OF THE HAPPY LIFE OLIVER BEGAN TO LEAD WITH HIS KIND FRIENDS

Oliver's ailings were neither slight nor few. In addition to the pain and delay attendant on a broken limb, his exposure to the wet and cold had brought on fever and ague: which hung about him for many weeks, and reduced him sadly. But, at length, he began, by slow degrees, to get better, and to be able to say sometimes, in a few tearful words, how deeply he felt the goodness of the two sweet ladies, and how ardently he hoped that when he grew strong and well again, he could do something to show his gratitude; only something, which would let them see the love and duty with which his breast was full; something, however slight, which would prove to them that their gentle kindness had not been cast away; but that the poor boy whom their charity had rescued from misery, or death, was eager to serve them with his whole heart and soul.

'Poor fellow!' said Rose, when Oliver had been one day feebly endeavouring to utter the words of thankfulness that rose to his pale lips; 'you shall have many opportunities of serving us, if you will. We are going into the country, and my aunt intends that you shall accompany us. The quiet place, the pure air, and all the pleasure and beauties of spring, will restore you in a few days. We will employ you in a hundred ways, when you can bear the trouble.'

'The trouble!' cried Oliver. 'Oh! dear lady, if I could but work for you; if I could only give you pleasure by watering your flowers, or watching your birds, or running up and down the whole day long, to make you happy; what would I give to do it!'

'You shall give nothing at all,' said Miss Maylie, smiling; 'for, as I told you before, we shall employ you in a hundred ways; and if you only take half the trouble to please us, that you promise now, you will make me very happy indeed.'

'Happy, ma'am!' cried Oliver; 'how kind of you to say so!'

'You will make me happier than I can tell you,' replied the young lady. 'To think that my dear good aunt should have been the means of rescuing any one from such sad misery as you have described to us, would be an unspeakable pleasure to me; but to know that the object of her goodness and compassion was sincerely grateful and attached, in consequence, would delight me, more than you can well imagine. Do you understand me?' she inquired, watching Oliver's thoughtful face.

'Oh yes, ma'am, yes!' replied Oliver eagerly; 'but I was thinking that I am ungrateful now.'

'To whom?' inquired the young lady.

'To the kind gentleman, and the dear old nurse, who took so much care of me before,' rejoined Oliver. 'If they knew how happy I am, they would be pleased, I am sure.'

'I am sure they would,' rejoined Oliver's benefactress; 'and Mr. Losberne has already been kind enough to promise that when you are well enough to bear the journey, he will carry you to see them.'

'Has he, ma'am?' cried Oliver, his face brightening with pleasure. 'I don't know what I shall do for joy when I see their kind faces once again!'

In a short time Oliver was sufficiently recovered to undergo the fatigue of this expedition. One morning he and Mr. Losberne set out, accordingly, in a little carriage which belonged to Mrs. Maylie. When they came to Chertsey Bridge, Oliver turned very pale, and uttered a loud exclamation.

'What's the matter with the boy?' cried the doctor, as usual, all in a bustle. 'Do you see anything--hear anything--feel anything--eh?'

'That, sir,' cried Oliver, pointing out of the carriage window. 'That house!'

'Yes; well, what of it? Stop coachman. Pull up here,' cried the doctor. 'What of the house, my man; eh?'

'The thieves--the house they took me to!' whispered Oliver.

'The devil it is!' cried the doctor. 'Hallo, there! let me out!'

But, before the coachman could dismount from his box, he had tumbled out of the coach, by some means or other; and, running down to the deserted tenement, began kicking at the door like a madman.

'Halloa?' said a little ugly hump-backed man: opening the door so suddenly, that the doctor, from the very impetus of his last kick, nearly fell forward into the passage. 'What's the matter here?'

'Matter!' exclaimed the other, collaring him, without a moment's reflection. 'A good deal. Robbery is the matter.'

'There'll be Murder the matter, too,' replied the hump-backed man, coolly, 'if you don't take your hands off. Do you hear me?'

'I hear you,' said the doctor, giving his captive a hearty shake.

'Where's--confound the fellow, what's his rascally name--Sikes; that's it. Where's Sikes, you thief?'

