of time, until his quick ear seemed to be attractedby a footstep in the street. 

'At last, ' he muttered, wiping his dry and fevered mouth. 'At last!'

The bell rang gently as he spoke. He crept upstairs to the door, andpresently returned accompanied by a man muffled to the chin, whocarried a bundle under one arm. Sitting down and throwing back hisouter coat, the man displayed the burly frame of Sikes. 

'There!' he said, laying the bundle on the table. 'Take care of that, and do the most you can with it. It's been trouble enough to get; Ithought I should have been here, three hours ago. '

Fagin laid his hand upon the bundle, and locking it in the cupboard, sat down again without speaking. But he did not take his eyes off therobber, for an instant, during this action; and now that they sat overagainst each other, face to face, he looked fixedly at him, with hislips quivering so violently, and his face so altered by the emotionswhich had mastered him, that the housebreaker involuntarily drew backhis chair, and surveyed him with a look of real affright. 

'Wot now?' cried Sikes. 'Wot do you look at a man so for?'

Fagin raised his right hand, and shook his trembling forefinger in theair; but his passion was so great, that the power of speech was for themoment gone. 

'Damme!' said Sikes, feeling in his breast with a look of alarm. 'He'sgone mad. I must look to myself here. '

'No, no, ' rejoined Fagin, finding his voice. 'It's not--you're not theperson, Bill. I've no--no fault to find with you. '

'Oh, you haven't, haven't you?' said Sikes, looking sternly at him, andostentatiously passing a pistol into a more convenient pocket. 'That'slucky--for one of us. Which one that is, don't matter. '

'I've got that to tell you, Bill, ' said Fagin, drawing his chairnearer, 'will make you worse than me. '

'Aye?' returned the robber with an incredulous air. 'Tell away! Looksharp, or Nance will think I'm lost. '

'Lost!' cried Fagin. 'She has pretty well settled that, in her ownmind, already. '

Sikes looked with an aspect of great perplexity into the Jew's face, and reading no satisfactory explanation of the riddle there, clenchedhis coat collar in his huge hand and shook him soundly. 

'Speak, will you!' he said; 'or if you don't, it shall be for want ofbreath. Open your mouth and say wot you've got to say in plain words. Out with it, you thundering old cur, out with it!'

'Suppose that lad that's laying there--' Fagin began. 

Sikes turned round to where Noah was sleeping, as if he had notpreviously observed him. 'Well!' he said, resuming his former position. 

'Suppose that lad, ' pursued Fagin, 'was to peach--to blow upon usall--first seeking out the right folks for the purpose, and then havinga meeting with 'em in the street to paint our likenesses, describeevery mark that they might know us by, and the crib where we might bemost easily taken. Suppose he was to do all this, and besides to blowupon a plant we've all been in, more or less--of his own fancy; notgrabbed, trapped, tried, earwigged by the parson and brought to it onbread and water, --but of his own fancy; to please his own taste;stealing out at nights to find those most interested against us, andpeaching to them. Do you hear me?' cried the Jew, his eyes flashingwith rage. 'Suppose he did all this, what then?'

'What then!' replied Sikes; with a tremendous oath. 'If he was leftalive till I came, I'd grind his skull under the iron heel of my bootinto as many grains as there are hairs upon his head. '

'What if I did it!' cried Fagin almost in a yell. 'I, that knows somuch, and could hang so many besides myself!'

'I don't know, ' replied Sikes, clenching his teeth and turning white atthe mere suggestion. 'I'd do something in the jail that 'ud get me putin irons; and if I was tried along with you, I'd fall upon you withthem in the open court, and beat your brains out afore the people. Ishould have such strength, ' muttered the robber, poising his brawnyarm, 'that I could smash your head as if a loaded waggon had gone overit. '

'You would?'

'Would I!' said the housebreaker. 'Try me. '

'If it was Charley, or the Dodger, or Bet, or--'

'I don't care who, ' replied Sikes impatiently. 'Whoever it was, I'dserve them the same. '

Fagin looked hard at the robber; and, motioning him to be silent, stooped over the bed upon the floor, and shook the sleeper to rousehim. Sikes leant forward in his chair: looking on with his hands uponhis knees, as if wondering much what all this questioning andpreparation was to end in. 

'Bolter, Bolter! Poor lad!' said Fagin, looking up with an expressionof devilish anticipation, and speaking slowly and with marked emphasis. 'He's tired--tired with watching for her so long, --watching for _her_, Bill. '

'Wot d'ye mean?' asked Sikes, drawing back. 

Fagin made no answer, but bending over the sleeper again, hauled himinto a sitting posture. When his assumed name had been repeatedseveral times, Noah rubbed his eyes, and, giving a heavy yawn, lookedsleepily about him. 

'Tell me that again--once again, just for him to hear, ' said the Jew, pointing to Sikes as he spoke. 

'Tell yer what?' asked the sleepy Noah, shaking himself pettishly. 

'That about-- _Nancy_, ' said Fagin, clutching Sikes by the wrist, as ifto prevent his leaving the house before he had heard enough. 'Youfollowed her?'

'Yes. '

'To London Bridge?'

'Yes. '

'Where she met two people. '

'So she did. '

'A gentleman and a lady that she had gone to of her own accord before, who asked her to give up all her pals, and Monks first, which shedid--and to describe him, which she did--and to tell her what house itwas that we meet at, and go to, which she did--and where it could bebest watched from, which she did--and what time the people went there, which she did. She did all this. She told it all every word without athreat, without a murmur--she did--did she not?' cried Fagin, half madwith fury. 

'All right, ' replied Noah, scratching his head. 'That's just what itwas!'

'What did they say, about last Sunday?'

'About last Sunday!' replied Noah, considering. 'Why I told yer thatbefore. '

'Again. Tell it again!' cried Fagin, tightening his grasp on Sikes, and brandishing his other hand aloft, as the foam flew from his lips. 

'They asked her, ' said Noah, who, as he grew more wakeful, seemed tohave a dawning perception who Sikes was, 'they asked her why she didn'tcome, last Sunday, as she promised. She said she couldn't. '

'Why--why? Tell him that. '

'Because she was forcibly kept at home by Bill, the man she had toldthem of before, ' replied Noah. 

'What more of him?' cried Fagin. 'What more of the man she had toldthem of before? Tell him that, tell him that. '

'Why, that she couldn't very easily get out of doors unless he knewwhere she was going to, ' said Noah; 'and so the first time she went tosee the lady, she--ha! ha! ha! it made me laugh when she said it, thatit did--she gave him a drink of laudanum. '

'Hell's fire!' cried Sikes, breaking fiercely from the Jew. 'Let mego!'

Flinging the old man from him, he rushed from the room, and darted, wildly and furiously, up the stairs. 

'Bill, Bill!' cried Fagin, following him hastily. 'A word. Only aword. '

The word would not have been exchanged, but that the housebreaker wasunable to open the door: on which he was expending fruitless oaths andviolence, when the Jew came panting up. 

'Let me out, ' said Sikes. 'Don't speak to me; it's not safe. Let meout, I say!'

'Hear me speak a word, ' rejoined Fagin, laying his hand upon the lock. 'You won't be--'

'Well, ' replied the other. 

'You won't be--too--violent, Bill?'

The day was breaking, and there was light enough for the men to seeeach other's faces. They exchanged one brief glance; there was a firein the eyes of both, which could not be mistaken. 

'I mean, ' said Fagin, showing that he felt all disguise was nowuseless, 'not too violent for safety. Be crafty, Bill, and not toobold. '

Sikes made no reply; but, pulling open the door, of which Fagin hadturned the lock, dashed into the silent streets. 

Without one pause, or moment's consideration; without once turning hishead to the right or left, or raising his eyes to the sky, or loweringthem to the ground, but looking straight before him with savageresolution: his teeth so tightly compressed that the strained jawseemed starting through his skin; the robber held on his headlongcourse, nor muttered a word, nor relaxed a muscle, until he reached hisown door. He opened it, softly, with a key; strode lightly up thestairs; and entering his own room, double-locked the door, and liftinga heavy table against it, drew back the curtain of the bed. 

The girl was lying, half-dressed, upon it. He had roused her from hersleep, for she raised herself with a hurried and startled look. 

'Get up!' said the man. 

'It is you, Bill!' said the girl, with an expression of pleasure at hisreturn. 

'It is, ' was the reply. 'Get up. '

There was a candle burning, but the man hastily drew it from thecandlestick, and hurled it under the grate. Seeing the faint light ofearly day without, the girl rose to undraw the curtain. 

'Let it be, ' said Sikes, thrusting his hand before her. 'There's enoughlight for wot I've got to do. '

'Bill, ' said the girl, in the low voice of alarm, 'why do you look likethat at me!'

The robber sat regarding her, for a few seconds, with dilated nostrilsand heaving breast; and then, grasping her by the head and throat, dragged her into the middle of the room, and looking once towards thedoor, placed his heavy hand upon her mouth. 

'Bill, Bill!' gasped the girl, wrestling with the strength of mortalfear, --'I--I won't scream or cry--not once--hear me--speak to me--tellme what I have done!'

'You know, you she devil!' returned the robber, suppressing his breath. 'You were watched to-night; every word you said was heard. '

'Then spare my life for the love of Heaven, as I spared yours, 'rejoined the girl, clinging to him. 'Bill, dear Bill, you cannot havethe heart to kill me. Oh! think of all I have given up, only this onenight, for you. You _shall_ have time to think, and save yourself thiscrime; I will not loose my hold, you cannot throw me off. Bill, Bill, for dear God's sake, for your own, for mine, stop before you spill myblood! I have been true to you, upon my guilty soul I have!'

The man struggled violently, to release his arms; but those of the girlwere clasped round his, and tear her as he would, he could not tearthem away. 

'Bill, ' cried the girl, striving to lay her head upon his breast, 'thegentleman and that dear lady, told me to-night of a home in someforeign country where I could end my days in solitude and peace. Letme see them again, and beg them, on my knees, to show the same mercyand goodness to you; and let us both leave this dreadful place, and farapart lead better lives, and forget how we have lived, except inprayers, and never see each other more. It is never too late to repent. They told me so--I feel it now--but we must have time--a little, littletime!'

The housebreaker freed one arm, and grasped his pistol. The certaintyof immediate detection if he fired, flashed across his mind even in themidst of his fury; and he beat it twice with all the force he couldsummon, upon the upturned face that almost touched his own. 

She staggered and fell: nearly blinded with the blood that rained downfrom a deep gash in her forehead; but raising herself, with difficulty, on her knees, drew from her bosom a white handkerchief--Rose Maylie'sown--and holding it up, in her folded hands, as high towards Heaven asher feeble strength would allow, breathed one prayer for mercy to herMaker. 

It was a ghastly figure to look upon. The murderer staggering backwardto the wall, and shutting out the sight with his hand, seized a heavyclub and struck her down. 

CHAPTER XLVIII

THE FLIGHT OF SIKES

Of all bad deeds that, under cover of the darkness, had been committedwithin wide London's bounds since night hung over it, that was theworst. Of all the horrors that rose with an ill scent upon the morningair, that was the foulest and most cruel. 

The sun--the bright sun, that brings back, not light alone, but newlife, and hope, and freshness to man--burst upon the crowded city inclear and radiant glory. Through costly-coloured glass andpaper-mended window, through cathedral dome and rotten crevice, it shedits equal ray. It lighted up the room where the murdered woman lay. It did. He tried to shut it out, but it would stream in. If the sighthad been a ghastly one in the dull morning, what was it, now, in allthat brilliant light!

He had not moved; he had been afraid to stir. There had been a moanand motion of the hand; and, with terror added to rage, he had struckand struck again. Once he threw a rug over it; but it was worse tofancy the eyes, and imagine them moving towards him, than to see themglaring upward, as if watching the reflection of the pool of gore thatquivered and danced in the sunlight on the ceiling. He had plucked itoff again. And there was the body--mere flesh and blood, no more--butsuch flesh, and so much blood!

He struck a light, kindled a fire, and thrust the club into it. Therewas hair upon the end, which blazed and shrunk into a light cinder, and, caught by the air, whirled up the chimney. Even that frightenedhim, sturdy as he was; but he held the weapon till it broke, and thenpiled it on the coals to burn away, and smoulder into ashes. He washedhimself, and rubbed his clothes; there were spots that would not beremoved, but he cut the pieces out, and burnt them. How those stainswere dispersed about the room! The very feet of the dog were bloody. 

All this time he had, never once, turned his back upon the corpse; no, not for a moment. Such preparations completed, he moved, backward, towards the door: dragging the dog with him, lest he should soil hisfeet anew and carry out new evidence of the crime into the streets. Heshut the door softly, locked it, took the key, and left the house. 

He crossed over, and glanced up at the window, to be sure that nothingwas visible from the outside. There was the curtain still drawn, whichshe would have opened to admit the light she never saw again. It laynearly under there. _He_ knew that. God, how the sun poured down uponthe very spot!

The glance was instantaneous. It was a relief to have got free of theroom. He whistled on the dog, and walked rapidly away. 

He went through Islington; strode up the hill at Highgate on whichstands the stone in honour of Whittington; turned down to HighgateHill, unsteady of purpose, and uncertain where to go; struck off to theright again, almost as soon as he began to descend it; and taking thefoot-path across the fields, skirted Caen Wood, and so came onHampstead Heath. Traversing the hollow by the Vale of Heath, hemounted the opposite bank, and crossing the road which joins thevillages of Hampstead and Highgate, made along the remaining portion ofthe heath to the fields at North End, in one of which he laid himselfdown under a hedge, and slept. 

