oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第13部分

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he　felt　that　pride　swelling　in　his　heart　which　would　have　kept　
down　a　shriek　to　the　last；　though　they　had　roasted　him　alive。　But　
now；　when　there　were　none　to　see　or　hear　him；　he　fell　upon　his　
knees　on　the　floor；　and；　hiding　his　face　in　his　hands；　wept　such　
tears　as—God　send　for　the　credit　of　our　nature—few　so　young　may　
ever　have　cause　to　pour　out　before　Him！　

For　a　long　time；　Oliver　remained　motionless　in　this　attitude。　
The　candle　was　burning　low　in　the　socket　when　he　rose　to　his　feet。　
Having　gazed　curiously　round　him　and　listened　intently；　he　gently　
undid　the　fastenings　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　no　wind；　and　the　sombre　shadows　thrown　by　the　trees　upon　
the　ground；　looked　sepulchral　and　death…like；　from　being　so　still。　
He　softly　reclosed　the　door。　Having　availed　himself　of　the　expiring　
light　of　the　candle　to　tie　up　in　a　handkerchief　the　few　articles　of　
wearing　apparel　he　had；　sat　himself　down　upon　a　bench；　to　wait　
for　morning。　

With　the　first　ray　of　light　that　struggled　through　the　crevices　in　
the　shutters；　Oliver　arose；　and　again　unbarred　the　door。　One　timid　
look　around—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　wagons；　as　they　went　out；　toiling　

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Oliver　Twist　

up　the　hill。　He　took　the　same　route；　and；　arriving　at　a　footpath　
across　the　fields；　which　he　knew；　after　some　distance；　led　out　again　
into　the　road；　struck　into　it；　and　walked　quickly　on。　

Along　the　same　footpath；　Oliver　well　remembered　he　had　
trotted　beside　Mr。　Bumble；　when　he　first　carried　him　to　the　
workhouse　from　the　farm。　His　way　lay　directly　in　front　of　the　
cottage。　His　heart　beat　quickly　when　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　by　doing　so。　Besides；　it　was　so　
early　that　there　was　very　little　fear　of　his　being　seen；　so　he　walked　
on。　

He　reached　the　house。　There　was　no　appearance　of　its　inmates　
stirring　at　that　early　hour。　Oliver　stopped；　and　peeped　into　the　
garden。　A　child　was　weeding　one　of　the　little　beds；　as　he　stopped；　
he　raised　his　pale　face　and　disclosed　the　features　of　one　of　his　
former　companions。　Oliver　felt　glad　to　see　him；　before　he　went；　
for；　though　younger　than　himself；　he　had　been　his　little　friend　and　
playmate。　They　had　been　beaten；　and　starved；　and　shut　up　
together；　many　and　many　a　time。　

“Hush；　Dick！”　said　Oliver；　as　the　boy　ran　to　the　gate；　and　thrust　
his　thin　arm　between　the　rails　to　greet　him。　“Is　any　one　up？”　

“Nobody　but　me；”　replied　the　child。　

“You　mustn’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；　some　long　way　off。　I　don’t　know　where。　How　pale　you　
are！”　

“I　heard　the　doctor　tell　them　I　was　dying；”　replied　the　child；　
with　a　faint　smile。　“I　am　very　glad　to　see　you；　dear；　but　don’t　stop；　
don’t　stop！”　

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“Yes；　yes；　I　will；　to　say　good…bye　to　you；”　replied　Oliver。　“I　shall　
see　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。　I　
know　the　doctor　must　be　right；　Oliver；　because　I　dream　so　much　of　
heaven；　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　his　little　arms　round　Oliver’s　neck。　“Good…bye；　dear！　God　
bless　you！”　

The　blessing　was　from　a　young　child’s　lips；　but　it　was　the　first　
that　Oliver　had　ever　heard　invoked　upon　his　head；　and　through　
the　struggles　and　sufferings；　and　troubles　and　changes；　of　his　after　
life；　he　never　once　forgot　it。　

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Oliver　Twist　

Chapter　8　

Oliver　Walks　To　London—He　Encounters　On　The
Road　A　Strange　Sort　Of　Young　Gentleman。


O　liver　reached　the　stile；　at　which　the　by…path　terminated；　
and　once　more　gained　the　high…road。　It　was　eight　o’clock　
now。　Though　he　was　nearly　five　miles　away　from　the　
town；　he　ran；　and　hid　behind　the　hedges；　by　turns；　till　noon；　
fearing　that　he　might　be　pursued　and　overtaken。　Then　he　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；　an　
intimation　that　it　was　just　seventy　miles　from　that　spot　to　London。　
The　name　awakened　a　new　train　of　ideas　in　the　boy’s　mind。　
London！—that　great　large　place！—nobody—not　even　Mr。　
Bumble—could　ever　find　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　ways　of　living　in　that　vast　city；　which　
those　who　had　been　bred　up　in　country　parts　had　no　idea　of。　It　was　
the　very　place　for　a　homeless　boy；　who　must　die　in　the　streets　
unless　some　one　helped　him。　As　these　things　passed　through　his　
thoughts；　he　jumped　upon　his　feet；　and　again　walked　forward。　

