oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第52章

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cure　you；　I　warrant　you！”　

She　was　bouncing　away；　when　a　cry　from　the　two　women；　who　
had　turned　towards　the　bed；　caused　her　to　look　round。　The　patient　
had　raised　herself　upright；　and　was　stretching　her　arms　towards　
them。　

“Who’s　that？”　she　cried　in　a　hollow　voice。　

“Hush；　hush！”　said　one　of　the　women；　stooping　over　her。　“Lie　
down；　lie　down！”　

“I’ll　never　lie　down　again　alive！”　said　the　woman；　struggling。　“I　
will　tell　her！　Come　here！　Nearer！　Let　me　whisper　in　your　ear。”　

She　clutched　the　matron　by　the　arm；　and　forcing　her　into　a　
chair　by　the　bedside；　was　about　to　speak；　when　looking　round；　she　
caught　sight　of　the　two　old　women　bending　forward　in　the　attitude　
of　eager　listeners。　

“Turn　them　away；”　said　the　woman　drowsily；　“make　haste！　
make　haste！”　

The　two　old　crones；　chiming　in　together；　began　pouring　out　
many　piteous　lamentations　that　the　poor　dear　was　too　far　gone　to　
know　her　best　friends；　and　were　uttering　sundry　protestations　that　
they　would　never　leave　her；　when　the　superior　pushed　them　from　
the　room；　closed　the　door；　and　returned　to　the　bedside。　On　being　
excluded；　the　old　ladies　changed　their　tone；　and　cried　through　the　
keyhole　that　old　Sally　was　drunk；　which；　indeed；　was　not　unlikely；　
since；　in　addition　to　a　moderate　dose　of　opium　prescribed　by　the　
apothecary；　she　was　labouring　under　the　effects　of　a　final　taste　of　
gin…and…water　which　had　been　privily　administered；　in　the　
openness　of　their　hearts；　by　the　worthy　old　ladies　themselves。　

“Now　listen　to　me；”　said　the　dying　woman　aloud；　as　if　making　a　
great　effort　to　revive　one　latent　spark　of　energy。　“In　this　very　

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room—in　this　very　bed—I　once　nursed　a　pretty　young　creetur’；　
that　was　brought　into　the　house　with　her　feet　cut　and　bruised　with　
walking；　and　all　soiled　with　dust　and　blood。　She　gave　birth　to　a　
boy；　and　died。　Let　me　think—what　was　the　year　again！”　

“Never　mind　the　year；”　said　the　impatient　auditor；　“what　about　
her？”　

“Ay；”　murmured　the　sick　woman；　relapsing　into　her　former　
drowsy　state；　“what　about　her？—what　about—I　know！”　she　cried；　
jumping　fiercely　up；　her　face　flushed；　and　her　eyes　starting　from　
her　head—“I　robbed　her；　so　I　did！　She　wasn’t　cold—I　tell　you　she　
wasn’t　cold；　when　I　stole　it！”　

“Stole　what；　for　God’s　sake？”　cried　the　matron；　with　a　gesture　
as　if　she　would　call　for　help。　

“It！”　replied　the　woman；　laying　her　hand　over　the　other’s　
mouth。　“The　only　thing　she　had。　She　wanted　clothes　to　keep　her　
warm；　and　food　to　eat；　but　she　had　kept　it　safe；　and　had　it　in　her　
bosom。　It　was　gold；　I　tell　you！　Rich　gold；　that　might　have　saved　her　
life！”　

“Gold！”　echoed　the　matron；　bending　eagerly　over　the　woman　as　
she　fell　back。　“Go　on；　go　on—yes—what　of　it？　Who　was　the　
mother？　When　was　it？”　

“She　charged　me　to　keep　it　safe；”　replied　the　woman；　with　a　
groan；　“and　trusted　me　as　the　only　woman　about　her。　I　stole　it　in　
my　heart　when　she　first　showed　it　me　hanging　round　her　neck；　
and　the　child’s　death；　perhaps；　is　on　me　besides！　They　would　have　
treated　him　better；　if　they　had　known　it　all！”　

“Known　what？”　asked　the　other。　“Speak！”　

“The　boy　grew　so　like　his　mother；”　said　the　woman；　rambling　
on；　and　not　heeding　the　question；　“that　I　could　never　forget　it　

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when　I　saw　his　face。　Poor　girl！　poor　girl！　She　was　so　young；　too！　
Such　a　gentle　lamb！　Wait；　there’s　more　to　tell。　I　have　not　told　you　
all；　have　I？”　

“No；　no；”　replied　the　matron；　inclining　her　head　to　catch　the　
words；　as　they　came　more　faintly　from　the　dying　woman。　“Be　
quick；　or　it　may　be　too　late！”　