Soon he was up again, and away, --not far into the country, but backtowards London by the high-road--then back again--then over anotherpart of the same ground as he already traversed--then wandering up anddown in fields, and lying on ditches' brinks to rest, and starting upto make for some other spot, and do the same, and ramble on again. 

Where could he go, that was near and not too public, to get some meatand drink? Hendon. That was a good place, not far off, and out ofmost people's way. Thither he directed his steps, --running sometimes, and sometimes, with a strange perversity, loitering at a snail's pace, or stopping altogether and idly breaking the hedges with a stick. Butwhen he got there, all the people he met--the very children at thedoors--seemed to view him with suspicion. Back he turned again, without the courage to purchase bit or drop, though he had tasted nofood for many hours; and once more he lingered on the Heath, uncertainwhere to go. 

He wandered over miles and miles of ground, and still came back to theold place. Morning and noon had passed, and the day was on the wane, and still he rambled to and fro, and up and down, and round and round, and still lingered about the same spot. At last he got away, andshaped his course for Hatfield. 

It was nine o'clock at night, when the man, quite tired out, and thedog, limping and lame from the unaccustomed exercise, turned down thehill by the church of the quiet village, and plodding along the littlestreet, crept into a small public-house, whose scanty light had guidedthem to the spot. There was a fire in the tap-room, and somecountry-labourers were drinking before it. 

They made room for the stranger, but he sat down in the furthestcorner, and ate and drank alone, or rather with his dog: to whom hecast a morsel of food from time to time. 

The conversation of the men assembled here, turned upon theneighbouring land, and farmers; and when those topics were exhausted, upon the age of some old man who had been buried on the previousSunday; the young men present considering him very old, and the old menpresent declaring him to have been quite young--not older, onewhite-haired grandfather said, than he was--with ten or fifteen year oflife in him at least--if he had taken care; if he had taken care. 

There was nothing to attract attention, or excite alarm in this. Therobber, after paying his reckoning, sat silent and unnoticed in hiscorner, and had almost dropped asleep, when he was half wakened by thenoisy entrance of a new comer. 

This was an antic fellow, half pedlar and half mountebank, whotravelled about the country on foot to vend hones, strops, razors, washballs, harness-paste, medicine for dogs and horses, cheapperfumery, cosmetics, and such-like wares, which he carried in a caseslung to his back. His entrance was the signal for various homelyjokes with the countrymen, which slackened not until he had made hissupper, and opened his box of treasures, when he ingeniously contrivedto unite business with amusement. 

'And what be that stoof? Good to eat, Harry?' asked a grinningcountryman, pointing to some composition-cakes in one corner. 

'This, ' said the fellow, producing one, 'this is the infallible andinvaluable composition for removing all sorts of stain, rust, dirt, mildew, spick, speck, spot, or spatter, from silk, satin, linen, cambric, cloth, crape, stuff, carpet, merino, muslin, bombazeen, orwoollen stuff. Wine-stains, fruit-stains, beer-stains, water-stains, paint-stains, pitch-stains, any stains, all come out at one rub withthe infallible and invaluable composition. If a lady stains herhonour, she has only need to swallow one cake and she's cured atonce--for it's poison. If a gentleman wants to prove this, he has onlyneed to bolt one little square, and he has put it beyond question--forit's quite as satisfactory as a pistol-bullet, and a great deal nastierin the flavour, consequently the more credit in taking it. One penny asquare. With all these virtues, one penny a square!'

There were two buyers directly, and more of the listeners plainlyhesitated. The vendor observing this, increased in loquacity. 

'It's all bought up as fast as it can be made, ' said the fellow. 'Thereare fourteen water-mills, six steam-engines, and a galvanic battery, always a-working upon it, and they can't make it fast enough, thoughthe men work so hard that they die off, and the widows is pensioneddirectly, with twenty pound a-year for each of the children, and apremium of fifty for twins. One penny a square! Two half-pence is allthe same, and four farthings is received with joy. One penny a square!Wine-stains, fruit-stains, beer-stains, water-stains, paint-stains, pitch-stains, mud-stains, blood-stains! Here is a stain upon the hatof a gentleman in company, that I'll take clean out, before he canorder me a pint of ale. '

'Hah!' cried Sikes starting up. 'Give that back. '

'I'll take it clean out, sir, ' replied the man, winking to the company, 'before you can come across the room to get it. Gentlemen all, observethe dark stain upon this gentleman's hat, no wider than a shilling, butthicker than a half-crown. Whether it is a wine-stain, fruit-stain, beer-stain, water-stain, paint-stain, pitch-stain, mud-stain, orblood-stain--'

The man got no further, for Sikes with a hideous imprecation overthrewthe table, and tearing the hat from him, burst out of the house. 

With the same perversity of feeling and irresolution that had fastenedupon him, despite himself, all day, the murderer, finding that he wasnot followed, and that they most probably considered him some drunkensullen fellow, turned back up the town, and getting out of the glare ofthe lamps of a stage-coach that was standing in the street, was walkingpast, when he recognised the mail from London, and saw that it wasstanding at the little post-office. He almost knew what was to come;but he crossed over, and listened. 

The guard was standing at the door, waiting for the letter-bag. A man, dressed like a game-keeper, came up at the moment, and he handed him abasket which lay ready on the pavement. 

'That's for your people, ' said the guard. 'Now, look alive in there, will you. Damn that 'ere bag, it warn't ready night afore last; thiswon't do, you know!'

'Anything new up in town, Ben?' asked the game-keeper, drawing back tothe window-shutters, the better to admire the horses. 

'No, nothing that I knows on, ' replied the man, pulling on his gloves. 'Corn's up a little. I heerd talk of a murder, too, down Spitalfieldsway, but I don't reckon much upon it. '

'Oh, that's quite true, ' said a gentleman inside, who was looking outof the window. 'And a dreadful murder it was. '

'Was it, sir?' rejoined the guard, touching his hat. 'Man or woman, pray, sir?'

'A woman, ' replied the gentleman. 'It is supposed--'

'Now, Ben, ' replied the coachman impatiently. 

'Damn that 'ere bag, ' said the guard; 'are you gone to sleep in there?'

'Coming!' cried the office keeper, running out. 

'Coming, ' growled the guard. 'Ah, and so's the young 'ooman ofproperty that's going to take a fancy to me, but I don't know when. Here, give hold. All ri--ight!'

The horn sounded a few cheerful notes, and the coach was gone. 

Sikes remained standing in the street, apparently unmoved by what hehad just heard, and agitated by no stronger feeling than a doubt whereto go. At length he went back again, and took the road which leadsfrom Hatfield to St. Albans. 

He went on doggedly; but as he left the town behind him, and plungedinto the solitude and darkness of the road, he felt a dread and awecreeping upon him which shook him to the core. Every object before him, substance or shadow, still or moving, took the semblance of somefearful thing; but these fears were nothing compared to the sense thathaunted him of that morning's ghastly figure following at his heels. He could trace its shadow in the gloom, supply the smallest item of theoutline, and note how stiff and solemn it seemed to stalk along. Hecould hear its garments rustling in the leaves, and every breath ofwind came laden with that last low cry. If he stopped it did the same. If he ran, it followed--not running too: that would have been arelief: but like a corpse endowed with the mere machinery of life, andborne on one slow melancholy wind that never rose or fell. 

At times, he turned, with desperate determination, resolved to beatthis phantom off, though it should look him dead; but the hair rose onhis head, and his blood stood still, for it had turned with him and wasbehind him then. He had kept it before him that morning, but it wasbehind now--always. He leaned his back against a bank, and felt thatit stood above him, visibly out against the cold night-sky. He threwhimself upon the road--on his back upon the road. At his head itstood, silent, erect, and still--a living grave-stone, with its epitaphin blood. 

Let no man talk of murderers escaping justice, and hint that Providencemust sleep. There were twenty score of violent deaths in one longminute of that agony of fear. 

There was a shed in a field he passed, that offered shelter for thenight. Before the door, were three tall poplar trees, which made itvery dark within; and the wind moaned through them with a dismal wail. He _could not_ walk on, till daylight came again; and here he stretchedhimself close to the wall--to undergo new torture. 

For now, a vision came before him, as constant and more terrible thanthat from which he had escaped. Those widely staring eyes, solustreless and so glassy, that he had better borne to see them thanthink upon them, appeared in the midst of the darkness: light inthemselves, but giving light to nothing. There were but two, but theywere everywhere. If he shut out the sight, there came the room withevery well-known object--some, indeed, that he would have forgotten, ifhe had gone over its contents from memory--each in its accustomedplace. The body was in _its_ place, and its eyes were as he saw themwhen he stole away. He got up, and rushed into the field without. Thefigure was behind him. He re-entered the shed, and shrunk down oncemore. The eyes were there, before he had laid himself along. 

And here he remained in such terror as none but he can know, tremblingin every limb, and the cold sweat starting from every pore, whensuddenly there arose upon the night-wind the noise of distant shouting, and the roar of voices mingled in alarm and wonder. Any sound of menin that lonely place, even though it conveyed a real cause of alarm, was something to him. He regained his strength and energy at theprospect of personal danger; and springing to his feet, rushed into theopen air. 

The broad sky seemed on fire. Rising into the air with showers ofsparks, and rolling one above the other, were sheets of flame, lightingthe atmosphere for miles round, and driving clouds of smoke in thedirection where he stood. The shouts grew louder as new voices swelledthe roar, and he could hear the cry of Fire! mingled with the ringingof an alarm-bell, the fall of heavy bodies, and the crackling of flamesas they twined round some new obstacle, and shot aloft as thoughrefreshed by food. The noise increased as he looked. There werepeople there--men and women--light, bustle. It was like new life tohim. He darted onward--straight, headlong--dashing through brier andbrake, and leaping gate and fence as madly as his dog, who careeredwith loud and sounding bark before him. 

He came upon the spot. There were half-dressed figures tearing to andfro, some endeavouring to drag the frightened horses from the stables, others driving the cattle from the yard and out-houses, and otherscoming laden from the burning pile, amidst a shower of falling sparks, and the tumbling down of red-hot beams. The apertures, where doors andwindows stood an hour ago, disclosed a mass of raging fire; wallsrocked and crumbled into the burning well; the molten lead and ironpoured down, white hot, upon the ground. Women and children shrieked, and men encouraged each other with noisy shouts and cheers. Theclanking of the engine-pumps, and the spirting and hissing of the wateras it fell upon the blazing wood, added to the tremendous roar. Heshouted, too, till he was hoarse; and flying from memory and himself, plunged into the thickest of the throng. Hither and thither he divedthat night: now working at the pumps, and now hurrying through thesmoke and flame, but never ceasing to engage himself wherever noise andmen were thickest. Up and down the ladders, upon the roofs ofbuildings, over floors that quaked and trembled with his weight, underthe lee of falling bricks and stones, in every part of that great firewas he; but he bore a charmed life, and had neither scratch nor bruise, nor weariness nor thought, till morning dawned again, and only smokeand blackened ruins remained. 

This mad excitement over, there returned, with ten-fold force, thedreadful consciousness of his crime. He looked suspiciously about him, for the men were conversing in groups, and he feared to be the subjectof their talk. The dog obeyed the significant beck of his finger, andthey drew off, stealthily, together. He passed near an engine wheresome men were seated, and they called to him to share in theirrefreshment. He took some bread and meat; and as he drank a draught ofbeer, heard the firemen, who were from London, talking about themurder. 'He has gone to Birmingham, they say, ' said one: 'but they'llhave him yet, for the scouts are out, and by to-morrow night there'llbe a cry all through the country. '

He hurried off, and walked till he almost dropped upon the ground; thenlay down in a lane, and had a long, but broken and uneasy sleep. Hewandered on again, irresolute and undecided, and oppressed with thefear of another solitary night. 

Suddenly, he took the desperate resolution to going back to London. 

'There's somebody to speak to there, at all event, ' he thought. 'A goodhiding-place, too. They'll never expect to nab me there, after thiscountry scent. Why can't I lie by for a week or so, and, forcing bluntfrom Fagin, get abroad to France? Damme, I'll risk it. '

He acted upon this impulse without delay, and choosing the leastfrequented roads began his journey back, resolved to lie concealedwithin a short distance of the metropolis, and, entering it at dusk bya circuitous route, to proceed straight to that part of it which he hadfixed on for his destination. 

The dog, though. If any description of him were out, it would not beforgotten that the dog was missing, and had probably gone with him. This might lead to his apprehension as he passed along the streets. Heresolved to drown him, and walked on, looking about for a pond:picking up a heavy stone and tying it to his handkerchief as he went. 

The animal looked up into his master's face while these preparationswere making; whether his instinct apprehended something of theirpurpose, or the robber's sidelong look at him was sterner thanordinary, he skulked a little farther in the rear than usual, andcowered as he came more slowly along. When his master halted at thebrink of a pool, and looked round to call him, he stopped outright. 

'Do you hear me call? Come here!' cried Sikes. 

The animal came up from the very force of habit; but as Sikes stoopedto attach the handkerchief to his throat, he uttered a low growl andstarted back. 

'Come back!' said the robber. 

The dog wagged his tail, but moved not. Sikes made a running noose andcalled him again. 

The dog advanced, retreated, paused an instant, and scoured away at hishardest speed. 