The hump-backed man stared, as if in excess of amazement and indignation; then, twisting himself, dexterously, from the doctor's grasp, growled forth a volley of horrid oaths, and retired into the house. Before he could shut the door, however, the doctor had passed into the parlour, without a word of parley.

He looked anxiously round; not an article of furniture; not a vestige of anything, animate or inanimate; not even the position of the cupboards; answered Oliver's description!

'Now!' said the hump-backed man, who had watched him keenly, 'what do you mean by coming into my house, in this violent way? Do you want to rob me, or to murder me? Which is it?'

'Did you ever know a man come out to do either, in a chariot and pair, you ridiculous old vampire?' said the irritable doctor.

'What do you want, then?' demanded the hunchback. 'Will you take yourself off, before I do you a mischief? Curse you!'

'As soon as I think proper,' said Mr. Losberne, looking into the other parlour; which, like the first, bore no resemblance whatever to Oliver's account of it. 'I shall find you out, some day, my friend.'

'Will you?' sneered the ill-favoured cripple. 'If you ever want me, I'm here. I haven't lived here mad and all alone, for five-and-twenty years, to be scared by you. You shall pay for this; you shall pay for this.' And so saying, the mis-shapen little demon set up a yell, and danced upon the ground, as if wild with rage.

'Stupid enough, this,' muttered the doctor to himself; 'the boy must have made a mistake. Here! Put that in your pocket, and shut yourself up again.' With these words he flung the hunchback a piece of money, and returned to the carriage.

The man followed to the chariot door, uttering the wildest imprecations and curses all the way; but as Mr. Losberne turned to speak to the driver, he looked into the carriage, and eyed Oliver for an instant with a glance so sharp and fierce and at the same time so furious and vindictive, that, waking or sleeping, he could not forget it for months afterwards. He continued to utter the most fearful imprecations, until the driver had resumed his seat; and when they were once more on their way, they could see him some distance behind: beating his feet upon the ground, and tearing his hair, in transports of real or pretended rage.

'I am an ass!' said the doctor, after a long silence. 'Did you know that before, Oliver?'

'No, sir.'

'Then don't forget it another time.'

'An ass,' said the doctor again, after a further silence of some minutes. 'Even if it had been the right place, and the right fellows had been there, what could I have done, single-handed? And if I had had assistance, I see no good that I should have done, except leading to my own exposure, and an unavoidable statement of the manner in which I have hushed up this business. That would have served me right, though. I am always involving myself in some scrape or other, by acting on impulse. It might have done me good.'

Now, the fact was that the excellent doctor had never acted upon anything but impulse all through his life, and it was no bad compliment to the nature of the impulses which governed him, that so far from being involved in any peculiar troubles or misfortunes, he had the warmest respect and esteem of all who knew him. If the truth must be told, he was a little out of temper, for a minute or two, at being disappointed in procuring corroborative evidence of Oliver's story on the very first occasion on which he had a chance of obtaining any. He soon came round again, however; and finding that Oliver's replies to his questions, were still as straightforward and consistent, and still delivered with as much apparent sincerity and truth, as they had ever been, he made up his mind to attach full credence to them, from that time forth.

As Oliver knew the name of the street in which Mr. Brownlow resided, they were enabled to drive straight thither. When the coach turned into it, his heart beat so violently, that he could scarcely draw his breath.

'Now, my boy, which house is it?' inquired Mr. Losberne.

'That! That!' replied Oliver, pointing eagerly out of the window. 'The white house. Oh! make haste! Pray make haste! I feel as if I should die: it makes me tremble so.'

'Come, come!' said the good doctor, patting him on the shoulder. 'You will see them directly, and they will be overjoyed to find you safe and well.'

'Oh! I hope so!' cried Oliver. 'They were so good to me; so very, very good to me.'

The coach rolled on. It stopped. No; that was the wrong house; the next door. It went on a few paces, and stopped again. Oliver looked up at the windows, with tears of happy expectation coursing down his face.

Alas! the white house was empty, and there was a bill in the window. 'To Let.'

'Knock at the next door,' cried Mr. Losberne, taking Oliver's arm in his. 'What has become of Mr. Brownlow, who used to live in the adjoining house, do you know?'

The servant did not know; but would go and inquire. She presently returned, and said, that Mr. Brownlow had sold off his goods, and gone to the West Indies, six weeks before. Oliver clasped his hands, and sank feebly backward.

