SUPRISES, LIKE MISFORTUNES, SELDOM COME ALONE
Her situation was, indeed, one of no common trial and difficulty.
While she felt the most eager and burning desire to penetrate the
mystery in which Oliver’s history was enveloped, she could not but
hold sacred the confidence which the miserable woman with whom she
had just conversed, had reposed in her, as a young and guileless
girl. Her words and manner had touched Rose Maylie’s heart; and,
mingled with her love for her young charge, and scarcely less
intense in its truth and fervour, was her fond wish to win the
outcast back to repentance and hope.
They purposed remaining in London only three days, prior to
departing for some weeks to a distant part of the coast. It was now
midnight of the first day. What course of action could she determine
upon, which could be adopted in eight-and-forty hours? Or how could
she postpone the journey without exciting suspicion?
Mr. Losberne was with them, and would be for the next two days;
but Rose was too well acquainted with the excellent gentleman’s
impetuosity, and foresaw too clearly the wrath with which, in the
first explosion of his indignation, he would regard the instrument
of Oliver’s recapture, to trust him with the secret, when her
representations in the girl’s behalf could be seconded by no
experienced person. These were all reasons for the greatest caution
and most circumspect behaviour in communicating it to Mrs. Maylie,
whose first impulse would infallibly be to hold a conference with
the worthy doctor on the subject. As to resorting to any legal
adviser, even if she had known how to do so, it was scarcely to be
thought of, for the same reason. Once the thought occurred to her of
seeking assistance from Harry; but this awakened the recollection of
their last parting, and it seemed unworthy of her to call him
back, when--the tears rose to her eyes as she pursued this train of
reflection--he might have by this time learnt to forget her, and to
be happier away.
Disturbed by these different reflections; inclining now to one
course and then to another, and again recoiling from all, as each
successive consideration presented itself to her mind; Rose passed a
sleepless and anxious night. After more communing with herself next
day, she arrived at the desperate conclusion of consulting Harry.
‘If it be painful to him,’ she thought, ‘to come back here, how
painful it will be to me! But perhaps he will not come; he may
write, or he may come himself, and studiously abstain from meeting
me--he did when he went away. I hardly thought he would; but it was
better for us both.’ And here Rose dropped the pen, and turned away,
as though the very paper which was to be her messenger should not
see her weep.
She had taken up the same pen, and laid it down again fifty times,
and had considered and reconsidered the first line of her letter
without writing the first word, when Oliver, who had been walking
in the streets, with Mr. Giles for a body-guard, entered the room
in such breathless haste and violent agitation, as seemed to betoken
some new cause of alarm.
‘What makes you look so flurried?’ asked Rose, advancing to meet
him.
‘I hardly know how; I feel as if I should be choked,’ replied the
boy. ‘Oh dear! To think that I should see him at last, and you
should be able to know that I have told you the truth!’
‘I never thought you had told us anything but the truth,’ said Rose,
soothing him. ‘But what is this?--of whom do you speak?’
‘I have seen the gentleman,’ replied Oliver, scarcely able to
articulate, ‘the gentleman who was so good to me--Mr. Brownlow, that
we have so often talked about.’
‘Where?’ asked Rose.
‘Getting out of a coach,’ replied Oliver, shedding tears of delight,
‘and going into a house. I didn’t speak to him--I couldn’t speak to
him, for he didn’t see me, and I trembled so, that I was not able to
go up to him. But Giles asked, for me, whether he lived there, and
they said he did. Look here,’ said Oliver, opening a scrap of paper,
‘here it is; here’s where he lives--I’m going there directly! Oh,
dear me, dear me! What shall I do when I come to see him and hear
him speak again!’
With her attention not a little distracted by these and a great many
other incoherent exclamations of joy, Rose read the address, which
was Craven Street, in the Strand. She very soon determined upon
turning the discovery to account.
‘Quick!’ she said. ‘Tell them to fetch a hackney-coach, and be ready
to go with me. I will take you there directly, without a minute’s
loss of time. I will only tell my aunt that we are going out for an
hour, and be ready as soon as you are.’
Oliver needed no prompting to despatch, and in little more than five
minutes they were on their way to Craven Street. When they arrived
there, Rose left Oliver in the coach, under pretence of preparing
the old gentleman to receive him; and sending up her card by the
servant, requested to see Mr. Brownlow on very pressing business.
The servant soon returned, to beg that she would walk upstairs; and
following him into an upper room, Miss Maylie was presented to an
elderly gentleman of benevolent appearance, in a bottle-green coat.
