CONTAINS SOME INTRODUCTORY PARTICULARS RELATIVE TO A YOUNG GENTLEMAN WHO NOW ARRIVES UPON THE SCENE; AND A NEW ADVENTURE WHICH HAPPENED TO OLIVER

It was almost too much happiness to bear. Oliver felt stunned and stupefied by the unexpected intelligence; he could not weep, or speak, or rest. He had scarcely the power of understanding anything that had passed, until, after a long ramble in the quiet evening air, a burst of tears came to his relief, and he seemed to awaken, all at once, to a full sense of the joyful change that had occurred, and the almost insupportable load of anguish which had been taken from his breast.

The night was fast closing in, when he returned homeward: laden with flowers which he had culled, with peculiar care, for the adornment of the sick chamber. As he walked briskly along the road, he heard behind him, the noise of some vehicle, approaching at a furious pace. Looking round, he saw that it was a post-chaise, driven at great speed; and as the horses were galloping, and the road was narrow, he stood leaning against a gate until it should have passed him.

As it dashed on, Oliver caught a glimpse of a man in a white nightcap, whose face seemed familiar to him, although his view was so brief that he could not identify the person. In another second or two, the nightcap was thrust out of the chaise-window, and a stentorian voice bellowed to the driver to stop: which he did, as soon as he could pull up his horses. Then, the nightcap once again appeared: and the same voice called Oliver by his name.

'Here!' cried the voice. 'Oliver, what's the news? Miss Rose! Master O-li-ver!'

'Is is you, Giles?' cried Oliver, running up to the chaise-door.

Giles popped out his nightcap again, preparatory to making some reply, when he was suddenly pulled back by a young gentleman who occupied the other corner of the chaise, and who eagerly demanded what was the news.

'In a word!' cried the gentleman, 'Better or worse?'

'Better--much better!' replied Oliver, hastily.

'Thank Heaven!' exclaimed the gentleman. 'You are sure?'

'Quite, sir,' replied Oliver. 'The change took place only a few hours ago; and Mr. Losberne says, that all danger is at an end.'

The gentleman said not another word, but, opening the chaise-door, leaped out, and taking Oliver hurriedly by the arm, led him aside.

'You are quite certain? There is no possibility of any mistake on your part, my boy, is there?' demanded the gentleman in a tremulous voice. 'Do not deceive me, by awakening hopes that are not to be fulfilled.'

'I would not for the world, sir,' replied Oliver. 'Indeed you may believe me. Mr. Losberne's words were, that she would live to bless us all for many years to come. I heard him say so.'

The tears stood in Oliver's eyes as he recalled the scene which was the beginning of so much happiness; and the gentleman turned his face away, and remained silent, for some minutes. Oliver thought he heard him sob, more than once; but he feared to interrupt him by any fresh remark--for he could well guess what his feelings were--and so stood apart, feigning to be occupied with his nosegay.

All this time, Mr. Giles, with the white nightcap on, had been sitting on the steps of the chaise, supporting an elbow on each knee, and wiping his eyes with a blue cotton pocket-handkerchief dotted with white spots. That the honest fellow had not been feigning emotion, was abundantly demonstrated by the very red eyes with which he regarded the young gentleman, when he turned round and addressed him.

'I think you had better go on to my mother's in the chaise, Giles,' said he. 'I would rather walk slowly on, so as to gain a little time before I see her. You can say I am coming.'

'I beg your pardon, Mr. Harry,' said Giles: giving a final polish to his ruffled countenance with the handkerchief; 'but if you would leave the postboy to say that, I should be very much obliged to you. It wouldn't be proper for the maids to see me in this state, sir; I should never have any more authority with them if they did.'

'Well,' rejoined Harry Maylie, smiling, 'you can do as you like. Let him go on with the luggage, if you wish it, and do you follow with us. Only first exchange that nightcap for some more appropriate covering, or we shall be taken for madmen.'

Mr. Giles, reminded of his unbecoming costume, snatched off and pocketed his nightcap; and substituted a hat, of grave and sober shape, which he took out of the chaise. This done, the postboy drove off; Giles, Mr. Maylie, and Oliver, followed at their leisure.

As they walked along, Oliver glanced from time to time with much interest and curiosity at the new comer. He seemed about five-and-twenty years of age, and was of the middle height; his countenance was frank and handsome; and his demeanor easy and prepossessing. Notwithstanding the difference between youth and age, he bore so strong a likeness to the old lady, that Oliver would have had no great difficulty in imagining their relationship, if he had not already spoken of her as his mother.

Mrs. Maylie was anxiously waiting to receive her son when he reached the cottage. The meeting did not take place without great emotion on both sides.