The man whistled again and again, and sat down and waited in theexpectation that he would return. But no dog appeared, and at lengthhe resumed his journey. 

CHAPTER XLIX

MONKS AND MR. BROWNLOW AT LENGTH MEET. THEIR CONVERSATION, AND THEINTELLIGENCE THAT INTERRUPTS IT

 The twilight was beginning to close in, when Mr. Brownlowalighted from a hackney-coach at his own door, and knocked softly. Thedoor being opened, a sturdy man got out of the coach and stationedhimself on one side of the steps, while another man, who had beenseated on the box, dismounted too, and stood upon the other side. At asign from Mr. Brownlow, they helped out a third man, and taking himbetween them, hurried him into the house. This man was Monks. 

They walked in the same manner up the stairs without speaking, and Mr. Brownlow, preceding them, led the way into a back-room. At the door ofthis apartment, Monks, who had ascended with evident reluctance, stopped. The two men looked at the old gentleman as if forinstructions. 

'He knows the alternative, ' said Mr. Browlow. 'If he hesitates ormoves a finger but as you bid him, drag him into the street, call forthe aid of the police, and impeach him as a felon in my name. '

'How dare you say this of me?' asked Monks. 

'How dare you urge me to it, young man?' replied Mr. Brownlow, confronting him with a steady look. 'Are you mad enough to leave thishouse? Unhand him. There, sir. You are free to go, and we to follow. But I warn you, by all I hold most solemn and most sacred, that instantwill have you apprehended on a charge of fraud and robbery. I amresolute and immoveable. If you are determined to be the same, yourblood be upon your own head!'

'By what authority am I kidnapped in the street, and brought here bythese dogs?' asked Monks, looking from one to the other of the men whostood beside him. 

'By mine, ' replied Mr. Brownlow. 'Those persons are indemnified by me. If you complain of being deprived of your liberty--you had power andopportunity to retrieve it as you came along, but you deemed itadvisable to remain quiet--I say again, throw yourself for protectionon the law. I will appeal to the law too; but when you have gone toofar to recede, do not sue to me for leniency, when the power will havepassed into other hands; and do not say I plunged you down the gulfinto which you rushed, yourself. '

Monks was plainly disconcerted, and alarmed besides. He hesitated. 

'You will decide quickly, ' said Mr. Brownlow, with perfect firmness andcomposure. 'If you wish me to prefer my charges publicly, and consignyou to a punishment the extent of which, although I can, with ashudder, foresee, I cannot control, once more, I say, for you know theway. If not, and you appeal to my forbearance, and the mercy of thoseyou have deeply injured, seat yourself, without a word, in that chair. It has waited for you two whole days. '

Monks muttered some unintelligible words, but wavered still. 

'You will be prompt, ' said Mr. Brownlow. 'A word from me, and thealternative has gone for ever. '

Still the man hesitated. 

'I have not the inclination to parley, ' said Mr. Brownlow, 'and, as Iadvocate the dearest interests of others, I have not the right. '

'Is there--' demanded Monks with a faltering tongue, --'is there--nomiddle course?'

'None. '

Monks looked at the old gentleman, with an anxious eye; but, reading inhis countenance nothing but severity and determination, walked into theroom, and, shrugging his shoulders, sat down. 

'Lock the door on the outside, ' said Mr. Brownlow to the attendants, 'and come when I ring. '

The men obeyed, and the two were left alone together. 

'This is pretty treatment, sir, ' said Monks, throwing down his hat andcloak, 'from my father's oldest friend. '

'It is because I was your father's oldest friend, young man, ' returnedMr. Brownlow; 'it is because the hopes and wishes of young and happyyears were bound up with him, and that fair creature of his blood andkindred who rejoined her God in youth, and left me here a solitary, lonely man: it is because he knelt with me beside his only sisters'death-bed when he was yet a boy, on the morning that would--but Heavenwilled otherwise--have made her my young wife; it is because my searedheart clung to him, from that time forth, through all his trials anderrors, till he died; it is because old recollections and associationsfilled my heart, and even the sight of you brings with it old thoughtsof him; it is because of all these things that I am moved to treat yougently now--yes, Edward Leeford, even now--and blush for yourunworthiness who bear the name. '

'What has the name to do with it?' asked the other, aftercontemplating, half in silence, and half in dogged wonder, theagitation of his companion. 'What is the name to me?'

'Nothing, ' replied Mr. Brownlow, 'nothing to you. But it was _hers_, and even at this distance of time brings back to me, an old man, theglow and thrill which I once felt, only to hear it repeated by astranger. I am very glad you have changed it--very--very. '

'This is all mighty fine, ' said Monks (to retain his assumeddesignation) after a long silence, during which he had jerked himselfin sullen defiance to and fro, and Mr. Brownlow had sat, shading hisface with his hand. 'But what do you want with me?'

'You have a brother, ' said Mr. Brownlow, rousing himself: 'a brother, the whisper of whose name in your ear when I came behind you in thestreet, was, in itself, almost enough to make you accompany me hither, in wonder and alarm. '

'I have no brother, ' replied Monks. 'You know I was an only child. Why do you talk to me of brothers? You know that, as well as I. '

'Attend to what I do know, and you may not, ' said Mr. Brownlow. 'Ishall interest you by and by. I know that of the wretched marriage, into which family pride, and the most sordid and narrowest of allambition, forced your unhappy father when a mere boy, you were the soleand most unnatural issue. '

'I don't care for hard names, ' interrupted Monks with a jeering laugh. 'You know the fact, and that's enough for me. '

'But I also know, ' pursued the old gentleman, 'the misery, the slowtorture, the protracted anguish of that ill-assorted union. I know howlistlessly and wearily each of that wretched pair dragged on theirheavy chain through a world that was poisoned to them both. I know howcold formalities were succeeded by open taunts; how indifference gaveplace to dislike, dislike to hate, and hate to loathing, until at lastthey wrenched the clanking bond asunder, and retiring a wide spaceapart, carried each a galling fragment, of which nothing but deathcould break the rivets, to hide it in new society beneath the gayestlooks they could assume. Your mother succeeded; she forgot it soon. But it rusted and cankered at your father's heart for years. '

'Well, they were separated, ' said Monks, 'and what of that?'

'When they had been separated for some time, ' returned Mr. Brownlow, 'and your mother, wholly given up to continental frivolities, hadutterly forgotten the young husband ten good years her junior, who, with prospects blighted, lingered on at home, he fell among newfriends. This circumstance, at least, you know already. '

'Not I, ' said Monks, turning away his eyes and beating his foot uponthe ground, as a man who is determined to deny everything. 'Not I. '

'Your manner, no less than your actions, assures me that you have neverforgotten it, or ceased to think of it with bitterness, ' returned Mr. Brownlow. 'I speak of fifteen years ago, when you were not more thaneleven years old, and your father but one-and-thirty--for he was, Irepeat, a boy, when _his_ father ordered him to marry. Must I go backto events which cast a shade upon the memory of your parent, or willyou spare it, and disclose to me the truth?'

'I have nothing to disclose, ' rejoined Monks. 'You must talk on if youwill. '

'These new friends, then, ' said Mr. Brownlow, 'were a naval officerretired from active service, whose wife had died some half-a-yearbefore, and left him with two children--there had been more, but, ofall their family, happily but two survived. They were both daughters;one a beautiful creature of nineteen, and the other a mere child of twoor three years old. '

'What's this to me?' asked Monks. 

'They resided, ' said Mr. Brownlow, without seeming to hear theinterruption, 'in a part of the country to which your father in hiswandering had repaired, and where he had taken up his abode. Acquaintance, intimacy, friendship, fast followed on each other. Yourfather was gifted as few men are. He had his sister's soul and person. As the old officer knew him more and more, he grew to love him. Iwould that it had ended there. His daughter did the same. '

The old gentleman paused; Monks was biting his lips, with his eyesfixed upon the floor; seeing this, he immediately resumed:

'The end of a year found him contracted, solemnly contracted, to thatdaughter; the object of the first, true, ardent, only passion of aguileless girl. '

'Your tale is of the longest, ' observed Monks, moving restlessly in hischair. 

'It is a true tale of grief and trial, and sorrow, young man, ' returnedMr. Brownlow, 'and such tales usually are; if it were one of unmixedjoy and happiness, it would be very brief. At length one of those richrelations to strengthen whose interest and importance your father hadbeen sacrificed, as others are often--it is no uncommon case--died, andto repair the misery he had been instrumental in occasioning, left himhis panacea for all griefs--Money. It was necessary that he shouldimmediately repair to Rome, whither this man had sped for health, andwhere he had died, leaving his affairs in great confusion. He went;was seized with mortal illness there; was followed, the moment theintelligence reached Paris, by your mother who carried you with her; hedied the day after her arrival, leaving no will--_no will_--so that thewhole property fell to her and you. '

At this part of the recital Monks held his breath, and listened with aface of intense eagerness, though his eyes were not directed towardsthe speaker. As Mr. Brownlow paused, he changed his position with theair of one who has experienced a sudden relief, and wiped his hot faceand hands. 

'Before he went abroad, and as he passed through London on his way, 'said Mr. Brownlow, slowly, and fixing his eyes upon the other's face, 'he came to me. '

'I never heard of that, ' interrupted Monks in a tone intended to appearincredulous, but savouring more of disagreeable surprise. 

'He came to me, and left with me, among some other things, a picture--aportrait painted by himself--a likeness of this poor girl--which he didnot wish to leave behind, and could not carry forward on his hastyjourney. He was worn by anxiety and remorse almost to a shadow; talkedin a wild, distracted way, of ruin and dishonour worked by himself;confided to me his intention to convert his whole property, at anyloss, into money, and, having settled on his wife and you a portion ofhis recent acquisition, to fly the country--I guessed too well he wouldnot fly alone--and never see it more. Even from me, his old and earlyfriend, whose strong attachment had taken root in the earth thatcovered one most dear to both--even from me he withheld any moreparticular confession, promising to write and tell me all, and afterthat to see me once again, for the last time on earth. Alas! _That_was the last time. I had no letter, and I never saw him more. '

'I went, ' said Mr. Brownlow, after a short pause, 'I went, when all wasover, to the scene of his--I will use the term the world would freelyuse, for worldly harshness or favour are now alike to him--of hisguilty love, resolved that if my fears were realised that erring childshould find one heart and home to shelter and compassionate her. Thefamily had left that part a week before; they had called in suchtrifling debts as were outstanding, discharged them, and left the placeby night. Why, or whither, none can tell. '

Monks drew his breath yet more freely, and looked round with a smile oftriumph. 

'When your brother, ' said Mr. Brownlow, drawing nearer to the other'schair, 'When your brother: a feeble, ragged, neglected child: wascast in my way by a stronger hand than chance, and rescued by me from alife of vice and infamy--'

'What?' cried Monks. 

'By me, ' said Mr. Brownlow. 'I told you I should interest you beforelong. I say by me--I see that your cunning associate suppressed myname, although for ought he knew, it would be quite strange to yourears. When he was rescued by me, then, and lay recovering fromsickness in my house, his strong resemblance to this picture I havespoken of, struck me with astonishment. Even when I first saw him inall his dirt and misery, there was a lingering expression in his facethat came upon me like a glimpse of some old friend flashing on one ina vivid dream. I need not tell you he was snared away before I knewhis history--'

'Why not?' asked Monks hastily. 

'Because you know it well. '

'I!'

'Denial to me is vain, ' replied Mr. Brownlow. 'I shall show you that Iknow more than that. '

'You--you--can't prove anything against me, ' stammered Monks. 'I defyyou to do it!'

'We shall see, ' returned the old gentleman with a searching glance. 'Ilost the boy, and no efforts of mine could recover him. Your motherbeing dead, I knew that you alone could solve the mystery if anybodycould, and as when I had last heard of you you were on your own estatein the West Indies--whither, as you well know, you retired upon yourmother's death to escape the consequences of vicious courses here--Imade the voyage. You had left it, months before, and were supposed tobe in London, but no one could tell where. I returned. Your agentshad no clue to your residence. You came and went, they said, asstrangely as you had ever done: sometimes for days together andsometimes not for months: keeping to all appearance the same lowhaunts and mingling with the same infamous herd who had been yourassociates when a fierce ungovernable boy. I wearied them with newapplications. I paced the streets by night and day, but until twohours ago, all my efforts were fruitless, and I never saw you for aninstant. '

'And now you do see me, ' said Monks, rising boldly, 'what then? Fraudand robbery are high-sounding words--justified, you think, by a fanciedresemblance in some young imp to an idle daub of a dead man's Brother!You don't even know that a child was born of this maudlin pair; youdon't even know that. '

'I _did not_, ' replied Mr. Brownlow, rising too; 'but within the lastfortnight I have learnt it all. You have a brother; you know it, andhim. There was a will, which your mother destroyed, leaving the secretand the gain to you at her own death. It contained a reference to somechild likely to be the result of this sad connection, which child wasborn, and accidentally encountered by you, when your suspicions werefirst awakened by his resemblance to your father. You repaired to theplace of his birth. There existed proofs--proofs long suppressed--ofhis birth and parentage. Those proofs were destroyed by you, and now, in your own words to your accomplice the Jew, "_the only proofs of theboy's identity lie at the bottom of the river, and the old hag thatreceived them from the mother is rotting in her coffin_. " Unworthy son, coward, liar, --you, who hold your councils with thieves and murderersin dark rooms at night, --you, whose plots and wiles have brought aviolent death upon the head of one worth millions such as you, --you, who from your cradle were gall and bitterness to your own father'sheart, and in whom all evil passions, vice, and profligacy, festered, till they found a vent in a hideous disease which had made your face anindex even to your mind--you, Edward Leeford, do you still brave me!'

