Oliver Twist/Source/Chapter 12: Difference between revisions
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| section = Chapter 12 |
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<title>Login required - All The Tropes</title> |
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| previous = [[../Chapter 11|Chapter 11]] |
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| next = [[../Chapter 13|Chapter 13]] |
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===In Which Oliver Is Taken Better Care Of Than He Ever Was Before. And In Which The Narrative Reverts To The Merry Old Gentleman And His Youthful Friends.=== |
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<link rel="stylesheet" href="/w/load.php?debug=false&lang=en&modules=site.styles&only=styles&skin=vector"/> |
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The coach rattled away, over nearly the same ground as that which |
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<meta name="generator" content="MediaWiki 1.31.1"/> |
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Oliver had traversed when he first entered London in company with |
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<meta name="robots" content="noindex,nofollow"/> |
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the Dodger; and, turning a different way when it reached the |
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<link rel="apple-touch-icon" href="/apple-touch-icon.png"/> |
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Angel at Islington, stopped at length before a neat house, in a |
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quiet shady street near Pentonville. Here, a bed was prepared, |
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<link rel="search" type="application/opensearchdescription+xml" href="/w/opensearch_desc.php" title="All The Tropes (en)"/> |
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without loss of time, in which Mr. Brownlow saw his young charge |
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<link rel="EditURI" type="application/rsd+xml" href="https://allthetropes.org/w/api.php?action=rsd"/> |
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carefully and comfortably deposited; and here, he was tended with |
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<link rel="license" href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/"/> |
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a kindness and solicitude that knew no bounds. |
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<link rel="alternate" type="application/atom+xml" title="All The Tropes Atom feed" href="/w/index.php?title=Special:RecentChanges&feed=atom"/> |
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<link rel="dns-prefetch" href="//login.miraheze.org"/> |
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But, for many days, Oliver remained insensible to all the |
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<!--[if lt IE 9]><script src="/w/load.php?debug=false&lang=en&modules=html5shiv&only=scripts&skin=vector&sync=1"></script><![endif]--> |
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goodness of his new friends. The sun rose and sank, and rose and |
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</head> |
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sank again, and many times after that; and still the boy lay |
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stretched on his uneasy bed, dwindling away beneath the dry and |
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<div id="mw-head-base" class="noprint"></div> |
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wasting heat of fever. The worm does not work more surely on the |
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<div id="content" class="mw-body" role="main"> |
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dead body, than does this slow creeping fire upon the living |
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<a id="top"></a> |
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frame. |
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<div id="siteNotice" class="mw-body-content"><!-- CentralNotice --></div><div class="mw-indicators mw-body-content"> |
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</div> |
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Weak, and thin, and pallid, he awoke at last from what seemed to |
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<h1 id="firstHeading" class="firstHeading" lang="en">Login required</h1> <div id="bodyContent" class="mw-body-content"> |
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have been a long and troubled dream. Feebly raising himself in |
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<div id="contentSub"></div> |
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the bed, with his head resting on his trembling arm, he looked |
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anxiously around. |
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Jump to: <a href="#mw-head">navigation</a>, <a href="#p-search">search</a> |
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</div> |
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'What room is this? Where have I been brought to?' said Oliver. |
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<div id="mw-content-text">Please <a href="/w/index.php?title=Special:UserLogin&returnto=Oliver+Twist%2FSource%2FChapter+12&returntoquery=action%3Draw" title="Special:UserLogin">log in</a> to view other pages.<p id="mw-returnto">Return to <a href="/wiki/Main_Page" title="Main Page">Main Page</a>.</p> |
