Oliver Twist

by Charles Dickens

  Mrs. Corney sobbed.

  "The little word?" said Mr. Bumble, bending over the bashful beauty. "The one little, little, little word, my blessed Corney?"

  "Ye--ye--yes!" sighed out the matron.

  "One more," pursued the beadle; "compose your darling feelings for only one more. When is it to come off?"

  Mrs. Corney twice essayed to speak, and twice failed. At length summoning up courage, she threw her arms around Mr. Bumble's neck, and said it might be as soon as ever he pleased, and that he was "a irresistible duck."

  Matters being thus amicably and satisfactorily arranged, the contract was solemnly ratified in another teacupful of the peppermint mixture, which was rendered the more necessary by the flutter and agitation of the lady's spirits. While it was being disposed of, she acquainted Mr. Bumble with the old woman's decease.

  "Very good," said that gentleman, sipping his peppermint; "I'll call at Sowerberry's as I go home, and tell him to send to morrow morning. Was it that as frightened you, love?"

  "It wasn't anything particular, dear," said the lady, evasively.

  "It must have been something, love," urged Mr. Bumble. "Won't you tell your own B.?"

  "Not now," rejoined the lady; "one of these days. After we're married, dear."

  "After we're married!" exclaimed Mr. Bumble. "It wasn't any impudence from any of them male paupers as--"

  "No, no, love!" interposed the lady, hastily.

  "If I thought it was," continued Mr. Bumble, "if I thought as any one of 'em had dared to lift his wulgar eyes to that lovely countenance--"

  "They wouldn't have dared to do it, love," responded the lady.

  "They had better not!" said Mr. Bumble, clenching his fist. "Let me see any man, porochial or extraporochial, as would presume to do it; and I can tell him that he wouldn't do it a second time!"

  Unembellished by any violence of gesticulation, this might have seemed no very high compliment to the lady's charms; but, as Mr. Bumble accompanied the threat with many warlike gestures, she was much touched with this proof of his devotion, and protested, with great admiration, that he was indeed a dove.

  The dove then turned up his coat-collar and put on his cocked-hat and, having exchanged a long and affectionate embrace with his future partner, once again braved the cold wind of the night, merely pausing for a few minutes, in the male paupers' ward, to abuse them a little, with the view of satisfying himself that he could fill the office of workhouse-master with needful acerbity. Assured of his qualifications, Mr. Bumble left the building with a light heart and bright visions of his future promotion, which served to occupy his mind until he reached the shop of the undertaker.

  Now, Mr. and Mrs. Sowerberry having gone out to tea and supper, and Noah Claypole not being at any time disposed to take upon himself a greater amount of physical exertion than is necessary to a convenient performance of the two functions of eating and drinking, the shop was not closed, although it was past the usual hour of shutting-up. Mr. Bumble tapped with his cane on the counter several times; but, attracting no attention, and beholding a light shining through the glass window of the little parlour at the back of the shop, he made bold to peep in and see what was going forward; and when he saw what was going forward, he was not a little surprised.

  The cloth was laid for supper; the table was covered with bread and butter, plates and glasses, a porter-pot and a wine-bottle. At the upper end of the table, Mr. Noah Claypole lolled negligently in an easy-chair with his legs thrown over one of the arms, an open clasp-knife in one hand, and a mass of buttered bread in the other. Close beside him stood Charlotte, opening oysters from a barrel, which Mr. Claypole condescended to swallow with remarkable avidity. A more than ordinary redness in the region of the young gentleman's nose, and a kind of fixed wink in his right eye, denoted that he was in a slight degree intoxicated; these symptoms were confirmed by the intense relish with which he took his oysters, for which nothing but a strong appreciation of their cooling properties, in cases of internal fever, could have sufficiently accounted.

  "Here's a delicious fat one, Noah, dear!" said Charlotte; "try him, do; only this one."

  "What a delicious thing is a oyster!" remarked Mr. Claypole, after he had swallowed it. "What a pity it is, a number of 'em should ever made you feel uncomfortable; isn't it, Char lotte?"

  "It's quite a cruelty," said Charlotte.

