oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第93部分

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ruefulness；　as　Mr。　Grimwig　disappeared　with　the　two　old　woman—　
”I　hope　that　this　unfortunate　little　circumstance　will　not　deprive　
me　of　my　porochial　office？”　

“Indeed　it　will；”　replied　Mr。　Brownlow。　“You　may　make　up　your　
mind　to　that；　and　think　yourself　well　off　besides。”　

“It　was　all　Mrs。　Bumble。—She　would　do　it；”　urged　Mr。　Bumble；　
first　looking　round　to　ascertain　that　his　partner　had　left　the　room。　

“That　is　no　excuse；”　replied　Mr。　Brownlow。　“You　were　present　
on　the　occasion　of　the　destruction　of　these　trinkets；　and　indeed　are　
the　more　guilty　of　the　two；　in　the　eye　of　the　law；　for　the　law　
supposes　that　your　wife　acts　under　your　direction。”　

“If　the　law　supposes　that；”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　squeezing　his　hat　
emphatically　in　both　hands；　“the　law　is　a　ass—a　idiot。　If　that’s　the　
eye　of　the　law；　the　law　is　a　bachelor；　and　the　worst　I　wish　the　law　
is；　that　his　eye　may　be　opened　by　experience—by　experience。”　

Laying　great　stress　on　the　repetition　of　these　two　words；　Mr。　
Bumble　fixed　his　hat　on　very　tight；　and　putting　his　hands　in　his　
pockets；　followed　his　helpmate　downstairs。　

“Young　lady；”　said　Mr。　Brownlow；　turning　to　Rose；　“give　me　

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your　hand。　Do　not　tremble。　You　need　not　fear　to　hear　the　few　
remaining　words　I　have　to　say。”　

“If　they　have—I　do　not　know　how　they　can；　but　if　they　have　any　
reference　to　me；”　said　Rose；　“pray　let　me　hear　them　at　some　other　
time。　I　have　not　strength　or　spirits　now。”　

“Nay；”　returned　the　old　gentleman；　drawing　her　arm　through　
his；　“you　have　more　fortitude　than　this；　I　am　sure。　Do　you　know　
this　young　lady；　sir？”　

“Yes；”　replied　Monks。　

“I　never　saw　you　before；”　said　Rose　faintly。　

“I　have　seen　you　often；”　returned　Monks。　

“The　father　of　the　unhappy　Agnes　had　two　daughters；”　said　Mr。　
Brownlow。　“What　was　the　fate　of　the　other—the　child？”　

“The　child；”　replied　Monks；　“when　her　father　died　in　a　strange　
place；　in　a　strange　name；　without　a　letter；　book；　or　scrap　of　paper　
that　yielded　the　faintest　clue　by　which　his　friends　or　relatives　
could　be　traced—the　child　was　taken　by　some　wretched　cottagers；　
who　reared　it　as　their　own。”　

“Go　on；”　said　Mr。　Brownlow；　sighing　to　Mrs。　Maylie　to　
approach。　“Go　on！”　

“You　couldn’t　find　the　spot　to　which　these　people　had　
repaired；”　said　Monks；　“but　where　friendship　fails；　hatred　will　
often　force　a　way。　My　mother　found　it；　after　a　year　of　cunning　
search—ay；　and　found　the　child。”　

“She　took　it；　did　she？”　

“No。　The　people　were　poor　and　began　to　sicken—at　least　the　
man　did—of　their　fine　humanity；　so　she　left　it　with　them；　giving　
them　a　small　present　of　money　which　would　not　last　long；　and　
promising　more；　which　she　never　meant　to　send。　She　didn’t　quite　

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rely；　however；　on　their　discontent　and　poverty　for　the　child’s　
unhappiness；　but　told　the　history　of　her　sister’s　shame；　with　such　
alterations　as　suited　her；　bade　them　take　good　heed　of　the　child；　
for　she　came　of　bad　blood；　and　told　them　she　was　illegitimate；　and　
sure　to　go　wrong　at　one　time　or　other。　The　circumstances　
countenanced　all　this；　the　people　believed　it；　and　there　the　child　
dragged　on　an　existence；　miserable　enough　even　to　satisfy　us；　until　
a　widow　lady；　residing；　then；　at　Chester；　saw　the　girl　by　chance；　
pitied　her；　and　took　her　home。　There　was　some　cursed　spell；　I　
think；　against　us；　for　in　spite　of　all　our　efforts　she　remained　there　
and　was　happy。　I　lost　sight　of　her；　two　or　three　years　ago；　and　saw　
her　no　more　until　a　few　months　back。”　