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'This is not the place I went to sleep in.' |
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Retrieved from "<a dir="ltr" href="https://allthetropes.org/wiki/Special:Badtitle">https://allthetropes.org/wiki/Special:Badtitle{{Dead link}}</a>" </div> |
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He uttered these words in a feeble voice, being very faint and |
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<div id="catlinks" class="catlinks catlinks-allhidden" data-mw="interface"></div> <div class="visualClear"></div> |
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weak; but they were overheard at once. The curtain at the bed's |
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head was hastily drawn back, and a motherly old lady, very neatly |
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and precisely dressed, rose as she undrew it, from an arm-chair |
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close by, in which she had been sitting at needle-work. |
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<h2>Navigation menu</h2> |
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<div id="mw-head"> |
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'Hush, my dear,' said the old lady softly. 'You must be very |
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<div id="p-personal" role="navigation" class="" aria-labelledby="p-personal-label"> |
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quiet, or you will be ill again; and you have been very bad,--as |
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<h3 id="p-personal-label">Personal tools</h3> |
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bad as bad could be, pretty nigh. Lie down again; there's a |
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<ul> |
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dear!' With those words, the old lady very gently placed |
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<li id="pt-login-private"><a href="/w/index.php?title=Special:UserLogin&returnto=Oliver+Twist%2FSource%2FChapter+12&returntoquery=action%3Draw" title="You need to log in to use this wiki [o]" accesskey="o">Log in</a></li> </ul> |
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Oliver's head upon the pillow; and, smoothing back his hair from |
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</div> |
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his forehead, looked so kindly and loving in his face, that he |
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<div id="left-navigation"> |
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could not help placing his little withered hand in hers, and |
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<div id="p-namespaces" role="navigation" class="vectorTabs" aria-labelledby="p-namespaces-label"> |
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drawing it round his neck. |
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<h3 id="p-namespaces-label">Namespaces</h3> |
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<ul> |
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'Save us!' said the old lady, with tears in her eyes. 'What a |
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<li id="ca-nstab-special" class="selected"><span><a href="/w/index.php?action=raw&title=Oliver+Twist%2FSource%2FChapter+12" title="This is a special page, and it cannot be edited">Special page</a></span></li> </ul> |
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grateful little dear it is. Pretty creetur! What would his |
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</div> |
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mother feel if she had sat by him as I have, and could see him |
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<div id="p-variants" role="navigation" class="vectorMenu emptyPortlet" aria-labelledby="p-variants-label"> |
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now!' |
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<input type="checkbox" class="vectorMenuCheckbox" aria-labelledby="p-variants-label" /> |
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<h3 id="p-variants-label"> |
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'Perhaps she does see me,' whispered Oliver, folding his hands |
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<span>Variants</span> |
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together; 'perhaps she has sat by me. I almost feel as if she |
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</h3> |
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had.' |
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<div class="menu"> |
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<ul> |
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'That was the fever, my dear,' said the old lady mildly. |
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</ul> |
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</div> |
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'I suppose it was,' replied Oliver, 'because heaven is a long way |
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</div> |
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off; and they are too happy there, to come down to the bedside of |
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</div> |