'Mother!' whispered the young man; 'why did you not write before?'

'I did,' replied Mrs. Maylie; 'but, on reflection, I determined to keep back the letter until I had heard Mr. Losberne's opinion.'

'But why,' said the young man, 'why run the chance of that occurring which so nearly happened? If Rose had--I cannot utter that word now--if this illness had terminated differently, how could you ever have forgiven yourself! How could I ever have know happiness again!'

'If that _had_ been the case, Harry,' said Mrs. Maylie, 'I fear your happiness would have been effectually blighted, and that your arrival here, a day sooner or a day later, would have been of very, very little import.'

'And who can wonder if it be so, mother?' rejoined the young man; 'or why should I say, _if_?--It is--it is--you know it, mother--you must know it!'

'I know that she deserves the best and purest love the heart of man can offer,' said Mrs. Maylie; 'I know that the devotion and affection of her nature require no ordinary return, but one that shall be deep and lasting. If I did not feel this, and know, besides, that a changed behaviour in one she loved would break her heart, I should not feel my task so difficult of performance, or have to encounter so many struggles in my own bosom, when I take what seems to me to be the strict line of duty.'

'This is unkind, mother,' said Harry. 'Do you still suppose that I am a boy ignorant of my own mind, and mistaking the impulses of my own soul?'

'I think, my dear son,' returned Mrs. Maylie, laying her hand upon his shoulder, 'that youth has many generous impulses which do not last; and that among them are some, which, being gratified, become only the more fleeting. Above all, I think' said the lady, fixing her eyes on her son's face, 'that if an enthusiastic, ardent, and ambitious man marry a wife on whose name there is a stain, which, though it originate in no fault of hers, may be visited by cold and sordid people upon her, and upon his children also: and, in exact proportion to his success in the world, be cast in his teeth, and made the subject of sneers against him: he may, no matter how generous and good his nature, one day repent of the connection he formed in early life. And she may have the pain of knowing that he does so.'

'Mother,' said the young man, impatiently, 'he would be a selfish brute, unworthy alike of the name of man and of the woman you describe, who acted thus.'

'You think so now, Harry,' replied his mother.

'And ever will!' said the young man. 'The mental agony I have suffered, during the last two days, wrings from me the avowal to you of a passion which, as you well know, is not one of yesterday, nor one I have lightly formed. On Rose, sweet, gentle girl! my heart is set, as firmly as ever heart of man was set on woman. I have no thought, no view, no hope in life, beyond her; and if you oppose me in this great stake, you take my peace and happiness in your hands, and cast them to the wind. Mother, think better of this, and of me, and do not disregard the happiness of which you seem to think so little.'

'Harry,' said Mrs. Maylie, 'it is because I think so much of warm and sensitive hearts, that I would spare them from being wounded. But we have said enough, and more than enough, on this matter, just now.'

'Let it rest with Rose, then,' interposed Harry. 'You will not press these overstrained opinions of yours, so far, as to throw any obstacle in my way?'

'I will not,' rejoined Mrs. Maylie; 'but I would have you consider--'

'I _have_ considered!' was the impatient reply; 'Mother, I have considered, years and years. I have considered, ever since I have been capable of serious reflection. My feelings remain unchanged, as they ever will; and why should I suffer the pain of a delay in giving them vent, which can be productive of no earthly good? No! Before I leave this place, Rose shall hear me.'

'She shall,' said Mrs. Maylie.

'There is something in your manner, which would almost imply that she will hear me coldly, mother,' said the young man.

'Not coldly,' rejoined the old lady; 'far from it.'

'How then?' urged the young man. 'She has formed no other attachment?'

'No, indeed,' replied his mother; 'you have, or I mistake, too strong a hold on her affections already. What I would say,' resumed the old lady, stopping her son as he was about to speak, 'is this. Before you stake your all on this chance; before you suffer yourself to be carried to the highest point of hope; reflect for a few moments, my dear child, on Rose's history, and consider what effect the knowledge of her doubtful birth may have on her decision: devoted as she is to us, with all the intensity of her noble mind, and with that perfect sacrifice of self which, in all matters, great or trifling, has always been her characteristic.'

'What do you mean?'

'That I leave you to discover,' replied Mrs. Maylie. 'I must go back to her. God bless you!'

'I shall see you again to-night?' said the young man, eagerly.

'By and by,' replied the lady; 'when I leave Rose.'

'You will tell her I am here?' said Harry.

'Of course,' replied Mrs. Maylie.

'And say how anxious I have been, and how much I have suffered, and how I long to see her. You will not refuse to do this, mother?'

'No,' said the old lady; 'I will tell her all.' And pressing her son's hand, affectionately, she hastened from the room.