'No, no, no!' returned the coward, overwhelmed by these accumulatedcharges. 

'Every word!' cried the gentleman, 'every word that has passed betweenyou and this detested villain, is known to me. Shadows on the wallhave caught your whispers, and brought them to my ear; the sight of thepersecuted child has turned vice itself, and given it the courage andalmost the attributes of virtue. Murder has been done, to which youwere morally if not really a party. '

'No, no, ' interposed Monks. 'I--I knew nothing of that; I was going toinquire the truth of the story when you overtook me. I didn't know thecause. I thought it was a common quarrel. '

'It was the partial disclosure of your secrets, ' replied Mr. Brownlow. 'Will you disclose the whole?'

'Yes, I will. '

'Set your hand to a statement of truth and facts, and repeat it beforewitnesses?'

'That I promise too. '

'Remain quietly here, until such a document is drawn up, and proceedwith me to such a place as I may deem most advisable, for the purposeof attesting it?'

'If you insist upon that, I'll do that also, ' replied Monks. 

'You must do more than that, ' said Mr. Brownlow. 'Make restitution toan innocent and unoffending child, for such he is, although theoffspring of a guilty and most miserable love. You have not forgottenthe provisions of the will. Carry them into execution so far as yourbrother is concerned, and then go where you please. In this world youneed meet no more. '

While Monks was pacing up and down, meditating with dark and evil lookson this proposal and the possibilities of evading it: torn by hisfears on the one hand and his hatred on the other: the door washurriedly unlocked, and a gentleman (Mr. Losberne) entered the room inviolent agitation. 

'The man will be taken, ' he cried. 'He will be taken to-night!'

'The murderer?' asked Mr. Brownlow. 

'Yes, yes, ' replied the other. 'His dog has been seen lurking aboutsome old haunt, and there seems little doubt that his master either is, or will be, there, under cover of the darkness. Spies are hoveringabout in every direction. I have spoken to the men who are chargedwith his capture, and they tell me he cannot escape. A reward of ahundred pounds is proclaimed by Government to-night. '

'I will give fifty more, ' said Mr. Brownlow, 'and proclaim it with myown lips upon the spot, if I can reach it. Where is Mr. Maylie?'

'Harry? As soon as he had seen your friend here, safe in a coach withyou, he hurried off to where he heard this, ' replied the doctor, 'andmounting his horse sallied forth to join the first party at some placein the outskirts agreed upon between them. '

'Fagin, ' said Mr. Brownlow; 'what of him?'

'When I last heard, he had not been taken, but he will be, or is, bythis time. They're sure of him. '

'Have you made up your mind?' asked Mr. Brownlow, in a low voice, ofMonks. 

'Yes, ' he replied. 'You--you--will be secret with me?'

'I will. Remain here till I return. It is your only hope of safety. '

They left the room, and the door was again locked. 

'What have you done?' asked the doctor in a whisper. 

'All that I could hope to do, and even more. Coupling the poor girl'sintelligence with my previous knowledge, and the result of our goodfriend's inquiries on the spot, I left him no loophole of escape, andlaid bare the whole villainy which by these lights became plain as day. Write and appoint the evening after to-morrow, at seven, for themeeting. We shall be down there, a few hours before, but shall requirerest: especially the young lady, who _may_ have greater need offirmness than either you or I can quite foresee just now. But my bloodboils to avenge this poor murdered creature. Which way have theytaken?'

'Drive straight to the office and you will be in time, ' replied Mr. Losberne. 'I will remain here. '

The two gentlemen hastily separated; each in a fever of excitementwholly uncontrollable. 

CHAPTER L

THE PURSUIT AND ESCAPE

Near to that part of the Thames on which the church at Rotherhitheabuts, where the buildings on the banks are dirtiest and the vessels onthe river blackest with the dust of colliers and the smoke ofclose-built low-roofed houses, there exists the filthiest, thestrangest, the most extraordinary of the many localities that arehidden in London, wholly unknown, even by name, to the great mass ofits inhabitants. 

To reach this place, the visitor has to penetrate through a maze ofclose, narrow, and muddy streets, thronged by the roughest and poorestof waterside people, and devoted to the traffic they may be supposed tooccasion. The cheapest and least delicate provisions are heaped in theshops; the coarsest and commonest articles of wearing apparel dangle atthe salesman's door, and stream from the house-parapet and windows. Jostling with unemployed labourers of the lowest class, ballast-heavers, coal-whippers, brazen women, ragged children, and theraff and refuse of the river, he makes his way with difficulty along, assailed by offensive sights and smells from the narrow alleys whichbranch off on the right and left, and deafened by the clash ofponderous waggons that bear great piles of merchandise from the stacksof warehouses that rise from every corner. Arriving, at length, instreets remoter and less-frequented than those through which he haspassed, he walks beneath tottering house-fronts projecting over thepavement, dismantled walls that seem to totter as he passes, chimneyshalf crushed half hesitating to fall, windows guarded by rusty ironbars that time and dirt have almost eaten away, every imaginable signof desolation and neglect. 

In such a neighborhood, beyond Dockhead in the Borough of Southwark, stands Jacob's Island, surrounded by a muddy ditch, six or eight feetdeep and fifteen or twenty wide when the tide is in, once called MillPond, but known in the days of this story as Folly Ditch. It is acreek or inlet from the Thames, and can always be filled at high waterby opening the sluices at the Lead Mills from which it took its oldname. At such times, a stranger, looking from one of the woodenbridges thrown across it at Mill Lane, will see the inhabitants of thehouses on either side lowering from their back doors and windows, buckets, pails, domestic utensils of all kinds, in which to haul thewater up; and when his eye is turned from these operations to thehouses themselves, his utmost astonishment will be excited by the scenebefore him. Crazy wooden galleries common to the backs of half a dozenhouses, with holes from which to look upon the slime beneath; windows, broken and patched, with poles thrust out, on which to dry the linenthat is never there; rooms so small, so filthy, so confined, that theair would seem too tainted even for the dirt and squalor which theyshelter; wooden chambers thrusting themselves out above the mud, andthreatening to fall into it--as some have done; dirt-besmeared wallsand decaying foundations; every repulsive lineament of poverty, everyloathsome indication of filth, rot, and garbage; all these ornament thebanks of Folly Ditch. 

In Jacob's Island, the warehouses are roofless and empty; the walls arecrumbling down; the windows are windows no more; the doors are fallinginto the streets; the chimneys are blackened, but they yield no smoke. Thirty or forty years ago, before losses and chancery suits came uponit, it was a thriving place; but now it is a desolate island indeed. The houses have no owners; they are broken open, and entered upon bythose who have the courage; and there they live, and there they die. They must have powerful motives for a secret residence, or be reducedto a destitute condition indeed, who seek a refuge in Jacob's Island. 

In an upper room of one of these houses--a detached house of fair size, ruinous in other respects, but strongly defended at door and window:of which house the back commanded the ditch in manner alreadydescribed--there were assembled three men, who, regarding each otherevery now and then with looks expressive of perplexity and expectation, sat for some time in profound and gloomy silence. One of these wasToby Crackit, another Mr. Chitling, and the third a robber of fiftyyears, whose nose had been almost beaten in, in some old scuffle, andwhose face bore a frightful scar which might probably be traced to thesame occasion. This man was a returned transport, and his name wasKags. 

'I wish, ' said Toby turning to Mr. Chitling, 'that you had picked outsome other crib when the two old ones got too warm, and had not comehere, my fine feller. '

'Why didn't you, blunder-head!' said Kags. 

'Well, I thought you'd have been a little more glad to see me thanthis, ' replied Mr. Chitling, with a melancholy air. 

'Why, look'e, young gentleman, ' said Toby, 'when a man keeps himself sovery ex-clusive as I have done, and by that means has a snug house overhis head with nobody a prying and smelling about it, it's rather astartling thing to have the honour of a wisit from a young gentleman(however respectable and pleasant a person he may be to play cards withat conweniency) circumstanced as you are. '

'Especially, when the exclusive young man has got a friend stoppingwith him, that's arrived sooner than was expected from foreign parts, and is too modest to want to be presented to the Judges on his return, 'added Mr. Kags. 

There was a short silence, after which Toby Crackit, seeming to abandonas hopeless any further effort to maintain his usual devil-may-careswagger, turned to Chitling and said, 'When was Fagin took then?'

'Just at dinner-time--two o'clock this afternoon. Charley and I madeour lucky up the wash-us chimney, and Bolter got into the emptywater-butt, head downwards; but his legs were so precious long thatthey stuck out at the top, and so they took him too. '

'And Bet?'

'Poor Bet! She went to see the Body, to speak to who it was, ' repliedChitling, his countenance falling more and more, 'and went off mad, screaming and raving, and beating her head against the boards; so theyput a strait-weskut on her and took her to the hospital--and there sheis. '

'Wot's come of young Bates?' demanded Kags. 

'He hung about, not to come over here afore dark, but he'll be heresoon, ' replied Chitling. 'There's nowhere else to go to now, for thepeople at the Cripples are all in custody, and the bar of the ken--Iwent up there and see it with my own eyes--is filled with traps. '

'This is a smash, ' observed Toby, biting his lips. 'There's more thanone will go with this. '

'The sessions are on, ' said Kags: 'if they get the inquest over, andBolter turns King's evidence: as of course he will, from what he'ssaid already: they can prove Fagin an accessory before the fact, andget the trial on on Friday, and he'll swing in six days from this, byG--!'

'You should have heard the people groan, ' said Chitling; 'the officersfought like devils, or they'd have torn him away. He was down once, but they made a ring round him, and fought their way along. You shouldhave seen how he looked about him, all muddy and bleeding, and clung tothem as if they were his dearest friends. I can see 'em now, not ableto stand upright with the pressing of the mob, and draggin him alongamongst 'em; I can see the people jumping up, one behind another, andsnarling with their teeth and making at him; I can see the blood uponhis hair and beard, and hear the cries with which the women workedthemselves into the centre of the crowd at the street corner, and sworethey'd tear his heart out!'

The horror-stricken witness of this scene pressed his hands upon hisears, and with his eyes closed got up and paced violently to and fro, like one distracted. 

While he was thus engaged, and the two men sat by in silence with theireyes fixed upon the floor, a pattering noise was heard upon the stairs, and Sikes's dog bounded into the room. They ran to the window, downstairs, and into the street. The dog had jumped in at an openwindow; he made no attempt to follow them, nor was his master to beseen. 

'What's the meaning of this?' said Toby when they had returned. 'Hecan't be coming here. I--I--hope not. '

'If he was coming here, he'd have come with the dog, ' said Kags, stooping down to examine the animal, who lay panting on the floor. 'Here! Give us some water for him; he has run himself faint. '

'He's drunk it all up, every drop, ' said Chitling after watching thedog some time in silence. 'Covered with mud--lame--half blind--he musthave come a long way. '

'Where can he have come from!' exclaimed Toby. 'He's been to the otherkens of course, and finding them filled with strangers come on here, where he's been many a time and often. But where can he have come fromfirst, and how comes he here alone without the other!'

'He'--(none of them called the murderer by his old name)--'He can'thave made away with himself. What do you think?' said Chitling. 

Toby shook his head. 

'If he had, ' said Kags, 'the dog 'ud want to lead us away to where hedid it. No. I think he's got out of the country, and left the dogbehind. He must have given him the slip somehow, or he wouldn't be soeasy. '

This solution, appearing the most probable one, was adopted as theright; the dog, creeping under a chair, coiled himself up to sleep, without more notice from anybody. 

It being now dark, the shutter was closed, and a candle lighted andplaced upon the table. The terrible events of the last two days hadmade a deep impression on all three, increased by the danger anduncertainty of their own position. They drew their chairs closertogether, starting at every sound. They spoke little, and that inwhispers, and were as silent and awe-stricken as if the remains of themurdered woman lay in the next room. 

They had sat thus, some time, when suddenly was heard a hurriedknocking at the door below. 

'Young Bates, ' said Kags, looking angrily round, to check the fear hefelt himself. 

The knocking came again. No, it wasn't he. He never knocked like that. 

Crackit went to the window, and shaking all over, drew in his head. There was no need to tell them who it was; his pale face was enough. The dog too was on the alert in an instant, and ran whining to the door. 

'We must let him in, ' he said, taking up the candle. 

'Isn't there any help for it?' asked the other man in a hoarse voice. 

'None. He _must_ come in. '

'Don't leave us in the dark, ' said Kags, taking down a candle from thechimney-piece, and lighting it, with such a trembling hand that theknocking was twice repeated before he had finished. 

Crackit went down to the door, and returned followed by a man with thelower part of his face buried in a handkerchief, and another tied overhis head under his hat. He drew them slowly off. Blanched face, sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, beard of three days' growth, wasted flesh, short thick breath; it was the very ghost of Sikes. 

He laid his hand upon a chair which stood in the middle of the room, but shuddering as he was about to drop into it, and seeming to glanceover his shoulder, dragged it back close to the wall--as close as itwould go--and ground it against it--and sat down. 

Not a word had been exchanged. He looked from one to another insilence. If an eye were furtively raised and met his, it was instantlyaverted. When his hollow voice broke silence, they all three started. They seemed never to have heard its tones before. 

'How came that dog here?' he asked. 