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a poor boy. But if she knew I was ill, she must have pitied me, |
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<div id="right-navigation"> |
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even there; for she was very ill herself before she died. She |
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<div id="p-views" role="navigation" class="vectorTabs emptyPortlet" aria-labelledby="p-views-label"> |
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can't know anything about me though,' added Oliver after a |
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<h3 id="p-views-label">Views</h3> |
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moment's silence. 'If she had seen me hurt, it would have made |
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<ul> |
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her sorrowful; and her face has always looked sweet and happy, |
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</ul> |
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when I have dreamed of her.' |
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</div> |
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<div id="p-cactions" role="navigation" class="vectorMenu emptyPortlet" aria-labelledby="p-cactions-label"> |
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The old lady made no reply to this; but wiping her eyes first, |
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<input type="checkbox" class="vectorMenuCheckbox" aria-labelledby="p-cactions-label" /> |
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and her spectacles, which lay on the counterpane, afterwards, as |
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<h3 id="p-cactions-label"><span>More</span></h3> |
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if they were part and parcel of those features, brought some cool |
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<div class="menu"> |
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stuff for Oliver to drink; and then, patting him on the cheek, |
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<ul> |
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told him he must lie very quiet, or he would be ill again. |
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</ul> |
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</div> |
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So, Oliver kept very still; partly because he was anxious to obey |
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</div> |
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the kind old lady in all things; and partly, to tell the truth, |
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<div id="p-search" role="search"> |
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because he was completely exhausted with what he had already |
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<h3> |
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said. He soon fell into a gentle doze, from which he was |
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<label for="searchInput">Search</label> |
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awakened by the light of a candle: which, being brought near the |
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</h3> |
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bed, showed him a gentleman with a very large and loud-ticking |
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<form action="/w/index.php" id="searchform"> |
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gold watch in his hand, who felt his pulse, and said he was a |
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<div id="simpleSearch"> |
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great deal better. |
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<input type="search" name="search" placeholder="Search All The Tropes" title="Search All The Tropes [f]" accesskey="f" id="searchInput"/><input type="hidden" value="Special:Search" name="title"/><input type="submit" name="fulltext" value="Search" title="Search the pages for this text" id="mw-searchButton" class="searchButton mw-fallbackSearchButton"/><input type="submit" name="go" value="Go" title="Go to a page with this exact name if it exists" id="searchButton" class="searchButton"/> </div> |
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</form> |
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'You _are_ a great deal better, are you not, my dear?' said the |
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</div> |
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gentleman. |
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</div> |
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</div> |
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'Yes, thank you, sir,' replied Oliver. |
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<div id="mw-panel"> |
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<div id="p-logo" role="banner"><a class="mw-wiki-logo" href="/wiki/Main_Page" title="Visit the main page"></a></div> |
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'Yes, I know you are,' said the gentleman: 'You're hungry too, |
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<div class="portal" role="navigation" id="p-navigation" aria-labelledby="p-navigation-label"> |
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an't you?' |
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<h3 id="p-navigation-label">Navigation</h3> |