Mr. Losberne and Oliver had remained at another end of the apartment while this hurried conversation was proceeding. The former now held out his hand to Harry Maylie; and hearty salutations were exchanged between them. The doctor then communicated, in reply to multifarious questions from his young friend, a precise account of his patient's situation; which was quite as consolatory and full of promise, as Oliver's statement had encouraged him to hope; and to the whole of which, Mr. Giles, who affected to be busy about the luggage, listened with greedy ears.

'Have you shot anything particular, lately, Giles?' inquired the doctor, when he had concluded.

'Nothing particular, sir,' replied Mr. Giles, colouring up to the eyes.

'Nor catching any thieves, nor identifying any house-breakers?' said the doctor.

'None at all, sir,' replied Mr. Giles, with much gravity.

'Well,' said the doctor, 'I am sorry to hear it, because you do that sort of thing admirably. Pray, how is Brittles?'

'The boy is very well, sir,' said Mr. Giles, recovering his usual tone of patronage; 'and sends his respectful duty, sir.'

'That's well,' said the doctor. 'Seeing you here, reminds me, Mr. Giles, that on the day before that on which I was called away so hurriedly, I executed, at the request of your good mistress, a small commission in your favour. Just step into this corner a moment, will you?'

Mr. Giles walked into the corner with much importance, and some wonder, and was honoured with a short whispering conference with the doctor, on the termination of which, he made a great many bows, and retired with steps of unusual stateliness. The subject matter of this conference was not disclosed in the parlour, but the kitchen was speedily enlightened concerning it; for Mr. Giles walked straight thither, and having called for a mug of ale, announced, with an air of majesty, which was highly effective, that it had pleased his mistress, in consideration of his gallant behaviour on the occasion of that attempted robbery, to deposit, in the local savings-bank, the sum of five-and-twenty pounds, for his sole use and benefit. At this, the two women-servants lifted up their hands and eyes, and supposed that Mr. Giles, pulling out his shirt-frill, replied, 'No, no'; and that if they observed that he was at all haughty to his inferiors, he would thank them to tell him so. And then he made a great many other remarks, no less illustrative of his humility, which were received with equal favour and applause, and were, withal, as original and as much to the purpose, as the remarks of great men commonly are.

Above stairs, the remainder of the evening passed cheerfully away; for the doctor was in high spirits; and however fatigued or thoughtful Harry Maylie might have been at first, he was not proof against the worthy gentleman's good humour, which displayed itself in a great variety of sallies and professional recollections, and an abundance of small jokes, which struck Oliver as being the drollest things he had ever heard, and caused him to laugh proportionately; to the evident satisfaction of the doctor, who laughed immoderately at himself, and made Harry laugh almost as heartily, by the very force of sympathy. So, they were as pleasant a party as, under the circumstances, they could well have been; and it was late before they retired, with light and thankful hearts, to take that rest of which, after the doubt and suspense they had recently undergone, they stood much in need.

Oliver rose next morning, in better heart, and went about his usual occupations, with more hope and pleasure than he had known for many days. The birds were once more hung out, to sing, in their old places; and the sweetest wild flowers that could be found, were once more gathered to gladden Rose with their beauty. The melancholy which had seemed to the sad eyes of the anxious boy to hang, for days past, over every object, beautiful as all were, was dispelled by magic. The dew seemed to sparkle more brightly on the green leaves; the air to rustle among them with a sweeter music; and the sky itself to look more blue and bright. Such is the influence which the condition of our own thoughts, exercise, even over the appearance of external objects. Men who look on nature, and their fellow-men, and cry that all is dark and gloomy, are in the right; but the sombre colours are reflections from their own jaundiced eyes and hearts. The real hues are delicate, and need a clearer vision.

It is worthy of remark, and Oliver did not fail to note it at the time, that his morning expeditions were no longer made alone. Harry Maylie, after the very first morning when he met Oliver coming laden home, was seized with such a passion for flowers, and displayed such a taste in their arrangement, as left his young companion far behind. If Oliver were behindhand in these respects, he knew where the best were to be found; and morning after morning they scoured the country together, and brought home the fairest that blossomed. The window of the young lady's chamber was opened now; for she loved to feel the rich summer air stream in, and revive her with its freshness; but there always stood in water, just inside the lattice, one particular little bunch, which was made up with great care, every morning. Oliver could not help noticing that the withered flowers were never thrown away, although the little vase was regularly replenished; nor, could he help observing, that whenever the doctor came into the garden, he invariably cast his eyes up to that particular corner, and nodded his head most expressively, as he set forth on his morning's walk. Pending these observations, the days were flying by; and Rose was rapidly recovering.