He　had　diminished　the　distance　between　himself　and　London　
by　full　four　miles　more；　before　he　recollected　how　much　he　must　
undergo　ere　he　could　hope　to　reach　his　place　of　destination。　As　
this　consideration　forced　itself　upon　him；　he　slackened　his　pace　a　
little；　and　meditated　upon　his　means　of　getting　there。　He　had　a　

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Oliver　Twist　

crust　of　bread；　a　coarse　shirt；　and　two　pairs　of　stockings；　in　his　
bundle。　He　had　a　penny　too—a　gift　of　Sowerberry’s　after　some　
funeral　in　which　he　had　acquitted　himself　more　than　ordinarily　
well—in　his　pocket。　“A　clean　shirt；”　thought　Oliver；　“is　a　very　
comfortable　thing；　very；　and　so　are　two　pairs　of　darned　stockings；　
and　so　is　a　penny；　but　they　are　small　helps　to　a　sixty…five　miles’　
walk　in　wintertime。”　But　Oliver’s　thoughts；　like　those　of　most　
other　people；　although　they　were　extremely　ready　and　active　to　
point　out　his　difficulties；　were　wholly　at　a　loss　to　suggest　any　
feasible　mode　of　surmounting　them；　so；　after　a　good　deal　of　
thinking　to　no　particular　purpose；　he　changed　his　little　bundle　
over　to　the　other　shoulder；　and　trudged　on。　

Oliver　walked　twenty　miles　that　day；　and　all　that　time　tasted　
nothing　but　the　crust　of　dry　bread；　and　a　few　draughts　of　water；　
which　he　begged　at　the　cottage　doors　by　the　roadside。　When　the　
night　came；　he　turned　into　a　meadow；　and；　creeping　close　under　a　
hay…rick；　determined　to　lie　there；　till　morning。　He　felt　frightened　at　
first；　for　the　wind　moaned　dismally　over　the　empty　fields；　and　he　
was　cold　and　hungry；　and　more　alone　than　he　had　ever　felt　before。　
Being　very　tired　with　his　walk；　however；　he　soon　fell　asleep　and　
forgot　his　troubles。　

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

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He　waited　at　the　bottom　of　a　steep　hill　till　a　stage…coach　came　
up；　and　then　begged　of　the　outside　passengers；　but　there　were　
very　few　who　took　any　notice　of　him；　and　even　those　told　him　to　
wait　till　they　got　to　the　top　of　the　hill　and　then　let　them　see　how　far　
he　could　run　for　a　halfpenny。　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。　When　the　outsiders　saw　this；　they　put　their　
halfpence　back　into　their　pockets　again；　declaring　that　he　was　an　
idle　young　dog；　and　didn’t　deserve　anything；　and　the　coach　rattled　
away　and　left　only　a　cloud　of　dust　behind。　

In　some　villages；　large　painted　boards　were　fixed　up　warning　all　
persons　who　begged　within　the　district；　that　they　would　be　sent　to　
jail。　This　frightened　Oliver　very　much；　and　made　him　glad　to　get　
out　of　those　villages　with　all　possible　expedition。　In　others；　he　
would　stand　about　the　inn…yards；　and　look　mournfully　at　every　one　
who　passed；　a　proceeding　which　generally　terminated　in　the　
landlady’s　ordering　one　of　the　post…boys　who　were　lounging　about；　
to　drive　that　strange　boy　out　of　the　place；　for　she　was　sure　he　had　
come　to　steal　something。　If　he　begged　at　a　farmer’s　house；　ten　to　
one　but　they　threatened　to　set　the　dog　on　him；　and　when　he　
showed　his　nose　in　a　shop；　they　talked　about　the　beadle—which　
brought　Oliver’s　heart　into　his　mouth—very　often　the　only　thing　
he　had　there；　for　many　hours　together。　

In　fact；　if　it　had　not　been　for　a　good…hearted　turnpike…man　and　a　
benevolent　old　lady；　Oliver’s　troubles　would　have　been　shortened　
by　the　very　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　pathway。　But　the　turnpike…man　gave　him　a　meal　of　bread　
and　cheese；　and　the　‘old　lady；　who　had　a　shipwrecked　grandson　

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wandering　barefoot　in　some　distant　part　of　the　earth；　took　pity　
upon　the　poor　orphan　and　gave　him　what　little　she　could　afford—　
and　more—with　such　kind　and　gentle　words；　and　such　tears　of　
sympathy　and　compassion；　that　they　sank　deeper　into　Oliver’s　
soul；　than　all　the　sufferings　he　had　ever　undergone。　

Early　on　the　seventh　morning；　after　he　had　left　his　native　place；　
Oliver　limped　slowly　into　the　little　town　of　Barnet。　The　window　
shutters　were　closed；　the　street　was　empty；　not　a　soul　had　
awakened　to　the　business　of　the　day。　The　sun　was　rising　in　all　its　
splendid　beauty；　but　the　light　only　served　to　show　the　boy　his　own　
lonesomeness　and　desolation；　as　he　sat　with　bleeding　feet　and　
c