  "So it is," acquiesced Mr. Claypole. "A'nt yer fond of oysters?"

  "Not overmuch," replied Charlotte. "I like to see you eat 'em, Noah dear, better than eating 'em myself"

  "Lor'!" said Noah, reflectively; "how queer!"

  "Have another," said Charlotte. "Here's one with such a beautiful, delicate beard!"

  "I can't manage any more," said Noah. "I'm very sorry. Come here, Charlotte, and I'll kiss yer."

  "What!" said Mr. Bumble, bursting into the room. "Say that again, sir."

  Charlotte uttered a scream, and hid her face in her apron. Mr. Claypole, without making any further change in his position than suffering his legs to reach the ground, gazed at the beadle in drunken terror.

  "Say it again, you wile, owdacious fellow!" said Mr. Bumble. "How dare you mention such a thing, sir? And how dear you encourage him, you insolent minx? Kiss her!" exclaimed Mr. Bumble, in strong indignation. "Faugh!"

  "I didn't. mean to do it!" said Noah, blubbering. "She's always a-kissing of me,. whether I like it or not."

  "Oh, Noah," cried Charlotte, reproachfully.

  "Yer are; yer know yer are!" retorted Noah. "She's always a-doing of it. Mr. Bumble, sir; she chucks me under the chin, please, sir; and makes all manner of love!"

  "Silence!" cried Mr. Bumble, sternly. "Take yourself downstairs, ma'am. Noah, you shut up the shop; say another word till your master comes home, at your peril; and, when he does. come home, tell him that Mr. Bumble said he was to send a old woman's shell after breakfast tomorrow morning. Do you hear, sir? Kissing!" cried Mr. Bumble, holding up his hands. "The. sin and wickedness of the lower orders in the porochial district is frightful! If parliament don't take their abominable courses under consideration, this country's ruined, and the character of the peasantry gone for ever!" With these words, the beadle strode, with a lofty and gloomy air, from the undertaker's premises.

  And now that we have accompanied him so far on his road home, and have made all necessary preparations for the old woman's funeral. let us set on foot a few inquiries after young Oliver Twist and ascertain whether he be still lying in the ditch where Toby Crackit left him.

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  Looks after Oliver, and proceeds with his adventures.

  "WOLVES TEAR YOUR THROATS!" MUTTERED SIKES, GRINDING his teeth. "I wish I was among some of you; you'd howl the hoarser for it."

  As Sikes growled forth this imprecation, with the most desperate ferocity that his desperate nature was capable of, he rested the body of the wounded boy across his bended knee, and turned his head for an instant to look back at his pursuers.

  There was little to be made out, in the mist and darkness; but the loud shouting of men vibrated through the air, and the barking of the neighbouring dogs, roused by the sound of the alarm bell, resounded in every direction.

  "Stop, you white-livered hound!" cried the robber, shouting after Toby Crackit, who, making the best use of his long legs, was already ahead. "Stop!"

  The repetition of the word brought Toby to a dead standstill: For he was not quite satisfied that he was beyond the range of pistol-shot, and Sikes was in no mood to be played with.

  "Bear a hand with the boy," cried Sikes, beckoning furiously to his confederate. "Come back!"

  Toby made a show of returning; but ventured, in a low voice, broken for want of breath, to intimate considerable reluctance as he came slowly along.

  "Quicker!" cried Sikes, laying the boy in a dry ditch at his feet, and drawing a pistol from his pocket. "Don't play booty with me."

  At this moment the noise drew louder. Sikes, again looking round, could d
iscern that the men who had given chase were already climbing the gate of the field in which he stood; and that a couple of dogs were some paces in advance of them.

  "It's all up, Bill!" cried Toby; "drop the kid, and show 'em your heels." With this parting advice, Mr. Crackit, preferring the chance of being shot by his friend to the certainty of being taken by his enemies, fairly turned tail and darted off at full speed. Sikes clenched his teeth, took one look around, threw over the prostrate form of Oliver the cape in which he had been hurriedly muffled, ran along the front of the hedge as if to distract the attention of those behind from the spot where the boy lay, paused for a second before another hedge which met it at right angles, and whirling his pistol high into the air, cleared it at a bound, and was gone.

