oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第20部分

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time；　counting　the　little　circles　of　light　which　the　reflection　of　the　
rushlight…shade　threw　upon　the　ceiling；　or　tracing　with　his　languid　
eyes　the　intricate　pattern　of　the　paper　on　the　wall。　The　darkness　
and　the　deep　stillness　of　the　room　were　very　solemn；　as　they　
brought　into　the　boy’s　mind　the　thought　that　death　had　been　
hovering　there；　for　many　days　and　nights；　and　might　yet　fill　it　with　
the　gloom　and　dread　of　his　awful　presence；　he　turned　his　face　
upon　the　pillow；　and　fervently　prayed　to　Heaven。　

Gradually；　he　fell　into　that　deep；　tranquil　sleep　which　ease　from　
recent　suffering　alone　imparts；　that　calm　and　peaceful　rest　which　
it　is　pain　to　wake　from。　Who；　if　this　were　death；　would　be　roused　

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again　to　all　the　struggles　and　turmoils　of　life；　to　all　its　cares　for　the　
present；　its　anxieties　for　the　future；　more　than　all；　its　weary　
recollection　of　the　past！　

It　had　been　bright　day；　for　hours；　when　Oliver　opened　his　eyes；　
and　when　he　did　so；　he　felt　cheerful　and　happy。　The　crisis　of　the　
disease　was　safely　past。　He　belonged　to　the　world　again。　

In　three　days’　time　he　was　able　to　sit　in　an　easy…chair；　well　
propped　up　with　pillows；　and；　as　he　was　still　too　weak　to　walk；　
Mrs。　Bedwin　had　him　carried　downstairs　into　the　little　
housekeeper’s　room；　which　belonged　to　her。　Having　him　set；　here；　
by　the　fireside；　the　good　old　lady　sat　herself　down　too；　and；　being　
in　a　state　of　considerable　delight　at　seeing　him　so　much　better；　
forthwith　began　to　cry　most　violently。　

“Never　mind　me；　my　dear；”　cried　the　old　lady。　“I’m　only　having　
a　regular　good　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　
got　nothing　to　do　with　your　broth；　and　it’s　full　time　you　had　it；　for　
the　doctor　says　Mr。　Brownlow　may　come　in　to　see　you　this　
morning；　and　we　must　get　up　our　best　looks；　because　the　better　we　
look；　the　more　he’ll　be　pleased。”　And　with　this；　the　old　lady　
applied　herself　to　warming　up；　in　a　little　saucepan；　a　basinful　of　
broth；　strong　enough；　Oliver　thought；　to　furnish　an　ample　dinner；　
when　reduced　to　the　regulation　strength；　for　three　hundred　and　
fifty　paupers；　at　the　lowest　computation。　

“Are　you　fond　of　pictures；　dear？”　inquired　the　old　lady；　seeing　
that　Oliver　had　fixed　his　eyes；　most　intently；　on　a　portrait　which　
hung　against　the　wall；　just　opposite　his　chair。　

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“I　don’t　quite　know；　ma’am；”　said　Oliver；　without　taking　his　
eyes　from　the　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　than　they　are；　or　they　wouldn’t　get　any　custom；　child。　The　
man　that　invented　the　machine　for　taking　likenesses　might　have　
known　that　would　never　succeed；　it’s　a　deal　too　honest。　A　deal；”　
said　the　old　lady；　laughing　very　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　
a　good…humoured　manner。　“It’s　not　a　likeness　of　anybody　that　you　
or　I　know；　I　expect。　It　seems　to　strike　your　fancy；　dear。　

“It　is　so　very　pretty；”　replied　Oliver。　

“Why；　sure　you’re　not　afraid　of　it？”　said　the　old　lady；　observing；　
in　great　surprise；　the　look　of　awe　with　which　the　child　regarded　
the　painting。　

“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　speak　to　me；　but　couldn’t。”　

“Lord　save　us！”　exclaimed　the　old　lady；　starting；　“don’t　talk　in　
that　way；　child。　You’re　weak　and　nervous　after　your　illness。　Let　me　
wheel　your　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　it　now；　at　all　events。”　

Oliver　did　see　it　in　his　mind’s　eye　as　distinctly　as　if　he　had　not　

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altered　his　position；　but　he　thought　it　better　not　to　worry　the　kind　
old　lady；　so　he　smiled　gently　when　she　looked　at　him；　and　Mrs。　
Bedwin；　satisfied　that　he　felt　more　comfortable；　salted　and　broke　
bits　of　toasted　bread　into　the　broth；　with　all　the　bustle　befitting　so　
solemn　a　preparation。　

Oliver　got　through　it　with　extraordinary　expedition。　He　had　
scarcely　swallowed　the　last　spoonful；　when　there　came　a　soft　tap　at　
the　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　
no　sooner　raised　his　spectacles　on　his　forehead；　and　thrust　his　
hands　behind　the　skirts　of　his　dressing…gown　to　take　a　good　look　at　
Oliver；　than　his　countenance　underwent　a　very　great　variety　of　
odd　contortions。　Oliver　looked　very　worn　and　shadowy　from　
sickness；　and　made　an　ineffectual　attempt　to　stand　up；　out　of　
respect　to　his　benefactor；　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　humane　disposition；　forced　a　supply　of　tears　into　his　
eyes；　by　some　hydraulic　process　which　we　are　not　sufficiently　
philosophical　to　be　in　a　condition　to　explain。　