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<div class="body"> |
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'No, sir,' answered Oliver. |
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<ul> |
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<li id="n-Home-Page"><a href="/wiki/Main_Page">Home Page</a></li><li id="n-ATT-Community-Portal"><a href="/wiki/All_The_Tropes:Community_Portal">ATT Community Portal</a></li><li id="n-recentchanges"><a href="/wiki/Special:RecentChanges" title="A list of recent changes in the wiki [r]" accesskey="r">Recent changes</a></li><li id="n-randompage"><a href="/wiki/Special:Random" title="Load a random page [x]" accesskey="x">Random page</a></li><li id="n-MediaWiki-Help"><a href="/wiki/Help:Contents">MediaWiki Help</a></li><li id="n-Upload-file"><a href="/wiki/Special:Upload">Upload file</a></li> </ul> |
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'Hem!' said the gentleman. 'No, I know you're not. He is not |
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</div> |
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hungry, Mrs. Bedwin,' said the gentleman: looking very wise. |
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</div> |
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<div class="portal" role="navigation" id="p-Troper_Tools" aria-labelledby="p-Troper_Tools-label"> |
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The old lady made a respectful inclination of the head, which |
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<h3 id="p-Troper_Tools-label">Troper Tools</h3> |
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seemed to say that she thought the doctor was a very clever man. |
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<div class="body"> |
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The doctor appeared much of the same opinion himself. |
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<ul> |
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<li id="n-User-Blogs"><a href="/wiki/Special:ArticlesHome">User Blogs</a></li><li id="n-Newest-Blog-Posts"><a href="/wiki/Special:ArticleLists">Newest Blog Posts</a></li><li id="n-Write-a-Blog-Post"><a href="/wiki/Special:CreateBlogPost">Write a Blog Post</a></li><li id="n-Follow-Your-Friends"><a href="/wiki/Special:UserActivity">Follow Your Friends</a></li><li id="n-See-Friends.2FFoes"><a href="/wiki/Special:ViewRelationshipRequests">See Friends/Foes</a></li><li id="n-View-Your-Messages"><a href="/wiki/Special:UserBoard">View Your Messages</a></li><li id="n-See-Your-Gifts"><a href="/wiki/Special:ViewGifts">See Your Gifts</a></li><li id="n-Gift-a-Friend"><a href="/wiki/Special:GiveGift">Gift a Friend</a></li> </ul> |
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'You feel sleepy, don't you, my dear?' said the doctor. |
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</div> |
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</div> |
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'No, sir,' replied Oliver. |
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<div class="portal" role="navigation" id="p-Troping_Utilities" aria-labelledby="p-Troping_Utilities-label"> |
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<h3 id="p-Troping_Utilities-label">Troping Utilities</h3> |
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'No,' said the doctor, with a very shrewd and satisfied look. |
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<div class="body"> |
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'You're not sleepy. Nor thirsty. Are you?' |
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<ul> |
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<li id="n-ATT-Page-Creator"><a href="/wiki/All_The_Tropes:ATT_Page_Creator">ATT Page Creator</a></li><li id="n-Trope-Workshop"><a href="/wiki/Category:Trope_Workshop">Trope Workshop</a></li><li id="n-ATT-Forums"><a href="/wiki/Special:WikiForum">ATT Forums</a></li><li id="n-ATT-Forums-.28old.29"><a href="/wiki/Forum:All_The_Tropes">ATT Forums (old)</a></li><li id="n-ATT-WebChat-.28IRC.29"><a href="/wiki/Special:WebChat">ATT WebChat (IRC)</a></li><li id="n-ATT-WebChat-.28onwiki.29"><a href="/wiki/Special:Chat">ATT WebChat (onwiki)</a></li><li id="n-Troper-Userboxes"><a href="/wiki/All_The_Tropes:Userboxes">Troper Userboxes</a></li><li id="n-Mechanics-of-Writing"><a href="/wiki/Mechanics_of_Writing">Mechanics of Writing</a></li> </ul> |
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'Yes, sir, rather thirsty,' answered Oliver. |
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</div> |
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</div> |
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'Just as I expected, Mrs. Bedwin,' said the doctor. 'It's very |
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<div class="portal" role="navigation" id="p-Troper_Social_Networks" aria-labelledby="p-Troper_Social_Networks-label"> |
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natural that he should be thirsty. You may give him a little |
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<h3 id="p-Troper_Social_Networks-label">Troper Social Networks</h3> |
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tea, ma'am, and some dry toast without any butter. Don't keep |
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<div class="body"> |
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him too warm, ma'am; but be careful that you don't let him be too |
