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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
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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 reasons。 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
learned 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 bodyguard； entered the
room in such breathless haste and violent agitation； as seemed to
betoken some new cause of alarm。
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“What makes you look so hurried？” 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 all 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； and 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
moment’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
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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 the gentleman the trouble of going away。
If I am correctly informed； he is cognisant 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
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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。 Brownlow 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
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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