Nor did Oliver's time hang heavy on his hands, although the young lady had not yet left her chamber, and there were no evening walks, save now and then, for a short distance, with Mrs. Maylie. He applied himself, with redoubled assiduity, to the instructions of the white-headed old gentleman, and laboured so hard that his quick progress surprised even himself. It was while he was engaged in this pursuit, that he was greatly startled and distressed by a most unexpected occurrence.

The little room in which he was accustomed to sit, when busy at his books, was on the ground-floor, at the back of the house. It was quite a cottage-room, with a lattice-window: around which were clusters of jessamine and honeysuckle, that crept over the casement, and filled the place with their delicious perfume. It looked into a garden, whence a wicket-gate opened into a small paddock; all beyond, was fine meadow-land and wood. There was no other dwelling near, in that direction; and the prospect it commanded was very extensive.

One beautiful evening, when the first shades of twilight were beginning to settle upon the earth, Oliver sat at this window, intent upon his books. He had been poring over them for some time; and, as the day had been uncommonly sultry, and he had exerted himself a great deal, it is no disparagement to the authors, whoever they may have been, to say, that gradually and by slow degrees, he fell asleep.

There is a kind of sleep that steals upon us sometimes, which, while it holds the body prisoner, does not free the mind from a sense of things about it, and enable it to ramble at its pleasure. So far as an overpowering heaviness, a prostration of strength, and an utter inability to control our thoughts or power of motion, can be called sleep, this is it; and yet, we have a consciousness of all that is going on about us, and, if we dream at such a time, words which are really spoken, or sounds which really exist at the moment, accommodate themselves with surprising readiness to our visions, until reality and imagination become so strangely blended that it is afterwards almost matter of impossibility to separate the two. Nor is this, the most striking phenomenon incidental to such a state. It is an undoubted fact, that although our senses of touch and sight be for the time dead, yet our sleeping thoughts, and the visionary scenes that pass before us, will be influenced and materially influenced, by the _mere silent presence_ of some external object; which may not have been near us when we closed our eyes: and of whose vicinity we have had no waking consciousness.

Oliver knew, perfectly well, that he was in his own little room; that his books were lying on the table before him; that the sweet air was stirring among the creeping plants outside. And yet he was asleep. Suddenly, the scene changed; the air became close and confined; and he thought, with a glow of terror, that he was in the Jew's house again. There sat the hideous old man, in his accustomed corner, pointing at him, and whispering to another man, with his face averted, who sat beside him.

'Hush, my dear!' he thought he heard the Jew say; 'it is he, sure enough. Come away.'

'He!' the other man seemed to answer; 'could I mistake him, think you? If a crowd of ghosts were to put themselves into his exact shape, and he stood amongst them, there is something that would tell me how to point him out. If you buried him fifty feet deep, and took me across his grave, I fancy I should know, if there wasn't a mark above it, that he lay buried there?'

The man seemed to say this, with such dreadful hatred, that Oliver awoke with the fear, and started up.

Good Heaven! what was that, which sent the blood tingling to his heart, and deprived him of his voice, and of power to move! There--there--at the window--close before him--so close, that he could have almost touched him before he started back: with his eyes peering into the room, and meeting his: there stood the Jew! And beside him, white with rage or fear, or both, were the scowling features of the man who had accosted him in the inn-yard.

It was but an instant, a glance, a flash, before his eyes; and they were gone. But they had recognised him, and he them; and their look was as firmly impressed upon his memory, as if it had been deeply carved in stone, and set before him from his birth. He stood transfixed for a moment; then, leaping from the window into the garden, called loudly for help.

   这种欢乐几乎叫人难以承受。奥立弗听到这个意想不到的消息，一时目瞪口呆。他欲哭不得，说不出话，坐卧不宁。他在黄昏的宁静气息中徘徊了很久，又大哭了一场，好不容易恢复了一点理解力，这才似乎猛然醒悟过来，令人高兴的变化已经发生，自己胸中难以承受的焦虑也已化解。

    夜色迅速围拢过来，他捧着一大束鲜花往家里走去，这是他精心采来装饰病房的。他正沿着公路快步走着，忽然听到身后有马车疾驰的声音。他扭头一看，只见一辆驿车飞驶而来献是在唯心主义统治德国达数十年之久后，恢复了唯物主义，由于马跑得飞快，加上路面狭窄，他便靠着一道门站住，让马车通过。

    车疾驰而过，奥立弗一眼看见车上有个头戴白色睡帽，好像有几分面熟的男子，不过他这一瞥太短暂了，没看清那是谁。过了一两秒钟，那顶睡帽从马车窗日伸出来，一个洪亮的嗓门喝令车夫停车。车夫勒住马，车停住了。接着，睡帽又一次探出来，那个大嗓门叫着奥立弗的名字。