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<ul> |
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cold; will you have the goodness?' |
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<li id="n-ATT-Twitter"><a href="https://twitter.com/ATTropes" rel="nofollow">ATT Twitter</a></li><li id="n-ATT-subreddit"><a href="http://www.reddit.com/r/AllTheTropes/" rel="nofollow">ATT subreddit</a></li> </ul> |
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</div> |
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The old lady dropped a curtsey. The doctor, after tasting the |
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</div> |
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cool stuff, and expressing a qualified approval of it, hurried |
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<div class="portal" role="navigation" id="p-tb" aria-labelledby="p-tb-label"> |
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away: his boots creaking in a very important and wealthy manner |
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<h3 id="p-tb-label">Tools</h3> |
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as he went downstairs. |
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<div class="body"> |
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<ul> |
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Oliver dozed off again, soon after this; when he awoke, it was |
|||
<li id="t-specialpages"><a href="/wiki/Special:SpecialPages" title="A list of all special pages [q]" accesskey="q">Special pages</a></li><li id="t-print"><a href="/w/index.php?title=Special:Badtitle&action=raw&printable=yes" rel="alternate" title="Printable version of this page [p]" accesskey="p">Printable version</a></li><li id="t-urlshortener"><a href="/w/index.php?title=Special:UrlShortener&url=https%3A%2F%2Fallthetropes.org%2Fw%2Findex.php%3Ftitle%3DSpecial%3ABadtitle%26action%3Draw">Get shortened URL</a></li> </ul> |
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nearly twelve o'clock. The old lady tenderly bade him good-night |
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</div> |
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shortly afterwards, and left him in charge of a fat old woman who |
|||
</div> |
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had just come: bringing with her, in a little bundle, a small |
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</div> |
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Prayer Book and a large nightcap. Putting the latter on her head |
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</div> |
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and the former on the table, the old woman, after telling Oliver |
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<div id="footer" role="contentinfo"> |
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that she had come to sit up with him, drew her chair close to the |
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<ul id="footer-places"> |
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fire and went off into a series of short naps, chequered at |
|||
<li id="footer-places-privacy"><a href="//meta.miraheze.org/wiki/Privacy_Policy" class="extiw" title="m:Privacy Policy">Privacy policy</a></li> |
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frequent intervals with sundry tumblings forward, and divers |
|||
<li id="footer-places-about"><a href="/wiki/All_The_Tropes:About" title="All The Tropes:About">About All The Tropes</a></li> |
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moans and chokings. These, however, had no worse effect than |
|||
<li id="footer-places-disclaimer"><a href="/wiki/All_The_Tropes:General_disclaimer" title="All The Tropes:General disclaimer">Disclaimers</a></li> |
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causing her to rub her nose very hard, and then fall asleep |
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<li id="footer-places-termsofservice"><a href="//meta.miraheze.org/wiki/Terms_of_Use" class="extiw" title="m:Terms of Use">Terms of Use</a></li> |
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again. |
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<li id="footer-places-mobileview"><a href="https://allthetropes.org/w/index.php?title=Special:Badtitle&action=raw&mobileaction=toggle_view_mobile{{Dead link}}" class="noprint stopMobileRedirectToggle">Mobile view</a></li> |
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</ul> |
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And thus the night crept slowly on. Oliver lay awake for some |
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<ul id="footer-icons" class="noprint"> |
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time, counting the little circles of light which the reflection |
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<li id="footer-copyrightico"> |
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of the rushlight-shade threw upon the ceiling; or tracing with |
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<a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/"><img src="https://meta.miraheze.org/w/resources/assets/licenses/cc-by-sa.png" alt="Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0)" width="88" height="31"/></a> </li> |
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his languid eyes the intricate pattern of the paper on the wall. |
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<li id="footer-poweredbyico"> |