'Alone. Three hours ago. '

'To-night's paper says that Fagin's took. Is it true, or a lie?'

'True. '

They were silent again. 

'Damn you all!' said Sikes, passing his hand across his forehead. 

'Have you nothing to say to me?'

There was an uneasy movement among them, but nobody spoke. 

'You that keep this house, ' said Sikes, turning his face to Crackit, 'do you mean to sell me, or to let me lie here till this hunt is over?'

'You may stop here, if you think it safe, ' returned the personaddressed, after some hesitation. 

Sikes carried his eyes slowly up the wall behind him: rather trying toturn his head than actually doing it: and said, 'Is--it--the body--isit buried?'

They shook their heads. 

'Why isn't it!' he retorted with the same glance behind him. 'Wot dothey keep such ugly things above the ground for?--Who's that knocking?'

Crackit intimated, by a motion of his hand as he left the room, thatthere was nothing to fear; and directly came back with Charley Batesbehind him. Sikes sat opposite the door, so that the moment the boyentered the room he encountered his figure. 

'Toby, ' said the boy falling back, as Sikes turned his eyes towardshim, 'why didn't you tell me this, downstairs?'

There had been something so tremendous in the shrinking off of thethree, that the wretched man was willing to propitiate even this lad. Accordingly he nodded, and made as though he would shake hands with him. 

'Let me go into some other room, ' said the boy, retreating stillfarther. 

'Charley!' said Sikes, stepping forward. 'Don't you--don't you knowme?'

'Don't come nearer me, ' answered the boy, still retreating, andlooking, with horror in his eyes, upon the murderer's face. 'Youmonster!'

The man stopped half-way, and they looked at each other; but Sikes'seyes sunk gradually to the ground. 

'Witness you three, ' cried the boy shaking his clenched fist, andbecoming more and more excited as he spoke. 'Witness you three--I'm notafraid of him--if they come here after him, I'll give him up; I will. I tell you out at once. He may kill me for it if he likes, or if hedares, but if I am here I'll give him up. I'd give him up if he was tobe boiled alive. Murder! Help! If there's the pluck of a man amongyou three, you'll help me. Murder! Help! Down with him!'

Pouring out these cries, and accompanying them with violentgesticulation, the boy actually threw himself, single-handed, upon thestrong man, and in the intensity of his energy and the suddenness ofhis surprise, brought him heavily to the ground. 

The three spectators seemed quite stupefied. They offered nointerference, and the boy and man rolled on the ground together; theformer, heedless of the blows that showered upon him, wrenching hishands tighter and tighter in the garments about the murderer's breast, and never ceasing to call for help with all his might. 

The contest, however, was too unequal to last long. Sikes had himdown, and his knee was on his throat, when Crackit pulled him back witha look of alarm, and pointed to the window. There were lights gleamingbelow, voices in loud and earnest conversation, the tramp of hurriedfootsteps--endless they seemed in number--crossing the nearest woodenbridge. One man on horseback seemed to be among the crowd; for therewas the noise of hoofs rattling on the uneven pavement. The gleam oflights increased; the footsteps came more thickly and noisily on. Then, came a loud knocking at the door, and then a hoarse murmur fromsuch a multitude of angry voices as would have made the boldest quail. 

'Help!' shrieked the boy in a voice that rent the air. 

'He's here! Break down the door!'

'In the King's name, ' cried the voices without; and the hoarse cryarose again, but louder. 

'Break down the door!' screamed the boy. 'I tell you they'll neveropen it. Run straight to the room where the light is. Break down thedoor!'

Strokes, thick and heavy, rattled upon the door and lowerwindow-shutters as he ceased to speak, and a loud huzzah burst from thecrowd; giving the listener, for the first time, some adequate idea ofits immense extent. 

'Open the door of some place where I can lock this screechingHell-babe, ' cried Sikes fiercely; running to and fro, and dragging theboy, now, as easily as if he were an empty sack. 'That door. Quick!'He flung him in, bolted it, and turned the key. 'Is the downstairsdoor fast?'

'Double-locked and chained, ' replied Crackit, who, with the other twomen, still remained quite helpless and bewildered. 

'The panels--are they strong?'

'Lined with sheet-iron. '

'And the windows too?'

'Yes, and the windows. '

'Damn you!' cried the desperate ruffian, throwing up the sash andmenacing the crowd. 'Do your worst! I'll cheat you yet!'

Of all the terrific yells that ever fell on mortal ears, none couldexceed the cry of the infuriated throng. Some shouted to those whowere nearest to set the house on fire; others roared to the officers toshoot him dead. Among them all, none showed such fury as the man onhorseback, who, throwing himself out of the saddle, and burstingthrough the crowd as if he were parting water, cried, beneath thewindow, in a voice that rose above all others, 'Twenty guineas to theman who brings a ladder!'

The nearest voices took up the cry, and hundreds echoed it. Somecalled for ladders, some for sledge-hammers; some ran with torches toand fro as if to seek them, and still came back and roared again; somespent their breath in impotent curses and execrations; some pressedforward with the ecstasy of madmen, and thus impeded the progress ofthose below; some among the boldest attempted to climb up by thewater-spout and crevices in the wall; and all waved to and fro, in thedarkness beneath, like a field of corn moved by an angry wind: andjoined from time to time in one loud furious roar. 

'The tide, ' cried the murderer, as he staggered back into the room, andshut the faces out, 'the tide was in as I came up. Give me a rope, along rope. They're all in front. I may drop into the Folly Ditch, andclear off that way. Give me a rope, or I shall do three more murdersand kill myself. '

The panic-stricken men pointed to where such articles were kept; themurderer, hastily selecting the longest and strongest cord, hurried upto the house-top. 

All the window in the rear of the house had been long ago bricked up, except one small trap in the room where the boy was locked, and thatwas too small even for the passage of his body. But, from thisaperture, he had never ceased to call on those without, to guard theback; and thus, when the murderer emerged at last on the house-top bythe door in the roof, a loud shout proclaimed the fact to those infront, who immediately began to pour round, pressing upon each other inan unbroken stream. 

He planted a board, which he had carried up with him for the purpose, so firmly against the door that it must be matter of great difficultyto open it from the inside; and creeping over the tiles, looked overthe low parapet. 

The water was out, and the ditch a bed of mud. 

The crowd had been hushed during these few moments, watching hismotions and doubtful of his purpose, but the instant they perceived itand knew it was defeated, they raised a cry of triumphant execration towhich all their previous shouting had been whispers. Again and againit rose. Those who were at too great a distance to know its meaning, took up the sound; it echoed and re-echoed; it seemed as though thewhole city had poured its population out to curse him. 

On pressed the people from the front--on, on, on, in a strongstruggling current of angry faces, with here and there a glaring torchto lighten them up, and show them out in all their wrath and passion. The houses on the opposite side of the ditch had been entered by themob; sashes were thrown up, or torn bodily out; there were tiers andtiers of faces in every window; cluster upon cluster of people clingingto every house-top. Each little bridge (and there were three in sight)bent beneath the weight of the crowd upon it. Still the current pouredon to find some nook or hole from which to vent their shouts, and onlyfor an instant see the wretch. 

'They have him now, ' cried a man on the nearest bridge. 'Hurrah!'

The crowd grew light with uncovered heads; and again the shout uprose. 

'I will give fifty pounds, ' cried an old gentleman from the samequarter, 'to the man who takes him alive. I will remain here, till hecome to ask me for it. '

There was another roar. At this moment the word was passed among thecrowd that the door was forced at last, and that he who had firstcalled for the ladder had mounted into the room. The stream abruptlyturned, as this intelligence ran from mouth to mouth; and the people atthe windows, seeing those upon the bridges pouring back, quitted theirstations, and running into the street, joined the concourse that nowthronged pell-mell to the spot they had left: each man crushing andstriving with his neighbor, and all panting with impatience to get nearthe door, and look upon the criminal as the officers brought him out. The cries and shrieks of those who were pressed almost to suffocation, or trampled down and trodden under foot in the confusion, weredreadful; the narrow ways were completely blocked up; and at this time, between the rush of some to regain the space in front of the house, andthe unavailing struggles of others to extricate themselves from themass, the immediate attention was distracted from the murderer, although the universal eagerness for his capture was, if possible, increased. 

The man had shrunk down, thoroughly quelled by the ferocity of thecrowd, and the impossibility of escape; but seeing this sudden changewith no less rapidity than it had occurred, he sprang upon his feet, determined to make one last effort for his life by dropping into theditch, and, at the risk of being stifled, endeavouring to creep away inthe darkness and confusion. 

Roused into new strength and energy, and stimulated by the noise withinthe house which announced that an entrance had really been effected, heset his foot against the stack of chimneys, fastened one end of therope tightly and firmly round it, and with the other made a strongrunning noose by the aid of his hands and teeth almost in a second. Hecould let himself down by the cord to within a less distance of theground than his own height, and had his knife ready in his hand to cutit then and drop. 

At the very instant when he brought the loop over his head previous toslipping it beneath his arm-pits, and when the old gentlemanbefore-mentioned (who had clung so tight to the railing of the bridgeas to resist the force of the crowd, and retain his position) earnestlywarned those about him that the man was about to lower himself down--atthat very instant the murderer, looking behind him on the roof, threwhis arms above his head, and uttered a yell of terror. 

'The eyes again!' he cried in an unearthly screech. 

Staggering as if struck by lightning, he lost his balance and tumbledover the parapet. The noose was on his neck. It ran up with hisweight, tight as a bow-string, and swift as the arrow it speeds. Hefell for five-and-thirty feet. There was a sudden jerk, a terrificconvulsion of the limbs; and there he hung, with the open knifeclenched in his stiffening hand. 

The old chimney quivered with the shock, but stood it bravely. Themurderer swung lifeless against the wall; and the boy, thrusting asidethe dangling body which obscured his view, called to the people to comeand take him out, for God's sake. 

A dog, which had lain concealed till now, ran backwards and forwards onthe parapet with a dismal howl, and collecting himself for a spring, jumped for the dead man's shoulders. Missing his aim, he fell into theditch, turning completely over as he went; and striking his headagainst a stone, dashed out his brains. 

CHAPTER LI

AFFORDING AN EXPLANATION OF MORE MYSTERIES THAN ONE, AND COMPREHENDINGA PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE WITH NO WORD OF SETTLEMENT OR PIN-MONEY

The events narrated in the last chapter were yet but two days old, whenOliver found himself, at three o'clock in the afternoon, in atravelling-carriage rolling fast towards his native town. Mrs. Maylie, and Rose, and Mrs. Bedwin, and the good doctor were with him: and Mr. Brownlow followed in a post-chaise, accompanied by one other personwhose name had not been mentioned. 

They had not talked much upon the way; for Oliver was in a flutter ofagitation and uncertainty which deprived him of the power of collectinghis thoughts, and almost of speech, and appeared to have scarcely lesseffect on his companions, who shared it, in at least an equal degree. He and the two ladies had been very carefully made acquainted by Mr. Brownlow with the nature of the admissions which had been forced fromMonks; and although they knew that the object of their present journeywas to complete the work which had been so well begun, still the wholematter was enveloped in enough of doubt and mystery to leave them inendurance of the most intense suspense. 

The same kind friend had, with Mr. Losberne's assistance, cautiouslystopped all channels of communication through which they could receiveintelligence of the dreadful occurrences that so recently taken place. 'It was quite true, ' he said, 'that they must know them before long, but it might be at a better time than the present, and it could not beat a worse. ' So, they travelled on in silence: each busied withreflections on the object which had brought them together: and no onedisposed to give utterance to the thoughts which crowded upon all. 

But if Oliver, under these influences, had remained silent while theyjourneyed towards his birth-place by a road he had never seen, how thewhole current of his recollections ran back to old times, and what acrowd of emotions were wakened up in his breast, when they turned intothat which he had traversed on foot: a poor houseless, wandering boy, without a friend to help him, or a roof to shelter his head. 

'See there, there!' cried Oliver, eagerly clasping the hand of Rose, and pointing out at the carriage window; 'that's the stile I came over;there are the hedges I crept behind, for fear any one should overtakeme and force me back! Yonder is the path across the fields, leading tothe old house where I was a little child! Oh Dick, Dick, my dear oldfriend, if I could only see you now!'

'You will see him soon, ' replied Rose, gently taking his folded handsbetween her own. 'You shall tell him how happy you are, and how richyou have grown, and that in all your happiness you have none so greatas the coming back to make him happy too. '

'Yes, yes, ' said Oliver, 'and we'll--we'll take him away from here, andhave him clothed and taught, and send him to some quiet country placewhere he may grow strong and well, --shall we?'

Rose nodded 'yes, ' for the boy was smiling through such happy tearsthat she could not speak. 

'You will be kind and good to him, for you are to every one, ' saidOliver. 'It will make you cry, I know, to hear what he can tell; butnever mind, never mind, it will be all over, and you will smileagain--I know that too--to think how changed he is; you did the samewith me. He said "God bless you" to me when I ran away, ' cried the boywith a burst of affectionate emotion; 'and I will say "God bless you"now, and show him how I love him for it!'

