would decorate the cages, in the most approved taste.
When the birds were made all spruce and smart for
the day, there was usually some little commission of
charity to execute in the village; or, failing that,
there was rare cricket-playing, sometimes, on the
green; or, failing that, there was always something
to do in the garden, or about the plants, to which
Oliver (who had studied this science also, under the
same master, who was a gardener by trade,) applied
himself with hearty good-will, until Miss Rose made
her appearance: when there were a thousand commendations
to be bestowed on all he had done.
So three months glided away; three months which, in
the life of the most blessed and favoured of mortals,
might have been unmingled happiness, and which, in
Oliver’s were true felicity. With the purest
and most amiable generosity on one side; and the truest,
warmest, soul-felt gratitude on the other; it is no
wonder that, by the end of that short time, Oliver
Twist had become completely domesticated with the
old lady and her niece, and that the fervent attachment
of his young and sensitive heart, was repaid by their
pride in, and attachment to, himself.
WHEREIN THE HAPPINESS OF OLIVER AND HIS FRIENDS, EXPERIENCES
A SUDDEN CHECK
Spring flew swiftly by, and summer came. If
the village had been beautiful at first it was now
in the full glow and luxuriance of its richness.
The great trees, which had looked shrunken and bare
in the earlier months, had now burst into strong life
and health; and stretching forth their green arms
over the thirsty ground, converted open and naked
spots into choice nooks, where was a deep and pleasant
shade from which to look upon the wide prospect, steeped
in sunshine, which lay stretched beyond. The
earth had donned her mantle of brightest green; and
shed her richest perfumes abroad. It was the
prime and vigour of the year; all things were glad
and flourishing.
Still, the same quiet life went on at the little cottage,
and the same cheerful serenity prevailed among its
inmates. Oliver had long since grown stout and
healthy; but health or sickness made no difference
in his warm feelings of a great many people.
He was still the same gentle, attached, affectionate
creature that he had been when pain and suffering
had wasted his strength, and when he was dependent
for every slight attention, and comfort on those who
tended him.
One beautiful night, when they had taken a longer
walk than was customary with them: for the day
had been unusually warm, and there was a brilliant
moon, and a light wind had sprung up, which was unusually
refreshing. Rose had been in high spirits, too,
and they had walked on, in merry conversation, until
they had far exceeded their ordinary bounds.
Mrs. Maylie being fatigued, they returned more slowly
home. The young lady merely throwing off her
simple bonnet, sat down to the piano as usual.
After running abstractedly over the keys for a few
minutes, she fell into a low and very solemn air;
and as she played it, they heard a sound as if she
were weeping.
