oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第56部分

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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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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