oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第105章
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his return。
“It is；” was the reply。 “Get up。”
There was a candle burning； but the man hastily drew it from
the candlestick and hurled it under the grate。 Seeing the faint
light of early day without； the girl rose to undraw the curtain。
“Let it be；” said Sikes； thrusting his hand before her。 “There’s
light enough for wot I’ve got to do。”
“Bill；” said the girl； in the low voice of alarm； “why do you look
like that at me？”
The robber sat regarding her for a few seconds； with dilated
nostrils and heaving breast； and then； grasping her by the head
and throat； dragged her into the middle of the room； and looking
once towards the door； placed his heavy hand upon her mouth。
“Bill； Bill！” gasped the girl； wrestling with the strength of
mortal fear； “I—won’t scream or cry—not once—hear me—speak
to me—tell me what I have done？”
“You know； you she…devil！” returned the robber； suppressing
his breath。 “You were watched tonight； every word you said was
heard。”
“Then spare my life for the love of Heaven； as I spared yours；”
rejoined the girl； clinging to him。 “Bill； dear Bill； you cannot have
the heart to kill me。 Oh！ think of all I have given up； only this one
night； for you。 You shall have time to think； and save yourself this
crime； I will not loose my hold； you cannot throw me off。 Bill； Bill；
for dear God’s sake； for your own； for mine； stop before you spill
my blood！ I have been true to you； upon my guilty soul I have！”
The man struggled violently to release his arms； but those of
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the girl were clasped round his； and tear her as he would； he could
not tear them away。
“Bill；” cried the girl； striving to lay her head upon his breast；
“the gentleman and that dear lady； told me tonight of a home in
some foreign country where I could end my days in solitude and
peace。 Let me see them again； and beg them； on my knees； to show
the same mercy and goodness to you； and let us both leave this
dreadful place； and far apart lead better lives； and forget how we
have lived； except in prayers； and never see each other more。 It is
never too late to repent。 They told me so—I feel it now—but we
must have time—a little； little time！”
The housebreaker freed one arm； and grasped his pistol。 The
certainty of immediate detection if he fired； flashed across his
mind even in the midst of his fury； and he beat it twice with all the
force he could summon； upon the upturned face that almost
touched his own。
She staggered and fell； nearly blinded with the blood that
rained down from a deep gash in her forehead； but raising herself；
with difficulty； on her knees； drew from her bosom a white
handkerchief—Rose Maylie’s own—and holding it up； in her
folded hands； as high towards Heaven as her feeble strength
would allow； breathed one prayer for mercy to her Maker。
It was a ghastly figure to look upon。 The murderer； staggering
backward to the wall； and shutting out the sight with his hand；
seized a heavy club and struck her down。
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Chapter 48
The Flight Of Sikes。
O f all bad deeds that； under cover of the darkness； had been
committed within wide London’s bounds since night hung
over it； that was the worst。 Of all the horrors that rose
with an ill scent upon the morning air； that was the foulest and
most cruel。
The sun—the bright sun； that brings back； not light alone； but
new life； and hope； and freshness to man—burst upon the
crowded city in clear and radiant glory。 Through costly coloured
glass and paper…mended window； through cathedral dome and
rotten crevice； it shed its equal ray。 It lighted up the room where
the murdered woman lay。 It did。 He tried to shut it out； but it
would stream in。 If the sight had been a ghastly one in the dull
morning； what was it now； in all that brilliant light！
He had not moved； he had been afraid to stir。 There had been a
moan and motion of the hand； and； with terror added to rage； he
had struck and struck again。 Once he threw a rug over it； but it
was worse to fancy the eyes； and imagine them moving towards
him； than to see them glaring upward； as if watching the reflection
of the pool of gore that quivered and danced in the sunlight on the
ceiling。 He had plucked it off again。 And there was the body—
mere flesh and blood； no more—but such flesh； and so much
blood！
He struck a light； kindled a fire； and thrust the club into it。
There was hair upon the edge； which blazed and shrank into a
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light cinder； and； caught by the air； whirled up the chimney。 Even
that frightened him； sturdy as he was； but he held the weapon till
it broke； and then piled it on the coals to burn away； and smoulder
into ashes。 He washed himself； and rubbed his clothes； there were
spots that would not be removed； but he cut the pieces out； and
burned them。 How those stains were dispersed about the room！
The very feet of the dog were bloody。
All this time he had； never once； turned his back upon the
corpse； no； not for a moment。 Such preparations completed； he
moved； backward； towards the door； dragging the dog with him；
lest he should soil his feet anew and carry out new evidences of
the crime into the streets。 He shut the door softly； locked it； took
the key； and left the house。
He crossed over； and glanced up at the window； to be sure that
nothing was visible from the outside。 There was the curtain still
drawn； which she would have opened to admit the light she never
saw again。 It lay nearly under there。 He knew that。 God； how the
sun poured down upon the very spot！
The glance was instantaneous。 It was a relief to have got free of
the room。 He whistled on the dog and walked rapidly away。
He went through Islington； strode up the hill at Highgate on
which stands the stone in honour of Whittington； turned down to
Highgate Hill； unsteady of purpose； and uncertain where to go；
struck off to the right again； almost as soon as he began to descend
it； and taking the footpath across the fields； skirted Caen Wood；
and so came out on Hampstead Heath。 Traversing the hollow by
the Vale of Health； he mounted the opposite bank； and crossing
the road which joins the villages of Hampstead and Highgate；
made along the remaining portion of the heath to the fields at
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North End； in one of which he laid himself down under a hedge；
and slept。
Soon he was up again； and away—not far into the country； but
backwards towards London by the highroad—then back again—
then over another part of the same ground as he already
traversed—then wandering up and down in fields； and lying on
ditches’ brinks to rest； and starting up to make for some other
spot； and do the same； and ramble on again。
Where could he go； that was near and not too public； to get
some meat and drink？ Hendon。 That was a good place； not far off；
and out of most people’s way。 Thither he directed his steps—
running sometimes； and sometimes； with a strange perversity；
loitering at a snail’s pace； or stopping altogether and idly breaking
the hedges with his stick。 But when he got there； all the people he
met—the very children at the doors—seemed to view him with
suspicion。 Back he turned again； without the courage to purchase
bit or drop； though he had tasted no food for many hours； and
once more he lingered on the heath uncertain where to go。
He wandered over miles and miles of ground； and still came
back to the old place。 Morning and noon had passed； and the day
was on the wane； and still he rambled to and fro； and up and
down； and round and round； and still lingered about the same
spot。 At last he got away； and shaped his course for Hatfield。
It was nine o’clock at night； when the man； quite tired out； and
the dog； limping and lame from the unaccustomed exercise；
turned down the hill by the church of the quiet village； an
