oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第52节

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“I’m　better　now；”　said　Mrs。　Corney；　falling　back；　after　drinking　
half　of　it。　

Mr。　Bumble　raised　his　eyes　piously　to　the　ceiling　in　
thankfulness；　and；　bringing　them　down　again　to　the　brim　of　the　
cup；　lifted　it　to　his　nose。　

“Peppermint；”　exclaimed　Mrs。　Corney；　in　a　faint　voice；　smiling　
gently　on　the　beadle　as　she　spoke。　“Try　it！　There’s　a　little—a　little　
something　else　in　it。”　

Mr。　Bumble　tasted　the　medicine　with　a　doubtful　look；　smacked　
his　lips；　took　another　taste；　and　put　the　cup　down　empty。　

“It’s　very　comforting；”　said　Mrs。　Corney。　

“Very　much　so　indeed；　ma’am；”　said　the　beadle。　As　he　spoke；　he　
drew　a　chair　beside　the　matron；　and　tenderly　inquired　what　had　
happened　to　distress　her。　

“Nothing；”　replied　Mrs。　Corney。　“I　am　a　foolish；　excitable；　weak　
creetur。”　

“Not　weak；　ma’am；”　retorted　Mr。　Bumble；　drawing　his　chair　a　
little　closer。　“Are　you　a　weak　creetur；　Mrs。　Corney？”　

“We　are　all　weak　creeturs；”　said　Mrs。　Corney；　laying　down　a　
general　principle。　

“So　we　are；”　said　the　beadle。　

Nothing　was　said；　on　either　side；　for　a　minute　or　two　
afterwards。　By　the　expiration　of　that　time；　Mr。　Bumble　had　
illustrated　the　position　by　removing　his　left　arm　from　the　back　of　
Mrs。　Corney’s　chair；　where　it　had　previously　rested；　to　Mrs。　
Corney’s　apron　string；　round　which　it　gradually　became　entwined。　

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“We　are　all　weak　creeturs；”　said　Mr。　Bumble。　

Mrs。　Corney　sighed。　

“Don’t　sigh；　Mrs。　Corney；”　said　Mr。　Bumble。　

“I　can’t　help　it；”　said　Mrs。　Corney。　And　she　sighed　again。　

“This　is　a　very　comfortable　room；　ma’am；”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　
looking　round。　“Another　room；　and　this；　ma’am；　would　be　a　
complete　thing。”　

“It　would　be　too　much　for　one；”　murmured　the　lady。　

“But　not　for　two；　ma’am；”　replied　Mr。　Bumble；　in　soft　accents。　
“Eh；　Mrs。　Corney？”　

Mrs。　Corney　drooped　her　head　when　the　beadle　said　this；　the　
beadle　drooped　his；　to　get　a　view　of　Mrs。　Corney’s　face。　Mrs。　
Corney；　with　great　propriety；　turned　her　head　away；　and　released　
her　hand　to　get　at　her　pocket…handkerchief；　but　insensibly　
replaced　it　in　that　of　Mr。　Bumble。　

“The　Board　allow　you　coals；　don’t　they；　Mrs。　Corney？”　inquired　
the　beadle；　affectionately　pressing　her　hand。　

“And　candles；”　replied　Mrs。　Corney；　slightly　returning　the　
pressure。　

“Coals；　candle；　and　house…rent　free；”　said　Mr。　Bumble。　“Oh；　
Mrs。　Corney；　what　an　angel　you　are！”　

The　lady　was　not　proof　against　this　burst　of　feeling。　She　sank　
into　Mr。　Bumble’s　arms；　and　that　gentleman　in　his　agitation；　
imprinted　a　passionate　kiss　upon　her　chaste　nose。　

“Such　porochial　perfection！”　exclaimed　Mr。　Bumble　
rapturously。　“You　know　that　Mr。　Slout　is　worse　tonight；　my　
fascinator？”　

