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oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第56部分

小说: oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪)) 字数: 每页4000字

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last for one short glimpse of Nature’s face; and; carried far from 
the scenes of their old pains and pleasures; have seemed to pass at 
once into a new state of being。 Crawling forth; from day to day; to 
some green sunny spot; they have had such memories wakened up 
within them by the sight of sky; and hill; and plain; and glistening 
water; that a foretaste of Heaven itself has soothed their quick 

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decline; and they have sunk into their tombs; as peacefully as the 
sun whose setting they watched from their lonely chamber 
window but a few hours before; faded from their dim and feeble 
light! The memories which peaceful country scenes 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 the graves 
of those we loved; may purify our thoughts; and bear down before 
it old enmity and hatred; but beneath all this; there lingers; in the 
least reflective mind; a vague and half…formed consciousness of 
having held such feelings long before; in some remote and distant 
time; which calls up solemn thoughts of distant times to come; and 
bends down pride and worldliness beneath it。 

It was a lovely spot to which they repaired。 Oliver; whose days 
had been spent among squalid crowds; and in the midst of noise 
and brawling; seemed to enter on a new existence there。 The rose 
and honeysuckle clung to the cottage walls; the ivy crept round the 
trunks of the trees; and the garden flowers perfumed the air with 
delicious odours。 Hard by; was a little churchyard; not crowded 
with tall; unsightly gravestones; but full of humble mounds; 
covered with fresh turf and moss; beneath which; the old people of 
the village lay at rest。 Oliver often wandered here; and; thinking of 
the wretched grave in which his mother lay; would sometimes sit 
hum down and sob unseen; but; when he raised his eyes to the 
deep sky overhead; he would cease to 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 
nights brought with them neither fear nor care; no languishing in 
a wretched prison; or associating with wretched men; nothing but 
pleasant and happy thoughts。 Every morning he went to a white…

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headed old gentleman; who lived near the little church; who 
taught him to read better; and to write; and who spoke so kindly; 
and took such pains; that Oliver could never try enough to please 
him。 Then; he would walk with Mrs。 Maylie and Rose; and hear 
them talk of books; or perhaps sit near them; in some shady place; 
and listen whilst the young lady read; which he could have done; 
until it grew too dark to see the letters。 He had his own lesson for 
the next day to prepare; and at this; he would work hard; in a little 
room which looked into the garden; till evening came slowly on; 
when the ladies would walk out again; and he with them; listening 
with such pleasure to all they said; and so happy if they wanted a 
flower that he could climb to reach; or had forgotten anything he 
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 would sit down to a piano; and play some pleasant air; or sing; 
in a low and gentle voice; some old song which it pleased her aunt 
to hear。 There would be no candles lighted at such times as these; 
and Oliver would sit by one of the windows; listening to the sweet 
music; in a perfect rapture。 

And when Sunday came; how differently the day was spent; 
from any way in which he had ever spent it yet! and how happily 
too; like all the other days in that most happy time! There was the 
little church; in the morning; with the green leaves fluttering at 
the windows; the birds singing without; and the sweet…smelling air 
stealing in at the low porch; and filling the homely building with 
its fragrance。 The poor people were so neat and clean and knelt so 
reverently in prayer; that it seemed a pleasure; not a tedious duty; 
their assembling there together; and though the singing might be 
rude; it was real; and sounded more musical (to Oliver’s ears at 

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least) than any he had ever heard in church before。 Then; there 
were the walks as usual; and many calls at the clean houses of the 
labouring men; and at night; Oliver read a chapter or two from the 
Bible; which he had been studying all the week; and in the 
performance of which duty he felt more proud and pleased; than if 
he had been the clergyman himself。 