'Has his housekeeper gone too?' inquired Mr. Losberne, after a moment's pause.

'Yes, sir'; replied the servant. 'The old gentleman, the housekeeper, and a gentleman who was a friend of Mr. Brownlow's, all went together.'

'Then turn towards home again,' said Mr. Losberne to the driver; 'and don't stop to bait the horses, till you get out of this confounded London!'

'The book-stall keeper, sir?' said Oliver. 'I know the way there. See him, pray, sir! Do see him!'

'My poor boy, this is disappointment enough for one day,' said the doctor. 'Quite enough for both of us. If we go to the book-stall keeper's, we shall certainly find that he is dead, or has set his house on fire, or run away. No; home again straight!' And in obedience to the doctor's impulse, home they went.

This bitter disappointment caused Oliver much sorrow and grief, even in the midst of his happiness; for he had pleased himself, many times during his illness, with thinking of all that Mr. Brownlow and Mrs. Bedwin would say to him: and what delight it would be to tell them how many long days and nights he had passed in reflecting on what they had done for him, and in bewailing his cruel separation from them. The hope of eventually clearing himself with them, too, and explaining how he had been forced away, had buoyed him up, and sustained him, under many of his recent trials; and now, the idea that they should have gone so far, and carried with them the belief that he was an impostor and a robber--a belief which might remain uncontradicted to his dying day--was almost more than he could bear.

The circumstance occasioned no alteration, however, in the behaviour of his benefactors. After another fortnight, when the fine warm weather had fairly begun, and every tree and flower was putting forth its young leaves and rich blossoms, they made preparations for quitting the house at Chertsey, for some months.

Sending the plate, which had so excited Fagin's cupidity, to the banker's; and leaving Giles and another servant in care of the house, they departed to a cottage at some distance in the country, and took Oliver with them.

Who can describe the pleasure and delight, the peace of mind and soft tranquillity, the sickly boy felt in the balmy air, and among the green hills and rich woods, of an inland village! Who can tell how scenes of peace and quietude sink into the minds of pain-worn dwellers in close and noisy places, and carry their own freshness, deep into their jaded hearts! Men who have lived in crowded, pent-up streets, through lives of toil, and who have never wished for change; men, to whom custom has indeed been second nature, and who have come almost to love each brick and stone that formed the narrow boundaries of their daily walks; even they, with the hand of death upon them, have been known to yearn at last for one short glimpse of Nature's face; and, carried far from the scenes of their old pains and pleasures, have seemed to pass at once into a new state of being. Crawling forth, from day to day, to some green sunny spot, they have had such memories wakened up within them by the sight of the sky, and hill and plain, and glistening water, that a foretaste of heaven itself has soothed their quick decline, and they have sunk into their tombs, as peacefully as the sun whose setting they watched from their lonely chamber window but a few hours before, faded from their dim and feeble sight! The memories which peaceful country scenes call up, are not of this world, nor of its thoughts and hopes. Their gentle influence may teach us how to weave fresh garlands for the graves of those we loved: may purify our thoughts, and bear down before it old enmity and hatred; but beneath all this, there lingers, in the least reflective mind, a vague and half-formed consciousness of having held such feelings long before, in some remote and distant time, which calls up solemn thoughts of distant times to come, and bends down pride and worldliness beneath it.

It was a lovely spot to which they repaired. Oliver, whose days had been spent among squalid crowds, and in the midst of noise and brawling, seemed to enter on a new existence there. The rose and honeysuckle clung to the cottage walls; the ivy crept round the trunks of the trees; and the garden-flowers perfumed the air with delicious odours. Hard by, was a little churchyard; not crowded with tall unsightly gravestones, but full of humble mounds, covered with fresh turf and moss: beneath which, the old people of the village lay at rest. Oliver often wandered here; and, thinking of the wretched grave in which his mother lay, would sometimes sit him down and sob unseen; but, when he raised his eyes to the deep sky overhead, he would cease to think of her as lying in the ground, and would weep for her, sadly, but without pain.