“Yes；”　replied　Mrs。　Corney　bashfully。　

“He　can’t　live　a　week；　the　doctor　says；”　pursued　Mr。　Bumble。　

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“He　is　the　master　of　this　establishment；　his　death　will　cause　a　
wacancy；　that　wacancy　must　be　filled　up。　Oh；　Mrs。　Corney；　what　a　
prospect　this　opens！　What　a　opportunity　for　a　jining　of　hearts　and　
housekeepings！”　

Mrs。　Corney　sobbed。　

“The　little　word？”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　bending　over　the　bashful　
beauty。　“The　one　little；　little；　little　word；　my　blessed　Corney？”　

“Ye—ye—yes！”　sighed　out　the　matron。　

“One　more；”　pursued　the　beadle；　“compose　your　darling　
feelings　for　only　one　more。　When　is　it　to　come　off？”　Mrs。　Corney　
twice　essayed　to　speak：　and　twice　failed。　At　length　summoning　up　
courage；　she　threw　her　arms　round　Mr。　Bumble’s　neck；　and　said；　it　
might　be　as　soon　as　ever　he　pleased；　and　that　he　was　“a　irresistible　
duck。”　

Matters　being　thus　amicably　and　satisfactorily　arranged；　the　
contract　was　solemnly　ratified　in　another　tea…cupful　of　the　
peppermint　mixture；　which　was　rendered　the　more　necessary；　by　
the　flutter　and　agitation　of　the　lady’s　spirits。　While　it　was　being　
disposed　of；　she　acquainted　Mr。　Bumble　with　the　old　woman’s　
decease。　

“Very　good；”　said　that　gentleman；　sipping　his　peppermint；　“I’ll　
call　at　Sowerberry’s　as　I　go　home；　and　tell　him　to　send　tomorrow　
morning。　Was　it　that　as　frightened　you；　love？”　

“It　wasn’t　anything　particular；　dear；”　said　the　lady　evasively。　

“It　must　have　been　something；　love；”　urged　Mr。　Bumble。　
“Won’t　you　tell　your　own　B。？”　

“Not　now；”　rejoined　the　lady；　“one　of　these　days。　After　we’re　
married；　dear。”　

“After　we’re　married！”　exclaimed　Mr。　Bumble。　“It　wasn’t　any　

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impudence　from　any　of　them　male　paupers　as—”　

“No；　no；　love！”　interposed　the　lady　hastily。　

“If　I　thought　it　was；”　continued　Mr。　Bumble；　“if　I　thought　as　
any　of　’em　dared　to　lift　his　wulgar　eyes　to　that　lovely　
countenance—”　

“They　wouldn’t　have　dared　to　do　it；　love；”　responded　the　lady。　

“They　had　better　not！”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　clenching　his　fist。　“Let　
me　see　any　man；　porochial　or　extra…porochial；　as　would　presume　
to　do　it；　and　I　can　tell　him　that　he　wouldn’t　do　it　a　second　time！”　

Unembellished　by　any　violence　of　gesticulation；　this　might　have　
seemed　no　very　high　compliment　to　the　lady’s　charms；　but；　as　Mr。　
Bumble　accompanied　the　threat　with　many　warlike　gestures；　she　
was　much　touched　with　this　proof　of　his　devotion；　and　protested；　
with　great　admiration；　that　he　was　indeed　a　dove。　

The　dove　then　turned　up　his　coat　collar；　and　put　on　his　cocked　
hat；　and；　having　exchanged　a　long　and　affectionate　embrace　with　
his　future　partner；　once　again　braved　the　cold　wind　of　the　night；　
merely　pausing；　for　a　few　minutes；　in　the　male　paupers’　ward；　to　
abuse　them　a　little；　with　the　view　of　satisfying　himself　that　he　
could　fill　the　office　of　workhouse…master　with　needful　acerbity。　
Assured　of　his　qualifications；　Mr。　Bumble　left　the　building　with　a　
light　heart；　and　bright　visions　of　his　future　promotion；　which　
served　to　occupy　his　mind　until　he　reached　the　shop　of　the　
undertaker。　

