oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第63节

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Oliver　Twist　342　

was　unusually　refreshing。　Rose　had　been　in　high　spirits；　too；　and　
they　had　walked　on；　in　merry　conversation；　until　they　had　far　
exceeded　their　ordinary　bounds。　Mrs。　Maylie　being　fatigued；　they　
returned　more　slowly　home。　The　young　lady　merely　throwing　off　
her　simple　bonnet；　sat　down　to　the　piano　as　usual。　After　running　
abstractedly　over　the　keys　for　a　few　minutes；　she　fell　into　a　low　
and　very　solemn　air；　and；　as　she　played　it；　they　heard　a　sound　as　if　
she　were　weeping。　

“Rose；　my　dear！”　said　the　elder　lady。　

Rose　made　no　reply；　but　played　a　little　quicker；　as　though　the　
words　had　roused　her　from　some　painful　thoughts。　

“Rose；　my　love！”　cried　Mrs。　Maylie；　rising　hastily；　and　bending　
over　her。　“What　is　this？　In　tears！　My　dear　child；　what　distresses　
you？”　

“Nothing；　aunt；　nothing；”　replied　the　young　lady。　“I　don’t　know　
what　it　is；　I　can’t　describe　it；　but　I　feel—”　

“Not　ill；　my　love？”　interposed　Mrs。　Maylie。　

“No；　no！　Oh；　not　ill！”　replied　Rose；　shuddering　as　though　some　
deadly　chillness　were　passing　over　her；　while　she　spoke；　“I　shall　be　
better　presently。　Close　the　window；　pray！”　

Oliver　hastened　to　comply　with　her　request。　The　young　lady；　
making　an　effort　to　recover　her　cheerfulness；　strove　to　play　some　
livelier　tune；　but　her　fingers　dropped　powerless　on　the　keys。　
Covering　her　face　with　her　hands；　she　sank　upon　a　sofa；　and　gave　
vent　to　the　tears　which　she　was　now　unable　to　repress。　

“My　child！”　said　the　elderly　lady；　folding　her　arms　about　her。　“I　
never　saw　you　so　before。”　

“I　would　not　alarm　you　if　I　could　avoid　it；”　rejoined　Rose；　“but　
indeed　I　have　tried　very　hard；　and　cannot　help　this。　I　fear　I　am　ill；　

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aunt。”　

She　was；　indeed；　for；　when　candles　were　brought；　they　saw　that　
in　the　very　short　time　which　had　elapsed　since　their　return　home；　
the　hue　of　her　countenance　had　changed　to　a　marble　whiteness。　
Its　expression　had　lost　nothing　of　its　beauty；　but　it　was　changed；　
and　there　was　an　anxious；　haggard　look　about　the　gentle　face；　
which　it　had　never　worn　before。　Another　minute；　and　it　was　
suffused　with　a　crimson　flush；　and　a　heavy　wildness　came　over　the　
soft　blue　eye。　Again　this　disappeared；　like　the　shadow　thrown　by　a　
passing　cloud；　and　she　was　once　more　deadly　pale。　

Oliver；　who　watched　the　old　lady　anxiously；　observed　that　she　
was　alarmed　by　these　appearances；　and　so　in　truth；　was　he；　but；　
seeing　that　she　affected　to　make　light　of　them；　he　endeavoured　to　
do　the　same；　and　they　so　far　succeeded；　that　when　Rose　was　
persuaded　by　her　aunt　to　retire　for　the　night；　she　was　in　better　
spirits；　and　appeared　even　in　better　health；　assuring　them　that　she　
felt　certain　she　should　rise　in　the　morning；　quite　well。　“I　hope；”　
said　Oliver；　when　Mrs。　Maylie　returned；　“that　nothing　is　the　
matter？　She　don’t　look　well　tonight；　but—”　The　old　lady　motioned　
to　him　not　to　speak；　and；　sitting　herself　down　in　a　dark　corner　of　
the　room；　remained　silent　for　some　time。　At　length；　she　said；　in　a　
trembling　voice：　

