Chapter 33 Chapter Thirty-Two

(Oliver begins to live a happy life with his kind friends.) Oliver's ailments were deep and complex.In addition to the pain of a broken arm and the delay in treatment, he had been out in the wet and cold for so long that weeks of fever and tremors dragged him down.But at last, slowly and gradually, he was getting better, and sometimes he was able to say a few words with tears in his eyes, how strongly he felt the kindness of those two lovely ladies, and how eagerly he longed to be strong and healthy again. Healthy, able to do something to express his gratitude - as long as it can make them understand that their hearts are full of love and love - even if it is a little bit of trivial things, it can also prove to them that their noble love Not in vain, out of pity, the poor child who had been rescued from suffering or death looked forward to repaying them with all his heart.

One day, when words of gratitude came to Oliver's pale lips, and he was struggling to get the words out, Ruth said, "Poor boy! There will be many opportunities for us if you will." We are going to the country, aunt means you go with us. Quiet environment, clean air, plus all the joy and beauty of spring, you will be back to health in a few days, once you can Sorry to trouble you, there are many places where we can use you." "Trouble!" cried Oliver. "Oh! my dear lady, if only I could work for you. If it pleases you, water your flowers or watch your birds, or Running up and down all day to make you happy, whatever."

"It doesn't matter at all," Miss Maylie said with a smile. "I told you before that we have plenty of things for you to do. Even if you can only do half as much as you promised, you will really let me do it." I am very happy." "Happy, miss," cried Oliver, "you have a kind heart when you say that." "I don't know how happy I should be," answered the maiden; "it is a kind of joy to me to think that my dear good aunt has done her part in rescuing a man from the miserable misery you have described to us." It is an indescribable joy. You cannot imagine how happy I am to know that the object of her care and sympathy is sincerely reciprocated. Do you know what I mean?" She asked Oliver, looking at Oliver's pensive face. road.

"Well, yes, miss, I understand," replied Oliver eagerly, "but I'm thinking I've been a little ungrateful." "To whom?" the girl asked. "That good gentleman, and that dear old mamma, how well they were to me," replied Oliver, "if they knew how happy I am now, they would be glad, I dare say. ensure." "They will be delighted," said Oliver's benefactor. "Mr. Rosbery is a good fellow, and he promises to show you to them as soon as you are well enough to travel." "Yes, miss?" cried Oliver, beaming with pleasure. "When I see their kind faces again, I really don't know what it will be like."

Oliver's health was soon nearly recovered, and he was able to bear the fatigue of a long journey.Sure enough, one morning he and Mr. Rosbery set off in Mrs. Maylie's pony carriage.When they reached Jets Bridge, Oliver turned pale, and uttered a cry. "What's the matter with the boy?" the doctor asked aloud, tense again as usual, "did you see something—hear something—feel something—oh?" "There, sir," cried Oliver, pointing out the window, "the house." "Yeah, what's the matter? Stop. Stop right here," cried the doctor. "What's the matter with that house, darling, eh?"

"Those thieves—that's the house they took me to," whispered Oliver. "To hell with it!" cried the doctor. "Aha, there it is! I want to get out!" However, before the coachman had time to jump down from his seat, the doctor managed to get out of the carriage.He ran up to the abandoned house and started kicking at the door like a madman. "Hello?" said a hideous, hunchbacked man who opened the door abruptly.The doctor nearly fell down the aisle with his last kick. "What happened?" "What's the matter!" This one yelled, grabbing the man's collar without thinking. "There's a lot going on. Robbery."

"There will be murders," replied the hunchbacked man coldly, "if you don't lose your hand. Do you hear?" "Ask me if I hear you," said the doctor, giving the captive a shudder. "Where's--what's the damn fellow's name--Sikes, by the way, where's Sikes, you thief?" The hunchbacked man's eyes widened, as if he was extremely surprised and indignant, then he deftly broke free from the doctor's hand, growled and uttered a terrible curse, and retreated into the room.However, before he had time to close the door, the doctor broke into a room without saying a word.He looked round anxiously: there was not a single piece of furniture, not a single object, animate or inanimate, that would match Oliver's description, not even the pantry in the right place.

"Hey," said the hunchbacked man, who had been watching the doctor closely, "what are you going to do when you break into my house so unreasonably? Are you trying to rob me, or kill me? Which one is it?" "Have you ever seen a man go out in a hansom to kill and rob, you ridiculous old vampire?" said the irascible doctor. "Then what do you want to do?" the hunchback asked, "If you don't go out again, don't blame me for being rude! Get out of here!" "I'll go when I think it's right," said Mr. Rosbery, looking into another room, which was like the previous one, and not at all like Oliver had described. "One day I'll find out about you, my friend."