    “这里！”那个声音嚷道，“奥立弗，有什么消息？露丝小姐怎样了？奥――立――弗少爷！”

    “是你吗，凯尔司？”奥立弗一边喊着，一边朝车门奔去。

    凯尔司再次伸出戴着睡帽的脑袋，作回答状，忽然又被坐在马车另一角的一位青年绅士拉了回去，那人急迫地探问那边有什么消息。

    “快告诉我！”那位绅士高声喊道，“是好些了还是更糟了？”

    “好些了――好得多了！”奥立弗赶紧回答。

    “感谢上帝！”青年绅士大叫一声，“你能肯定？”

    “没问题，先生，”奥立弗回答，“几个小时以前就不一样了，罗斯伯力先生说，危险已经全部渡过了。”

    那位绅士不再多说，打开车门，从里边跳出来，一把抓住奥立弗的肩膀，把他拉到旁边。

    “你有绝对把握？孩子，再也不会出岔子了，是不是？”青年绅士用颤抖的声音问，“你可别骗我，让我空欢喜一场。”

    “我绝对不骗你，先生，”奥立弗回答，“真的，你相信我好了。罗斯伯力先生说，她会活好多年好多年，为我们大家造福的。”

    奥立弗想起了为大家带来无限幸福的那个场面，泪水在他眼睛里直打转。青年绅士转过脸去，好一阵子一言不发。奥立弗相信自己听到他不止一次地哽咽，但又不敢另外说什么话去打搅他――他实在猜不出这位绅士的心情――便站在一边，装出尽顾了自己手里的花束的样子。

    这功夫，头戴白色睡帽的凯尔司先生一直坐在马车的踏板上，胳膊肘支在膝盖上，用一张蓝地白花的布手绢不住地擦眼睛。这个诚实耿直的汉子并不是假装动了感情，这一点完全可以从他那双红肿的眼睛上看出来，当青年绅士转过身去叫他的时候，凯尔司就用这双眼睛望着他。

    “我想，你还是乘车直接到我母亲那儿去比较好，凯尔司。”他说道，“我宁可慢慢走着去，这样我可以在见到她之前争取一点时间。你就说我马上就到。”

    “请您原谅，哈利先生，”凯尔司用手巾将满脸的泪痕擦干净，说道，“但如果您打发邮差去传话，我将深为感激。让女佣瞧见我这副样子不太合适，先生，她们真要是瞧见了，我以后一点面子也没有了。”

    “好吧，”哈利梅莱微笑着答道，“你高兴怎么着就怎么着吧。如果你觉得这样好一些，那就让他和行李一块儿走，你跟着我们。不过，你得先把睡帽脱下来，另外换一顶合适的帽子，要不别人会以为我们是疯子。”

    凯尔司先生这才想起自己的仪表有失体面，一把将睡帽扯下来，塞进衣袋，又从车里取出一顶样式庄重朴素的圆顶帽换上。收拾停当，邮差继续驱车赶路，凯尔司、梅莱先生和奥立弗慢悠悠地跟在后边。

    他们信步走去，奥立弗不时带着浓厚的兴趣和好奇心打量着这个新来的人。他看上去约莫二十五岁，中等身材，面容开朗英俊，举止落落大方。尽管存在着年龄上的差距，但他和老太太长得很像，即便他没有提到老太太是他母亲，奥立弗也能毫不费力地猜出他们之间的关系。

    别墅到了，梅莱太太正焦急不安地等候着儿子。母子见面，双方都很激动。

    “妈妈，”年轻人低声说道，“您怎么不写信告诉我？”

    “我写了，”梅莱太太回答，“可经过反复考虑，我决定把信拿回来，听听罗斯伯力先生的看法再说。”

    “可为什么，”年轻人说。“为什么要拿这样的事来冒险呢？万一露丝――那个字我说不出口――如果这场病是另一种结果，你难道还能宽恕自己？我这辈子难道还能得到幸福？”

    “如果发生那样的事，哈利，”梅莱太太说，“我担心你的幸福也就整个毁了，你早一天晚一天回来，都没有什么差别。”

    “万一真要是这样，妈妈，那要什么好奇怪的？”年轻人答道，“哦，我干吗要说万一呢？――这是――这是――你明白是怎么回事，妈妈――你应该明白。”

    “我明白，一个男子拿出心中最美好、纯洁的爱情奉献给她，她也是当之无愧的，”梅莱太太说，“我明白，她天性中的献身精神和爱心需要的绝不是普普通通的回报，而是需要一个深深相爱，永不变心的人。在我做一些在我看来必须做到的事时，如果不是我感觉到了这一点，另外还知道，她爱上的人只要态度有一点改变都会使她心碎，我也不会感到自己的使命如此困难，或者说，我内心也不会发生这么多的矛盾了。”