“I　hope　not；　Oliver。　I　have　been　very　happy　with　her　for　some　
years—too　happy；　perhaps。　It　may　be　time　that　I　should　meet　with　
some　misfortune；　but　I　hope　it　is　not　this。”　

“What？”　inquired　Oliver。　

“The　heavy　blow；”　said　the　old　lady；　“of　losing　the　dear　girl　who　
has　so　long　been　my　comfort　and　happiness。”　

“Oh！　God　forbid！”　exclaimed　Oliver　hastily。　

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“Amen　to　that；　my　child！”　said　the　old　lady；　wringing　her　hands。　

“Surely　there　is　no　danger　of　anything　so　dreadful？”　said　
Oliver。　“Two　hours　ago；　she　was　quite　well。”　

“She　is　very　ill　now；”　rejoined　Mrs。　Maylie；　“and　will　be　worse；　I　
am　sure。　My　dear；　dear　Rose！　Oh；　what　should　I　do　without　her！”　

She　gave　way　to　such　great　grief；　that　Oliver；　suppressing　his　
own　emotion；　ventured　to　remonstrate　with　her；　and　to　beg；　
earnestly；　that；　for　the　sake　of　the　dear　young　lady　herself；　she　
would　be　more　calm。　

“And　consider；　ma’am；”　said　Oliver；　as　the　tears　forced　
themselves　into　his　eyes；　despite　of　his　efforts　to　the　contrary。　“Oh！　
consider　how　young　and　good　she　is；　and　what　pleasure　and　
comfort　she　gives　to　all　about　her。　I　am　sure—certain—quite　
certain—that；　for　your　sake；　who　are　so　good　yourself；　and　for　her　
own；　and　for　the　sake　of　all　she　makes　so　happy；　she　will　not　die。　
Heaven　will　never　let　her　die　so　young。”　

“Hush！”　said　Mrs。　Maylie；　laying　her　hand　on　Oliver’s　head。　
“You　think　like　a　child；　poor　boy。　But　you　teach　me　my　duty；　
notwithstanding。　I　had　forgotten　it　for　a　moment；　Oliver；　but　I　
hope　I　may　be　pardoned；　for　I　am　old；　and　have　seen　enough　of　
illness　and　death　to　know　the　agony　of　separation　from　the　objects　
of　our　love。　I　have　seen　enough；　too；　to　know　that　it　is　not　always　
the　youngest　and　best　who　are　spared　to　those　that　love　them；　but　
this　should　give　us　comfort　in　our　sorrow；　for　Heaven　is　just；　and　
such　things　teach　us；　impressively；　that　there　is　a　brighter　world　
than　this；　and　that　the　passage　to　it　is　speedy。　God’s　will　be　done！　I　
love　her；　and　He　knows　how　well！”　

Oliver　was　surprised　to　see　that　as　Mrs。　Maylie　said　these　
words；　she　checked　her　lamentations　as　though　by　one　effort；　and　

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drawing　herself　up　as　she　spoke；　became　composed　and　firm。　He　
was　still　more　astonished　to　find　that　this　firmness　lasted；　and　
that；　under　all　the　care　and　watching　which　ensued；　Mrs。　Maylie　
was　ever　ready　and　collected；　performing　all　the　duties　which　
devolved　upon　her；　steadily；　and；　to　all　external　appearance；　even　
cheerfully。　But　he　was　young；　and　did　not　know　what　strong　
minds　are　capable　of；　under　trying　circumstances。　How　should　he；　
when　their　possessors　so　seldom　know　themselves？　

An　anxious　night　ensued。　When　morning　came；　Mrs。　Maylie’s　
predictions　were　but　too　well　verified。　Rose　was　in　the　first　stage　
of　a　high　and　dangerous　fever。　

