oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第37章

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wrote。　

“It’s　very　much　blotted；　sir；”　said　the　farmer　of　infants；　“but　it’s　
formal　enough；　I　dare　say。　Thank　you；　Mr。　Bumble；　sir；　I　am　very　
much　obliged　to　you；　I’m　sure。”　

Mr。　Bumble　nodded；　blandly；　in　acknowledgement　of　Mrs。　
Mann’s　curtsey；　and　inquired　how　the　children　were。　

“Bless　their　dear　little　hearts！”　said　Mrs。　Mann；　with　emotion；　
“they’re　as　well　as　can　be；　the　dears！　Of　course；　except　the　two　that　
died　last　week。　And　little　Dick。”　

“Isn’t　that　boy　no　better？”　inquired　Mr。　Bumble。　

Mrs。　Mann　shook　her　head。　

“He’s　a　ill…conditioned；　wicious；　bad…disposed　porochial　child　
that；”　said　Mr。　Bumble　angrily。　“Where　is　he？”　

“I’ll　bring　him　to　you　in　one　minute；　sir；”　replied　Mrs。　Mann。　
“Here；　you　Dick！”　

After　some　calling；　Dick　was　discovered。　Having　had　his　face　
put　under　the　pump；　and　dried　upon　Mrs。　Mann’s　gown；　he　was　
led　into　the　awful　presence　of　Mr。　Bumble；　the　beadle。　

The　child　was　pale　and　thin；　his　cheeks　were　sunken；　and　his　
eyes　large　and　bright。　The　scanty　parish　dress；　the　livery　of　his　
misery；　hung　loosely　on　his　feeble　body；　and　his　young　limbs　had　

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wasted　away；　like　those　of　an　old　man。　

Such　was　the　little　being　who　stood　trembling　beneath　Mr。　
Bumble’s　glance；　not　daring　to　lift　his　eyes　from　the　floor；　and　
dreading　even　to　hear　the　beadle’s　voice。　

“Can’t　you　look　at　the　gentleman；　you　obstinate　boy？”　said　Mrs。　
Mann。　

The　child　meekly　raised　his　eyes；　and　encountered　those　of　Mr。　
Bumble。　

“What’s　the　matter　with　you；　porochial　Dick？”　inquired　Mr。　
Bumble；　with　well…timed　jocularity。　

“Nothing；　sir；”　replied　the　child　faintly。　

“I　should　think　not；”　said　Mrs。　Mann；　who　had；　of　course；　
laughed　very　much　at　Mr。　Bumble’s　humour。　“You　want　for　
nothing；　I’m　sure。”　

“I　should　like—”　faltered　the　child。　

“Heyday！”　interposed　Mrs。　Mann；　“I　suppose　you’re　going　to　

say　that　you　do　want　for　something；　now？　Why；　you　little　wretch—　
”　
“Stop；　Mrs。　Mann；　stop！”　said　the　beadle；　raising　his　hand　with　
a　show　of　authority。　“Like　what；　sir；　eh？”　

“I　should　like；”　faltered　the　child；　“if　somebody　that　can　write；　
would　put　a　few　words　down　for　me　on　a　piece　of　paper；　and　fold　it　
up　and　seal　it；　and　keep　it　for　me；　after　I　am　laid　in　the　ground。”　

“Why；　what　does　the　boy　mean？”　exclaimed　Mr。　Bumble；　on　
whom　the　earnest　manner　and　wan　aspect　of　the　child　had　made　
some　impression；　accustomed　as　he　was　to　such　things。　“What　do　
you　mean；　sir？”　

“I　should　like；”　said　the　child；　“to　leave　my　dear　love　to　poor　
Oliver　Twist；　and　to　let　him　know　how　often　I　have　sat　by　myself　

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and　cried　to　think　of　his　wandering　about　in　the　dark　nights　with　
nobody　to　help　him。　And　I　should　like　to　tell　him；”　said　the　child；　
pressing　his　small　hands　together；　and　speaking　with　great　
fervour；　“that　I　was　glad　to　die　when　I　was　very　young；　for；　
perhaps；　if　I　had　lived　to　be　a　man；　and　had　grown　old；　my　little　
sister；　who　is　in　heaven；　might　forget　me；　or　be　unlike　me；　and　it　
would　be　so　much　happier　if　we　were　both　children　there　
together。”　

Mr。　Bumble　surveyed　the　little　speaker　from　head　to　foot；　with　
indescribable　astonishment；　and；　turning　to　his　companion；　said；　
“They’re　all　in　one　story；　Mrs。　Mann。　That　outdacious　Oliver　has　
demogalised　them　all！”　

“I　couldn’t　have　believed　it；　sir！”　said　Mrs。　Mann；　holding　up　
her　hands；　and　looking　malignantly　at　Dick。　“I　never　see　such　a　
hardened　little　wretch！”　

“Take　him　away；　ma’am！”　said　Mr。　Bumble　imperiously。　“This　
must　be　stated　to　the　Board；　Mrs。　Mann。”　

“I　hope　the　gentlemen　will　understand　that　it　isn’t　my　fault；　
sir？”　said　Mrs。　Mann；　whimpering　pathetically。　

“They　shall　understand　that；　ma’am；　they　shall　be　acquainted　
with　the　true　state　of　the　case；”　said　Mr。　Bumble。　“There；　take　him　
away；　I　can’t　bear　the　sight　on　him。”　