  "Ho, ho, there!" cried a tremulous voice in the rear. "Pincher! Neptune! Come here, come here!"

  The dogs, who, in common with their masters, seemed to have no particular relish for the sport in which they were engaged, readily answered to the command. Three men, who had by this time advanced some distance into the field, stopped to take counsel together.

  "My advice, or, leastways, I should say, my orders, is," said the fattest man of the party, "that we 'mediately go home again."

  "I am agreeable to anything which is agreeable to Mr. Giles," said a shorter man, who was by no means of a slim figure, and who was very pale in the face, and very polite, as frightened men frequently are.

  "I shouldn't wish to appear ill-mannered, gentlemen," said the third, who had called the dogs back. "Mr. Giles ought to know."

  "Certainly," replied the shorter man; "and whatever Mr. Giles says, it isn't our place to contradict him. No, no, I know my sitiwation! Thank my stars, I know my sitiwation." To tell the truth, the little man did seem to know his situation, and to know perfectly well that it was by no means a desirable one; for his teeth chattered in his head as he spoke.

  "You are afraid, Brittles," said Mr. Giles.

  "I a'n't," said Brittles.

  "You are," said Giles.

  "You're a falsehood, Mr. Giles," said Brittles.

  "You're a lie, Brittles." said Mr. Giles.

  Now, these four retorts arose from Mr. Giles's taunt; and Mr. Giles's taunt had arisen from his indignation at having the responsibility of going home again, imposed upon himself under cover of a compliment. The third man brought the dispute to a close, most philosophically.

  "I'll tell you what it is, gentlemen," said he: "we're all afraid."

  "Speak for yourself, sir," said Mr. Giles, who was the palest of the party.

  "So I do," replied the man. "It's natural and proper to be afraid, under such circumstances. I am."

  "So am I," said Brittles; "only there's no call to tell a man he is, so bounceably."

  These frank admissions softened Mr. Giles, who at once owned that he was afraid, upon which they all three faced about, and ran back again with the completest unanimity, until Mr. Giles (who had the shortest wind of the party, and was encumbered with a pitchfork) most handsomely insisted on stopping, to make an apology for his hastiness of speech.

  "But it's wonderful," said Mr. Giles, when he had explained. "what a man will do, when his blood is up. I should have committed murder--I know I should--if we'd caught one of them rascals."

  As the other two were impressed with a similar presentiment; and as their blood, like his, had all gone down again; some speculation ensued upon the cause of this sudden change in their temperament.

  "I know what it was," said Mr. Giles; "it was the gate."

  "I shouldn't wonder if it was," exclaimed Brittles, catching at the idea.

  "You may depend upon it," said Giles, "that that gate stopped the flow of the excitement. I felt all mine suddenly going away. as I was climbing over it."

  By a remarkable coincidence, the other two had been visited with the same unpleasant sensation at that precise moment. It was quite obvious, therefore, that it was the gate; especially as there was no doubt regarding the time at which the change had taken place, because all three remembered that they had come in sight of the robbers at the instant of its occurrence.

  This dialogue was held between the two men who had surprised the burglars, and a travelling tinker who had been sleeping in an outhouse, and who had been roused, together with his two mongrel curs, to join in the pursuit. Mr. Giles acted in the double capacity of butler and steward to the old lady of the mansion; Brittles was a lad of all-work who, having entered her service a mere child, was treated as a promising young boy still, though he was something past thirty.

  Encouraging each other with such converse as this, but keeping very close together, notwithstanding, and looking apprehensively round whenever a fresh gust rattled through the boughs, the three men hurried back to a tree behind which they had left their lantern, lest its light should inform the thieves in what direction to fire. Catching up the light, they made the best of their way home at a good round trot; and long after their dusky forms had ceased to be discernible, the light might have been seen twinkling and dancing in the distance. like some exhalation of the damp and gloomy atmosphere through which it was swiftly borne.

  The air grew colder as day came slowly on, and the mist rolled along the ground like a dense cloud of smoke. The grass was wet; the pathways and low places were all mire and water; the damp breath of an unwholesome wind went languidly by, with a hollow moaning. Still, Oliver lay motionless and insensible on the spot where Sikes had left him.

