light. Don't go to him,' I called out of the window, he's an assassin,-a mantrap! So he is. If he is not- Here the irascible old gentleman gave a great knock on the ground with his stick, which was always understood by his friends to imply the customary offer whenever it was not expressed in words. Then, still keeping his stick in his hand, he sat down, and, opening a double eye-glass which he wore attached to a broad black riband, took a view of Oliver, who, seeing that he was the object of inspection, coloured, and bowed again. "That's the boy, is it?" said Mr. Grimwig at length. "No, I don't know. I never see any difference in boys. I only know two sorts of boys,-mealy boys, and beef-faced boys. "And which is Oliver?" "Mealy. I know a friend who's got a beef-faced boy; a fine boy they call him, with a round head, and red cheeks, and glaring eyes; a horrid boy, with a body and limbs that appear to be swelling out of the seams of his blue clothes-with the voice of a pilot, and the appetite of a wolf. I know him, the wretch!" "Come," said Mr. Brownlow, "these are not the characteristics of young Oliver Twist; so he needn't excite your wrath." "They are rot," replied Grimwig. "He may have worse.' Here Mr. Brownlow coughed impatiently, which appeared to afford Mr. Grimwig the most exquisite delight. "He may have worse, I say," repeated Mr. Grimwig. "Where does he come froin? Who is he? What is he? He nas had a fever-w.at of that? Fevers are not peculiar to good people, are they? Bad people have fevers sometimes, haven't they, eh? I knew a man that was hung in Jamaica for murdering his master; he had had a fever six times; he wasn't recommended to mercy on that account. Pooh! nonsense!" Now, the fact was, that, in the inmost recesses of his own heart, Mr. Grimwig was strongly disposed to admit that Oli ver's appearance and manner were unusually prepossessing, but he had a strong appetite for contradiction, sharpened on this occasion by the finding of the orange peel; and inwardly determining that no man should dictate to him whether a boy was well looking or not, he had resolved from the first to oppose his friend. When Mr. Brownlow admitted that on no one point of inquiry could he yet return any satisfactory answer, and that he had postponed any investigation into Oliver's previous history until he thought the boy was strong enough to bear it, Mr. Grimwig chuckled maliciously, and demanded, with a sneer, whether the housekeeper was in the habit of counting the plate at night; because, if she didn't find a table-spoon or two missing some sunshiny morning, why, he would be content to cetera. et All this Mr. Brownlow, although himself somewhat of an impetuous gentleman, knowing his friend's peculiarities, bore with great good humour; and as Mr. Grimwig, at tea, was graciously pleased to express his entire approval of the muffins, matters went on very smoothly, and Oliver, who made one of the party, began to feel more at his ease than he had yet done in the fierce old gentleman's pres ence. "And when are you going to hear a full, true, and particular account of the life and adventures of Oliver Twist?" asked Grimwig of Mr. Brownlow, at the conclusion of the meal: looking sideways at Oliver as he resumed the subject. "To-morrow morning," replied Mr. Brownlow. "I would rather he was alone with me at the time. Come up to me tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, my dear." Yes, sir," replied Oliver. He answered with some hesitation, because he was confused by Mr. Grimwig's looking so hard at him. 66 "I'll tell you what," whispered that gentleman to Mr. Brownlow; "he won't come up to you to-morrow morning. I saw him hesitate. He is deceiving you, my dear friend." "I'll swear he is not," replied Mr. Brownlow, warmly. "If he is not," said Mr. Grimwig, “I'll -" and down went the stics. "I'll answer for that boy's truth with my life," said Mr. Brownlow, kuocking the table. "And I for his falsehood with my head," rejoined Mr. Grimwig, knocking the table also. "We shall see," said Mr. Brownlow, checking his rising passion. “We will,” replied Mr. Grimwig, with a provoking smile; "we will." As fate would have it, Mrs. Bedwin chanced to bring in at this moment a small parcel of books which Mr. Brownlow had that morning purchased of the identical book-stall keeper who has already figured in this history; which having laid on the table, she prepared to leave the room. "Stop the boy, Mrs. Bedwin," said Mr. Brownlow; "there is something to go back." "He has gone, sir," replied Mrs. Bed wn. "Call after him," said Mr. Brownlow; "'s particular. He's a poor man, and they are not paid for. There are some boks to be taken back, too." The street-door was opened. Oliver In one way, and the girl another, and 1rs. Bedwin stood on the step and screamtd for the boy; but there was no boy in sight, and both Oliver and the girl returned in a breathless state to report that there were no tidings of him. "Dear me, I am very sorry for that," exclaimed Mr. Brownlow; "I particularly wished those books to be returned tonight." Send Oliver with them," said Mr. Grimwig, with an ironical smile; "he will be sure to deliver them safely, you know." "Yes; do let me take them, if you please, sir," said Oliver; "I'll run all the way, sir." The old gentleman was just going to say that Oliver should not go out on any account, when a most malicious cough from Mr. Grimwig