It was a happy time. The days were peaceful and serene; the nights brought with them neither fear nor care; no languishing in a wretched prison, or associating with wretched men; nothing but pleasant and happy thoughts. Every morning he went to a white-headed old gentleman, who lived near the little church: who taught him to read better, and to write: and who spoke so kindly, and took such pains, that Oliver could never try enough to please him. Then, he would walk with Mrs. Maylie and Rose, and hear them talk of books; or perhaps sit near them, in some shady place, and listen whilst the young lady read: which he could have done, until it grew too dark to see the letters. Then, he had his own lesson for the next day to prepare; and at this, he would work hard, in a little room which looked into the garden, till evening came slowly on, when the ladies would walk out again, and he with them: listening with such pleasure to all they said: and so happy if they wanted a flower that he could climb to reach, or had forgotten anything he could run to fetch: that he could never be quick enough about it. When it became quite dark, and they returned home, the young lady would sit down to the piano, and play some pleasant air, or sing, in a low and gentle voice, some old song which it pleased her aunt to hear. There would be no candles lighted at such times as these; and Oliver would sit by one of the windows, listening to the sweet music, in a perfect rapture.

And when Sunday came, how differently the day was spent, from any way in which he had ever spent it yet! and how happily too; like all the other days in that most happy time! There was the little church, in the morning, with the green leaves fluttering at the windows: the birds singing without: and the sweet-smelling air stealing in at the low porch, and filling the homely building with its fragrance. The poor people were so neat and clean, and knelt so reverently in prayer, that it seemed a pleasure, not a tedious duty, their assembling there together; and though the singing might be rude, it was real, and sounded more musical (to Oliver's ears at least) than any he had ever heard in church before. Then, there were the walks as usual, and many calls at the clean houses of the labouring men; and at night, Oliver read a chapter or two from the Bible, which he had been studying all the week, and in the performance of which duty he felt more proud and pleased, than if he had been the clergyman himself.

In the morning, Oliver would be a-foot by six o'clock, roaming the fields, and plundering the hedges, far and wide, for nosegays of wild flowers, with which he would return laden, home; and which it took great care and consideration to arrange, to the best advantage, for the embellishment of the breakfast-table. There was fresh groundsel, too, for Miss Maylie's birds, with which Oliver, who had been studying the subject under the able tuition of the village clerk, would decorate the cages, in the most approved taste. When the birds were made all spruce and smart for the day, there was usually some little commission of charity to execute in the village; or, failing that, there was rare cricket-playing, sometimes, on the green; or, failing that, there was always something to do in the garden, or about the plants, to which Oliver (who had studied this science also, under the same master, who was a gardener by trade,) applied himself with hearty good-will, until Miss Rose made her appearance: when there were a thousand commendations to be bestowed on all he had done.

So three months glided away; three months which, in the life of the most blessed and favoured of mortals, might have been unmingled happiness, and which, in Oliver's were true felicity. With the purest and most amiable generosity on one side; and the truest, warmest, soul-felt gratitude on the other; it is no wonder that, by the end of that short time, Oliver Twist had become completely domesticated with the old lady and her niece, and that the fervent attachment of his young and sensitive heart, was repaid by their pride in, and attachment to, himself.

    奥立弗的病痛既深又杂。除了手臂骨折的疼痛和治疗上的耽搁以外，他在又湿又冷的野外呆得太久，以致一连好几个星期发烧，身子打颤，拖得他委靡不振。但是，他终于缓慢地逐步好转，有时候也能含着泪水说几句话了，他是多么强烈地感觉到了那两位可爱的女士的一片好心，多么热切地向往自己重新长得又结实又健康，能够做一些事来表达他的感激之情――只要是能让她们明白自己心中充满敬爱之心的事情――哪怕是做一点点微不足道的事情，也可以向她们证明，她们的崇高爱心没有付诸东流，她们出于恻隐之心，从苦难或者说从死亡中拯救出来的这个苦孩子盼望着以自己的全副心灵报答她们。

    一天，感激的话语跃上了奥立弗那苍白的唇边，他挣扎着把这些话说了出来，这时，露丝说道：“可怜的孩子！只要你愿意，会有许多机会替我们出力的。我们就要到乡下去了，姑妈的意思是你跟我们一块儿去。幽静的环境，清洁的空气，加上春天的一切欢乐和美丽，你过不了几天就会恢复健康的，一旦可以麻烦你了，我们用得着你的地方多着呢。”

