Stories from Dickens

  *III. OLIVER MAKES HIS WAY INTO GOOD SOCIETY*

  Bill Sikes and Toby Crackit were so hard pressed that they were soonforced to leave Oliver lying in a ditch. The hue and cry passed him toone side, leaving him alone and unconscious through the long cold night.Morning drew on apace. The rain came down thick and fast, but Oliverfelt it not as it beat against him.

  At length a low cry of pain broke the stillness; and uttering it, theboy awoke. His left arm, rudely bandaged in a shawl, hung heavy anduseless at his side; and the bandage was saturated with blood. He wasso weak that he could scarcely raise himself into a sitting posture.When he had at last done so, he looked feebly round for help, andgroaned with agony. 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 got upon his feet, and essayed to walk. His head was dizzy, andhe staggered to and fro like a drunken man. But he kept up,nevertheless, and, with his head drooping languidly on his breast, wentstumbling onward, he knew not whither.

  The rain was falling heavily now, but the cold drops roused him likewhiplashes. He pressed forward with the last ounce of his strength,feeling that if he stopped he must surely die, and by chance reached thesame house of the attempted burglary. He knew the place at once, buthis strength was at an end, and he sank exhausted on the little porticoby the door.

  The servants who presently opened the door were immensely surprised tofind the wounded boy; and two of them were certain he was the same whohad broken into the house. But in his pitiful condition they put him tobed and sent for a surgeon.

  A very kind-hearted lady, Mrs. Maylie, and her adopted niece Rose, livedhere. They cared for Oliver tenderly; for, like his lost friend, Mr.Brownlow, they were greatly taken by his open face, and believed in himdespite the strange story which he presently found strength to tell.With the aid of their friend the surgeon, they convinced the servantsthat a mistake had been made, and so Oliver was not taken to jail.Instead, he was received into this kindly home, and it really seemedthat now his dark days were over at last.

  Oliver resumed the study of his beloved books, which he had begun withMr. Brownlow. But he also spent much time in the open fields, and soongrew sturdy and strong, with the brown look of health in his face.Between him and Rose Maylie a tender affection sprang up. He was, infact, her devoted knight.

  One beautiful evening, when the first shades of twilight were beginningto settle upon the earth, Oliver sat at his window, intent upon hisbooks. He had been poring over them for some time; and, as the day hadbeen uncommonly sultry, and he had exerted himself a great deal, by slowdegrees he fell asleep.

  There is a kind of sleep that steals upon us sometimes, which, while itholds the body prisoner, does not free the mind from a sense of thingsabout it, or enable it to ramble at its pleasure.

  Oliver knew, perfectly well, that he was in his own little room; thathis books were lying on the table before him; that the sweet air wasstirring among the creeping plants outside. And yet he was asleep.Suddenly, the scene changed; the air became close and confined; and hethought, with a glow of terror, that he was in the Jew's house again.There sat the hideous old man, in his accustomed corner, pointing athim, and whispering to another man, with his face averted, who satbeside him.

  "Hush, my dear!" he thought he heard the Jew say; "it is he, sureenough. Come away."

  "He!" the other man seemed to answer; "could I mistake him, think you?If a crowd of ghosts were to put themselves into his exact shape, and hestood among them, there is something that would tell me how to point himout!"

  The man seemed to say this with such dreadful hatred, that Oliver awokewith the fear and started up.

  Good Heaven! what was that which sent the blood tingling to his heart,and deprived him of his voice and of power to move! There--there--at thewindow--close before him--so close that he could have almost touched himbefore he started back--with his eyes peering into the room, and meetinghis--there stood the Jew! And beside him were the scowling features ofa dark man whom Oliver had seen only once, but had instinctively learnedto fear.

  It was but an instant, a glance, a flash, before his eyes, and they weregone. But they had recognized him, and he them. He knew they were onceagain lying in wait to seize him, and that his days of peace andhappiness were numbered.

  Voice and motion came back to him with the fear; and leaping from thewindow he called loudly for help.

  Nevertheless, no trace of Fagin or the stranger could be found, thoughthe search was pursued with haste; and Oliver's friends were forced tobelieve that it had been only a feverish dream.

  But Oliver had not been mistaken. The two figures at the window werereally Fagin and a man named Monks, who for some mysterious reason hadbeen the boy's most vindictive enemy. It was he who had found Oliveragain and reported the fact to Fagin; and together they laid cunningplans to get him once more into their clutches.

