oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第107部分

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publicans；　and　the　gentleman　being　accommodated　with　
threepennyworth　of　brandy　to　restore　her；　lays　an　information　
next　day；　and　pockets　half　the　penalty。　Sometimes；　Mr。　Claypole　
faints　himself；　but　the　result　is　the　same。　

Mr。　and　Mrs。　Bumble；　deprived　of　their　situations；　were　

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gradually　reduced　to　great　indigence　and　misery；　and　finally　
became　paupers　in　that　very　same　workhouse　in　which　they　had　
once　lorded　it　over　others。　Mr。　Bumble　has　been　heard　to　say；　that　
in　this　reverse　and　degradation；　he　has　not　even　spirits　to　be　
thankful　for　being　separated　from　his　wife。　

As　to　Mr。　Giles　and　Brittles；　they　still　remain　in　their　old　posts；　
although　the　former　is　bald；　and　the　last…named　boy　quite　grey。　
They　sleep　at　the　parsonage；　but　divide　their　attentions　so　equally　
among　its　inmates；　and　Oliver；　and　Mr。　Brownlow；　and　Mr。　
Losberne；　that　to　this　day　the　villagers　have　never　been　able　to　
discover　to　which　establishment　they　properly　belong。　

Master　Charles　Bates；　appalled　by　Sikes’s　crime；　fell　into　a　train　
of　reflection　whether　an　honest　life　was　not；　after　all；　the　best。　
Arriving　at　the　conclusion　that　it　certainly　was；　he　turned　his　back　
upon　the　scenes　of　the　past；　resolved　to　amend　it　in　some　new　
sphere　of　action。　He　struggled　hard；　and　suffered　much；　for　some　
time；　but；　having　a　contented　disposition；　and　a　good　purpose；　
succeeded　in　the　end；　and；　from　being　a　farmer’s　drudge；　and　a　
carrier’s　lad；　he　is　now　the　merriest　young　grazier　in　all　
Northamptonshire。　

And　now；　the　hand　that　traces　these　words；　falters；　as　it　
approaches　the　conclusion　of　its　task；　and　would　weave；　for　a　little　
longer　space；　the　threads　of　these　adventures。　

I　would　fain　linger　yet　with　a　few　of　those　among　whom　I　have　
so　long　moved；　and　share　their　happiness　by　endeavouring　to　
depict　it。　I　would　show　Rose　Maylie　in　all　the　bloom　and　grace　of　
early　womanhood；　shedding　on　her　secluded　path　in　life　soft　and　
gentle　light；　that　fell　on　all　who　trod　it　with　her；　and　shone　into　
their　hearts。　I　would　paint　her　the　life　and　joy　of　the　fireside　circle　

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and　the　lively　summer　group；　I　would　follow　her　through　the　
sultry　fields　at　noon；　and　hear　the　low　tones　of　her　sweet　voice　in　
the　moonlit　evening　walk；　I　would　watch　her　in　all　her　goodness　
and　charity　abroad；　and　the　smiling；　untiring　discharge　of　
domestic　duties　at　home；　I　would　paint　her　and　her　dead　sister’s　
child　happy　in　their　love　for　one　another；　and　passing　whole　hours　
together　in　picturing　the　friends　whom　they　had　so　sadly　lost；　I　
would　summon　before　me；　once　again；　those　joyous　little　faces　that　
clustered　round　her　knee；　and　listen　to　their　merry　prattle；　I　would　
recall　the　tones　of　that　clear　laugh；　and　conjure　up　the　
sympathising　tear　that　glistened　in　the　soft　blue　eye。　These；　and　a　
thousand　looks　and　smiles；　and　turns　of　thought　and　speech—I　
would　fain　recall　them　every　one。　

How　Mr。　Brownlow　went　on；　from　day　to　day；　filling　the　mind　of　
his　adopted　child　with　stores　of　knowledge；　and　becoming　
attached　to　him；　more　and　more；　as　his　nature　developed　itself；　
and　showed　the　thriving　seeds　of　all　he　wished　him　to　become—　
how　he　traced　in　him　new　traits　of　his　early　friend；　that　awakened　
in　his　own　bosom　old　remembrances；　melancholy　and　yet　sweet　
and　soothing—how　the　two　orphans；　tried　by　adversity；　
remembered　its　lessons　in　mercy　to　others；　and　mutual　love；　and　
fervent　thanks　to　Him　who　had　protected　and　preserved　them—　
these　are　all　matters　which　need　not　be　told。　I　have　said　that　they　
were　truly　happy；　and　without　strong　affection　and　humanity　of　
heart；　and　gratitude　to　that　Being　whose　code　is　Mercy；　and　whose　
great　attribute　is　Benevolence　to　all　things　that　breathe；　happiness　
can　never　be　attained。　

Within　the　altar　of　the　old　village　church　there　stands　a　white　
marble　tablet；　which　bears　as　yet　but　one　word：　“AGNES。”　There　

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is　no　coffin　in　that　tomb；　and　may　it　be　many；　many　years；　before　
another　name　is　placed　above　it！　But；　if　the　spirits　of　the　Dead　ever　
come　back　to　earth；　to　visit　spots　hallowed　by　the　love—the　love　
beyond　the　grave—of　those　whom　they　knew　in　life；　I　believe　that　
the　shade　of　Agnes　sometimes　hovers　round　that　solemn　nook。　I　
believe　it　none　the　less　because　that　nook　is　in　a　church；　and　she　
was　weak　and　erring。　

The　End　

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