Dick　was　immediately　taken　away；　and　locked　up　in　the　coal…
cellar。　Mr。　Bumble　shortly　afterwards　took　himself　off；　to　prepare　
for　his　journey。　

At　six　o’clock　next　morning；　Mr。　Bumble；　having　exchanged　his　
cocked　hat　for　a　round　one；　and　encased　his　person　in　a　blue　
greatcoat　with　a　cape　to　it；　took　his　place　on　the　outside　of　the　
coach；　accompanied　by　the　criminals　whose　settlement　was　

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disputed；　with　whom；　in　due　course　of　time；　he　arrived　in　London。　
He　experienced　no　other　crosses　on　the　way；　than　those　which　
originated　in　the　perverse　behaviour　of　the　two　paupers；　who　
persisted　in　shivering；　and　complaining　of　the　cold；　in　a　manner　
which；　Mr。　Bumble　declared；　caused　his　teeth　to　chatter　in　his　
head；　and　made　him　feel　quite　uncomfortable；　although　he　had　a　
greatcoat　on。　

Having　disposed　of　these　evil…minded　persons　for　the　night；　Mr。　
Bumble　sat　himself　down　in　the　house　at　which　the　coach　stopped；　
and　took　a　temperate　dinner　of　steaks；　oyster　sauce；　and　porter。　
Putting　a　glass　of　hot　gin…and…water　on　the　chimney…piece；　he　
drew　his　chair　to　the　fire；　and；　with　sundry　moral　reflections　on　
the　too　prevalent　sin　of　discontent　and　complaining；　composed　
himself　to　read　the　paper。　

The　very　first　paragraph　upon　which　Mr。　Bumble’s　eye　rested；　
was　the　following　advertisement。　

“FIVE　GUINEAS　REWARD”　

“Whereas　a　young　boy；　named　Oliver　Twist；　absconded；　or　was　
enticed；　on　Thursday　evening　last；　from　his　home；　at　Pentonville；　
and　has　not　since　been　heard　of。　The　above　reward　will　be　paid　to　
any　person　who　will　give　such　information　as　will　lead　to　the　
discovery　of　the　said　Oliver　Twist；　or　tend　to　throw　any　light　upon　
his　previous　history；　in　which　the　advertiser　is；　for　many　reasons；　
warmly　interested。”　

And　then　followed　a　full　description　of　Oliver’s　dress；　person；　
appearance；　and　disappearance；　with　the　name　and　address　of　Mr。　
Brownlow　at　full　length。　

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Mr。　Bumble　opened　his　eyes；　read　the　advertisement；　slowly　
and　carefully；　three　several　times；　and　in　something　more　than　
five　minutes　was　on　his　way　to　Pentonville；　having　actually；　in　his　
excitement；　left　the　glass　of　hot　gin…and…water　untasted。　

“Is　Mr。　Brownlow　at　home？”　inquired　Mr。　Bumble　of　the　girl　
who　opened　the　door。　

To　this　inquiry　the　girl　returned　the　not　uncommon；　but　rather　
evasive　reply　of　“I　don’t　know；　where　do　you　come　from？”　

Mr。　Bumble　no　sooner　uttered　Oliver’s　name；　in　explanation　of　
his　errand；　than　Mrs。　Bedwin；　who　had　been　listening　at　the　
parlour　door；　hastened　into　the　passage　in　a　breathless　state。　

“Come　in—come　in；”　said　the　old　lady。　“I　knew　we　should　hear　
of　him。　Poor　dear！　I　knew　we　should！　I　was　certain　of　it。　Bless　his　
heart！　I　said　so；　all　along。”　

Having　said　this；　the　worthy　old　lady　hurried　back　into　the　
parlour　again；　and　seating　herself　on　a　sofa；　burst　into　tears。　The　
girl；　who　was　not　quite　so　susceptible；　had　run　upstairs　
meanwhile；　and　now　returned　with　a　request　that　Mr。　Bumble　
would　follow　her　immediately；　which　he　did。　

He　was　shown　into　the　little　back　study；　where　sat　Mr。　
Brownlow　and　his　friend　Mr。　Grimwig；　with　decanters　and　glasses　
before　them。　The　latter　gentleman　at　once　burst　into　the　
exclamation：　

“A　beadle！　A　parish　beadle；　or　I’ll　eat　my　head。”　

“Pray　don’t　interrupt　just　now；”　said　Mr。　Brownlow。　“Take　a　
seat；　will　you？”　

Mr。　Bumble　sat　himself　down；　quite　confounded　by　the　oddity　
of　Mr。　Grimwig’s　manner。　Mr。　Brownlow　moved　the　lamp；　so　as　to　
obtain　an　uninterrupted　view　of　the　beadle’s　countenance；　and　

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said；　with　a　little　impatience：　

“Now；　sir；　you　come　in　consequence　of　having　seen　the　
advertisement？”　

“Yes；　sir；”　said　Mr。　Bumble。　

“And　you　are　a　beadle；　are　you　not？”　inquired　Mr。　Grimwig。　

“I　am　a　porochial　beadle；　gentlemen；”　rejoined　Mr。　Bumble　
proudly。　

“Of　course；”　observed　Mr　Grimwig；　aside　to　his　friend；　“I　kn