In the morning; Oliver would be afoot by six o’clock; roaming 
the fields; and plundering the hedges; far and wide; for nosegays 
of wild flowers; with which he would return laden; home; and 
which it took great care and consideration to arrange; to the best 
advantage; for the embellishment of the breakfast…table。 There 
was fresh groundsel; too; for Miss Maylie’s birds; with which 
Oliver; who had been studying the subject under the able tuition 
of the village clerk; would decorate the cages; in the most 
approved taste。 When the birds were made all spruce and smart 
for the day; there was usually some little commission of charity to 
execute in the village; or; failing that; there was rare cricket…
playing; sometimes; on the green; or; failing that; there was always 
something to do in the garden; or about the plants; to which Oliver 
(who had studied this science also; under the same master; who 
was a gardener by trade) applied himself with hearty goodwill; 
until Miss Rose made her appearance; when there were a 
thousand commendations to be bestowed on all he had done。 

So three months glided away; three months which; in the life of 
the most blessed and favoured of mortals; might have been 
unmingled happiness; and which; in Oliver’s; were true felicity。 
With the purest and most amiable generosity on one side; and the 
truest; warmest; soul…felt gratitude on the other; it is no wonder 
that; by the end of that short time; Oliver Twist had become 

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completely domesticated with the old lady and her niece; and that 
the fervent attachment of his young and sensitive heart; was 
repaid by their pride in; and attachment to; himself。 

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Oliver Twist 341 

Chapter 33 

Wherein The Happiness Of Oliver And His Friends;
Experiences A Sudden Check。


S pring flew swiftly by; and summer came。 If the village had 
been beautiful at first it was now in the full glow and 
luxuriance of its richness。 The great trees; which had 
looked shrunken and bare in the earlier months; had now burst 
into strong life and health; and stretching forth their green arms 
over the thirsty ground; converted open and naked spots into 
choice nooks; where was a deep and pleasant shade from which to 
look upon the wide prospect; steeped in sunshine; which lay 
stretched beyond。 The earth had donned her mantle of brightest 
green; and shed her richest perfumes abroad。 It was the prime and 
vigour of the year; all things were glad and flourishing。 

Still; the same quiet life went on at the little cottage; and the 
same cheerful serenity prevailed among its inmates。 Oliver had 
long since grown stout and healthy; but health or sickness made 
no difference in his warm feelings to those about him; though they 
do in the feelings of a great many people。 He was still the same 
gentle; attached; affectionate creature that he had been when pain 
and suffering had wasted his strength; and when he was 
dependent for every slight attention and comfort on those who 
tended him。 

One beautiful night; they had taken a longer walk than was 
customary with them; for the day had been unusually warm; and 
there was a brilliant moon; and a light wind had sprung up; which 

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was unusually refreshing。 Rose had been in high spirits; too; and 
they had walked on; in merry conversation; until they had far 
exceeded their ordinary bounds。 Mrs。 Maylie being fatigued; they 
returned more slowly home。 The young lady merely throwing off 
her simple bonnet; sat down to the piano as usual。 After running 
abstractedly over the keys for a few minutes; she fell into a low 
and very solemn air; and; as she played it; 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 
words had roused her from some painful thoughts。 

“Rose; my love!” cried Mrs。 Maylie; rising hastily; and bending 
over her。 “What is this? In tears! My dear child; what distresses 
you?” 

“Nothing; aunt; nothing;” replied the young lady。 “I don’t know 
what it 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 
deadly chillness were passing over her; while she spoke; “I shall be 
better presently。 Close the window; pray!” 

Oliver hastened to comply with her request。 The young lady; 
making an effort to recover her cheerfulness; strove to play some 
livelier tune; but her fingers dropped powerless on the keys。 
Covering her face with her hands; she sank upon a sofa; and gave 
vent to the tears which she was now unable to repress。 

“My child!” said the elderly lady; folding her arms about her。 “I 
never saw you so before。” 

“I would not alarm you if I could avoid it;” rejoined Rose; “but 
indeed I have tried very hard; and cannot help this。 I fear I am ill; 

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aunt。” 

She was; indeed; for; when candles were brought; they saw that 
in the very short time which had elapsed since their return home; 
the hue of her countenance had changed to a marble whiteness。 
Its expression had lost nothing of its beauty; but it was changed; 
and there was an anxious; haggard look about

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