  Morning drew on apace. The air became more sharp and piercing, as its first dull hue--the death of night, rather than the birth of day--glimmered faintly in the sky. The objects which had looked dim and terrible in the darkness, grew more and more defined, and gradually resolved into their familiar shapes. The rain came down, thick and fast, and pattered noisily among the leafless bushes. But Oliver felt it not, as it beat against him; for he still lay stretched, helpless and unconscious, on his bed of clay.

  At length a low cry of pain broke the stillness that prevailed; and uttering it, the boy awoke. His left arm, rudely bandaged in a shawl, hung heavy and useless at his side; the bandage was saturated with blood. He was so weak that he could scarcely raise himself into a sitting posture; when he had done so, he looked feebly round for help, and groaned with pain. Trembling in every joint from cold and exhaustion, he made an effort to stand upright but, shuddering from head to foot, fell prostrate on the ground.

  After a short return of the stupor in which he had been so long plunged, Oliver--urged by a creeping sickness at his heart, which seemed to warn him that if he lay there he must surely die--got upon his feet, and essayed to walk. His head was dizzy, and he staggered to and fro like a drunken man. But he kept up, nevertheless, and, with his head drooping languidly on his breast, went stumbling onward, he knew not whither.

  And now, hosts of bewildering and confused ideas came crowding on his mind. He seemed to be still walking between Sikes and Crackit, who were angrily disputing-for the very words they said, sounded in his ears; and when he caught his own attention, as it were, by making some violent effort to save himself from falling, he found that he was talking to them. Then, he was alone with Sikes, plodding on as on the previous day; and as shadowy people passed them, he felt the robber's grasp upon his wrist. Suddenly, he started back at the report of firearms; there rose into the air loud cries and shouts; lights gleamed before his eyes; all was noise and tumult, as some unseen hand bore him hurriedly away. Through all these rapid visions there ran an undefined, uneasy consciousness of pain, which wearied and tormented him incessantly.

  Thus he staggered on, creeping, almost mechanically, between the bars of gates, or through hedge-gaps as they came in his way, until he reached a road. Here the rain began to fall so heavily, that it roused him.

  He looked about, and saw that at no great distance there was a house, which perhaps'he could reach. Pitying his condition, they might have compassion on him; and if they did not, it would be better, he thought, to die near human
beings than in the lonely open fields. He summoned up all his strength for one last trial, and bent his faltering steps towards it.

  As he drew nearer to this house, a feeling came over him that he had seen it before. He remembered nothing of its details; but the shape and aspect of the building seemed familiar to him.

  That garden wall! On the grass inside he had fallen on his knees last night, and prayed the two men's mercy. It was the very house they had attempted to rob.

  Oliver felt such fear come over him when he recognized the place that, for the instant, he forgot the agony of his wound, and thought only of flight. Flight! He could scarcely stand; and if he were in full possession of all the best powers of his slight and youthful frame, whither could he fly? He pushed against the garden gate; it was unlocked, and swung open on its hinges. He tottered across the lawn, climbed the steps, knocked faintly at the door, and, his whole strength failing him, sunk down against one of the pillars of the little portico.

  It happened that about this time, Mr. Giles, Brittles, and the tinker were recruiting themselves, after the fatigues and terrors of the night, with tea and sundries in the kitchen. Not that it was Mr. Giles's habit to admit to too great familiarity the humbler servants, towards whom it was rather his wont to deport himself with a lofty affability, which, while it gratified, could not fail to remind them of his superior position in. society. But death, fires, and burglary make all men equals; so Mr. Giles sat with his legs stretched out before the kitchen fender, leaning his left arm on the table, while with his right he illustrated a circumstantial and minute account of the robbery, to which his hearers (but especially the cook and housemaid, who were of the party) listened with breathless interest.

  "It was about half-past two," said Mr. Giles, "or I wouldn't swear that it mightn't have been a little nearer three, when I woke up, and, turning round in my bed, as it might be so (here Mr. Giles turned round in his chair, and pulled the comer of the table-cloth over him to imitate bed-clothes), I fancied I heerd a noise."