“Do　you　see　her　now？”　

“Yes。　Leaning　on　your　arm。”　

“But　not　the　less　my　niece；”　cried　Mrs。　Maylie；　folding　the　
fainting　girl　in　her　arms；　“not　the　less　my　dearest　child。　I　would　
not　lose　her　now；　for　all　the　treasures　of　the　world。　My　sweet　
companion；　my　own　dear　girl！”　

“The　only　friend　I　ever　had；”　cried　Rose；　clinging　to　her。　“The　
kindest；　best　of　friends。　My　heart　will　burst；　I　cannot　bear　all　this。”　

“You　have　borne　more；　and　have　been　through　all；　the　best　and　
gentlest　creature　that　ever　shed　happiness　on　every　one　she　
knew；”　said　Mrs。　Maylie；　embracing　her　tenderly。　“Come；　come；　
my　love；　remember　who　this　is　who　waits　to　clasp　you　in　his　arms；　
poor　child！　See　here—look；　look；　my　dear！”　

“Not　aunt；”　cried　Oliver；　throwing　his　arms　about　her　neck；　“I’ll　
never　call　her　aunt—sister；　my　own　dear　sister；　that　something　
taught　my　heart　to　love　so　dearly　from　the　first！　Rose；　dear；　darling　
Rose！”　

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Let　the　tears　which　fell；　and　the　broken　words　which　were　
exchanged　in　the　long；　close　embrace　between　the　orphans；　be　
sacred。　A　father；　sister；　and　mother；　were　gained；　and　lost；　in　that　
one　moment。　Joy　and　grief　were　mingled　in　the　cup；　but　there　
were　no　bitter　tears；　for　even　grief　itself　arose　so　softened；　and　
clothed　in　such　sweet　and　tender　recollections；　that　it　became　a　
solemn　pleasure；　and　lost　all　character　of　pain。　

They　were　a　long；　long　time　alone。　A　soft　tap　at　the　door；　at　
length　announced　that　some　one　was　without。　Oliver　opened　it；　
glided　away；　and　gave　place　to　Harry　Maylie。　

“I　know　it　all；”　he　said；　taking　a　seat　beside　the　lovely　girl。　
“Dear　Rose；　I　know　it　all。”　

“I　am　not　here　by　accident；”　he　added；　after　a　lengthened　
silence；　“nor　have　I　heard　all　this　tonight；　but　I　knew　it　
yesterday—only　yesterday。　Do　you　guess　that　I　have　come　to　
remind　you　of　a　promise？”　

“Stay；”　said　Rose。　“You　do　know　all。”　

“All。　You　gave　me　leave；　at　any　time　within　a　year；　to　renew　the　
subject　of　our　last　discourse。”　

“I　did。”　

“Not　to　press　you　to　alter　your　determination；”　pursued　the　
young　man；　“but　to　hear　you　repeat　it；　if　you　would。　I　was　to　lay　
whatever　of　station　or　fortune　I　might　possess　at　your　feet；　and　if　
you　still　adhered　to　your　former　determination；　I　pledged　myself；　
by　no　word　or　act；　to　seek　to　change　it。”　

“The　same　reasons　which　influenced　me　then；　will　influence　me　
now；”　said　Rose　firmly。　“If　I　ever　owed　a　strict　and　rigid　duty　to　
her；　whose　goodness　saved　me　from　a　life　of　indigence　and　
suffering；　when　should　I　ever　feel　it；　as　I　should　tonight？　It　is　a　

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struggle；”　said　Rose；　“but　one　I　am　proud　to　make；　it　is　a　pang；　but　

one　my　heart　shall　bear。”　

“The　disclosure　of　tonight—”　Harry　began。　

“The　disclosure　of　tonight；”　replied　Rose　softly；　“leaves　me　in　
the　same　position；　with　reference　to　you；　as　that　in　which　I　stood　
before。”　