"Are you okay?" The ugly hunchback smiled coldly. "You can find me whenever you want. I'm always here. I've lived in this place for twenty-five years. I haven't lost my mind. I'm not the only one. I'm still afraid of you? You will pay the price, you will pay the price Yes." Saying that, the little ugly monster let out a howl, and jumped up and down on the ground, as if he was so angry that he lost his normalcy. "That's really stupid, that's all," said Big Brother to himself, "the boy must have made a mistake. Here, put this in your pocket, and lock yourself up again." With these words, he Throwing a banknote to the hunchback, he went back to the carriage.

The hunchbacked man followed to the car door, uttering countless curses and curses along the way.However, just as Mr. Rothbury turned to speak to the coachman, he looked into the carriage, and for a moment he cast a glance at Oliver, so piercing, menacing, and at the same time so vicious and hostile, that Oliver In the months that followed, neither when I woke up nor when I fell asleep, I never forgot.When the coachman returned to his seat, the man continued to yell and curse.They started their journey again, and at this moment he could still be seen stamping his feet, pulling his hair, and furiously, whether it was true or not.

"What a fool I am," said the doctor, after a long silence, "did you know that, Oliver?" "I don't know, sir." "Then don't forget next time." "An idiot," said the doctor again after a few minutes of silence, "even if I find the right place, and it's those fellows, so what can I do alone? I don't think I can get much with help. In the end, I would only embarrass myself and have to confess how I covered it up. Anyway, I really deserve it. I always get angry and make myself in a dilemma. This should teach me a lesson. .” In fact, a fair compliment may be paid to the impulses which governed this excellent doctor, who lived his whole life on the spur of the moment, and who, far from being involved in anything particularly troublesome or unfortunate, Instead, he received the most sincere admiration and respect from all those who knew him.To tell the truth, he was a little angry at the moment, and for a minute or two he was disappointed at the first opportunity which he would have had to obtain certain proofs of Oliver's parentage.He soon regained his composure, however, and found Oliver's answers to his cross-examinations still honest and consistent, and evidently as sincere and candid as ever.He made up his mind to trust his words completely from now on. As Oliver knew the name of the street in which Mr. Brownlow lived, they could drive there directly.As the carriage turned into that street, his heart beat so violently that he could hardly breathe. "Tell me, my boy, which house is it?" asked Mr. Rosbery. "That one. That one," replied Oliver, pointing eagerly out of the window. "The white house. Uh, come on. Go faster. I feel like I'm going to die. I'm shaking all the time." "It's here, it's here." The kind doctor patted his shoulder and said, "You will see them soon, and they will be overjoyed to see you safe and sound." "Eh! that's what I want!" cried Oliver. "They've been very kind to me, very very kind." The carriage drove forward and stopped.No, not this house, it's next door.The car drove a few more steps and stopped again.Oliver looked up at the windows, and a few tears rolled down his cheeks, full of joyful anticipation. OMG!The white house was empty, with a sign on the casement: "For Rent". "Knock at the neighbor's door," cried Mr. Rosbery, taking Oliver's arm. "Do you know where Mr. Brownlow, who used to live next door, has gone?" The maid next door didn't know, but she was willing to go back and ask.She returned in a short time, and said that six weeks before, Mr. Brownlow had sold his goods and gone to the West Indies.Oliver crossed his fingers, threw back, and collapsed on the ground. "His butler gone too?" asked Mr. Rosbery, after a moment's hesitation. "Yes, sir," answered the maid, "the old gentleman, the steward, and a gentleman who is a friend of Mr Brownlow's, have all gone away together." "Turn around and go home, then," said Mr. Rosbery to the coachman. "You don't stop to feed the horses until you're out of damned London." "Go and see the book-keeper, will you, sir?" said Oliver. "I know the way there. Go and meet him, please, sir. Go and meet him." "It's been a disappointing day, my poor boy," said the doctor. "We've both had enough. If we go to the book-stall keeper, we're sure to find him dead, or set on fire." They left their house, or ran away. No, just go home." On the doctor's impulse, they went home. This disappointing search happened at the moment when Oliver was full of joy, which made him very regretful and sad.How many times during his illness he had thought with delight of what Mr. Brownlow and Mrs. Bedwin were going to tell him, and would tell them himself, and how many long days and nights he had spent remembering How nice it would be to be able to tell them all about the things they had done for him, regretting being separated from them.The hope that one day he will be able to wash off the dirt on himself in front of them and explain how he was kidnapped has inspired him and supported him through the latest trials.Now that they had gone so far away, and gone away with the conviction that he was a liar and robber—a belief they might not be able to justify until the day they died—he could hardly bear the idea. However, this circumstance did not change the attitude of his several benefactors in the slightest.Another two weeks passed, and the warm, fine weather began to settle, and the plants and trees put out their green foliage and bright flowers, and by this time they were getting ready to leave the house in Jets for a few months.They put away the tableware which had once made Fagin salivate, and deposited it in the bank, leaving Giles and another servant to watch the house, and took Oliver to a distant country house. This weak child came to an inland village, breathed the fragrant air, and was surrounded by green hills and dense forests. Who can describe the joy, joy, peace and tranquility he felt!And who can