As they approached the town, and at length drove through its narrowstreets, it became matter of no small difficulty to restrain the boywithin reasonable bounds. There was Sowerberry's the undertaker's justas it used to be, only smaller and less imposing in appearance than heremembered it--there were all the well-known shops and houses, withalmost every one of which he had some slight incident connected--therewas Gamfield's cart, the very cart he used to have, standing at the oldpublic-house door--there was the workhouse, the dreary prison of hisyouthful days, with its dismal windows frowning on the street--therewas the same lean porter standing at the gate, at sight of whom Oliverinvoluntarily shrunk back, and then laughed at himself for being sofoolish, then cried, then laughed again--there were scores of faces atthe doors and windows that he knew quite well--there was nearlyeverything as if he had left it but yesterday, and all his recent lifehad been but a happy dream. 

But it was pure, earnest, joyful reality. They drove straight to thedoor of the chief hotel (which Oliver used to stare up at, with awe, and think a mighty palace, but which had somehow fallen off in grandeurand size); and here was Mr. Grimwig all ready to receive them, kissingthe young lady, and the old one too, when they got out of the coach, asif he were the grandfather of the whole party, all smiles and kindness, and not offering to eat his head--no, not once; not even when hecontradicted a very old postboy about the nearest road to London, andmaintained he knew it best, though he had only come that way once, andthat time fast asleep. There was dinner prepared, and there werebedrooms ready, and everything was arranged as if by magic. 

Notwithstanding all this, when the hurry of the first half-hour wasover, the same silence and constraint prevailed that had marked theirjourney down. Mr. Brownlow did not join them at dinner, but remainedin a separate room. The two other gentlemen hurried in and out withanxious faces, and, during the short intervals when they were present, conversed apart. Once, Mrs. Maylie was called away, and after beingabsent for nearly an hour, returned with eyes swollen with weeping. All these things made Rose and Oliver, who were not in any new secrets, nervous and uncomfortable. They sat wondering, in silence; or, if theyexchanged a few words, spoke in whispers, as if they were afraid tohear the sound of their own voices. 

At length, when nine o'clock had come, and they began to think theywere to hear no more that night, Mr. Losberne and Mr. Grimwig enteredthe room, followed by Mr. Brownlow and a man whom Oliver almostshrieked with surprise to see; for they told him it was his brother, and it was the same man he had met at the market-town, and seen lookingin with Fagin at the window of his little room. Monks cast a look ofhate, which, even then, he could not dissemble, at the astonished boy, and sat down near the door. Mr. Brownlow, who had papers in his hand, walked to a table near which Rose and Oliver were seated. 

'This is a painful task, ' said he, 'but these declarations, which havebeen signed in London before many gentlemen, must be in substancerepeated here. I would have spared you the degradation, but we musthear them from your own lips before we part, and you know why. '

'Go on, ' said the person addressed, turning away his face. 'Quick. Ihave almost done enough, I think. Don't keep me here. '

'This child, ' said Mr. Brownlow, drawing Oliver to him, and laying hishand upon his head, 'is your half-brother; the illegitimate son of yourfather, my dear friend Edwin Leeford, by poor young Agnes Fleming, whodied in giving him birth. '

'Yes, ' said Monks, scowling at the trembling boy: the beating of whoseheart he might have heard. 'That is the bastard child. '

'The term you use, ' said Mr. Brownlow, sternly, 'is a reproach to thoselong since passed beyond the feeble censure of the world. It reflectsdisgrace on no one living, except you who use it. Let that pass. Hewas born in this town. '

'In the workhouse of this town, ' was the sullen reply. 'You have thestory there. ' He pointed impatiently to the papers as he spoke. 

'I must have it here, too, ' said Mr. Brownlow, looking round upon thelisteners. 

'Listen then! You!' returned Monks. 'His father being taken ill atRome, was joined by his wife, my mother, from whom he had been longseparated, who went from Paris and took me with her--to look after hisproperty, for what I know, for she had no great affection for him, norhe for her. He knew nothing of us, for his senses were gone, and heslumbered on till next day, when he died. Among the papers in hisdesk, were two, dated on the night his illness first came on, directedto yourself'; he addressed himself to Mr. Brownlow; 'and enclosed in afew short lines to you, with an intimation on the cover of the packagethat it was not to be forwarded till after he was dead. One of thesepapers was a letter to this girl Agnes; the other a will. '

'What of the letter?' asked Mr. Brownlow. 

'The letter?--A sheet of paper crossed and crossed again, with apenitent confession, and prayers to God to help her. He had palmed atale on the girl that some secret mystery--to be explained oneday--prevented his marrying her just then; and so she had gone on, trusting patiently to him, until she trusted too far, and lost whatnone could ever give her back. She was, at that time, within a fewmonths of her confinement. He told her all he had meant to do, to hideher shame, if he had lived, and prayed her, if he died, not to cursehis memory, or think the consequences of their sin would be visited onher or their young child; for all the guilt was his. He reminded herof the day he had given her the little locket and the ring with herchristian name engraved upon it, and a blank left for that which hehoped one day to have bestowed upon her--prayed her yet to keep it, andwear it next her heart, as she had done before--and then ran on, wildly, in the same words, over and over again, as if he had gonedistracted. I believe 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 the samespirit as the letter. He talked of miseries which his wife had broughtupon him; of the rebellious disposition, vice, malice, and prematurebad passions of you his only son, who had been trained to hate him; andleft you, and your mother, each an annuity of eight hundred pounds. The bulk of his property he divided into two equal portions--one forAgnes Fleming, and the other for their child, if it should be bornalive, and ever come of age. If it were a girl, it was to inherit themoney unconditionally; but if a boy, only on the stipulation that inhis minority he should never have stained his name with any public actof dishonour, meanness, cowardice, or wrong. He did this, he said, tomark his confidence in the other, and his conviction--only strengthenedby approaching death--that the child would share her gentle heart, andnoble nature. If he were disappointed in this expectation, then themoney was to come to you: for then, and not till then, when bothchildren were equal, would he recognise your prior claim upon hispurse, who had none upon his heart, but had, from an infant, repulsedhim with coldness and aversion. '

'My mother, ' said Monks, in a louder tone, 'did what a woman shouldhave done. She burnt this will. The letter never reached itsdestination; but that, and other proofs, she kept, in case they evertried to lie away the blot. The girl's father had the truth from herwith 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 name that hisfriends might never know of his retreat; and here, no great whileafterwards, he was found dead in his bed. The girl had left her home, in secret, some weeks before; he had searched for her, on foot, inevery town and village near; it was on the night when he returned home, assured that she had destroyed herself, to hide her shame and his, thathis old heart broke. '

There was a short silence here, until Mr. Brownlow took up the threadof the narrative. 

'Years after this, ' he said, 'this man's--Edward Leeford's--mother cameto me. He had left her, when only eighteen; robbed her of jewels andmoney; gambled, squandered, forged, and fled to London: where for twoyears he had associated with the lowest outcasts. She was sinkingunder a painful and incurable disease, and wished to recover him beforeshe died. Inquiries were set on foot, and strict searches made. Theywere unavailing for a long time, but ultimately successful; and he wentback with her to France. '

'There she died, ' said Monks, 'after a lingering illness; and, on herdeath-bed, she bequeathed these secrets to me, together with herunquenchable and deadly hatred of all whom they involved--though sheneed not have left me that, for I had inherited it long before. Shewould not believe that the girl had destroyed herself, and the childtoo, but was filled with the impression that a male child had beenborn, and was alive. I swore to her, if ever it crossed my path, tohunt it down; never to let it rest; to pursue it with the bitterest andmost unrelenting animosity; to vent upon it the hatred that I deeplyfelt, and to spit upon the empty vaunt of that insulting will bydraggin it, if I could, to the very gallows-foot. She was right. Hecame in my way at last. I began well; and, but for babbling drabs, Iwould have finished as I began!'

As the villain folded his arms tight together, and muttered curses onhimself in the impotence of baffled malice, Mr. Brownlow turned to theterrified group beside him, and explained that the Jew, who had beenhis old accomplice and confidant, had a large reward for keeping Oliverensnared: of which some part was to be given up, in the event of hisbeing rescued: and that a dispute on this head had led to their visitto the country house for the purpose of identifying him. 

'The locket and ring?' said Mr. Brownlow, turning to Monks. 

'I bought them from the man and woman I told you of, who stole themfrom the nurse, who stole them from the corpse, ' answered Monks withoutraising his eyes. 'You know what became of them. '

Mr. Brownlow merely nodded to Mr. Grimwig, who disappearing with greatalacrity, shortly returned, pushing in Mrs. Bumble, and dragging herunwilling consort after him. 

'Do my hi's deceive me!' cried Mr. Bumble, with ill-feigned enthusiasm, 'or is that little Oliver? Oh O-li-ver, if you know'd how I've beena-grieving for you--'

'Hold your tongue, fool, ' murmured Mrs. Bumble. 

'Isn't natur, natur, Mrs. Bumble?' remonstrated the workhouse master. 'Can't I be supposed to feel--_I_ as brought him up porochially--when Isee him a-setting here among ladies and gentlemen of the very affablestdescription! I always loved that boy as if he'd been my--my--my owngrandfather, ' said Mr. Bumble, halting for an appropriate comparison. 'Master Oliver, my dear, you remember the blessed gentleman in thewhite waistcoat? 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 do you do, sir? I hope you are very well. '

This salutation was addressed to Mr. Brownlow, who had stepped up towithin a short distance of the respectable couple. He inquired, as hepointed to Monks, 'Do you know that person?'

'No, ' replied Mrs. Bumble flatly. 

'Perhaps _you_ don't?' said Mr. Brownlow, addressing her spouse. 

'I never saw him in all my life, ' said Mr. Bumble. 

'Nor sold him anything, perhaps?'

'No, ' replied Mrs. Bumble. 

'You never had, perhaps, a certain gold locket and ring?' said Mr. Brownlow. 

'Certainly not, ' replied the matron. 'Why are we brought here toanswer to such nonsense as this?'

Again Mr. Brownlow nodded to Mr. Grimwig; and again that gentlemanlimped away with extraordinary readiness. But not again did he returnwith a stout man and wife; for this time, he led in two palsied women, who shook and tottered as they walked. 

'You shut the door the night old Sally died, ' said the foremost one, raising her shrivelled hand, 'but you couldn't shut out the sound, norstop the chinks. '

'No, no, ' said the other, looking round her and wagging her toothlessjaws. 'No, no, no. '

'We heard her try to tell you what she'd done, and saw you take a paperfrom her hand, and watched you too, next day, to the pawnbroker'sshop, ' said the first. 

'Yes, ' added the second, 'and it was a "locket and gold ring. " We foundout that, and saw it given you. We were by. Oh! we were by. '

'And we know more than that, ' resumed the first, 'for she told usoften, long ago, that the young mother had told her that, feeling sheshould never get over it, she was on her way, at the time that she wastaken ill, to die near the grave of the father of the child. '

'Would you like to see the pawnbroker himself?' asked Mr. Grimwig witha motion towards the door. 

'No, ' replied the woman; 'if he--she pointed to Monks--'has been cowardenough to confess, as I see he has, and you have sounded all these hagstill you have found the right ones, I have nothing more to say. I_did_ sell them, and they're where you'll never get them. What then?'

'Nothing, ' replied Mr. Brownlow, 'except that it remains for us to takecare that neither of you is employed in a situation of trust again. You may leave the room. '

'I hope, ' said Mr. Bumble, looking about him with great ruefulness, asMr. Grimwig disappeared with the two old women: 'I hope that thisunfortunate little circumstance will not deprive me of my porochialoffice?'

'Indeed it will, ' replied Mr. Brownlow. 'You may make up your mind tothat, and think yourself well off besides. '

'It was all Mrs. Bumble. She _would_ do it, ' urged Mr. Bumble; firstlooking round to ascertain that his partner had left the room. 

'That is no excuse, ' replied Mr. Brownlow. 'You were present on theoccasion of the destruction of these trinkets, and indeed are the moreguilty of the two, in the eye of the law; for the law supposes thatyour 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 law is, that his eye may be opened by experience--by experience. '

Laying great stress on the repetition of these two words, Mr. Bumblefixed his hat on very tight, and putting his hands in his pockets, followed his helpmate downstairs. 

'Young lady, ' said Mr. Brownlow, turning to Rose, 'give me your hand. Do not tremble. You need not fear to hear the few remaining words wehave 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 other time. I have not strength or spirits now. '

'Nay, ' returned the old gentlman, drawing her arm through his; 'youhave more fortitude than this, I am sure. Do you know this 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 strange place, in a strange name, without a letter, book, or scrap of paper thatyielded the faintest clue by which his friends or relatives could betraced--the child was taken by some wretched cottagers, who reared itas their own. '

'Go on, ' said Mr. Brownlow, signing to Mrs. Maylie to approach. 'Go on!'

'You couldn't find the spot to which these people had repaired, ' saidMonks, 'but where friendship fails, hatred will often force a way. Mymother found it, after a year of cunning search--ay, and found thechild. '

'She took it, did she?'

'No. The people were poor and began to sicken--at least the mandid--of their fine humanity; so she left it with them, giving them asmall present of money which would not last long, and promised more, which she never meant to send. She didn't quite rely, however, ontheir discontent and poverty for the child's unhappiness, but told thehistory of the sister's shame, with such alterations as suited her;bade them take good heed of the child, for she came of bad blood; andtold them she was illegitimate, and sure to go wrong at one time orother. The circumstances countenanced all this; the people believedit; and there the child dragged on an existence, miserable enough evento satisfy us, until a widow lady, residing, then, at Chester, saw thegirl by chance, pitied her, and took her home. There was some cursedspell, I think, against us; for in spite of all our efforts sheremained there and was happy. I lost sight of her, two or three yearsago, and saw her 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 the faintinggirl in her arms; 'not the less my dearest child. I would not lose hernow, for all the treasures of the world. My sweet companion, my owndear girl!'