    “这不公平，妈妈，”哈利说道，“你还是把我当小孩子，完全不懂得自己的想法，也不懂我灵魂上的一次次冲动？”

    “在我看来，我的好儿子，”梅莱太大把一只手搭在哈利肩上，回答道，“年轻人有许多高尚的冲动往往难以持久，其中有一些一旦得到满足，只会变得更加短暂，转瞬即逝。总之，我相信，”老太太目不转睛，盯着儿子的面容，说道，“一个有着满腔热忱和远大抱负的男子，如果娶了一个名分上有污点的妻子，哪怕这个污点并不是由于她的过错，那就会引来一班冷酷龌龊的小人，还会影响到孩子们――丈夫在世间取得了多大成就，就会受到多大的低毁，把他当成讥笑嘲弄的目标――总有一天，不管做丈夫的天性多么豁达，为人多么善良，都会后悔当初结下了这门亲事。做妻子的知道丈夫感到后悔了，也同样会很痛苦。”

    “妈妈，”年轻人按捺不住地说，“谁要是这么做，就是一头只顾自己的畜生，根本不配称作一个男人，也配不上您描述的那个女人。”

    “你现在是这样认为，哈利。”母亲说道。

    “永远是这样。”年轻人说，“过去两天我精神上遭受的痛苦，迫使我毫不掩饰地向您承认，我是有这样一份感情，您完全清楚，这份感情并非昨天才产生，也不是我轻率形成的。我的心属于露丝，多么可爱而又温柔的姑娘啊。我和一切倾心于人的男子汉一样坚定。我的思想、抱负、生活中的希望都和她分不开。如果您在这件大事上反对我，您就是把我的安宁与幸福抓在手里，随风抛撒。妈妈，多想想这一点，多想想我吧，不要把这种幸福看得一钱不值，这事您好像想得很少。”

    “哈利，”梅莱太太说，“正因为我替热烈而敏感的心想得很多，我才不愿意使它们受到损伤。不过，眼下我们对这件事谈得太多，到此为止吧。”

    “那好，就看露丝怎么决定吧，”哈利接口说道，“您该不会把您的这些偏见强加于人，甚至不惜为我制造障碍吧？”

    “我不会的，”梅莱太太回答，“但我要你考虑一下――”

    “我已经考虑过了。”答复已经相当急躁，“妈妈，我考虑了好多年了。自打我能够进行严肃认真的思考以来，我就在考虑。我的感情永远不会改变，永远都是这样。为什么一旦说出来，我就得承受一拖再拖的痛苦呢，这种痛苦又有什么好处？不，在我离开这个地方以前，露丝得听一听我说的话。”

    “她会的。”梅莱太太答道。

    “妈妈，您的态度几乎已经暗示，她会以冷冰冰的态度对待我要说的话。”年轻人说道。

    “不是冷冰冰的，”老太太回答，“远远不是那样。”

    “那又怎么样？”年轻人直言不讳，“她还不曾另有所爱吧？”

    “没有，一点不假，”作母亲的答道，“或许是我弄错了，你已经牢牢抓住了她的感情。我要说的，”作儿子的正想开口，老太太上住了他，接着说道，“正是这一点。在你豁出一切，拿这个机会来打赌之前，在你身不由己，飞向希望的顶点之前，我亲爱的孩子，要多考虑一下露丝的身世，你想想，她完全是出于高尚的心灵和无所保留的自我牺牲精神，对我们一直忠心耿耿，无论大事小事，她的性格特点就是自我奉献，她要是得知自己的出生疑点甚多，这会给她的决定造成什么样的影响。”

    “您指的是什么？”

    “这个问题我留给你去解答，”梅莱太太回答，“我得回她那儿去了。上帝保佑你。”

    “今天晚上我还能见到您吗？”年轻人急切地说。

    “要不了多久，”老太太答道，“在我离开露丝的时候吧。”

    “您是不是要告诉她我在这儿？”哈利说道。

    “那还用说。”梅莱太太回答。

    “告诉她，我是多么着急，吃了多少苦头，又是多想见到她。您不会拒绝这么做吧，妈妈？”

    “是的，”老太太说道，“我要把一切都告诉她。”她慈爱地握了握儿子的手，匆匆离开房间。

    这一番仓促的谈话正在进行的时候，罗斯伯力先生和奥立弗一直呆在房间的另一角。罗斯伯力先生这时朝哈利梅莱伸过手来，互道衷心的问候。接着，大夫针对年轻朋友提出的一大堆问题做了解答，详细说明了病人的状况，这番说明和奥立弗的陈述一样充满希望，非常令人欣慰。凯尔司先生装出忙着收拾行李的样子，其实大夫讲的每一句话都没有落下。