    “麻烦！”奥立弗大声说道，“噢！亲爱的小姐，我要是能替你干活就好了。只要能让你高兴，替你浇花或者是看着你的鸟儿，要不就整天跑上跑下逗你开心定的年代写在标题下面。每封信的后面都附有注释。，怎么都行。”

    “完全用不着怎么样，”梅莱小姐笑盈盈地说，“以前我跟你讲过，我们有的是事情让你干。那怕你只能做到你答应的一半那么多，你就真的让我非常开心了。”

    “开心，小姐。”奥立弗叫了起来，“你这么说，你的心真好。”

    “我不知该有多高兴呢，”少女答道，“一想到我亲爱的好姑妈出了力，把一个人从你向我们描述的那种可悲的苦难中解救出来，这对于我就是一种难以形容的欢乐。又知道她关怀同情的对象也真心诚意地知恩图报篇。，你真的无法想像我有多么高兴。你懂我的意思吗？”她注视着奥立弗沉思的面容，问道。

    “呃，是的，小姐，我懂。”奥立弗急切地回答，“可我在想，我已经有点忘恩负义了。”

    “对谁？”少女问道。

    “那位好心的绅士啊，还有那位亲爱的老阿妈，他们过去对我可好呢，”奥立弗答道，“要是他们知道我现在多么幸福的话的出发点，追求“人人君子，比屋可封”的理想社会，主张，他们一定很高兴，我敢保证。”

    “他们一定会高兴的，”奥立弗的女恩人说道，“罗斯伯力先生真是个好人，他答应，一旦你身体好起来，能够出门旅行，他就带你去看看他们。”

    “是吗，小姐？”奥立弗高兴得容光焕发，不禁大叫了一声。“等我再一次看到他们的慈祥面容的时候，真不知道会乐成什么样子。”

    奥立弗的身体不久就恢复得差不多了，能够经受一次远行的劳顿。果不其然，一天清晨，他和罗斯伯力先生乘上梅莱太太的小马车出发了。车到杰茨桥的时候，奥立弗脸色变得煞白次提出对立面的斗争是辩证法的实质的思想，指出无产阶级，发出一声高喊。

    “这孩子怎么啦？”大夫照例又紧张起来，大声问道，“你是不是看见了什么――听见了什么――感觉到了什么――哦？”

    “那里，先生，”奥立弗一边喊，一边从车窗里指出去，“那所房子。”

    “是啊，那有什么关系？停车。在这里停一下，”大夫嚷道，“宝贝儿，那房子怎么了两种基本力量或属性。，唔？”

    “那些贼――他们带我去的就是那所房子。”奥立弗低声说道。

    “让它见鬼去！”大夫喊道，“啊哈，在那儿呢！我要下车！”

    然而，车夫还没来得及从座位上跳下来，大夫已经想办法从马车里爬了出去。他跑到那所废弃的房子跟前，开始踢门，跟一个疯子似地。

    “喂喂？”一个委琐丑恶的驼背汉子猛地把门打开，说道。大夫由于最后一脚用力过猛，险些跌进了过道。“出了什么事？”

    “什么事！”这一位大吼一声，不假思索地揪住那人的衣领。“事多着呢。打劫的事。”

    “还会出杀人的事呢，”驼背汉子冷冷地答道，“你要是不丢手的话。你听见没有？”

    “问我听见没有，”大夫说着，给了俘虏一阵猛抖。“在哪儿――他妈的那家伙，叫什么来着――赛克斯，对了，赛克斯在哪儿，你这个贼？”

    驼背汉子瞪大了眼睛，似乎无比惊诧无比愤慨的样子，随后便灵巧地挣脱大夫的手，咆哮着发出一阵可怕的诅咒，往屋子里退去。不过，他还没来得及关上房门，大夫已经二话不说，闯进了一间屋子。他焦急地看了看四周：没有一件家具，没有一样东西，不管是有生命的还是无生命的，能和奥立弗的描绘对得上，连那只食品柜的位置也不对。

    “喂，”驼背汉子一直严密注视着大夫，这时说道，“你这么蛮不讲理闯进我家，打算干什么？你是想抢我呢，还是想杀了我？是哪一种啊？”

