oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第30部分

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say　that　you　do　want　for　something；　now？　Why；　you　little　wretch—　
”　
“Stop；　Mrs。　Mann；　stop！”　said　the　beadle；　raising　his　hand　with　
a　show　of　authority。　“Like　what；　sir；　eh？”　

“I　should　like；”　faltered　the　child；　“if　somebody　that　can　write；　
would　put　a　few　words　down　for　me　on　a　piece　of　paper；　and　fold　it　
up　and　seal　it；　and　keep　it　for　me；　after　I　am　laid　in　the　ground。”　

“Why；　what　does　the　boy　mean？”　exclaimed　Mr。　Bumble；　on　
whom　the　earnest　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　
Oliver　Twist；　and　to　let　him　know　how　often　I　have　sat　by　myself　

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and　cried　to　think　of　his　wandering　about　in　the　dark　nights　with　
nobody　to　help　him。　And　I　should　like　to　tell　him；”　said　the　child；　
pressing　his　small　hands　together；　and　speaking　with　great　
fervour；　“that　I　was　glad　to　die　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　both　children　there　
together。”　

Mr。　Bumble　surveyed　the　little　speaker　from　head　to　foot；　with　
indescribable　astonishment；　and；　turning　to　his　companion；　said；　
“They’re　all　in　one　story；　Mrs。　Mann。　That　outdacious　Oliver　has　
demogalised　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　little　wretch！”　

“Take　him　away；　ma’am！”　said　Mr。　Bumble　imperiously。　“This　
must　be　stated　to　the　Board；　Mrs。　Mann。”　

“I　hope　the　gentlemen　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　the　true　state　of　the　case；”　said　Mr。　Bumble。　“There；　take　him　
away；　I　can’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　
cocked　hat　for　a　round　one；　and　encased　his　person　in　a　blue　
greatcoat　with　a　cape　to　it；　took　his　place　on　the　outside　of　the　
coach；　accompanied　by　the　criminals　whose　settlement　was　

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disputed；　with　whom；　in　due　course　of　time；　he　arrived　in　London。　
He　experienced　no　other　crosses　on　the　way；　than　those　which　
originated　in　the　perverse　behaviour　of　the　two　paupers；　who　
persisted　in　shivering；　and　complaining　of　the　cold；　in　a　manner　
which；　Mr。　Bumble　declared；　caused　his　teeth　to　chatter　in　his　
head；　and　made　him　feel　quite　uncomfortable；　although　he　had　a　
greatcoat　on。　

Having　disposed　of　these　evil…minded　persons　for　the　night；　Mr。　
Bumble　sat　himself　down　in　the　house　at　which　the　coach　stopped；　
and　took　a　temperate　dinner　of　steaks；　oyster　sauce；　and　porter。　
Putting　a　glass　of　hot　gin…and…water　on　the　chimney…piece；　he　
drew　his　chair　to　the　fire；　and；　with　sundry　moral　reflections　on　
the　too　prevalent　sin　of　discontent　and　complaining；　composed　
himself　to　read　the　paper。　

The　very　first　paragraph　upon　which　Mr。　Bumble’s　eye　rested；　
was　the　following　advertisement。　

“FIVE　GUINEAS　REWARD”　

“Whereas　a　young　boy；　named　Oliver　Twist；　absconded；　or　was　
enticed；　on　Thursday　evening　last；　from　his　home；　at　Pentonville；　
and　has　not　since　been　heard　of。　The　above　reward　will　be　paid　to　
any　person　who　will　give　such　information　as　will　lead　to　the　
discovery　of　the　said　Oliver　Twist；　or　tend　to　throw　any　light　upon　
his　previous　history；　in　which　the　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。　

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Mr。　Bumble　opened　his　eyes；　read　the　advertisement；　slowly　
and　carefully；　three　several　times；　and　in　something　more　than　
five　minutes　was　on　his　way　to　Pentonville；　having　actually；　in　his　
excitement；　left　the　glass　of　hot　gin…and…water　untasted。　

“Is　Mr。　Brownlow　at　home？”　inquired　Mr。　Bumble　of　the　girl　
who　opened　the　door。　

To　this　inquiry　the　girl　returned　the　not　uncommon；　but　rather　
evasive　reply　of　“I　don’t　know；　where　do　you　come　from？”　