    “你近来打到什么特别的东西没有，凯尔司？”大夫讲完之后问道。

    “没什么特别的东西，先生。”凯尔司先生的脸一直红到了耳根。

    “也没逮住小偷什么的，或者认出哪一个强盗来？”大夫说道。

    “没有，先生。”凯尔司先生非常庄重地回答。

    “哦，”大夫说道，“真是遗憾，因为你办那种事情非常令人敬佩。请问，布里特尔斯怎么样了？”

    “那孩子很不错，先生。”凯尔司先生又恢复了平日那一副恩人的口气，说道，“他要我向你转达他的敬意，先生。”

    “那就好，”大夫说道，“看见你在这儿，我又想起来了，凯尔司先生，就在我被仓促叫来的前一天，遵从你家善良的女主人的请求，我办成了一桩对你有好处的小差事。你到这边来一下，好吗？”

    凯尔司先生十分庄重并略带几分惊奇地走到那边角落里，荣幸地与大夫进行了一次短时间的低声会谈。谈话结束，他频频鞠躬，踏着异常庄严的步子退了下去。这次密谈的主题没有在客厅里披露，但很快就传到了厨房，因为凯尔司先生直接来到厨房，要了一杯淡啤酒，摆出一副给人留下深刻印象的高贵气派宣布说，鉴于他在这次发生未遂盗窃案时的英勇举动，女主人深为满意，特地在本地储蓄银行里存进总数为二十五镑的款项，供他个人取用生息。一听这话，两个女仆举起双手，眼睛一齐往上翻，猜想凯尔司先生不知道该得意成什么样子了。凯尔司先生把衬衫褶边扯出来，连声回答说：“不会的，不会的。”并表示如果她们注意到他对手下态度傲慢的话，一定要告诉他，他会感谢她们的。接下来，他天南海北谈了一通，不外乎举例说明他虚怀若谷，这一番高论同样得到了赞许与赏识，而且被认为是独出心裁，深得要领，大人物成天挂在嘴边的话也就这样。

    楼上，当晚余下的时光在笑语欢声中过去了。大夫兴致很高，哈利梅莱一开始好像显得有些疲劳，或者是心事重重，不管怎么样吧，他到底还是架不住可敬的罗斯伯力先生的好脾气。大夫谈笑风生，妙语连珠，回忆职业上的若干往事，又讲了一大堆小笑话，将他的幽默发挥得淋漓尽致。奥立弗认为这些事真是再滑稽不过了，笑得前仰后合。这显然使大夫深感满意，他自己也笑得死去活来，并且由于共鸣的作用，哈利也几乎可以说是痛痛快快地笑起来。他们的聚会在此时此地再欢乐也不过如此罢。夜深了，他们才怀着轻松而又感激的心情去休息，在刚刚经受了疑虑与悬念之后，他们确实需要休息休息了。

    第二天早晨，奥立弗一醒来就感到心情好一些了，他满怀希望和快乐，开始了每天清早的例行公事，这种心情已经多少天不曾有过。鸟笼又一次挂了出来，好让鸟儿在老地方歌唱。他竭尽全力，又一次采来最芬芳的野花，想用鲜花的艳丽换取露丝的欢喜。几天以来，哀愁似乎已经占据了这个心急的孩子那双忧郁的眼睛，不管看到什么美好的东西都笼罩着一层阴云，这种忧愁已经魔术般地烟消云散。绿叶上的露珠闪出更加晶莹的光泽，微风伴着一支更加美妙的乐曲从绿色的叶片中间飒飒穿过。连天空本身也好像更蓝更亮了。这就是我们自己的心境产生的影响，它甚至会波及外界事物的形态。人们看到天地万物和自己的人类同胞，大叫一切都是那样阴暗、消沉，这并非没有道理，但这种阴暗的颜色只是他们自己带有偏见的眼睛与心灵的反映罢了。真实的色彩是十分美妙的，需要的是更加清澈的眼光。