    “你莫非见到过一个人乘双驾马车出门杀人抢东西，你这个可笑的老吸血鬼？”生性急躁的大夫说。

    “那你想干什么？”驼背问道，“你再不出去，可别怪我不客气了！滚你的！”

    “我认为合适的时候会走的，”罗斯伯力先生一边说，一边朝另一个房间望去，那个房间和前边那间一样，完全不像奥立弗说的样子。“总有一天我会查到你的底细，我的朋友。”

    “你行吗？”丑恶的驼子冷冷一笑。“随你什么时候找我，我都在这儿，我在这地方住了二十五年了，一没有发疯，二不是就我一个人，还怕你？你会付出代价的，你会付出代价的。”说着，矮小的丑八怪发出一阵嚎叫，在地上又蹦又跳，像是气得失去了常态。

    “真够愚蠢的，这也，”大大暗自说道，“那孩子准是弄错了。喏，把这放进你的口袋，重新把你自个儿关起来吧。”随着这番话，他扔给驼背一张钞票，便回马车上去了。

    驼背汉子尾随着来到车门前，一路发出无数最最野蛮的诅咒与怒骂。然而，就在罗斯伯力先生转身和车夫说话时，他探头朝马车里边望去，刹那间瞧了奥立弗一眼，目光是那样犀利，咄咄逼人，同时又是那样凶狠，充满敌意，奥立弗在后来的几个月里，不管是醒来的时候还是睡着了，都始终忘不了。直到车夫回到座位上，那汉子还在不停地破口大骂。他们重新踏上旅途，这时还可以看见他在后边跺脚，扯头发，不知是真是假地暴跳如雷。

    “我真是个笨蛋，”大夫沉默了很久才说道，“你以前知道吗，奥立弗？”

    “不知道，先生。”

    “那下一回可别忘了。”

    “一个笨蛋，”大夫再度陷入沉默，过了几分钟他又说道，“就算地方找对了，而且就是那帮家伙，我单枪匹马，又能怎么样？就算有帮手，我看也得不到什么结果，只会让我自己出丑，还不得不供出我把此事遮掩过去的经过。总之，我真是活该。我老是一时性起，搞得自己左右为难。这事应该给我一点教训才对。”

    事实上，这位出色的医生一辈子办事都是凭一时冲动，这里可以对支配他的种种冲动说一句不带恶意的恭维活，他非但从来没有被卷进任何特别麻烦或者倒霉的事情中去，反而从所有认识他的人那里得到极为真诚的推崇和敬重。实事求是讲，眼下他是有一点生气，有一两分钟时间感到失望，他很想拿到有关奥立弗身世的确切证据，哪知遇到的头一个机会就落空了。不过，他很快又恢复了常态，发现奥立弗在答复自己的盘问时依然老老实实，前后吻合，显然和以往一样真诚坦率。他打定主意，从今以后完全相信他的话。

    因为奥立弗知道布朗罗先生居住的街名，他们可以照直开到那儿去。马车折进了那条街，他的心剧烈地跳起来，几乎喘不过气。

    “说吧，我的孩子，是哪一所房子？”罗斯伯力先生问道。

    “那一所。那一所。”奥立弗一边回答，一边急迫从车窗里往外指点着。“那所白房子。呃，快呀。开快一点。我觉得自己好像要死了，身上老是哆嗦。”

    “到啦，到啦。”好心的大夫拍了拍他的肩膀，说道，“你马上就要看见他们了，他们见到你安然无事，肯定会喜出望外的。”

    “呃！我就巴望那样！”奥立弗大声说道，“他们对我真好，非常非常好。”

    马车朝前开去，停下了。不，不是这所房子，隔壁才是。车又开了几步，重新停了下来。奥立弗抬头望着那些窗户，几颗泪珠饱含着欢乐的期待滚下面颊。

    天啦！白色的房子空空如也，窗扉上贴着一张招贴：“出租”。

    “敲敲邻居的门看。”罗斯伯力先生大声说，一边挽住奥立弗的胳臂。“您知道不知道，过去住在隔壁的布朗罗先生上哪儿去了？”