Mr。　Bumble　no　sooner　uttered　Oliver’s　name；　in　explanation　of　
his　errand；　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　said　this；　the　worthy　old　lady　hurried　back　into　the　
parlour　again；　and　seating　herself　on　a　sofa；　burst　into　tears。　The　
girl；　who　was　not　quite　so　susceptible；　had　run　upstairs　
meanwhile；　and　now　returned　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　his　friend　Mr。　Grimwig；　with　decanters　and　glasses　
before　them。　The　latter　gentleman　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；　will　you？”　

Mr。　Bumble　sat　himself　down；　quite　confounded　by　the　oddity　
of　Mr。　Grimwig’s　manner。　Mr。　Brownlow　moved　the　lamp；　so　as　to　
obtain　an　uninterrupted　view　of　the　beadle’s　countenance；　and　

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said；　with　a　little　impatience：　

“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；　and　resumed：　

“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。　
“Speak　out；　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　with　portentous　solemnity。　

You　see？”　said　Mr。　Grimwig；　looking　triumphantly　at　Mr。　
Brownlow。　

Mr。　Brownlow　looked　apprehensively　at　Mr。　Bumble’s　pursed…
up　countenance；　and　requested　him　to　communicate　what　he　
knew　regarding　Oliver；　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。　

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It　would　be　tedious　if　given　in　the　beadle’s　words；　occupying　as　
it　did；　some　twenty　minutes　in　the　telling；　but　the　sum　and　
substance　of　it　was；　That　Oliver　was　a　foundling；　born　of　low　and　
vicious　parents。　That　he　had；　from　his　birth；　displayed　no　better　
qualities　than　treachery；　ingratitude；　and　malice。　That　he　had　
terminated　his　brief　career　in　the　place　of　his　birth；　by　making　a　
sanguinary　and　cowardly　attack　on　an　unoffending　lad；　and　
running　away　in　the　night…time　from　his　master’s　house。　In　proof　
of　his　really　being　the　person　he　represented　himself；　Mr。　Bumble　
laid　upon　the　table　the　papers　he　had　brought　to　town；　and　folding　
his　arms　again；　awaited　Mr。　Brownlow’s　observations。　

“I　fear　it　is　all　too　true；”　said　the　old　gentleman　sorrowfully；　
after　looking　over　the　papers。　“This　is　not　much　for　your　
intelligence；　but　I　would　gladly　have　given　you　treble　the　money；　if　
it　had　been　favourable　to　the　boy。”　

It　is　not　improbable　that　if　Mr。　Bumble　had　been　possessed　of　
this　information　at　an　earlier　period　of　the　interview；　he　might　
have　imparted　a　very　different　colouring　to　his　little　history。　It　was　
too　late　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　so　much　disturbed　by　the　beadle’s　tale；　that　even　Mr。　
Grimwig　forbore　to　vex　him　further。　

At　length　he　stopped；　and　rang　the　bell　violently。　

“Mrs。　Bedwin；”　said　Mr。　Brownlow；　when　the　housekeeper　
appeared；　“that　boy；　Oliver；　is　an　impostor。”　

“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　by　can’t　be？　We　have　just　heard　a　full　account　of　him　from　

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his　birth；　and　he　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　
lying　story…books；”　growled　Mr。　Grimwig。　“I　knew　it　all　along。　Why　
didn’t　you　take　my　advice　in　the　beginning；　you　would；　if　he　hadn’t　
had　a　fever；　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　forty　years；　and　people　who　can’t　say　the　same；　shouldn’t　say　
anything　about　them。　That’s　my　opinion！”　

This　was　a　hard　hit　at　Mr。　Grimwig；　who　was　a　bachelor。　As　it　
extorted　nothing　from　that　gentleman　but　a　smile；　the　old　lady　
tossed　her　head；　and　smoothed　down　her　apron　preparatory　to　
another　speech；　when　she　was　stopped　by　Mr。　Brownlow。　

“Silence！”　said　the　old　gentleman；　feigning　an　anger　he　was　far　
fr