oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第78章

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communication　from　the　great　nobs　produced　this　sudden　anxiety　
on　your　part　to　be　gone？”　

“The　great　nobs；”　replied　Harry；　“under　which　designation　I　
presume；　you　include　my　most　stately　uncle；　have　not　
communicated　with　me　at　all；　since　I　have　been　here；　nor；　at　this　
time　of　the　year；　is　it　likely　that　anything　would　occur　to　render　
necessary　my　immediate　attendance　among　them。”　

“Well；”　said　the　doctor；　“you　are　a　queer　fellow。　But　of　course　
they　will　get　you　into　Parliament　at　the　election　before　Christmas；　
and　these　sudden　shiftings　and　changes　are　no　bad　preparation　for　
political　life。　There’s　something　in　that。　Good　training　is　always　
desirable；　whether　the　race　be　for　place；　cup；　or　sweepstakes。”　

Harry　Maylie　looked　as　if　he　could　have　followed　up　this　short　
dialogue　by　one　or　two　remarks　that　would　have　staggered　the　
doctor　not　a　little；　but　he　contented　himself　with　saying；　“We　shall　
see；”　and　pursued　the　subject　no　further。　The　post…chaise　drove　up　
to　the　door　shortly　afterwards；　and　Giles　coming　in　for　the　
baggage；　the　good　doctor　bustled　out；　to　see　it　packed。　

“Oliver；”　said　Harry　Maylie；　in　a　low　voice；　“let　me　speak　a　
word　with　you。”　

Oliver　walked　into　the　window…recess　to　which　Mr。　Maylie　
beckoned　him；　much　surprised　at　the　mixture　of　sadness　and　
boisterous　spirits；　which　his　whole　behaviour　displayed。　

“You　can　write　now？”　said　Harry；　laying　his　hand　upon　his　
arm。　

“I　hope　so；　sir；”　replied　Oliver。　

“I　shall　not　be　at　home　again；　perhaps　for　some　time；　I　wish　you　
would　write　to　me—say　once　a　fortnight；　every　alternate　

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Monday—to　the　General　Post　Office　in　London。　Will　you？”　

“Oh！　certainly；　sir；　I　shall　be　proud　to　do　it；”　exclaimed　Oliver；　
greatly　delighted　with　the　commission。　

“I　should　like　to　know—how　my　mother　and　Miss　Maylie　are；”　
said　the　young　man；　“and　you　can　fill　up　a　sheet　by　telling　me　
what　walks　you　take；　and　what　you　talk　about；　and　whether　she—　
they；　I　mean—seem　happy　and　quite　well。　You　understand　me？”　

“Oh！　quite；　sir；　quite；”　replied　Oliver。　

“I　would　rather　you　did　not　mention　it　to　them；”　said　Harry；　
hurrying　over　his　words；　“because　it　might　make　my　mother　
anxious　to　write　to　me　oftener；　and　it　is　a　trouble　and　worry　to　her。　
Let　it　be　a　secret　between　you　and　me；　and　mind　you　tell　me　
everything！　I　depend　upon　you。”　

Oliver；　quite　elated　and　honoured　by　a　sense　of　his　importance；　
faithfully　promised　to　be　secret　and　explicit　in　his　
communications。　Mr。　Maylie　took　leave　of　him；　with　many　
assurances　of　his　regard　and　protection。　

The　doctor　was　in　the　chaise；　Giles　（who；　it　had　been　arranged；　
should　be　left　behind）　held　the　door　open　in　his　hand；　and　the　
women…servants　were　in　the　garden；　looking　on。　Harry　cast　one　
slight　glance　at　the　latticed　window；　and　jumped　into　the　carriage。　

“Drive　on！”　he　cried；　“hard；　fast；　full　gallop！　Nothing　short　of　
flying　will　keep　pace　with　me；　today。”　

“Hallo！”　cried　the　doctor；　letting　down　the　front　glass　in　a　great　
hurry；　and　shouting　to　the　postillion；　“something　very　short　of　
flying　will　keep　pace　with　me。　Do　you　hear？”　

Jingling　and　clattering；　till　distance　rendered　its　noise　
inaudible；　and　its　progress　only　perceptible　to　the　eye；　the　vehicle　
wound　its　way　along　the　road；　almost　hidden　in　a　cloud　of　dust；　

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now　wholly　disappearing；　and　now　becoming　visible　again；　as　
intervening　objects；　or　the　intricacies　of　the　way；　permitted。　It　was　
not　until　even　the　dusty　cloud　was　no　longer　to　be　seen；　that　the　
gazers　dispersed。　

And　there　was　one　looker…on；　who　remained　with　eyes　fixed　
upon　the　spot　where　the　carriage　had　disappeared；　long　after　it　
was　many　miles　away；　for；　behind　the　white　curtain　which　had　
shrouded　her　from　view　when　Harry　raised　his　eyes　towards　the　
window；　sat　Rose　herself。　

“He　seems　in　high　spirits　and　happy；”　she　said；　at　length。　“I　
feared　for　a　time　he　might　be　otherwise。　I　was　mistaken。　I　am　very；　
very　glad。”　