determined him that he should, and by his prompt discharge of the commission prove to him the injustice of his suspicions, on this head at least, at once. "You shall go, my dear," said the old gentleman. "The books are on a chair by my table. Fetch them down." Oliver, delighted to be of use, brought down the books under his arm in a great bustle, and waited, cap in hand, to hear what message he was to take. "You are to say," said Mr. Brownlow, glancing steadily at Grimwig," You are to say that you have brought those books back, and that you have come to pay the four pound ten I owe him. This is a fivepound note, so you will have to bring me back ten shillings change." "I won't be ten minutes, sir," replied Oliver eagerly; and, having buttoned up the bank-note in his jacket-pocket, and placed the books carefully under his arm, he made a respectful bow, and left the room. Mrs. Bedwin followed him to the street-door, giving him many directions about the nearest way, and the name of the bookseller, and the name of the street, all of which Oliver said he clearly understood; and, having superadded many injunctions to be sure and not take cold, the careful old lady at length permitted him to depart. "Bless his sweet face!" said the old lady, looking after him. "I can't bear, somehow, to let him go out of my sight.' At this moment Oliver looked gaily round, and nodded before he turned the corner. The old lady smilingly returned his salutation, and, closing the door, went back to her own room. 66 'Let me see; he'll be back in twenty minutes, at the longest," said Mr. Brownlow, pulling out his watch, and placing it on the table. "It will be dark by that time." "Oh! you really expect him to come back, do you?" inquired Mr. Grimwig. "Don't you?" asked Mr. Brownlow, smiling. The spirit of contradiction was strong in Mr. Grimwig's breast at the moment, and it was rendered stronger by his friend's confident smile. "No," he said, smiting the table with his fist, "I do not. The boy has got a new suit of clothes on his back, a set of valuable books under his arm, and a fivepound note in his pocket; he'll join his old friends the thieves, and laugh at you. If ever that boy returns to this house, sir, I'll eat my head." With these words he drew his chair closer to the table, and there the two friends sat in silent expectation, with the watch between them. It is worthy of remark, as illustrating the importance we attach to our own judgments, and the pride with which we put forth our most rash and hasty conclusions, that, although Mr. Grimwig was not a bad-hearted man, and would have been unfeignedly sorry to see his respected friend duped and deceived, he really did most earnestly and strongly hope at that moment that Oliver Twist might not come back. Of such contradictions is human nature made up' It grew so dark that the figures on the dial were scarcely discernible; but there the two old gentlemen continued to sit in silence, with the watch between them. CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH. generally respected and esteemed of any in the whole circle of my acquaintance. But, as Mr. Brownlow was not one of these: as he obstinately persevered in doing good for its own sake, and the grati fication of heart it yielded him; as no failure dispirited him, and no ingratitude in individual cases tempted him to wreak his vengeance on the whole human race, I shall not enter into any such digression Showing how very fond of Oliver Twist, the merry in this place: and, if this be not a suffi old Jew and Miss Nancy were. cient reason for this determination, I have a better, and, indeed, a wholly unanswerable one, already stated; which is, that it forms no part of my original intention sc to do. 66 Ir it did not come strictly within the scope and bearing of my long-considered intentions and plans regarding this prose epic (for such I mean it to be,) to leave the two old gentlemen sitting with the In the obscure parlour of a low publicwatch between them long after it grew house, situate in the filthiest part of Little too dark to see it, and both doubting Oli- Saffron-Hill,-a dark and gloomy den, ver's return, the one in triumph, and the where a flaring gas-light burnt all day in other in sorrow, I might take occasion to the winter-time, and where no ray of sun entertain the reader with many wise re- ever shone in the summer,-there sat, flections on the obvious impolicy of ever brooding over a little pewter measure and attempting to do good to our fellow-crea- a small glass, strongly impregnated with tures where there is no hope of earthly the smell of liquor, a man in a velveteen reward; or rather on the strict policy of coat, drab shorts, half-boots, and stockings, betraying some slight degree of charity whom, even by that dim light, no expeor sympathy in one particularly unpromis- rienced agent of police would have hesi ing case, and then abandoning such weak- tated for one instant to recognise as Mr. nesses for ever. I am aware that, in ad- William Sikes. At his feet sat a whitevising even this slight dereliction from coated, red-eyed dog, who occupied himthe paths of prudence and worldliness, I self alternately in winking at his master lay myself open to the censure of many with both eyes at the same time, and in excellent and respectable persons, who licking a large, fresh cut on one side of have long walked therein! but I venture