At no great distance from whom, was seated another old gentleman,
in nankeen breeches and gaiters; who did not look particularly
benevolent, and who was sitting with his hands clasped on the top of
a thick stick, and his chin propped thereupon.
‘Dear me,’ said the gentleman, in the bottle-green coat, hastily
rising with great politeness, ‘I beg your pardon, young lady--I
imagined it was some importunate person who--I beg you will excuse
me. Be seated, pray.’
‘Mr. Brownlow, I believe, sir?’ said Rose, glancing from the other
gentleman to the one who had spoken.
‘That is my name,’ said the old gentleman. ‘This is my friend, Mr.
Grimwig. Grimwig, will you leave us for a few minutes?’
‘I believe,’ interposed Miss Maylie, ‘that at this period of our
interview, I need not give that gentleman the trouble of going away.
If I am correctly informed, he is cognizant of the business on which
I wish to speak to you.’
Mr. Brownlow inclined his head. Mr. Grimwig, who had made one very
stiff bow, and risen from his chair, made another very stiff bow,
and dropped into it again.
‘I shall surprise you very much, I have no doubt,’ said Rose,
naturally embarrassed; ‘but you once showed great benevolence and
goodness to a very dear young friend of mine, and I am sure you will
take an interest in hearing of him again.’
‘Indeed!’ said Mr. Brownlow.
‘Oliver Twist you knew him as,’ replied Rose.
The words no sooner escaped her lips, than Mr. Grimwig, who had been
affecting to dip into a large book that lay on the table, upset it
with a great crash, and falling back in his chair, discharged from
his features every expression but one of unmitigated wonder, and
indulged in a prolonged and vacant stare; then, as if ashamed of
having betrayed so much emotion, he jerked himself, as it were, by a
convulsion into his former attitude, and looking out straight before
him emitted a long deep whistle, which seemed, at last, not to be
discharged on empty air, but to die away in the innermost recesses
of his stomach.
Mr. Browlow was no less surprised, although his astonishment was not
expressed in the same eccentric manner. He drew his chair nearer to
Miss Maylie’s, and said,
‘Do me the favour, my dear young lady, to leave entirely out of the
question that goodness and benevolence of which you speak, and of
which nobody else knows anything; and if you have it in your power
to produce any evidence which will alter the unfavourable opinion I
was once induced to entertain of that poor child, in Heaven’s name
put me in possession of it.’
‘A bad one! I’ll eat my head if he is not a bad one,’ growled Mr.
Grimwig, speaking by some ventriloquial power, without moving a
muscle of his face.
‘He is a child of a noble nature and a warm heart,’ said Rose,
colouring; ‘and that Power which has thought fit to try him beyond
his years, has planted in his breast affections and feelings which
would do honour to many who have numbered his days six times over.’
‘I’m only sixty-one,’ said Mr. Grimwig, with the same rigid face.
‘And, as the devil’s in it if this Oliver is not twelve years old at
least, I don’t see the application of that remark.’
‘Do not heed my friend, Miss Maylie,’ said Mr. Brownlow; ‘he does
not mean what he says.’
‘Yes, he does,’ growled Mr. Grimwig.
‘No, he does not,’ said Mr. Brownlow, obviously rising in wrath as
he spoke.
‘He’ll eat his head, if he doesn’t,’ growled Mr. Grimwig.
‘He would deserve to have it knocked off, if he does,’ said Mr.
Brownlow.
‘And he’d uncommonly like to see any man offer to do it,’ responded
Mr. Grimwig, knocking his stick upon the floor.
Having gone thus far, the two old gentlemen severally took snuff,
and afterwards shook hands, according to their invariable custom.
‘Now, Miss Maylie,’ said Mr. Brownlow, ‘to return to the subject in
which your humanity is so much interested. Will you let me know what
intelligence you have of this poor child: allowing me to promise
that I exhausted every means in my power of discovering him, and
that since I have been absent from this country, my first impression
that he had imposed upon me, and had been persuaded by his former
associates to rob me, has been considerably shaken.’
Rose, who had had time to collect her thoughts, at once related, in
a few natural words, all that had befallen Oliver since he left Mr.
Brownlow’s house; reserving Nancy’s information for that gentleman’s
private ear, and concluding with the assurance that his only sorrow,
for some months past, had been not being able to meet with his
former benefactor and friend.
‘Thank God!’ said the old gentleman. ‘This is great happiness to
me, great happiness. But you have not told me where he is now, Miss
Maylie. You must pardon my finding fault with you,--but why not have
brought him?’
‘He is waiting in a coach at the door,’ replied Rose.
‘At this door!’ cried the old gentleman. With which he hurried
out of the room, down the stairs, up the coach-steps, and into the
coach, without another word.