tell how the peaceful and quiet scenery is reflected in the minds of people who stick to the busy city, and how it deeply infuses their own vitality into their tired hearts!People live in crowded, narrow streets, work all their lives, and never think of changing their surroundings—habit is indeed second nature to them, and they almost fall in love with the part of the small world that makes up their daily walks. Brick by stone—even they, when death reaches out to them, will finally wake up and long to see the face of nature.Once they stay away from the old scenes of joy, anger, sorrow and joy, they seem to enter a brand new world immediately.Day after day, they slowly walked towards the green meadow full of sunshine. When they saw the sky, hills, plains and lakes and waters, they awakened the memory in their hearts. The pain of rapid decay, they enter their graves as peacefully as the setting sun. A few hours ago, they were alone at the window of the bedroom, watching the afterglow of the setting sun slowly disappear into their dim eyes .The memories evoked by the quiet mountain village do not belong to this world, nor do they belong to the will and hope of this world.These memories gently infect us, teach us how to weave bright wreaths to lay on the graves of those we love; cleanse our minds and overpower old grievances.But beneath it all, in even the dullest mind in every mind, a vague, half-formed consciousness, long ago, at some remote moment, had a consciousness of this feeling , always lingering, inspiring people to look solemnly at the distant future, and put arrogance and worldliness under it. The places they go are truly beautiful.Oliver, whose days had been spent in filthy crowds and rowdy quarrels, seemed to find new life here.Roses and honeysuckle surrounded the walls of the villa, ivy covered the trunks, and the garden was fragrant with flowers.Nearby was a small churchyard, not crowded with tall and ugly tombstones, but rather unremarkable tombs, covered with young grass and moss, under which the old men of the village lay buried.Oliver often wanders here, and sometimes thinks of the barren mound where his mother is buried, so he sits down and weeps secretly for a while.However, once he raised his eyes and looked at the deep sky above his head, he no longer imagined that she was still sleeping under the loess, and although he would cry for her, he did not feel pain. It's a happy time.The days are mild and sunny.The night brought them no fear, no worry—no thought of being behind bars, no dealings with villains, just thoughts of happiness.Every morning, he went into the home of a white-haired old gentleman who lived near the chapel. The old gentleman corrected his pronunciation and taught him to write. His joy is not too much.Next he could go for a walk with Mrs. Maylie and Miss Ruth, and hear them talk about the things in the books.Or he would sit next to them in some shady place and hear Miss Ruth read aloud, and he would listen until it was too dark to read the letters.However, he had to prepare his homework for the next day, and in a small room looking out on the garden, he worked hard until dusk came, when the two ladies went out for a walk again, and he always joined them. , No matter what they say, they can listen with gusto.If they wanted a flower and he could pick it off, or if he had forgotten something and he could go for a run, he couldn't be more happy than to run as fast as he could.At the end of the day, when I returned to the house, the young lady sat down at the piano and played a cheerful tune, or sang in a soft voice an old song that my aunt loved.At such an hour it was not even necessary to light a candle, and Oliver sat by the window, listening to the wonderful music, lost in thought. Sunday came, and spending Sunday here was very different from the way he was used to.In the happiest of days, Sunday was as happy as any other.In the small church in the early morning, the green leaves outside the window are rustling, the birds are singing and singing outside, and the fragrant air penetrates into the low porch. This simple building is full of fragrance.The poor, too, were neatly dressed and prayed so piously on their knees that it seemed that gathering here was a great pleasure rather than a tiresome obligation.Rough as it may be, the singing was sincere, and sounded (at least to Oliver's ears) more pleasing than any he had ever heard in church.Then, go for a walk as usual, visiting many hardworking homes and seeing their tidy dwellings.In the evening Oliver read a passage or two from the Holy Bible, which he had been studying all week.In fulfilling these duties he seemed to be more proud and happier than he was a priest. Oliver rose at six o'clock in the morning, and wandered about the fields, gathering wild-flowers from hedges near and far, and coming home rich.He arranged it carefully, designed it in many ways, and decorated the breakfast table with bouquets.He also gathered fresh celestiaceae; which fed Miss Maylie's birds, and adorned the cages, much appreciated for their elegance, a trade which he had been learning under the careful instruction of the clerk of the village.He made the birds plump and lively.In the rest of the time, he is often used in some small good deeds in the village.Otherwise, play a rare game of cricket on grass.Besides, there was always something to do in gardening and tree-planting, and the same master who had taught Oliver (who was a professional gardener) to tend flowers and plants, did so with such enthusiasm that Miss Ruth often appeared in the She stopped in front of her, and she was always full of praise for everything Oliver did. Three months passed without knowing it.For the blessed and blessed, these three months can be regarded as satisfactory, and for Oliver it is a great blessing.With pure and amiable generosity on the one hand, and the most sincere and earnest gratitude from the heart on the other, it is no wonder that, at the close of this brief period, Oliver Twist and the old lady He and her niece had grown close as a family, and his young and sensitive soul had developed a strong attachment, and they responded with love and pride in him.