his mouth, which appeared to be the reto contend, nevertheless, that the advan-sult of some recent conflict. tages of the proceeding are manifold and lasting. As thus: if the object selected should happen most unexpectedly to turn out well, and to thrive and amend upon the assistance you have afforded him, he will, in pure gratitude and fulness of heart, laud your goodness to the skies; your character will be thus established, and you will pass through the world as a most estimable person, who does a vast deal of good in secret, not one-twentieth part of which will ever see the light. If, on the contrary, his bad character become notorious, and his profligacy a by-word, you place yourself in the excellent position of having attempted to bestow relief most disinterestedly; of having become misanthropical in consequence of the treachery of its object; and of having made a rash and solemn vow, (which no one regrets more than yourself,) never to nelp or relieve any man, woman, or child, again, lest you should be similarly dereived. I know a great number of persons in both situations at this moment, and I can safely assert that they are the most Keep quiet, you warmint! keep quiet!" said Mr. Sikes, suddenly breaking silence. Whether his meditations were so intense as to be disturbed by the dog's winking, or whether his feelings were so wrought upon by his reflections that they required all the relief derivable from kicking an unoffending animal to allay them, is matter for argument and consideration. Whatever was the cause, the effect was a kick and a curse bestowed upon the dog simultaneously. Dogs are not generally apt to revenge injuries inflicted upon them by their mas ters; but Mr. Sikes's dog, having faults of temper in common with his owner, and labouring perhaps, at this moment, under a powerful sense of injury, made no more ado but at once fixed his teeth in one of the half-boots, and, having given it a good hearty shake, retired, growling, under a form: thereby just escaping the pewter measure which Mr. Sikes levelled at his head. "You would, would you!" said Sikes, seizing the poker in one hand, and de liberately opening with the other a large clasp-knife, which he drew from his pocket. "Come here, you born devil! Come here! D'ye hear!" The dog no doubt heard, because Mr. Sikes spoke in the very harshest key of a very harsh voice; but, appearing to entertain some unaccountable objection to having his throat cut, he remained where he was, and growled more fiercely than before, at the same time grasping the end of the poker between his teeth, and biting at it like a wild beast. This resistance only infuriated Mr. Sikes the more; so, dropping upon his knees, he began to assail the animal most furiously. The dog jumped from right to left, and from left to right, snapping, growling, and barking; the man thrust and swore, and struck and blasphemed; and the struggle was reaching a most critical point for one or other, when, the door suddenly opening, the dog darted out, leaving Bill Sikes with the poker and the clasp-knife in his hands. There must always be two parties to a quarrel, says the old adage; and Mr. Sikes, being disappointed of the dog's presence, at once transferred the quarrel to the new-comer. 66 What the devil do you come in between me and my dog for?" said Sikes with a fierce gesture. "I didn't know, my dear, I didn't know," replied Fagin humbly-for the Jew was the new-comer. "Didn't know, you white-livered thief!" growled Sikes. "Couldn't you hear the noise !" "Not a sound of it, as I'm a living man, Bill," replied the Jew. "Oh no, you hear nothing, you don't," retorted Sikes with a fierce sneer, "sneaking in and out, so as nobody hears how you come or go. I wish you had been the dog, Fagin, half a minute ago." 66 "Why" inquired the Jew, with a forced smile. "'Cause the government, as cares for the lives of such men as you, as haven't half the pluck of curs, lets a man kill his dog how he likes,” replied Sikes, shutting the knife up with a very expressive look; "that's why." The Jew rubbed his hands, and, sitting down at the table, affected to laugh at the pleasantry of his friend,-obviously very ill at his ease, however. "Grin away," said Sikes, replacing the poker, and surveying him with savage contempt;" grin away. You'll never have the laugh at me, though, unless it's behind a night-cap. I've got the upper hand over you, Fagin; and, d— me, Î'll keep it. There. If I go, you go; so take care of me." "Well, well, my dear," said the Jew I know all that; we-we-have a mutual interest, Bill,-a mutual interest." "Humph!" said Sikes, as if he thought the interest lay rather more on the Jew's side than on his. Well, what have you got to say to me?" 66 "It's all passed safe through the melting-pot," replied Fagin, "and this is your share. It's rather more than it ought to be, my dear; but as I know you'll do me a good turn another time, and "Stow that gammon," interposed the robber impatiently. "Where is it! Hand over!" "Yes, yes, Bill; give me time, give me time," replied the Jew soothingly. "Here it is-all safe." As he spoke, he drew forth an old cotton handkerchief from his breast, and untying a large knot in one corner, produced a small brownpaper packet, which Sikes snatching from him, hastily opened, and proceeded to count the sovereigns it contained. "This is all, is it?" inquired Sikes. These words, in plain