When the room-door closed behind him, Mr. Grimwig lifted up his
head, and converting one of the hind legs of his chair into a pivot,
described three distinct circles with the assistance of his stick
and the table; sitting in it all the time. After performing this
evolution, he rose and limped as fast as he could up and down the
room at least a dozen times, and then stopping suddenly before Rose,
kissed her without the slightest preface.
‘Hush!’ he said, as the young lady rose in some alarm at this
unusual proceeding. ‘Don’t be afraid. I’m old enough to be your
grandfather. You’re a sweet girl. I like you. Here they are!’
In fact, as he threw himself at one dexterous dive into his former
seat, Mr. Brownlow returned, accompanied by Oliver, whom Mr. Grimwig
received very graciously; and if the gratification of that moment
had been the only reward for all her anxiety and care in Oliver’s
behalf, Rose Maylie would have been well repaid.
‘There is somebody else who should not be forgotten, by the bye,’
said Mr. Brownlow, ringing the bell. ‘Send Mrs. Bedwin here, if you
please.’
The old housekeeper answered the summons with all dispatch; and
dropping a curtsey at the door, waited for orders.
‘Why, you get blinder every day, Bedwin,’ said Mr. Brownlow, rather
testily.
‘Well, that I do, sir,’ replied the old lady. ‘People’s eyes, at my
time of life, don’t improve with age, sir.’
‘I could have told you that,’ rejoined Mr. Brownlow; ‘but put on
your glasses, and see if you can’t find out what you were wanted
for, will you?’
The old lady began to rummage in her pocket for her spectacles. But
Oliver’s patience was not proof against this new trial; and yielding
to his first impulse, he sprang into her arms.
‘God be good to me!’ cried the old lady, embracing him; ‘it is my
innocent boy!’
‘My dear old nurse!’ cried Oliver.
‘He would come back--I knew he would,’ said the old lady, holding
him in her arms. ‘How well he looks, and how like a gentleman’s son
he is dressed again! Where have you been, this long, long while? Ah!
the same sweet face, but not so pale; the same soft eye, but not so
sad. I have never forgotten them or his quiet smile, but have seen
them every day, side by side with those of my own dear children,
dead and gone since I was a lightsome young creature.’ Running on
thus, and now holding Oliver from her to mark how he had grown, now
clasping him to her and passing her fingers fondly through his hair,
the good soul laughed and wept upon his neck by turns.
Leaving her and Oliver to compare notes at leisure, Mr. Brownlow
led the way into another room; and there, heard from Rose a full
narration of her interview with Nancy, which occasioned him no
little surprise and perplexity. Rose also explained her reasons for
not confiding in her friend Mr. Losberne in the first instance. The
old gentleman considered that she had acted prudently, and readily
undertook to hold solemn conference with the worthy doctor himself.
To afford him an early opportunity for the execution of this design,
it was arranged that he should call at the hotel at eight o’clock
that evening, and that in the meantime Mrs. Maylie should be
cautiously informed of all that had occurred. These preliminaries
adjusted, Rose and Oliver returned home.
Rose had by no means overrated the measure of the good doctor’s
wrath. Nancy’s history was no sooner unfolded to him, than he poured
forth a shower of mingled threats and execrations; threatened to
make her the first victim of the combined ingenuity of Messrs.
Blathers and Duff; and actually put on his hat preparatory to
sallying forth to obtain the assistance of those worthies. And,
doubtless, he would, in this first outbreak, have carried the
intention into effect without a moment’s consideration of
the consequences, if he had not been restrained, in part, by
corresponding violence on the side of Mr. Brownlow, who was himself
of an irascible temperament, and party by such arguments and
representations as seemed best calculated to dissuade him from his
hotbrained purpose.
‘Then what the devil is to be done?’ said the impetuous doctor, when
they had rejoined the two ladies. ‘Are we to pass a vote of thanks
to all these vagabonds, male and female, and beg them to accept a
hundred pounds, or so, apiece, as a trifling mark of our esteem, and
some slight acknowledgment of their kindness to Oliver?’
‘Not exactly that,’ rejoined Mr. Brownlow, laughing; ‘but we must
proceed gently and with great care.’
‘Gentleness and care,’ exclaimed the doctor. ‘I’d send them one and
all to--’
‘Never mind where,’ interposed Mr. Brownlow. ‘But reflect whether
sending them anywhere is likely to attain the object we have in
view.’
‘What object?’ asked the doctor.
‘Simply, the discovery of Oliver’s parentage, and regaining for
him the inheritance of which, if this story be true, he has been
fraudulently deprived.’