“You　harden　your　heart　against　me；　Rose；”　urged　her　lover。　

“Oh；　Harry；　Harry；”　said　the　young　lady；　bursting　into　tears；　“I　
wish　I　could；　and　spare　myself　this　pain。”　

“Then　why　inflict　it　on　yourself？”　said　Harry；　taking　her　hand。　
“Think；　dear　Rose；　think　what　you　have　heard　tonight。”　

“And　what　have　I　heard？　What　have　I　heard？”　cried　Rose。　
“That　a　sense　of　his　deep　disgrace　so　worked　upon　my　own　father　
that　he　shunned　all　There；　we　have　said　enough；　Harry；　we　have　
said　enough。”　

“Not　yet；　not　yet；”　said　the　young　man；　detaining　her　as　she　
rose。　“My　hopes；　my　wishes；　prospects；　feeling—every　thought　in　
life　except　my　love　for　you—have　undergone　a　change。　I　offer　you；　
now；　no　distinction　among　a　bustling　crowd；　no　mingling　with　a　
world　of　malice　and　detraction　where　the　blood　is　called　into　
honest　cheeks　by　aught　but　real　disgrace　and　shame；　but　a　home—　
a　heart　and　home—yes；　dearest　Rose；　and　those；　and　those　alone；　
are　all　I　have　to　offer。”　

“What　do　you　mean？”　she　faltered。　

“I　mean　but　this—that　when　I　left　you　last；　I　left　you；　with　a　
firm　determination　to　level　all　fancied　barriers　between　yourself　
and　me；　resolved　that　if　my　world　could　not　be　yours；　I　would　
make　yours　mine；　that　no　pride　of　birth　should　curl　the　lip　at　you；　
for　I　would　turn　from　it。　This　I　have　done。　Those　who　have　shrunk　

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from　me　because　of　this；　have　shrunk　from　you；　and　proved　you　so　
far　right。　Such　power　and　patronage；　such　relatives　of　influence　
and　rank；　as　smiled　upon　me　then；　look　coldly　now；　but　there　are　
smiling　fields　and　waving　trees　in　England’s　richest　county；　and　by　
one　village　church—mine；　Rose；　my　own！—there　stands　a　rustic　
dwelling　which　you　can　make　me　prouder　of；　than　all　the　hopes　I　
have　renounced；　measured　a　thousandfold。　This　is　my　rank　and　
station　now；　and　here　I　lay　it　down！”　

*****　

“It’s　a　trying　time　waiting　supper　for　lovers；”　said　Mr。　Grimwig；　
waking　up；　and　pulling　his　pocket…handkerchief　from　over　his　
head。　

Truth　to　tell；　the　supper　had　been　waiting　a　most　unreasonable　
time。　Neither　Mrs。　Maylie；　nor　Harry；　nor　Rose　（who　all　came　in　
together）；　could　offer　a　word　in　extenuation。　

“I　had　serious　thoughts　of　eating　my　head　tonight；”　said　Mr。　
Grimwig；　“for　I　began　to　think　I　should　get　nothing　else。　I’ll　take　
the　liberty；　if　you’ll　allow　me；　of　saluting　the　bride　that　is　to　be。”　

Mr。　Grimwig　lost　no　time　in　carrying　this　notice　into　effect　upon　
the　blushing　girl；　and　the　example；　being　contagious；　was　followed　
both　by　the　doctor　and　Mr。　Brownlow。　Some　people　affirm　that　
Harry　Maylie　had　been　observed　to　set　it；　originally；　in　a　dark　
room　adjoining；　but　the　best　authorities　consider　this　downright　
scandal；　he　being　young　and　a　clergyman。　

“Oliver；　my　child；”　said　Mrs。　Maylie；　“where　have　you　been；　and　
why　do　you　look　so　sad？　There　are　tears　stealing　down　your　face　at　
this　moment。　What　is　the　matter？”　

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It　is　a　world　of　disappointment—often　to　the　hopes　we　most　
cherish；　and　hopes　that　do　our　nature　the　greatest　honour。　

Poor　Dick　was　dead！　

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Chapter　52　

Fagin’s　Last　Night　Alive　

The　court　was　paved；　from　floor　to　roof；　with　human　faces。　
Inquisitive　and　eager　eyes　peered　from　every　inch　of　
s