“The　mother；”　said　the　woman；　making　a　more　violent　effort　
than　before—“the　mother；　when　the　pains　of　death　first　came　
upon　her；　whispered　in　my　ear　that　if　her　baby　was　born　alive；　and　
thrived；　the　day　might　come　when　it　would　not　feel　so　much　
disgraced　to　hear　its　poor　young　mother　named。　‘And　oh；　kind　
Heaven！’　she　said；　folding　her　thin　hands　together；　‘whether　it　be　
boy　or　girl；　raise　up　some　friends　for　it　in　this　troubled　world；　and　
take　pity　upon　a　lonely；　desolate　child；　abandoned　to　its　mercy！’”　

“The　boy’s　name？”　demanded　the　matron。　

“They　called　him　Oliver；”　replied　the　woman　feebly。　“The　gold　I　
stole　was—”　

“Yes；　yes—what？”　cried　the　other。　

She　was　bending　eagerly　over　the　woman　to　hear　her　reply；　but　
drew　back　instinctively；　as　she　once　again　rose；　slowly　and　stiffly；　
into　a　sitting　posture；　then；　clutching　the　coverlid　with　both　hands；　
muttered　some　indistinct　sounds　in　her　throat　and　fell　lifeless　on　
the　bed。　

*****　

“Stone　dead！”　said　one　of　the　old　women；　hurrying　in　as　soon　as　
the　door　was　opened。　

“And　nothing　to　tell；　after　all；”　rejoined　the　matron；　walking　

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carelessly　away。　

The　two　crones；　to　all　appearances；　too　busily　occupied　in　the　
preparations　for　their　dreadful　duties　to　make　any　reply；　were　left　
alone；　hovering　about　the　body。　

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Chapter　25　

Wherein　This　History　Reverts　To　Mr。　Fagin　And
Company。


While　these　things　were　passing　in　the　country　
workhouse；　Mr。　Fagin　sat　in　the　old　den—the　same　
from　which　Oliver　had　been　removed　by　the　girl—　
brooding　over　a　dull；　smoky　fire。　He　held　a　pair　of　bellows　upon　
his　knee；　with　which　he　had　apparently　been　endeavouring　to　
rouse　it　into　more　cheerful　action；　but　he　had　fallen　into　deep　
thought；　and　with　his　arms　folded　on　them；　and　his　chin　resting　on　
his　thumbs；　fixed　his　eyes；　abstractedly；　on　the　rusty　bars。　

At　a　table　behind　him　sat　the　Artful　Dodger；　Master　Charles　
Bates；　and　Mr。　Chitling；　all　intent　upon　a　game　of　whist；　the　Artful　
taking　dummy　against　Master　Bates　and　Mr。　Chitling。　The　
countenance　of　the　first…named　gentleman；　peculiarly　intelligent　at　
all　times；　acquired　great　additional　interest　from　his　close　
observance　of　the　game；　and　his　attentive　perusal　of　Mr。　Chitling’s　
hand；　upon　which；　from　time　to　time；　as　occasion　served；　he　
bestowed　a　variety　of　earnest　glances；　wisely　regulating　his　own　
play　by　the　result　of　his　observations　upon　his　neighbour’s　cards。　
It　being　a　cold　night；　the　Dodger　wore　his　hat；　as；　indeed；　was　
often　his　custom；　within　doors。　He　also　sustained　a　clay　pipe　
between　his　teeth；　which　he　only　removed　for　a　brief　space　when　
he　deemed　it　necessary　to　apply　for　refreshment　to　a　quart　pot　
upon　the　table；　which　stood　ready　filled　with　gin…and…water　for　the　
accommodation　of　the　company。　

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Master　Bates　was　also　attentive　to　his　play；　but　being　of　a　more　
excitable　nature　than　his　accomplished　friend；　it　was　observable　
that　he　more　frequently　applied　himself　to　the　gin…and…water；　and　
moreover　indulged　in　many　jests　and　irrelevant　remarks；　all　highly　
unbecoming　a　scientific　rubber。　Indeed；　the　Artful；　presuming　
upon　their　close　attachment；　more　than　once　took　occasion　to　
reason　gravely　with　his　companion　upon　these　improprieties；　all　of　
which　remonstrances　Master　Bates　received　in　extremely　good　
part；　merely　requesting　his　friend　to　be　“blowed；”　or　to　insert　his　
head　in　a　sack；　or　replying　with　some　other　neatly…turned　
witticism　of　a　similar　kind；　the　happy　application　of　which；　excited　
considerable　admiration　in　the　mind　of　Mr。　Chitling。　It　was　
remarkable　that　the　latter　gentleman　and　his　partner　invariably　
lost；　and　that　the　circumstance；　so　far　from　angering　Master　Bates；　
appeared　to　afford　him　the　highest　amusement；　inasmuch　as　he　
laughed　most　uproariously　at　the　end　of　every　deal；　and　protested　
that　he　had　never　seen　such　a　jolly　game　in　all　his　born　days。　

“That’s　two　doubles　and　the　rub；”　said　Mr。　Chitling；　with　a　very　
long　face；　as　he　drew　half　a　crown　from　his　waistcoat　pocket。　“I　
never　see　such　a　feller　as　you；　Jack；　you　win　everything。　Even　
when　we’ve　good　cards；　Charley　and　I　can’t　make　nothing　of　’em。”　

Either　the