'The only friend I ever had, ' cried Rose, clinging to her. 'Thekindest, best of friends. My heart will burst. I cannot bear allthis. '

'You have borne more, and have been, through all, the best and gentlestcreature that ever shed happiness on every one she knew, ' said Mrs. Maylie, embracing her tenderly. 'Come, come, my love, remember who thisis 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'll nevercall her aunt--sister, my own dear sister, that something taught myheart to love so dearly from the first! Rose, dear, darling Rose!'

Let the tears which fell, and the broken words which were exchanged inthe long close embrace between the orphans, be sacred. A father, sister, and mother, were gained, and lost, in that one moment. Joy andgrief were mingled in the cup; but there were no bitter tears: foreven grief itself arose so softened, and clothed in such sweet andtender recollections, that it became a solemn pleasure, and lost allcharacter of pain. 

They were a long, long time alone. A soft tap at the door, at lengthannounced 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. 'DearRose, I know it all. '

'I am not here by accident, ' he added after a lengthened silence; 'norhave I heard all this to-night, for I knew it yesterday--onlyyesterday. Do you guess that I have come to remind 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 the young man, 'but to hear you repeat it, if you would. I was to lay whatever ofstation or fortune I might possess at your feet, and if you stilladhered to your former determination, I pledged myself, by no word oract, to seek to change it. '

'The same reasons which influenced me then, will influence me now, 'said Rose firmly. 'If I ever owed a strict and rigid duty to her, whose goodness saved me from a life of indigence and suffering, whenshould I ever feel it, as I should to-night? It is a struggle, ' saidRose, 'but one I am proud to make; it is a pang, but one my heart shallbear. '

'The disclosure of to-night, '--Harry began. 

'The disclosure of to-night, ' replied Rose softly, 'leaves me in thesame position, with reference to you, as that in which I stood before. '

'You harden your heart against me, Rose, ' urged her lover. 

'Oh Harry, Harry, ' said the young lady, bursting into tears; 'I wish Icould, and spare myself this pain. '

'Then why inflict it on yourself?' said Harry, taking her hand. 'Think, dear Rose, think what you have heard to-night. '

'And what have I heard! What have I heard!' cried Rose. 'That a senseof his deep disgrace so worked upon my own father that he shunnedall--there, we have said enough, Harry, we have said enough. '

'Not yet, not yet, ' said the young man, detaining her as she rose. 'Myhopes, my wishes, prospects, feeling: every thought in life except mylove for you: have undergone a change. I offer you, now, nodistinction among a bustling crowd; no mingling with a world of maliceand detraction, where the blood is called into honest cheeks by aughtbut real disgrace and shame; but a home--a heart and home--yes, dearestRose, 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 a firmdetermination to level all fancied barriers between yourself and me;resolved that if my world could not be yours, I would make yours mine;that no pride of birth should curl the lip at you, for I would turnfrom it. This I have done. Those who have shrunk from me because ofthis, have shrunk from you, and proved you so far right. Such powerand patronage: such relatives of influence and rank: as smiled uponme then, look coldly now; but there are smiling fields and waving treesin England's richest county; and by one village church--mine, Rose, myown!--there stands a rustic dwelling which you can make me prouder of, than all the hopes I have renounced, measured a thousandfold. This ismy rank and station now, and here I lay it down!'

 * * * * *

'It's a trying thing waiting supper for lovers, ' said Mr. Grimwig, waking up, and pulling his pocket-handkerchief from over his head. 

Truth to tell, the supper had been waiting a most unreasonable time. Neither Mrs. Maylie, nor Harry, nor Rose (who all came in together), could offer a word in extenuation. 

'I had serious thoughts of eating my head to-night, ' said Mr. Grimwig, 'for I began to think I should get nothing else. I'll take theliberty, if you'll allow me, of saluting the bride that is to be. '

Mr. Grimwig lost no time in carrying this notice into effect upon theblushing girl; and the example, being contagious, was followed both bythe doctor and Mr. Brownlow: some people affirm that Harry Maylie hadbeen observed to set it, originally, in a dark room adjoining; but thebest authorities consider this downright scandal: he being young and aclergyman. 

'Oliver, my child, ' said Mrs. Maylie, 'where have you been, and why doyou look so sad? There are tears stealing down your face at thismoment. What is the matter?'

It is a world of disappointment: often to the hopes we most cherish, and hopes that do our nature the greatest honour. 

Poor Dick was dead!

CHAPTER LII

FAGIN'S LAST NIGHT ALIVE

The court was paved, from floor to roof, with human faces. Inquisitiveand eager eyes peered from every inch of space. From the rail beforethe dock, away into the sharpest angle of the smallest corner in thegalleries, all looks were fixed upon one man--Fagin. Before him andbehind: above, below, on the right and on the left: he seemed tostand surrounded by a firmament, all bright with gleaming eyes. 

He stood there, in all this glare of living light, with one handresting on the wooden slab before him, the other held to his ear, andhis head thrust forward to enable him to catch with greaterdistinctness every word that fell from the presiding judge, who wasdelivering his charge to the jury. At times, he turned his eyessharply upon them to observe the effect of the slightest featherweightin his favour; and when the points against him were stated withterrible distinctness, looked towards his counsel, in mute appeal thathe would, even then, urge something in his behalf. Beyond thesemanifestations of anxiety, he stirred not hand or foot. He hadscarcely moved since the trial began; and now that the judge ceased tospeak, he still remained in the same strained attitude of closeattention, with his gaze bent on him, as though he listened still. 

A slight bustle in the court, recalled him to himself. Looking round, he saw that the juryman had turned together, to consider their verdict. As his eyes wandered to the gallery, he could see the people risingabove each other to see his face: some hastily applying their glassesto their eyes: and others whispering their neighbours with looksexpressive of abhorrence. A few there were, who seemed unmindful ofhim, and looked only to the jury, in impatient wonder how they coulddelay. But in no one face--not even among the women, of whom therewere many there--could he read the faintest sympathy with himself, orany feeling but one of all-absorbing interest that he should becondemned. 

As he saw all this in one bewildered glance, the deathlike stillnesscame again, and looking back he saw that the jurymen had turned towardsthe judge. Hush!

They only sought permission to retire. 

He looked, wistfully, into their faces, one by one when they passedout, as though to see which way the greater number leant; but that wasfruitless. The jailer touched him on the shoulder. He followedmechanically to the end of the dock, and sat down on a chair. The manpointed it out, or he would not have seen it. 

He looked up into the gallery again. Some of the people were eating, and some fanning themselves with handkerchiefs; for the crowded placewas very hot. There was one young man sketching his face in a littlenote-book. He wondered whether it was like, and looked on when theartist broke his pencil-point, and made another with his knife, as anyidle spectator might have done. 

In the same way, when he turned his eyes towards the judge, his mindbegan to busy itself with the fashion of his dress, and what it cost, and how he put it on. There was an old fat gentleman on the bench, too, who had gone out, some half an hour before, and now come back. Hewondered within himself whether this man had been to get his dinner, what he had had, and where he had had it; and pursued this train ofcareless thought until some new object caught his eye and rousedanother. 

Not that, all this time, his mind was, for an instant, free from oneoppressive overwhelming sense of the grave that opened at his feet; itwas ever present to him, but in a vague and general way, and he couldnot fix his thoughts upon it. Thus, even while he trembled, and turnedburning hot at the idea of speedy death, he fell to counting the ironspikes before him, and wondering how the head of one had been brokenoff, and whether they would mend it, or leave it as it was. Then, hethought of all the horrors of the gallows and the scaffold--and stoppedto watch a man sprinkling the floor to cool it--and then went on tothink again. 

At length there was a cry of silence, and a breathless look from alltowards the door. The jury returned, and passed him close. He couldglean nothing from their faces; they might as well have been of stone. Perfect stillness ensued--not a rustle--not a breath--Guilty. 

The building rang with a tremendous shout, and another, and another, and then it echoed loud groans, that gathered strength as they swelledout, like angry thunder. It was a peal of joy from the populaceoutside, greeting the news that he would die on Monday. 

The noise subsided, and he was asked if he had anything to say whysentence of death should not be passed upon him. He had resumed hislistening attitude, and looked intently at his questioner while thedemand was made; but it was twice repeated before he seemed to hear it, and then he only muttered that he was an old man--an old man--and so, dropping into a whisper, was silent again. 

The judge assumed the black cap, and the prisoner still stood with thesame air and gesture. A woman in the gallery, uttered someexclamation, called forth by this dread solemnity; he looked hastily upas if angry at the interruption, and bent forward yet more attentively. The address was solemn and impressive; the sentence fearful to hear. But he stood, like a marble figure, without the motion of a nerve. Hishaggard face was still thrust forward, his under-jaw hanging down, andhis eyes staring out before him, when the jailer put his hand upon hisarm, and beckoned him away. He gazed stupidly about him for aninstant, and obeyed. 

They led him through a paved room under the court, where some prisonerswere waiting till their turns came, and others were talking to theirfriends, who crowded round a grate which looked into the open yard. There was nobody there to speak to _him_; but, as he passed, theprisoners fell back to render him more visible to the people who wereclinging to the bars: and they assailed him with opprobrious names, and screeched and hissed. He shook his fist, and would have spat uponthem; but his conductors hurried him on, through a gloomy passagelighted by a few dim lamps, into the interior of the prison. 

Here, he was searched, that he might not have about him the means ofanticipating the law; this ceremony performed, they led him to one ofthe condemned cells, and left him there--alone. 

He sat down on a stone bench opposite the door, which served for seatand bedstead; and casting his blood-shot eyes upon the ground, tried tocollect his thoughts. After awhile, he began to remember a fewdisjointed fragments of what the judge had said: though it had seemedto him, at the time, that he could not hear a word. These graduallyfell into their proper places, and by degrees suggested more: so thatin a little time he had the whole, almost as it was delivered. To behanged by the neck, till he was dead--that was the end. To be hangedby the neck till he was dead. 

As it came on very dark, he began to think of all the men he had knownwho had died upon the scaffold; some of them through his means. Theyrose up, in such quick succession, that he could hardly count them. Hehad seen some of them die, --and had joked too, because they died withprayers upon their lips. With what a rattling noise the drop wentdown; and how suddenly they changed, from strong and vigorous men todangling heaps of clothes!

Some of them might have inhabited that very cell--sat upon that veryspot. It was very dark; why didn't they bring a light? The cell hadbeen built for many years. Scores of men must have passed their lasthours there. It was like sitting in a vault strewn with deadbodies--the cap, the noose, the pinioned arms, the faces that he knew, even beneath that hideous veil. --Light, light!

At length, when his hands were raw with beating against the heavy doorand walls, two men appeared: one bearing a candle, which he thrustinto an iron candlestick fixed against the wall: the other dragging ina mattress on which to pass the night; for the prisoner was to be leftalone no more. 

Then came the night--dark, dismal, silent night. Other watchers areglad to hear this church-clock strike, for they tell of life and comingday. To him they brought despair. The boom of every iron bell cameladen with the one, deep, hollow sound--Death. What availed the noiseand bustle of cheerful morning, which penetrated even there, to him?It was another form of knell, with mockery added to the warning. 

The day passed off. Day? There was no day; it was gone as soon ascome--and night came on again; night so long, and yet so short; long inits dreadful silence, and short in its fleeting hours. At one time heraved and blasphemed; and at another howled and tore his hair. Venerable men of his own persuasion had come to pray beside him, but hehad driven them away with curses. They renewed their charitableefforts, and he beat them off. 

Saturday night. He had only one night more to live. And as he thoughtof this, the day broke--Sunday. 

It was not until the night of this last awful day, that a witheringsense of his helpless, desperate state came in its full intensity uponhis blighted soul; not that he had ever held any defined or positivehope of mercy, but that he had never been able to consider more thanthe dim probability of dying so soon. He had spoken little to either ofthe two men, who relieved each other in their attendance upon him; andthey, for their parts, made no effort to rouse his attention. He hadsat there, awake, but dreaming. Now, he started up, every minute, andwith gasping mouth and burning skin, hurried to and fro, in such aparoxysm of fear and wrath that even they--used to suchsights--recoiled from him with horror. He grew so terrible, at last, in all the tortures of his evil conscience, that one man could not bearto sit there, eyeing him alone; and so the two kept watch together. 

He cowered down upon his stone bed, and thought of the past. He hadbeen wounded with some missiles from the crowd on the day of hiscapture, and his head was bandaged with a linen cloth. His red hairhung down upon his bloodless face; his beard was torn, and twisted intoknots; his eyes shone with a terrible light; his unwashed fleshcrackled with the fever that burnt him up. Eight--nine--then. If itwas not a trick to frighten him, and those were the real hours treadingon each other's heels, where would he be, when they came round again!Eleven! Another struck, before the voice of the previous hour hadceased to vibrate. At eight, he would be the only mourner in his ownfuneral train; at eleven--

Those dreadful walls of Newgate, which have hidden so much misery andsuch unspeakable anguish, not only from the eyes, but, too often, andtoo long, from the thoughts, of men, never held so dread a spectacle asthat. The few who lingered as they passed, and wondered what the manwas doing who was to be hanged to-morrow, would have slept but ill thatnight, if they could have seen him. 