Now；　Mr。　and　Mrs。　Sowerberry　having　gone　out　to　tea　and　
supper；　and　Noah　Claypole　not　being　at　any　time　disposed　to　take　
upon　himself　a　greater　amount　of　physical　exertion　than　is　
necessary　to　a　convenient　performance　of　the　two　functions　of　
eating　and　drinking；　the　shop　was　not　closed；　although　it　was　past　

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the　usual　hour　of　shutting　up。　Mr。　Bumble　tapped　with　his　cane　on　
the　counter　several　times；　but；　attracting　no　attention；　and　
beholding　a　light　shining　through　the　glass　window　of　the　little　
parlour　at　the　back　of　the　shop；　he　made　bold　to　peep　in　and　see　
what　was　going　forward；　and　when　he　saw　what　was　going　
forward；　he　was　not　a　little　surprised。　

The　cloth　was　laid　for　supper；　the　table　was　covered　with　bread…
and…butter；　plates　and　glasses；　a　porter　pot　and　a　wine…bottle。　At　
the　upper　end　of　the　table；　Mr。　Noah　Claypole　lolled　negligently　in　
an　easy…chair；　with　his　legs　thrown　over　one　of　the　arms；　an　open　
clasp…knife　in　one　hand；　and　a　mass　of　buttered　bread　in　the　other。　
Close　beside　him　stood　Charlotte；　opening　oysters　from　a　barrel；　
which　Mr。　Claypole　condescended　to　swallow；　with　remarkable　
avidity。　A　more　than　ordinary　redness　in　the　region　of　the　young　
man’s　nose；　and　a　kind　of　fixed　wink　in　his　right　eye；　denoted　that　
he　was　in　a　slight　degree　intoxicated；　these　symptoms　were　
confirmed　by　the　intense　relish　with　which　he　took　his　oysters；　for　
which　nothing　but　a　strong　appreciation　of　their　cooling　properties　
in　cases　of　internal　fever；　could　have　sufficiently　accounted。　

“Here’s　a　delicious　fat　one；　Noah；　dear！”　said　Charlotte；　“try　
him；　do；　only　this　one。”　

“What　a　delicious　thing　is　a　oyster！”　remarked　Mr。　Claypole；　
after　he　had　swallowed　it。　“What　a　pity　it　is；　a　number　of　’em　
should　ever　make　you　feel　uncomfortable；　isn’t　it；　Charlotte？”　

“It’s　quite　a　cruelty；”　said　Charlotte。　

“So　it　is；”　acquiesced　Mr。　Claypole。　“Ain’t　yer　fond　of　oysters？”　

“Not　overmuch；”　replied　Charlotte。　“I　like　to　see　you　eat　’em；　
Noah；　dear；　better　than　eating　’em　myself。”　

“Lord！”　said　Noah　reflectively；　“how　queer！”　

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“Have　another；”　said　Charlotte。　“Here’s　one　with　such　a　
beautiful；　delicate　beard！”　

“I　can’t　manage　any　more；”　said　Noah。　“I’m　very　sorry。　Come　
here；　Charlotte；　and　I’ll　kiss　yer。”　

“What！”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　bursting　into　the　room。　“Say　that　
again；　sir。”　

Charlotte　uttered　a　scream；　and　hid　her　face　in　her　apron。　Mr。　
Claypole；　without　making　any　further　change　in　his　position　than　
suffering　his　legs　to　reach　the　ground；　gazed　at　the　beadle　in　
drunken　terror。　

“Say　it　again；　you　wile；　owdacious　fellow！”　said　Mr。　Bumble。　
“How　dare　you　mention　such　a　thing；　sir？　And　how　dare　you　
encourage　him；　you　insolent　minx？　Kiss　her！”　exclaimed　Mr。　
Bumble；　in　strong　indignation。　“Faugh！”　

“I　didn’t　mean　to　do　it！”　said　Noah；　blubbering。　“She’s　always　a…
kissing　of　me；　whether　I　like　it；　or