Tears　are　signs　of　gladness　as　well　as　grief；　but　those　which　
coursed　down　Rose’s　face；　as　she　sat　pensively　at　the　window；　still　
gazing　in　the　same　direction；　seemed　to　tell　more　of　sorrow　than　of　
joy。　

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Chapter　37　

In　Which　The　Reader　May　Perceive　A　Contrast；　Not
Uncommon　In　Matrimonial　Cases。


Mr。　Bumble　sat　in　the　workhouse　parlour；　with　his　eyes　
moodily　fixed　on　the　cheerless　grate；　whence；　as　it　was　
summer　time；　no　brighter　gleam　proceeded；　than　the　
reflection　of　certain　sickly　rays　of　the　sun；　which　were　sent　back　
from　its　cold　and　shining　surface。　A　paper　fly…cage　dangled　from　
the　ceiling；　to　which　he　occasionally　raised　his　eyes　in　gloomy　
thought；　and；　as　the　heedless　insects　hovered　round　the　gaudy　
network；　Mr。　Bumble　would　heave　a　deep　sigh；　while　a　more　
gloomy　shadow　overspread　his　countenance。　Mr。　Bumble　was　
meditating；　it　might　be　that　the　insects　brought　to　mind　some　
painful　passage　in　his　own　past　life。　
Nor　was　Mr。　Bumble’s　gloom　the　only　thing　calculated　to　
awaken　a　pleasing　melancholy　in　the　bosom　of　a　spectator。　There　
were　not　wanting　other　appearances；　and　those　closely　connected　
with　his　own　person；　which　announced　that　a　great　change　had　
taken　place　in　the　position　of　his　affairs。　The　laced　coat；　and　the　
cocked　hat；　where　were　they？　He　still　wore　knee…breeches；　and　
dark　cotton　stockings　on　his　nether　limbs；　but　they　were　not　the　
breeches。　The　coat　was　wide…skirted；　and　in　that　respect　like　the　
coat；　but；　oh；　how　different！　The　mighty　cocked　hat　was　replaced　
by　a　modest　round　one。　Mr。　Bumble　was　no　longer　a　beadle。　

There　are　some　promotions　in　life；　which；　independent　of　the　
more　substantial　rewards　they　offer；　acquire　peculiar　value　and　

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dignity　from　the　coats　and　waistcoats　connected　with　them。　A　
field…marshal　has　his　uniform；　a　bishop　his　silk　apron；　a　counsellor　
his　silk　gown；　a　beadle　his　cocked　hat。　Strip　the　bishop　of　his　
apron；　or　the　beadle　of　his　hat　and　lace；　what　are　they？　Men。　Mere　
men。　Dignity；　and　even　holiness　too；　sometimes；　are　more　
questions　of　coat　and　waistcoat　than　some　people　imagine。　

Mr。　Bumble　had　married　Mrs。　Corney；　and　was　master　of　the　
workhouse。　Another　beadle　had　come　into　power。　On　him　the　
cocked　hat；　gold…laced　coat；　and　staff；　had　all　three　descended。　

“And　tomorrow　two　months　it　was　done！”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　
with　a　sigh。　“It　seems　a　age。”　

Mr。　Bumble　might　have　meant　that　he　had　concentrated　a　
whole　existence　of　happiness　into　the　short　space　of　eight　weeks；　
but　the　sigh—there　was　a　vast　deal　of　meaning　in　the　sigh。　

“I　sold　myself；”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　pursuing　the　same　train　of　
reflection；　“for　six　tea…spoons；　a　pair　of　sugar…tongs；　and；　a　milk…
pot；　with　a　small　quantity　of　second…hand　furniture　and　twenty　
pound　in　money。　I　went　very　reasonable。　Cheap；　dirt　cheap！”　

“Cheap！”　cried　a　shrill　voice　in　Mr。　Bumble’s　ear；　“you　would　
have　been　dear　at　any　price；　and　dear　enough　I　paid　for　you；　Lord　
above　knows　that！”　

Mr。　Bumble　turned；　and　encountered　the　face　of　his　interesting　
consort；　who；　imperfectly　comprehending　the　few　words　she　had　
overheard　of　his　complaint；　had　hazarded　the　foregoing　remark　at　
a　venture。　

“Mrs。　Bumble；　ma’am！”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　with　sentimental　
sternness。　

“Well？”　cried　the　lady。　

“Have　the　goodness　to　look　at　me；”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　fixing　his　

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eyes　upon　her。　（“If　she　stands　such　a　eye　as　that；”　said　Mr。　Bumble　
to　himself；　“she　can　stand　anything。　It　is　a　eye　I　never　knew　to　fail　
with　paupers。　If　it　fails　with　her；　my　power　is　gone。”）　Whether　an　
exceedingly　small　expansion　of　eye　be　sufficient　to　quell　paupers；　
who；　being　lightly　fed；　are　in　no　very　high　condition；　or　whether　
the　late　Mrs。　Corney　was　particularly　proof　against　eagle　glances；　
are　matters　of　opinion。　The　matter　of　fact