From early in the evening until nearly midnight, little groups of twoand three presented themselves at the lodge-gate, and inquired, withanxious faces, whether any reprieve had been received. These beinganswered in the negative, communicated the welcome intelligence toclusters in the street, who pointed out to one another the door fromwhich he must come out, and showed where the scaffold would be built, and, walking with unwilling steps away, turned back to conjure up thescene. By degrees they fell off, one by one; and, for an hour, in thedead of night, the street was left to solitude and darkness. 

The space before the prison was cleared, and a few strong barriers, painted black, had been already thrown across the road to break thepressure of the expected crowd, when Mr. Brownlow and Oliver appearedat the wicket, and presented an order of admission to the prisoner, signed by one of the sheriffs. They were immediately admitted into thelodge. 

'Is the young gentleman to come too, sir?' said the man whose duty itwas to conduct them. 'It's not a sight for children, sir. '

'It is not indeed, my friend, ' rejoined Mr. Brownlow; 'but my businesswith this man is intimately connected with him; and as this child hasseen him in the full career of his success and villainy, I think it aswell--even at the cost of some pain and fear--that he should see himnow. '

These few words had been said apart, so as to be inaudible to Oliver. The man touched his hat; and glancing at Oliver with some curiousity, opened another gate, opposite to that by which they had entered, andled them on, through dark and winding ways, towards the cells. 

'This, ' said the man, stopping in a gloomy passage where a couple ofworkmen were making some preparations in profound silence--'this is theplace he passes through. If you step this way, you can see the door hegoes out at. '

He led them into a stone kitchen, fitted with coppers for dressing theprison food, and pointed to a door. There was an open grating aboveit, through which came the sound of men's voices, mingled with thenoise of hammering, and the throwing down of boards. There wereputting up the scaffold. 

From this place, they passed through several strong gates, opened byother turnkeys from the inner side; and, having entered an open yard, ascended a flight of narrow steps, and came into a passage with a rowof strong doors on the left hand. Motioning them to remain where theywere, the turnkey knocked at one of these with his bunch of keys. Thetwo attendants, after a little whispering, came out into the passage, stretching themselves as if glad of the temporary relief, and motionedthe visitors to follow the jailer into the cell. They did so. 

The condemned criminal was seated on his bed, rocking himself from sideto side, with a countenance more like that of a snared beast than theface of a man. His mind was evidently wandering to his old life, forhe continued to mutter, without appearing conscious of their presenceotherwise than as a part of his vision. 

'Good boy, Charley--well done--' he mumbled. 'Oliver, too, ha! ha! ha!Oliver too--quite the gentleman now--quite the--take that boy away tobed!'

The jailer took the disengaged hand of Oliver; and, whispering him notto be alarmed, looked on without speaking. 

'Take him away to bed!' cried Fagin. 'Do you hear me, some of you? Hehas been the--the--somehow the cause of all this. It's worth the moneyto bring him up to it--Bolter's throat, Bill; never mind thegirl--Bolter's throat as deep as you can cut. Saw his head off!'

'Fagin, ' said the jailer. 

'That's me!' cried the Jew, falling instantly, into the attitude oflistening he had assumed upon his trial. 'An old man, my Lord; a veryold, old man!'

'Here, ' said the turnkey, laying his hand upon his breast to keep himdown. 'Here's somebody wants to see you, to ask you some questions, Isuppose. Fagin, Fagin! Are you a man?'

'I shan't be one long, ' he replied, looking up with a face retaining nohuman expression but rage and terror. 'Strike them all dead! Whatright have they to butcher me?'

As he spoke he caught sight of Oliver and Mr. Brownlow. Shrinking tothe furthest corner of the seat, he demanded to know what they wantedthere. 

'Steady, ' said the turnkey, still holding him down. 'Now, sir, tellhim what you want. Quick, if you please, for he grows worse as thetime gets on. '

'You have some papers, ' said Mr. Brownlow advancing, 'which were placedin your hands, for better security, by a man called Monks. '

'It's all a lie together, ' replied Fagin. 'I haven't one--not one. '

'For the love of God, ' said Mr. Brownlow solemnly, 'do not say thatnow, upon the very verge of death; but tell me where they are. Youknow that Sikes is dead; that Monks has confessed; that there is nohope of any further gain. Where are those papers?'

'Oliver, ' cried Fagin, beckoning to him. 'Here, here! Let me whisperto you. '

'I am not afraid, ' said Oliver in a low voice, as he relinquished Mr. Brownlow's hand. 

'The papers, ' said Fagin, drawing Oliver towards him, 'are in a canvasbag, in a hole a little way up the chimney in the top front-room. Iwant to talk to you, my dear. I want to talk to you. '

'Yes, yes, ' returned Oliver. 'Let me say a prayer. Do! Let me sayone prayer. Say only one, upon your knees, with me, and we will talktill morning. '

'Outside, outside, ' replied Fagin, pushing the boy before him towardsthe door, and looking vacantly over his head. 'Say I've gone tosleep--they'll believe you. You can get me out, if you take me so. Now then, now then!'

'Oh! God forgive this wretched man!' cried the boy with a burst oftears. 

'That's right, that's right, ' said Fagin. 'That'll help us on. Thisdoor first. If I shake and tremble, as we pass the gallows, don't youmind, but hurry on. Now, now, now!'

'Have you nothing else to ask him, sir?' inquired the turnkey. 

'No other question, ' replied Mr. Brownlow. 'If I hoped we could recallhim to a sense of his position--'

'Nothing will do that, sir, ' replied the man, shaking his head. 'Youhad better leave him. '

The door of the cell opened, and the attendants returned. 

'Press on, press on, ' cried Fagin. 'Softly, but not so slow. Faster, faster!'

The men laid hands upon him, and disengaging Oliver from his grasp, held him back. He struggled with the power of desperation, for aninstant; and then sent up cry upon cry that penetrated even thosemassive walls, and rang in their ears until they reached the open yard. 

It was some time before they left the prison. Oliver nearly swoonedafter this frightful scene, and was so weak that for an hour or more, he had not the strength to walk. 

Day was dawning when they again emerged. A great multitude had alreadyassembled; the windows were filled with people, smoking and playingcards to beguile the time; the crowd were pushing, quarrelling, joking. Everything told of life and animation, but one dark cluster of objectsin the centre of all--the black stage, the cross-beam, the rope, andall the hideous apparatus of death. 

CHAPTER LIII

AND LAST

The fortunes of those who have figured in this tale are nearly closed. The little that remains to their historian to relate, is told in fewand simple words. 

Before three months had passed, Rose Fleming and Harry Maylie weremarried in the village church which was henceforth to be the scene ofthe young clergyman's labours; on the same day they entered intopossession of their new and happy home. 

Mrs. Maylie took up her abode with her son and daughter-in-law, toenjoy, during the tranquil remainder of her days, the greatest felicitythat age and worth can know--the contemplation of the happiness ofthose on whom the warmest affections and tenderest cares of awell-spent life, have been unceasingly bestowed. 

It appeared, on full and careful investigation, that if the wreck ofproperty remaining in the custody of Monks (which had never prosperedeither in his hands or in those of his mother) were equally dividedbetween himself and Oliver, it would yield, to each, little more thanthree thousand pounds. By the provisions of his father's will, Oliverwould have been entitled to the whole; but Mr. Brownlow, unwilling todeprive the elder son of the opportunity of retrieving his former vicesand pursuing an honest career, proposed this mode of distribution, towhich his young charge joyfully acceded. 

Monks, still bearing that assumed name, retired with his portion to adistant part of the New World; where, having quickly squandered it, heonce more fell into his old courses, and, after undergoing a longconfinement for some fresh act of fraud and knavery, at length sunkunder an attack of his old disorder, and died in prison. As far fromhome, died the chief remaining members of his friend Fagin's gang. 

Mr. Brownlow adopted Oliver as his son. Removing with him and the oldhousekeeper to within a mile of the parsonage-house, where his dearfriends resided, he gratified the only remaining wish of Oliver's warmand earnest heart, and thus linked together a little society, whosecondition approached as nearly to one of perfect happiness as can everbe known in this changing world. 

Soon after the marriage of the young people, the worthy doctor returnedto Chertsey, where, bereft of the presence of his old friends, he wouldhave been discontented if his temperament had admitted of such afeeling; and would have turned quite peevish if he had known how. Fortwo or three months, he contented himself with hinting that he fearedthe air began to disagree with him; then, finding that the place reallyno longer was, to him, what it had been, he settled his business on hisassistant, took a bachelor's cottage outside the village of which hisyoung friend was pastor, and instantaneously recovered. Here he tookto gardening, planting, fishing, carpentering, and various otherpursuits of a similar kind: all undertaken with his characteristicimpetuosity. In each and all he has since become famous throughout theneighborhood, as a most profound authority. 

Before his removal, he had managed to contract a strong friendship forMr. Grimwig, which that eccentric gentleman cordially reciprocated. Heis accordingly visited by Mr. Grimwig a great many times in the courseof the year. On all such occasions, Mr. Grimwig plants, fishes, andcarpenters, with great ardour; doing everything in a very singular andunprecedented manner, but always maintaining with his favouriteasseveration, that his mode is the right one. On Sundays, he neverfails to criticise the sermon to the young clergyman's face: alwaysinforming Mr. Losberne, in strict confidence afterwards, that heconsiders it an excellent performance, but deems it as well not to sayso. It is a standing and very favourite joke, for Mr. Brownlow torally him on his old prophecy concerning Oliver, and to remind him ofthe night on which they sat with the watch between them, waiting hisreturn; but Mr. Grimwig contends that he was right in the main, and, inproof thereof, remarks that Oliver did not come back after all; whichalways calls forth a laugh on his side, and increases his good humour. 

Mr. Noah Claypole: receiving a free pardon from the Crown inconsequence of being admitted approver against Fagin: and consideringhis profession not altogether as safe a one as he could wish: was, forsome little time, at a loss for the means of a livelihood, not burdenedwith too much work. After some consideration, he went into business asan Informer, in which calling he realises a genteel subsistence. Hisplan is, to walk out once a week during church time attended byCharlotte in respectable attire. The lady faints away at the doors ofcharitable publicans, and the gentleman being accommodated withthree-penny worth of brandy to restore her, lays an information nextday, and pockets half the penalty. Sometimes Mr. Claypole faintshimself, but the result is the same. 

Mr. And Mrs. Bumble, deprived of their situations, were graduallyreduced to great indigence and misery, and finally became paupers inthat very same workhouse in which they had once lorded it over others. Mr. Bumble has been heard to say, that in this reverse and degradation, he has not even spirits to be thankful for being separated from hiswife. 

As to Mr. Giles and Brittles, they still remain in their old posts, although the former is bald, and the last-named boy quite grey. Theysleep at the parsonage, but divide their attentions so equally amongits inmates, and Oliver and Mr. Brownlow, and Mr. Losberne, that tothis day the villagers have never been able to discover to whichestablishment they properly belong. 

Master Charles Bates, appalled by Sikes's crime, fell into a train ofreflection whether an honest life was not, after all, the best. Arriving at the conclusion that it certainly was, he turned his backupon the scenes of the past, resolved to amend it in some new sphere ofaction. He struggled hard, and suffered much, for some time; but, having a contented disposition, and a good purpose, succeeded in theend; and, from being a farmer's drudge, and a carrier's lad, he is nowthe merriest young grazier in all Northamptonshire. 

And now, the hand that traces these words, falters, as it approachesthe conclusion of its task; and would weave, for a little longer space, the thread of these adventures. 

I would fain linger yet with a few of those among whom I have so longmoved, and share their happiness by endeavouring to depict it. I wouldshow Rose Maylie in all the bloom and grace of early womanhood, shedding on her secluded path in life soft and gentle light, that fellon all who trod it with her, and shone into their hearts. I wouldpaint her the life and joy of the fire-side circle and the livelysummer group; I would follow her through the sultry fields at noon, andhear the low tones of her sweet voice in the moonlit evening walk; Iwould watch her in all her goodness and charity abroad, and the smilinguntiring discharge of domestic duties at home; I would paint her andher dead sister's child happy in their love for one another, andpassing whole hours together in picturing the friends whom they had sosadly lost; I would summon before me, once again, those joyous littlefaces that clustered round her knee, and listen to their merry prattle;I would recall the tones of that clear laugh, and conjure up thesympathising tear that glistened in the soft blue eye. These, and athousand looks and smiles, and turns of thought and speech--I wouldfain recall them every one. 

How Mr. Brownlow went on, from day to day, filling the mind of hisadopted child with stores of knowledge, and becoming attached to him, more and more, as his nature developed itself, and showed the thrivingseeds of all he wished him to become--how he traced in him new traitsof his early friend, that awakened in his own bosom old remembrances, melancholy and yet sweet and soothing--how the two orphans, tried byadversity, remembered its lessons in mercy to others, and mutual love, and fervent thanks to Him who had protected and preserved them--theseare all matters which need not to be told. I have said that they weretruly happy; and without strong affection and humanity of heart, andgratitude to that Being whose code is Mercy, and whose great attributeis Benevolence to all things that breathe, happiness can never beattained. 

Within the altar of the old village church there stands a white marbletablet, which bears as yet but one word: 'AGNES. ' There is no coffinin that tomb; and may it be many, many years, before another name isplaced above it! But, if the spirits of the Dead ever come back toearth, to visit spots hallowed by the love--the love beyond thegrave--of those whom they knew in life, I believe that the shade ofAgnes sometimes hovers round that solemn nook. I believe it none theless because that nook is in a Church, and she was weak and erring.