English, conveyed an injunction to ring the bell. It was answered by another Jew, younger than Fagin, but nearly as vile and repulsive in appearance. Bill Sikes merely pointed to the empty measure, and the Jew, perfectly understanding the hint, retired to fill it, previously exchanging a remarkable look with Fagin, who raised his eyes for an instant as if in expectation of it, and shook his head in reply so slightly that the action would have been almost imperceptible to a third person. It was lost upon Sikes, who was stooping at the moment to tie the boot-lace which the dog had torn. Possibly if he had observed the brief interchange of signals, he might have thought that it boded no good to him. "Is anybody here, Barney?" inquired Fagin, speaking-now that Sikes was looking on-without raising his eyes from the ground. "Dot a shoul," replied Barney, whose words, whether they came from the heart or not, made their way through the nose "Nobody?" inquired Fagin in a tone of surprise, which perhaps might mean that Barney was at liberty to tell the truth. "Dobody but Biss Dadsy," replied Bar ney. "Miss Nancy!" exclaimed Sikes. "Where? Strike me blind, if I don't honour that 'ere girl for her native talents." "She's bid havid a plate of boiled beef id the bar," replied Barney. "Send her here," said Sikes, pouring out a glass of liquor; "send her here." Barney looked timidly at Fagin, as if for permission; the Jew remaining silent, and not lifting his eyes from the ground, he retired, and presently returned ushering in Miss Nancy, who was decorated with the bonnet, apron, basket, and streetdoor key complete. "You are on the scent, are you, Nancy?" inquired Sikes, proffering the glass. "Yes, I am, Bill," replied the young lady, disposing of its contents;" and tired enough of it I am, too. The young brat's been ill and confined to the crib; and "Ah, Nancy, dear!" said Fagin, looking up. Now, whether a peculiar contraction of the Jew's red eyebrows, and a halfclosing of his deeply-set eyes, warned Miss Nancy that she was disposed to be too communicative, is not a matter of much importance. The fact is all we need care for here; and the fact is, that she suddenly checked herself, and, with several gracious smiles upon Mr. Sikes, turned the conversation to other matters. In about ten minutes' time, Mr. Fagin was seized with a fit of coughing, upon which Miss Nancy pulled her shawl over her shoulders, and declared it was time to go. Mr. Sikes, finding that he was walking a short part of her way himself, expressed his intention of accompanying her: and they went away together, followed at a little distance by the dog, who slunk out of a back-yard as soon as his master was out of sight. The Jew thrust his head out of the room door when Sikes had left, looked after him as he walked up the dark passage, shook his clenched fist, muttered a deep curse, and then with a horrible grin reseated himself at the table, where he was soon deeply absorbed in the interesting pages of the Hue and Cry. Meanwhile Oliver Twist, little dreaming that he was witnin so very short a distance of the merry old gentleman, was on nis way to the book-stall. When he got into Clerkenwell he accidentally turned down a by-street which was not exactly in his way; but not discovering his mistake till he had got half-way down it, and knowing it must lead in the right direction, he did not think it worth while to turn back, and so marched on as quickly as he could, with the books under his arm. He was walking along, thinking how happy and contented he ought to feel, and how much he would give for only one look at poor little Dick, who, starved and beaten, might be lying dead at that very moment, when he was startled by a young woman screaming out very loud, "Oh, my dear brother!" and he had hardly looked up to see what the matter was, when he was stopped by having a pair of arms thrown tight round his neck. "Don't!" cried Oliver, struggling. "Let go of me. Who is it? What are you stopping me for?" The only reply to this, was a great number of loud lamentations from the young woman who had embraced him, and who had got a little basket and a street door key in her hand. "Oh my gracious!" said the young wo man, "I've found him! Oh, Oliver! Oliver! Oh, you naughty boy, to make me suffer such distress on your account! Come home, dear, come. Oh, I've found him. Thank gracious goodness heavins, I've found him!" With these incoherent exclamations the young woman burst into another fit of crying, and got so dreadfully hysterical, that a couple of women who came up at the moment asked a butcher's boy, with a shiny head of hair anointed with suet, who was also looking on, whether he didn't think he had better run for the doctor. To which the butcher's boy, who appeared of a lounging, not to say indolent disposition, replied that he thought not. "Oh, no, no, never mind," said the young woman, grasping Oliver's hand; "I'm better now. Come home directly, you cruel boy, come.” "What's the matter, ma'am?" inquired one of the women. "Oh, ma'am," replied the young wo man, "he ran away near a month ago from his parents, who are hard-working and respectable people, and joined a set of thieves and bad characters, and almost broke his mother's heart." 66 Young wretch!" said one woman. "Go home, do, you little brute,” said the other. "I'm not," replied Oliver, greatly alarmed. "I don't know her. I haven't |