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The darkness and the deep stillness of the room were very solemn; |
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as they brought into the boy's mind the thought that death had |
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</ul> |
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been hovering there, for many days and nights, and might yet fill |
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<div style="clear: both;"></div> |
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it with the gloom and dread of his awful presence, he turned his |
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</div> |
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face upon the pillow, and fervently prayed to Heaven. |
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<script type="text/javascript"> |
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Gradually, he fell into that deep tranquil sleep which ease from |
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recent suffering alone imparts; that calm and peaceful rest which |
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it is pain to wake from. Who, if this were death, would be |
|||
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|||
roused again to all the struggles and turmoils of life; to all |
|||
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|||
its cares for the present; its anxieties for the future; more |
|||
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|||
than all, its weary recollections of the past! |
|||
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_paq.push(["setTrackerUrl", u + "piwik.php"]); |
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It had been bright day, for hours, when Oliver opened his eyes; |
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|||
he felt cheerful and happy. The crisis of the disease was safely |
|||
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|||
past. He belonged to the world again. |
|||
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|||
In three days' time he was able to sit in an easy-chair, well |
|||
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|||
propped up with pillows; and, as he was still too weak to walk, |
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Mrs. Bedwin had him carried downstairs into the little |
|||
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housekeeper's room, which belonged to her. Having him set, here, |
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g.defer=true; g.async=true; g.src=u+"piwik.js"; s.parentNode.insertBefore(g,s); |
|||
by the fire-side, the good old lady sat herself down too; and, |
|||
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being in a state of considerable delight at seeing him so much |
|||
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better, forthwith began to cry most violently. |
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'Never mind me, my dear,' said the old lady; 'I'm only having a |
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regular good cry. There; it's all over now; and I'm quite |
|||
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comfortable.' |
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</html> |
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'You're very, very kind to me, ma'am,' said Oliver. |
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'Well, never you mind that, my dear,' said the old lady; 'that's |
|||
got nothing to do with your broth; and it's full time you had it; |
|||
for the doctor says Mr. Brownlow may come in to see you this |
|||
morning; and we must get up our best looks, because the better we |
|||
look, the more he'll be pleased.' And with this, the old lady |
|||
applied herself to warming up, in a little saucepan, a basin full |
|||
of broth: strong enough, Oliver thought, to furnish an ample |
|||
dinner, when reduced to the regulation strength, for three |
|||
hundred and fifty paupers, at the lowest computation. |
|||
'Are you fond of pictures, dear?' inquired the old lady, seeing |
|||
that Oliver had fixed his eyes, most intently, on a portrait |
|||
which hung against the wall; just opposite his chair. |
|||
'I don't quite know, ma'am,' said Oliver, without taking his eyes |
|||
from the canvas; 'I have seen so few that I hardly know. What a |
|||
beautiful, mild face that lady's is!' |
|||
'Ah!' said the old lady, 'painters always make ladies out |
|||
prettier than they are, or they wouldn't get any custom, child. |
|||
The man that invented the machine for taking likenesses might |
|||
have known that would never succeed; it's a deal too honest. A |
|||
deal,' said the old lady, laughing very heartily at her own |
|||
acuteness. |
|||
'Is--is that a likeness, ma'am?' said Oliver. |
|||
'Yes,' said the old lady, looking up for a moment from the broth; |
|||
'that's a portrait.' |
|||
'Whose, ma'am?' asked Oliver. |
|||
'Why, really, my dear, I don't know,' answered the old lady in a |
|||
good-humoured manner. 'It's not a likeness of anybody that you |
|||
or I know, I expect. It seems to strike your fancy, dear.' |
|||
'It is so pretty,' replied Oliver. |
|||
'Why, sure you're not afraid of it?' said the old lady: observing |
|||
in great surprise, the look of awe with which the child regarded |
|||
the painting. |
|||
'Oh no, no,' returned Oliver quickly; 'but the eyes look so |
|||
sorrowful; and where I sit, they seem fixed upon me. It makes my |
|||
heart beat,' added Oliver in a low voice, 'as if it was alive, |