  At this critical moment in Oliver's welfare, an unexpected friend to himappeared in the person of Nancy, the street-girl. She had bitterlyrepented her share in kidnapping him from Mr. Brownlow, and now longedfor a chance to do him some service. The chance offered, when shehappened to overhear the interview between Monks and the Jew. She couldnot understand all she heard, but she realized that the boy was in greatdanger unless she acted at once.

  Hastening to the home of Rose Maylie, Nancy contrived to see her aloneand repeated word for word the conversation she had overheard. From thedark threats of this man Monks, it seemed that Oliver's very life was indanger, because of some secret connected with his birth. Nancy knewthat it meant her own death also if her visit to Miss Maylie becameknown, but she could not remain silent.

  Miss Maylie listened to her story with horror and amazement. Sherealized that something must be done quickly, but did not know to whomto turn. In her perplexity Oliver made a discovery of great value toboth of them. On the very day of Nancy's hurried visit and no lesshurried departure he came running in, his eyes all aglow withexcitement.

  "I have seen him!" he exclaimed excitedly; "I knew that if I kept onlooking, I should find him again, one day! I mean the gentleman who wasso good to me--Mr. Brownlow!"

  "Where?" asked Rose.

  "Getting out of a coach," replied Oliver. "I didn't have the chance tospeak to him, but I took the number of the house he went into. Here itis." And he flourished a scrap of paper delightedly. "Oh, let us gothere at once!"

  Rose read the address eagerly, and decided to put the discovery toaccount. Not alone would Oliver be gratified, but Mr. Brownlow might bethe very friend they needed at this momentous time.

  "Quick!" she said; "tell them to fetch a hackney-coach, and be ready togo with me. I will take you there directly, without a minute's loss oftime. I will only tell my aunt that we are going out for an hour, andbe ready as soon as you are."

  Oliver needed no prompting to hasten, and in little more than fiveminutes they were on their way. When they arrived at the address noted,Rose left Oliver in the coach, under pretence of preparing his friend toreceive him; and sending up her card by the servant, requested to seeMr. Brownlow on very pressing business. The servant soon returned, tobeg that she would walk upstairs; and following him into an upper room,Miss Maylie was presented to an elderly gentleman of benevolentappearance, in a bottle-green coat.

  "Dear me," said the gentleman, hastily rising, with great politeness, "Ibeg your pardon, young lady---I imagined it was some importunate personwho--I beg you will excuse me. Be seated, pray."

  "Mr. Brownlow, I believe, sir?" said Rose.

  "That is my name."

  "I shall surprise you very much, I have no doubt," said Rose, naturallyembarrassed; "but you once showed great kindness to a very dear youngfriend of mine, and I am sure you will take an interest in hearing ofhim again."

  "Indeed!" said Mr. Brownlow.


  "Oliver Twist, as you knew him," said Rose.

  Mr. Brownlow was naturally surprised, but said nothing for a fewmoments. Then looking straight into her eyes, he remarked quietly butearnestly, "Believe me, my dear young lady, if you can tell me good newsof that child, or lift the shadow which rests upon his name, you will bedoing me the greatest service."

  Rose at once related in a few words all that had befallen Oliver sinceleaving Mr. Brownlow's house; how he had searched for him but had onlyseen him that very day; and finally of the new danger which threatenedthe boy.

  You may believe that Mr. Brownlow sat very straight, upon the extremeedge of his chair, during the latter part of this recital.

  "The poor lad!" he exclaimed; "but why have you not brought him withyou?"

  "I wished to talk with you alone about this plot. He does not know ofit. But"--smilingly--"I believe he is now waiting in the coach at thedoor."

  "At this door?" cried Mr. Brownlow. And without another word he rushedfrom the room.

  In less than a minute he was back again, lugging Oliver in bodily andboth laughing--yes, and shedding tears--at the same time.

  Then after the jolliest of visits, Rose and Oliver took their leave forthe present; but not before Mr. Brownlow had told Rose privately that hewould turn his whole attention to the new conspiracy.

  Nancy had promised to meet Rose on London Bridge, a few nights later,and Mr. Brownlow determined to be there also. In the meantime he madeother plans for capturing the rogues.