“We　must　be　active；　Oliver；　and　not　give　way　to　useless　grief；”　
said　Mrs。　Maylie；　laying　her　finger　on　her　lip；　as　she　looked　
steadily　into　his　face；　“this　letter　must　be　sent；　with　all　possible　
expedition；　to　Mr。　Losberne。　It　must　be　carried　to　the　market…
town；　which　is　not　more　than　four　miles　off；　by　the　footpath　across　
the　fields；　and　thence　despatched；　by　an　express　on　horseback；　
straight　to　Chertsey。　The　people　at　the　inn　will　undertake　to　do　
this；　and　I　can　trust　to　you　to　see　it　done；　I　know。”　

Oliver　could　make　no　reply；　but　looked　with　anxiety　to　be　gone　
at　once。　

“Here　is　another　letter；”　said　Mrs。　Maylie；　pausing　to　reflect；　
“but　whether　to　send　it　now；　or　wait　until　I　see　how　Rose　goes　on；　I　
scarcely　know。　I　would　not　forward　it；　unless　I　feared　the　worst。”　

“Is　it　for　Chertsey；　too；　ma’am？”　inquired　Oliver；　impatient　to　
execute　his　commission；　and　holding　out　his　trembling　hand　for　
the　letter。　

“No；”　replied　the　old　lady；　giving　it　to　him　mechanically。　Oliver　
glanced　at　it；　and　saw　that　it　was　directed　to　Harry　Maylie；　

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Esquire；　at　some　great　lord’s　house　in　the　country；　where；　he　could　

not　make　out。　

“Shall　it　go；　ma’am？”　asked　Oliver；　looking　up　impatiently。　

“I　think　not；”　replied　Mrs。　Maylie；　taking　it　back。　“I　will　wait　
until　tomorrow。”　

With　these　words；　she　gave　Oliver　her　purse；　and　he　started　off；　
without　more　delay；　at　the　greatest　speed　he　could　muster。　

Swiftly　he　ran　across　the　fields；　and　down　the　little　lanes　which　
sometimes　divided　them；　now　almost　hidden　by　the　high　corn　on　
either　side；　and　now　emerging　on　an　open　field；　where　the　mowers　
and　hay…makers　were　busy　at　their　work；　nor　did　he　stop　once；　
save　now　and　then；　for　a　few　seconds；　to　recover　breath；　until　he　
came；　in　a　great　heat；　and　covered　with　dust；　on　the　little　marketplace　of　the　market…town。　

Here　he　paused；　and　looked　about　for　the　inn。　There　were　a　
white　bank；　and　a　red　brewery；　and　a　yellow　town…hall；　and　in　one　
corner　there　was　a　large　house；　with　all　the　wood　about　it　painted　
green；　before　which　was　the　sign　of　“The　George”。　To　this　he　
hastened；　as　soon　as　it　caught　his　eye。　

He　spoke　to　a　postboy；　who　was　dozing　under　the　gateway；　
and—who；　after　hearing　what　he　wanted；　referred　him　to　the　
hostler；　who；　after　hearing　all　he　had　to　say　again；　referred　him　to　
the　landlord；　who　was　a　tall　gentleman　in　a　blue　neckcloth；　a　white　
hat；　drab　breeches；　and　boots　with　tops　to　match；　leaning　against　a　
pump　by　the　stable　door；　picking　his　teeth　with　a　silver　toothpick。　

This　gentleman　walked　with　much　deliberation　into　the　bar　to　
make　out　the　bill；　which　took　a　long　time　making　out；　and　after　it　
was　ready；　and　paid；　a　horse　had　to　be　saddled；　and　a　man　to　be　
dressed；　which　took　up　ten　good　minutes　more。　Meanwhile　Oliver　

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was　in　such　a　desperate　state　of　impatience　and　anxiety；　that　he　
felt　as　if　he　could　have　jumped　upon　the　horse　him