|||
and wanted to speak to me, but couldn't.' |
|||
'Lord save us!' exclaimed the old lady, starting; 'don't talk in |
|||
that way, child. You're weak and nervous after your illness. |
|||
Let me wheel your chair round to the other side; and then you |
|||
won't see it. There!' said the old lady, suiting the action to |
|||
the word; 'you don't see it now, at all events.' |
|||
Oliver _did_ see it in his mind's eye as distinctly as if he had |
|||
not altered his position; but he thought it better not to worry |
|||
the kind old lady; so he smiled gently when she looked at him; |
|||
and Mrs. Bedwin, satisfied that he felt more comfortable, salted |
|||
and broke bits of toasted bread into the broth, with all the |
|||
bustle befitting so solemn a preparation. Oliver got through it |
|||
with extraordinary expedition. He had scarcely swallowed the |
|||
last spoonful, when there came a soft rap at the door. 'Come |
|||
in,' said the old lady; and in walked Mr. Brownlow. |
|||
Now, the old gentleman came in as brisk as need be; but, he had |
|||
no sooner raised his spectacles on his forehead, and thrust his |
|||
hands behind the skirts of his dressing-gown to take a good long |
|||
look at Oliver, than his countenance underwent a very great |
|||
variety of odd contortions. Oliver looked very worn and shadowy |
|||
from sickness, and made an ineffectual attempt to stand up, out |
|||
of respect to his benefactor, which terminated in his sinking |
|||
back into the chair again; and the fact is, if the truth must be |
|||
told, that Mr. Brownlow's heart, being large enough for any six |
|||
ordinary old gentlemen of humane disposition, forced a supply of |
|||
tears into his eyes, by some hydraulic process which we are not |
|||
sufficiently philosophical to be in a condition to explain. |
|||
'Poor boy, poor boy!' said Mr. Brownlow, clearing his throat. |
|||
'I'm rather hoarse this morning, Mrs. Bedwin. I'm afraid I have |
|||
caught cold.' |
|||
'I hope not, sir,' said Mrs. Bedwin. 'Everything you have had, |
|||
has been well aired, sir.' |
|||
'I don't know, Bedwin. I don't know,' said Mr. Brownlow; 'I |
|||
rather think I had a damp napkin at dinner-time yesterday; but |
|||
never mind that. How do you feel, my dear?' |
|||
'Very happy, sir,' replied Oliver. 'And very grateful indeed, |
|||
sir, for your goodness to me.' |
|||
'Good by,' said Mr. Brownlow, stoutly. 'Have you given him any |
|||
nourishment, Bedwin? Any slops, eh?' |
|||
'He has just had a basin of beautiful strong broth, sir,' replied |
|||
Mrs. Bedwin: drawing herself up slightly, and laying strong |
|||
emphasis on the last word: to intimate that between slops, and |
|||
broth will compounded, there existed no affinity or connection |
|||
whatsoever. |
|||
'Ugh!' said Mr. Brownlow, with a slight shudder; 'a couple of |
|||
glasses of port wine would have done him a great deal more good. |
|||
Wouldn't they, Tom White, eh?' |
|||
'My name is Oliver, sir,' replied the little invalid: with a |
|||
look of great astonishment. |
|||
'Oliver,' said Mr. Brownlow; 'Oliver what? Oliver White, eh?' |
|||
'No, sir, Twist, Oliver Twist.' |
|||
'Queer name!' said the old gentleman. 'What made you tell the |
|||
magistrate your name was White?' |
|||
'I never told him so, sir,' returned Oliver in amazement. |
|||
This sounded so like a falsehood, that the old gentleman looked |
|||
somewhat sternly in Oliver's face. It was impossible to doubt |
|||
him; there was truth in every one of its thin and sharpened |
|||
lineaments. |
|||
'Some mistake,' said Mr. Brownlow. But, although his motive for |
|||
looking steadily at Oliver no longer existed, the old idea of the |
|||
resemblance between his features and some familiar face came upon |
|||
him so strongly, that he could not withdraw his gaze. |
|||
'I hope you are not angry with me, sir?' said Oliver, raising his |
|||
eyes beseechingly. |
|||
'No, no,' replied the old gentleman. 'Why! what's this? Bedwin, |
|||
look there!' |
|||
As he spoke, he pointed hastily to the picture over Oliver's |
|||
head, and then to the boy's face. There was its living copy. The |
|||
eyes, the head, the mouth; every feature was the same. The |
|||
expression was, for the instant, so precisely alike, that the |
|||
minutest line seemed copied with startling accuracy! |
|||
Oliver knew not the cause of this sudden exclamation; for, not |
|||
being strong enough to bear the start it gave him, he fainted |
|||
away. A weakness on his part, which affords the narrative an |
|||
opportunity of relieving the reader from suspense, in behalf of |
|||
the two young pupils of the Merry Old Gentleman; and of |
|||
recording-- |
|||
That when the Dodger, and his accomplished friend Master Bates, |
|||
joined in the hue-and-cry which was raised at Oliver's heels, in |
|||
consequence of their executing an illegal conveyance of Mr. |
|||
Brownlow's personal property, as has been already described, they |
|||
were actuated by a very laudable and becoming regard for |
|||
themselves; and forasmuch as the freedom of the subject and the |
|||
liberty of the individual are among the first and proudest boasts |
|||
of a true-hearted Englishman, so, I need hardly beg the reader to |
|||
observe, that this action should tend to exalt them in the |
|||
opinion of all public and patriotic men, in almost as great a |
|||
degree as this strong proof of their anxiety for their own |
|||
preservation and safety goes to corroborate and confirm the |
|||
little code of laws which certain profound and sound-judging |