‘Ah!’ said Mr. Losberne, cooling himself with his
pocket-handkerchief; ‘I almost forgot that.’
‘You see,’ pursued Mr. Brownlow; ‘placing this poor girl entirely
out of the question, and supposing it were possible to bring these
scoundrels to justice without compromising her safety, what good
should we bring about?’
‘Hanging a few of them at least, in all probability,’ suggested the
doctor, ‘and transporting the rest.’
‘Very good,’ replied Mr. Brownlow, smiling; ‘but no doubt they will
bring that about for themselves in the fulness of time, and if
we step in to forestall them, it seems to me that we shall be
performing a very Quixotic act, in direct opposition to our own
interest--or at least to Oliver’s, which is the same thing.’
‘How?’ inquired the doctor.
‘Thus. It is quite clear that we shall have extreme difficulty in
getting to the bottom of this mystery, unless we can bring this man,
Monks, upon his knees. That can only be done by stratagem, and by
catching him when he is not surrounded by these people. For, suppose
he were apprehended, we have no proof against him. He is not even
(so far as we know, or as the facts appear to us) concerned with
the gang in any of their robberies. If he were not discharged, it
is very unlikely that he could receive any further punishment than
being committed to prison as a rogue and vagabond; and of course
ever afterwards his mouth would be so obstinately closed that
he might as well, for our purposes, be deaf, dumb, blind, and an
idiot.’
‘Then,’ said the doctor impetuously, ‘I put it to you again, whether
you think it reasonable that this promise to the girl should
be considered binding; a promise made with the best and kindest
intentions, but really--’
‘Do not discuss the point, my dear young lady, pray,’ said Mr.
Brownlow, interrupting Rose as she was about to speak. ‘The promise
shall be kept. I don’t think it will, in the slightest degree,
interfere with our proceedings. But, before we can resolve upon any
precise course of action, it will be necessary to see the girl; to
ascertain from her whether she will point out this Monks, on the
understanding that he is to be dealt with by us, and not by the law;
or, if she will not, or cannot do that, to procure from her such an
account of his haunts and description of his person, as will enable
us to identify him. She cannot be seen until next Sunday night;
this is Tuesday. I would suggest that in the meantime, we remain
perfectly quiet, and keep these matters secret even from Oliver
himself.’
Although Mr. Losberne received with many wry faces a proposal
involving a delay of five whole days, he was fain to admit that no
better course occurred to him just then; and as both Rose and Mrs.
Maylie sided very strongly with Mr. Brownlow, that gentleman’s
proposition was carried unanimously.
‘I should like,’ he said, ‘to call in the aid of my friend Grimwig.
He is a strange creature, but a shrewd one, and might prove of
material assistance to us; I should say that he was bred a lawyer,
and quitted the Bar in disgust because he had only one brief and
a motion of course, in twenty years, though whether that is
recommendation or not, you must determine for yourselves.’
‘I have no objection to your calling in your friend if I may call in
mine,’ said the doctor.
‘We must put it to the vote,’ replied Mr. Brownlow, ‘who may he be?’
‘That lady’s son, and this young lady’s--very old friend,’ said
the doctor, motioning towards Mrs. Maylie, and concluding with an
expressive glance at her niece.
Rose blushed deeply, but she did not make any audible objection to
this motion (possibly she felt in a hopeless minority); and Harry
Maylie and Mr. Grimwig were accordingly added to the committee.
‘We stay in town, of course,’ said Mrs. Maylie, ‘while there remains
the slightest prospect of prosecuting this inquiry with a chance of
success. I will spare neither trouble nor expense in behalf of the
object in which we are all so deeply interested, and I am content
to remain here, if it be for twelve months, so long as you assure me
that any hope remains.’
‘Good!’ rejoined Mr. Brownlow. ‘And as I see on the faces about me,
a disposition to inquire how it happened that I was not in the way
to corroborate Oliver’s tale, and had so suddenly left the kingdom,
let me stipulate that I shall be asked no questions until such
time as I may deem it expedient to forestall them by telling my own
story. Believe me, I make this request with good reason, for I
might otherwise excite hopes destined never to be realised, and only
increase difficulties and disappointments already quite numerous
enough. Come! Supper has been announced, and young Oliver, who is
all alone in the next room, will have begun to think, by this time,
that we have wearied of his company, and entered into some dark
conspiracy to thrust him forth upon the world.’
With these words, the old gentleman gave his hand to Mrs. Maylie,
and escorted her into the supper-room. Mr. Losberne followed,
leading Rose; and the council was, for the present, effectually
broken up.