    邻家的女仆不知道，但愿意回去问一问。她不一会就回来了，说六个星期之前，布朗罗先生已经变卖了物品，到西印度群岛去了。奥立弗十指交叉，身子往后一仰，瘫倒在地。

    “他的管家也走了？”罗斯伯力先生犹豫了一下，问道。

    “是的，先生，”女仆回答，“老先生，管家，还有一位绅士是布朗罗先生的朋友，全都一块儿走了。”

    “那就掉头回家吧，”罗斯伯力先生对车夫说，“你不要停下来喂马，等开出这该死的伦敦城再说。”

    “去找那位书摊掌柜，好不好，先生？”奥立弗说道，“我认识上那儿去的路。去见见他，求求您了，先生。去见见他吧。”

    “我可怜的孩子，这一天已经够令人失望的了，”大夫说，“我们俩都受够了。如果我们去找那个书摊掌柜，保准会发现他死掉了，要不就是放火烧了自家的房子，或者溜之大吉了。不，这就直接回家。”在大夫的一时冲动之下，他们便回家去了。

    这一次大失所望的寻访发生在奥立弗满心欢喜的时刻，搞得他非常惋惜、伤心。患病期间，他无数次高高兴兴地想到，布朗罗先生和贝德温太太将要向他讲些什么，自己也会向他们讲述，有多少个漫长的日日夜夜，他都是在回忆他们替他做的那些事，痛惜自己与他们给生拉活扯地拆散了，能向他们讲述这一切该是多么惬意。总有一天能在他们面前洗去自己身上的污垢，说清自己是如何横遭绑架的，这个希望激励着他，支持着他熬过了最近的一次次考验。现在，他们到那么远的地方去了，带着他是一个骗子兼强盗的信念走了――他们的这个信念，也许一直到自己离开尘世之日也无法辩解了――他几乎承受不了这样的想法。

    然而，这种情况丝毫也没有改变他的几位恩人的态度。又是两个星期过去了，温暖、晴好的天气开始稳定，花草树木长出了嫩绿的叶片和鲜艳的繁花，这时，他们作好了准备，要离开杰茨的这所房子几个月。他们把曾经使费金垂涎三尺的餐具送到银行寄存起来，留下凯尔司和另一个仆人看房子，带着奥立弗到远处一所乡村别墅去了。

    这个赢弱的孩子来到一个内地的乡村，呼吸着芬芳的空气，置身于青山密林之中，谁能描述他感受到的快乐、喜悦、平和与宁静啊！又有谁能说出，祥和宁静的景色是怎样映入固守闹市的人们的脑海，又是如何将它们本身具有的活力深深地注入他们疲惫不堪的心田！人们居住在拥挤狭窄的街上，一生劳碌，从未想到过换换环境――习惯的的确确成了他们的第二天性，他们几乎可以说爱上了组成他们日常漫步的狭小天地的一砖一石――即便是他们，当死神向他们伸出手来的时候，最终也会幡然醒悟，渴望看一眼大自然的容颜。他们一旦远离旧日喜怒哀乐的场面，似乎立刻进入了一个崭新的天地。日复一日，他们缓缓走向充满阳光的绿色草地，一看到天空、山丘、平原和湖光水影，他们便在内心唤醒了记忆，只须预先品尝一下天国的滋味便可抚平飞速衰朽的痛苦，他们像西下的落日一样平静地进入自己的坟墓，几个小时以前，他们还曾孤独地守在卧室窗日，望着落日余晖慢慢消失在自己暗淡无光的眼睛里。宁静的山乡唤起的记忆不属于这个世界，也不属于这个世界的意志与希望。这些回忆会温和地感染我们，教会我们如何编织鲜艳的花环，放在我们所爱的那些人的坟前；能净化我们的思想，压倒旧日的嫌隙怨恨。可是在这一切之下，在每一颗心灵中就算是最麻木的心灵，一个模糊不清、尚未完全成形的意识，很久以前，在某个相隔遥远的时刻，就有过这种感觉的意识，始终流连不去，启迪人们庄重地瞩目遥远的未来，将傲慢与俗念压在它的下边。