|||
philosophers have laid down as the main-springs of all Nature's |
|||
deeds and actions: the said philosophers very wisely reducing |
|||
the good lady's proceedings to matters of maxim and theory: and, |
|||
by a very neat and pretty compliment to her exalted wisdom and |
|||
understanding, putting entirely out of sight any considerations |
|||
of heart, or generous impulse and feeling. For, these are matters |
|||
totally beneath a female who is acknowledged by universal |
|||
admission to be far above the numerous little foibles and |
|||
weaknesses of her sex. |
|||
If I wanted any further proof of the strictly philosophical |
|||
nature of the conduct of these young gentlemen in their very |
|||
delicate predicament, I should at once find it in the fact (also |
|||
recorded in a foregoing part of this narrative), of their |
|||
quitting the pursuit, when the general attention was fixed upon |
|||
Oliver; and making immediately for their home by the shortest |
|||
possible cut. Although I do not mean to assert that it is |
|||
usually the practice of renowned and learned sages, to shorten |
|||
the road to any great conclusion (their course indeed being |
|||
rather to lengthen the distance, by various circumlocutions and |
|||
discursive staggerings, like unto those in which drunken men |
|||
under the pressure of a too mighty flow of ideas, are prone to |
|||
indulge); still, I do mean to say, and do say distinctly, that it |
|||
is the invariable practice of many mighty philosophers, in |
|||
carrying out their theories, to evince great wisdom and foresight |
|||
in providing against every possible contingency which can be |
|||
supposed at all likely to affect themselves. Thus, to do a great |
|||
right, you may do a little wrong; and you may take any means |
|||
which the end to be attained, will justify; the amount of the |
|||
right, or the amount of the wrong, or indeed the distinction |
|||
between the two, being left entirely to the philosopher |
|||
concerned, to be settled and determined by his clear, |
|||
comprehensive, and impartial view of his own particular case. |
|||
It was not until the two boys had scoured, with great rapidity, |
|||
through a most intricate maze of narrow streets and courts, that |
|||
they ventured to halt beneath a low and dark archway. Having |
|||
remained silent here, just long enough to recover breath to |
|||
speak, Master Bates uttered an exclamation of amusement and |
|||
delight; and, bursting into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, |
|||
flung himself upon a doorstep, and rolled thereon in a transport |
|||
of mirth. |
|||
'What's the matter?' inquired the Dodger. |
|||
'Ha! ha! ha!' roared Charley Bates. |
|||
'Hold your noise,' remonstrated the Dodger, looking cautiously |
|||
round. 'Do you want to be grabbed, stupid?' |
|||
'I can't help it,' said Charley, 'I can't help it! To see him |
|||
splitting away at that pace, and cutting round the corners, and |
|||
knocking up again' the posts, and starting on again as if he was |
|||
made of iron as well as them, and me with the wipe in my pocket, |
|||
singing out arter him--oh, my eye!' The vivid imagination of |
|||
Master Bates presented the scene before him in too strong |
|||
colours. As he arrived at this apostrophe, he again rolled upon |
|||
the door-step, and laughed louder than before. |
|||
'What'll Fagin say?' inquired the Dodger; taking advantage of the |
|||
next interval of breathlessness on the part of his friend to |
|||
propound the question. |
|||
'What?' repeated Charley Bates. |
|||
'Ah, what?' said the Dodger. |
|||
'Why, what should he say?' inquired Charley: stopping rather |
|||
suddenly in his merriment; for the Dodger's manner was |
|||
impressive. 'What should he say?' |
|||
Mr. Dawkins whistled for a couple of minutes; then, taking off |
|||
his hat, scratched his head, and nodded thrice. |
|||
'What do you mean?' said Charley. |
|||
'Toor rul lol loo, gammon and spinnage, the frog he wouldn't, and |
|||
high cockolorum,' said the Dodger: with a slight sneer on his |
|||
intellectual countenance. |
|||
This was explanatory, but not satisfactory. Master Bates felt it |
|||
so; and again said, 'What do you mean?' |
|||
The Dodger made no reply; but putting his hat on again, and |
|||
gathering the skirts of his long-tailed coat under his arm, |
|||
thrust his tongue into his cheek, slapped the bridge of his nose |
|||
some half-dozen times in a familiar but expressive manner, and |
|||
turning on his heel, slunk down the court. Master Bates |
|||
followed, with a thoughtful countenance. |
|||
The noise of footsteps on the creaking stairs, a few minutes |
|||
after the occurrence of this conversation, roused the merry old |
|||
gentleman as he sat over the fire with a saveloy and a small loaf |
|||
in his hand; a pocket-knife in his right; and a pewter pot on the |
|||
trivet. There was a rascally smile on his white face as he |
|||
turned round, and looking sharply out from under his thick red |
|||
eyebrows, bent his ear towards the door, and listened. |
|||
'Why, how's this?' muttered the Jew: changing countenance; 'only |
|||
two of 'em? Where's the third? They can't have got into |
|||
trouble. Hark!' |
|||
The footsteps approached nearer; they reached the landing. The |
|||
door was slowly opened; and the Dodger and Charley Bates entered, |
|||
closing it behind them. |
|||
[[Category:Source]] |
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[[Category:{{BASEPAGENAME}}]] |
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