oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第119章

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Motioning　them　to　remain　where　they　were；　the　turnkey　knocked　
at　one　of　these　with　his　bunch　of　keys。　The　two　attendants；　after　a　
little　whispering；　came　out　into　the　passage；　stretching　themselves　
as　if　glad　of　the　temporary　relief；　and　motioned　the　visitors　to　

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follow　the　jailer　into　the　cell。　They　did　so。　

The　condemned　criminal　was　seated　on　his　bed；　rocking　
himself　from　side　to　side；　with　a　countenance　more　like　that　of　a　
snared　beast　than　the　face　of　a　man。　His　mind　was　evidently　
wandering　to　his　old　life；　for　he　continued　to　mutter；　without　
appearing　conscious　of　their　presence　otherwise　than　as　a　part　of　
his　vision。　

“Good　boy；　Charley—well　done；”　he　mumbled。　“Oliver；　too；　ha！　
ha！　ha！　Oliver　too—quite　the　gentleman　now—quite　the—Take　the　
boy　away　to　bed！”　

The　jailer　took　the　disengaged　hand　of　Oliver；　and；　whispering　
to　him　not　to　be　alarmed；　looked　on　without　speaking。　

“Take　him　away　to　bed！”　cried　Fagin。　“Do　you　hear　me；　some　of　
you？　He　has　been　the—the—somehow　the　cause　of　all　this。　It’s　
worth　the　money　to　bring　him　up　to　it—Bolter’s　throat；　Bill；　never　
mind　the　girl—Bolter’s　throat　as　deep　as　you　can　cut。　Saw　his　
head　off！”　

“Fagin；”　said　the　jailer。　

“That’s　me！”　cried　Fagin；　falling　instantly　into　the　attitude　of　
listening　he　had　assumed　upon　his　trial。　“An　old　man；　my　Lord；　a　
very　old；　old　man！”　

“Here；”　said　the　turnkey；　laying　his　hand　upon　his　breast　to　
keep　him　down。　“Here’s　somebody　wants　to　see　you；　to　ask　you　
some　questions；　I　suppose。　Fagin；　Fagin！　Are　you　a　man？”　

“I　shan’t　be　one　long；”　he　replied；　looking　up　with　a　face　
retaining　no　human　expression　but　rage　and　terror。　“Strike　them　
all　dead！　What　right　have　they　to　butcher　me？”　

As　he　spoke　he　caught　sight　of　Oliver　and　Mr。　Brownlow。　
Shrinking　to　the　farthest　corner　of　the　seat；　he　demanded　to　know　

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what　they　wanted　there。　

“Steady；”　said　the　turnkey；　still　holding　him　down。　“Now；　sir；　
tell　him　what　you　want。　Quick；　if　you　please；　for　he　grows　worse　as　
the　time　gets　on。”　

‘‘You　have　some　papers；”　said　Mr。　Brownlow；　advancing；　
“which　were　placed　in　your　hands；　for　better　security；　by　a　man　
called　Monks。”　

“It’s　all　a　lie　together；”　replied　Fagin。　“I　haven’t　one—not　one。”　

“For　the　love　of　God；”　said　Mr。　Brownlow　solemnly；　“do　not　say　
that　now；　upon　the　very　verge　of　death；　but　tell　me　where　they　are。　
You　know　that　Sikes　is　dead；　that　Monks　has　confessed；　that　there　
is　no　hope　of　any　further　gain。　Where　are　those　papers？”　

“Oliver；”　cried　Fagin；　beckoning　to　him。　“Here；　here！　Let　me　
whisper　to　you。”　

“I　am　not　afraid；”　said　Oliver；　in　a　low　voice；　as　he　relinquished　
Mr。　Brownlow’s　hand。　

“The　papers；”　said　Fagin；　drawing　Oliver　towards　him；　“are　in　a　
canvas　bag；　in　a　hole　a　little　way　up　the　chimney　in　the　top　front　
room。　I　want　to　talk　to　you；　my　dear。　I　want　to　talk　to　you。”　

“Yes；　yes；”　returned　Oliver。　“Let　me　say　a　prayer。　Do！　Let　me　
say　one　prayer。　Say　only　one　upon　your　knees；　with　me；　and　we　
will　talk　till　morning。”　

“Outside；　outside；”　replied　Fagin；　pushing　the　boy　before　him　
towards　the　door；　and　looking　vacantly　over　his　head。　“Say　I’ve　
gone　to　sleep—they’ll　believe　you。　You　can　get　me　out；　if　you　take　
me　so。　Now　then；　now　then！”　

“Oh！　God　forgive　this　wretched　man！”　cried　the　boy；　with　a　
burst　of　tears。　

“That’s　right；　that’s　right；”　said　Fagin。　“That’ll　help　us　on。　This　

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door　first。　If　I　shake　and　tremble；　as　we　pass　the　gallows；　don’t　you　

mind；　but　hurry　on。　Now；　now；　now！”　

“Have　you　nothing　else　to　ask　him；　sir？”　inquired　the　turnkey。　

“No　other　question；”　replied　Mr。　Brownlow。　“If　I　hoped　we　
could　recall　him　to　a　sense　of　his　position”—　