    值得一提的是，并巨奥立弗当时决不至于没有注意到，他的清晨远足不再是他一个人的事了。哈利梅莱从第一天早晨遇见奥立弗满载而归以后，忽然对花儿产生了浓厚的兴趣，并且在插花艺术方面表现出了很高的鉴赏力，把小伙伴远远抛在了后边。然而，尽管奥立弗在这方面略逊一筹，但他却知道上哪儿才能找到最好的花。一个早晨接着一个早晨，他们一块儿在这个地区搜索，把最娇艳的鲜花带回家。露丝小姐卧室的窗户现在打开了，她喜欢芳醇的夏日气息涌进室内的感觉，让清新的气流帮助自己康复。不过，在那一扇格子窗里边，每天早晨都插着一支特别小的花束，这束花曾作过精心的修剪，上边还带着露水。奥立弗不禁注意到，虽说小花瓶定时换水，可凋谢了的花从来就不扔掉。他无意中还发现，每天清晨，大夫都要外出散步，只要一走进花园，必定将目光投向那个特别的角落，意味极其深长地点点头。就在这些观察之中，时光飞逝而过，露丝的病情迅速好转。

    尽管小姐还没有完全走出房间，晚上不再出去，只是偶尔和梅莱太太一块儿在附近散散步。奥立弗倒也并不感到日子难熬。他加倍努力，向那位白发老绅士请教，自己刻苦用功，进步之快连他自己也感到意外。就在他埋头用功的时候，发生了一件万万想不到的事情，使他产生了极大的恐慌和烦恼。

    他平日读书是在别墅背后底楼的一个小房间里。这是一间标准的别墅房间，格子窗外边长满茂密的素馨与忍冬，一直爬到窗顶上，到处弥漫着袭人的花香。从窗户望出去是一个花园，花园的便门通向一片小围场。再过去就是茂密的草地和树林了。那一带没有别的人家，从那里可以望得很远。

    一个景色宜人的黄昏，薄暮刚开始投向大地，奥立弗坐在窗前，专心致志地读书。他已经看了好一会儿。天异常闷热，加上他又下了很大功夫，他渐渐地，一点儿一点儿地睡熟了。无论这些书的作者是何等样人，这样说绝非败坏他们的名誉。

    在某些时候，会有一种假寐向我们偷偷袭来，将我们的肉体禁闭起来，但并没有让心灵脱离周围的事物，我们的心灵照样可以任意驰骋。因此，如果一种难以遏止的迟钝感觉，精力的疲乏，对我们的意识或者活动能力完全控制不住的状况，都可以称为睡眠的话，这就是睡眠。此时，我们还是能感觉到身边发生的一切，如果我们在这样的时刻开始做梦，我们确实讲出来的话，或者是当时确实存在的响声，便会极其迅速地融入我们的幻觉，现实与想像奇妙地结为一体，事后几乎完全不可能将二者区分开来。这还不算此类情形下最惊人的现象。无可置疑，我们的触觉与视觉一时都趋于失灵，然而，某种外界事物的无声的存在却能够影响，甚至是实实在在地影响我们睡梦中的意识，影响从我们面前掠过的种种幻觉；在我们合上眼睛时，这种事物或许还没有来到我们身边，我们在清醒的时候也不曾意识到它近在咫尺。

    奥立弗清清楚楚地知道，自己坐在小屋子里，书本就放在面前的桌子上，窗外，遍地蔓延的草木丛中不断送来阵阵芬芳的气息。他睡着了。突然，景色变了，空气闷得令人窒息。他在想像中又一次惊恐万状地来到老犹太的家里。可怕的老头依旧坐在他呆惯了的那个角落，正朝着自己指指点点，一边和侧着脸坐在旁边的另一个人低声说话。

    “嘘，我亲爱的。”他似乎听到老犹太在说话，“就是他，错不了。走吧。”

    “是他。”另外的那个人好像在回答，“你以为，我还会认错他？就算有一帮子小鬼变得跟他一模一样，他站在中间，我也有办法认出他来。你就是挖地五十英尺，把他埋起来，只要你领着我从他坟头走过去，我肯定也猜得出来，他就埋在那儿，哪怕上边连个标记也没有。”

    那人说这话时好像怀着深仇大恨，奥立弗惊醒了，猛然跳了起来。

    天啦！是什么东西使血轰地一下涌入心田，使他噤口无语，动弹不得？那里――那里――在窗户那儿――就在他的面前――老犹太站在那儿，眼睛朝屋子里窥探着，和奥立弗的目光相遇了，挨得那样近，奥立弗在向后退缩之前几乎可以摸到他。在他旁边，有一张凶相毕露的面孔不知是因为愤怒还是惧怕，或者二者兼有而变得煞白，正是在客栈院子里跟奥立弗搭讪的那个人。

    这副景象在他眼前不过是一晃而过，转瞬即逝，一闪就消失了。不过，他们已经认出奥立弗，奥立弗也认出了他们，他们的相貌牢牢地印入了他的记忆之中，就仿佛是深深地铭刻在石碑上，从他出生以来便竖立在他的面前一样。有一刹那，他呆呆地站在那里，随后便高声呼救，从窗口跳进花园里。

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