    他们去的地方真是美不胜收。奥立弗以往的日子都是耗费在龌龊的人群和喧闹的争吵当中，在这里他似乎得到了新生。玫瑰和忍冬环绕着别墅的墙垣，常春藤爬满树干，园中百花芬芳。附近有一块小小的教堂墓地，那里没有挤满高大丑陋的墓碑，全是一些不起眼的坟茔，上面覆盖着嫩草和绿苔，村里的老人就长眠在下边。奥立弗时常在这里徘徊，有时想起埋葬他母亲的荒冢，他就坐下来，偷偷地哭一阵。但是，他一旦抬起眼睛，朝头上深邃的长空望去，就不再想像她还长眠在黄土之下，虽然也会为她伤心落泪，但并不感到痛苦。

    这是一段快活的时光。白昼温和而又晴朗。夜晚给他们带来的不是恐惧，也不是担忧――丝毫没有对身陷囹圄的忧思，又用不着与坏蛋周旋，只有快乐幸福的念头。每天早晨，他走进住在小教堂附近的一位白发老先生家里，老先生纠正他的读音，教他写字，他讲话是那样和气，又那样尽心尽力，奥立弗觉得无论怎么去讨他的欢心都不算过分。接下来，他可以跟梅莱太太和露丝小姐一块儿散散步，听她们谈论书上的东西。要不就紧挨着她们，坐在某个阴凉的地方，听露丝小姐朗读，他会这么听下去，一直要到天色转暗，连字母也看不清了才打住。不过，他还得预备自己第二天的功课，在一间望出去就是花园的小房间里，他埋头用功，直到黄昏渐渐来临，到时两位女士又要出去散步，他总是和她们一道，不管她们讲什么都听得津津有味。如果她们想要一朵花，而他能攀摘下来，或者忘了什么东西，他可以去跑一趟的话，他别提有多高兴，跑得再快不过了。天黑尽了，回到屋里，年轻的小姐在钢琴前边坐下，弹一支欢乐的曲子，或者用柔和的声音低声唱一首姑妈喜爱的老歌。在这样的时刻，连蜡烛也无需点上，奥立弗坐在窗户旁边，听着美妙的音乐出神。

    礼拜日到来了，在这里过礼拜天和他以往的方式大不一样。在这一段最快乐的日子里，礼拜天也和另外几天一样快乐。清晨的小教堂，窗外的绿叶飒飒作响，小鸟在外边鸣啭歌唱，馥郁的空气钻进低矮的门廊，这座朴素的建筑充满芳香。穷人们也衣着整洁，跪下祈祷又是那样虔诚，人们似乎觉得聚集在这里是一大乐趣，而不是令人生厌的义务。尽管唱诗的声音可能粗糙一点，但很真诚，而且听上去（至少是就奥立弗的耳朵而言）比他从前在教堂里听到的都更加悦耳。然后，跟平时一样散散步，走访许多勤劳人家，看看他们整洁的住所。晚间，奥立弗诵读《圣经》中的一两个章节，这是他整个礼拜都在钻研的。在履行这些义务的时候，他似乎比自己当上了牧师还要自豪，还要高兴。

    早晨六点钟，奥立弗就起床了，在田野里漫游，从远远近近的篱笆上采来一簇簇野花，然后满载而归。他精心安排，多方设计，用花束将早餐饭桌装点得亮丽夺目。他还采来新鲜的千里光；作为梅莱小姐喂鸟的食物，还用来装饰鸟笼，雅致的式样大受赞许，他一直就在本村教会文书的着意教授下学习这门手艺。他把一只只鸟儿调弄得羽毛丰亮，伶俐活泼。余下的时间，村里常有一些小小的善事用得着他。要不然，在草地上打一场难得的板球。再不然，养花植树方面总是有事可干的，同一位师傅也教会了奥立弗伺弄花草（那可是一名专业园艺师），他干得十分投入，每每干到露丝小姐出现在面前才住手，她对奥立弗所做的一切总是赞不绝口。

    三个月就这样不知不觉过去了。对于得天独厚的有福之人来说，这三个月也算得上是称心如意了，对于奥立弗就更是一大幸事。一方是纯洁无瑕而又和蔼可亲的慷慨给予，另一方是发自肺腑的最最真挚热切的感激之情，难怪在这一段短暂的时光告终的时候，奥立弗退斯特跟那位老太太和她的侄女已经亲如一家，他那幼小而敏感的心灵产生了强烈的依恋，而她们也报以一片爱心，并为他感到骄傲。

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