“Nothing　will　do　that；　sir；”　replied　the　man；　shaking　his　head。　
“You　had　better　leave　him。”　

The　door　of　the　cell　opened；　and　the　attendants　returned。　

“Press　on；　press　on；”　cried　Fagin。　“Softly；　but　not　so　slow。　
Faster；　faster！”　

The　men　laid　hands　upon　him；　and　disengaging　Oliver　from　his　
grasp；　held　him　back。　He　struggled　with　the　power　of　desperation；　
for　an　instant；　and　then　sent　up　cry　upon　cry　that　penetrated　even　
those　massive　walls；　and　rang　in　their　ears　until　they　reached　the　
open　yard。　

It　was　some　time　before　they　left　the　prison。　Oliver　nearly　
swooned　after　this　frightful　scene；　and　was　so　weak　that　for　an　
hour　or　more；　he　had　not　the　strength　to　walk。　

Day　was　dawning　when　they　again　emerged。　A　great　multitude　
had　already　assembled；　the　windows　were　filled　with　people；　
smoking　and　playing　cards　to　beguile　the　time；　the　crowd　were　
pushing；　quarrelling；　joking。　Everything　told　of　life　and　animation；　
but　one　dark　cluster　of　objects　in　the　centre　of　all—the　black　stage；　
the　cross…beam；　the　rope；　and　all　the　hideous　apparatus　of　death。　

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Chapter　53　

And　Last。　

The　fortunes　of　those　who　have　figured　in　this　tale　are　
nearly　closed。　The　little　that　remains　to　their　historian　to　
relate；　is　told　in　few　and　simple　words。　

Before　three　months　had　passed；　Rose　Fleming　and　Harry　
Maylie　were　married　in　the　village　church　which　was　henceforth　
to　be　the　scene　of　the　young　clergyman’s　labours；　on　the　same　day　
they　entered　into　possession　of　their　new　and　happy　home。　

Mrs。　Maylie　took　up　her　abode　with　her　son　and　daughter…inlaw；　to　enjoy；　during　the　tranquil　remainder　of　her　days；　the　
greatest　felicity　that　age　and　worth　can　know—the　contemplation　
of　the　happiness　of　those　on　whom　the　warmest　affections　and　
tenderest　cares　of　a　well…spent　life　have　been　unceasingly　
bestowed。　

It　appeared；　on　full　and　careful　investigation；　that　if　the　wreck　
of　property　remaining　in　the　custody　of　Monks　（which　had　never　
prospered　either　in　his　hands　or　in　those　of　his　mother）　were　
equally　divided　between　himself　and　Oliver；　it　would　yield；　to　
each；　little　more　than　three　thousand　pounds。　By　the　provisions　of　
his　father’s　will；　Oliver　would　have　been　entitled　to　the　whole；　but　
Mr。　Brownlow；　unwilling　to　deprive　the　elder　son　of　the　
opportunity　of　retrieving　his　former　vices　and　pursuing　an　honest　
career；　proposed　this　mode　of　distribution；　to　which　his　young　
charge　joyfully　acceded。　

Monks；　still　bearing　that　assumed　name；　retired　with　his　

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portion　to　a　distant　part　of　the　New　World；　where；　having　quickly　
squandered　it；　he　once　more　fell　into　his　old　courses；　and；　after　
undergoing　a　long　confinement　for　some　fresh　act　of　fraud　and　
knavery；　at　length　sank　under　an　attack　of　his　old　disorder；　and　
died　in　prison。　As　far　from　home；　died　the　chief　remaining　
members　of　his　friend　Fagin’s　gang。　

Mr。　Brownlow　adopted　Oliver　as　his　son。　Removing　with　him　
and　the　old　housekeeper　to　within　a　mile　of　the　parsonage　house；　
where　his　dear　friends　resided；　he　gratified　the　only　remaining　
wish　of　Oliver’s　warm　and　earnest　heart；　and　thus　linked　together　
a　little　society；　whose　condition　approached　as　nearly　to　one　of　
perfect　happiness　as　can　ever　be　known　in　this　changing　world。　

Soon　after　the　marriage　of　the　young　people；　the　worthy　doctor　
returned　to　Chertsey；　where；　bereft　of　the　presence　of　his　old　
friends；　he　would　have　been　discontented　if　his　temperament　had　
admitted　of　such　a　feeling；　and　would　have　turned　quite　peevish　if　
he　had　known　how。　For　two　or　three　months；　he　contented　himself　
with　hinting　that　he　feared　the　air　began　to　disagree　with　him；　
then；　finding　that　the　place　really　no　longer　was；　to　him；　what　it　
had　been；　he　settled　his　business　on　his　assistant；　took　a　bachelor’s　
cottage　outside　the　village　of　which　his　young　friend　was　pastor；　
and　instantaneously　recovered。　Here；　he　took　to　gardening；　
planting；　fishing；　carpentering；　and　various　other　pursuits　of　a　
similar　kind；　all　undertaken　with　his　characteristic