“Poor　boy；　poor　boy！”　said　Mr。　Brownlow；　clearing　his　throat。　
“I’m　rather　hoarse　this　morning；　Mrs。　Bedwin。　I’m　afraid　I　have　
caught　cold。”　

“I　hope　not；　sir；”　said　Mrs。　Bedwin。　“Everything　you　have　had；　
has　been　well　aired；　sir。”　

“I　don’t　know；　Bedwin。　I　don’t　know；”　said　Mr。　Brownlow；　“I　
rather　think　I　had　a　damp　napkin　at　dinner…time　yesterday；　but　
never　mind　that。　How　do　you　feel；　my　dear？”　

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‘“Very　happy；　sir；”　replied　Oliver。　“And　very　grateful　indeed；　
sir；　for　your　goodness　to　me。”　

“Good　boy；”　said　Mr。　Brownlow　stoutly。　“Have　you　given　him　
any　nourishment；　Bedwin？　Any　slops；　eh？”　

“He　had　just　had　a　basin　of　beautiful　strong　broth；　sir；”　replied　
Mrs。　Bedwin；　drawing　herself　up　slightly；　and　laying　a　strong　
emphasis　on　the　last　word；　to　intimate　that　between　slops；　and　
broth　well　compounded；　there　existed　no　affinity　or　connection　
whatsoever。　

“Ugh！”　said　Mr。　Brownlow；　with　a　slight　shudder；　“a　couple　of　
glasses　of　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　of　
great　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　the　
magistrate　your　name　was　White？”　

“I　never　told　him　so；　sir；”　returned　Oliver；　in　amazement　This　
sounded　so　like　a　falsehood；　that　the　old　gentleman　looked　
somewhat　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　
for　looking　steadily　at　Oliver　no　longer　existed；　the　old　idea　of　the　
resemblance　between　his　features　and　some　familiar　face　came　
upon　him　so　strongly；　that　he　could　not　withdraw　his　gaze。　

“I　hope　you　are　not　angry　with　me；　sir？”　said　Oliver；　raising　his　
eyes　beseechingly。　

“No；　no；”　replied　the　old　gentleman。　“Why！　what’s　this？　

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Bedwin；　look　there！”　

As　he　spoke；　he　pointed　hastily　to　the　picture　above　Oliver’s　
head；　and　then　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　the　instant；　so　precisely　alike；　that　the　
minutest　line　seemed　copied　with　startling　accuracy！　

Oliver　knew　not　the　cause　of　this　sudden　exclamation；　for；　not　
being　strong　enough　to　bear　the　start　it　gave　him；　he　fainted　away。　
A　weakness　on　his　part；　which　affords　the　narrative　an　
opportunity　of　relieving　the　reader　from　suspense　in　behalf　of　the　
two　young　pupils　of　the　merry　old　gentleman；　and　of　recording。　

That　when　the　Dodger；　and　his　accomplished　friend　Master　
Bates；　joined　in　the　hue…and…cry　which　was　raised　at　Oliver’s　
heels；　in　consequence　of　their　executing　an　illegal　conveyance　of　
Mr。　Brownlow’s　personal　property；　as　has　been　already　described；　
they　were　actuated　by　a　very　laudable　and　becoming　regard　for　
themselves；　and　for　as　much　as　the　freedom　of　the　subject　and　the　
liberty　of　the　individual　are　among　the　first　and　proudest　boasts　of　
a　true…hearted　Englishman；　so　I　need　hardly　beg　the　reader　to　
observe；　that　this　action　should　tend　to　exalt　them　in　the　opinion　
of　all　public　and　patriotic　men　in　almost　as　great　a　degree　as　this　
strong　proof　of　their　anxiety；　for　their　own　preservation　and　safety　
goes　to　corroborate　and　confirm　the　little　code　of　laws　which　
certain　profound　and　sound…judging　philosophers　have　laid　down　
as　the　mainsprings　of　all　Nature’s　deeds　and　actions—the　said　
philosophers　very　wisely　reducing　the　good　lady’s　proceedings　to　
matters　of　maxim　and　theory；　and；　by　a　very　neat　and　pretty　
compliment　to　her　exalted　wisdom　and　understanding；　putting　
entirely　out　of　sight　any　considerations　of　heart；　or　generous　

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impulse　and　feeling。　For　these　are　matters　totally　beneath　a　female　
who　is　acknowledged　by　universal　admission　to　be　far　above　the　
numerous　little　foibles　and　weaknesses　of　her　sex。　

If　I　wanted　any　further　proof　of　the　strictly　philosophical　nature　
of　the　conduct　of　these　young　gentlemen　in　their　very　delicate　
predicament；　I　should　at　once　find　it　in　the　fact　（also　recorded　in　a　
foregoing　part　of　this　narrative）；　of　their　quit