With the first ray of light that struggled through
the crevices in the shutters, Oliver arose, and again
unbarred the door. One timid look around—one
moment’s pause of hesitation—he had
closed it behind him, and was in the open street.
He looked to the right and to the left, uncertain
whither to fly.
He remembered to have seen the waggons, as they went
out, toiling up the hill. He took the same route;
and arriving at a footpath across the fields:
which he knew, after some distance, led out again
into the road; struck into it, and walked quickly on.
Along this same footpath, Oliver well-remembered he
had trotted beside Mr. Bumble, when he first carried
him to the workhouse from the farm. His way
lay directly in front of the cottage. His heart
beat quickly when he bethought himself of this; and
he half resolved to turn back. He had come a
long way though, and should lose a great deal of time
by doing so. Besides, it was so early that there
was very little fear of his being seen; so he walked
on.
He reached the house. There was no appearance
of its inmates stirring at that early hour.
Oliver stopped, and peeped into the garden.
A child was weeding one of the little beds; as he
stopped, he raised his pale face and disclosed the
features of one of his former companions. Oliver
felt glad to see him, before he went; for, though
younger than himself, he had been his little friend
and playmate. They had been beaten, and starved,
and shut up together, many and many a time.
‘Hush, Dick!’ said Oliver, as the boy
ran to the gate, and thrust his thin arm between the
rails to greet him. ‘Is any one up?’
‘Nobody but me,’ replied the child.
‘You musn’t say you saw me, Dick,’
said Oliver. ’I am running away.
They beat and ill-use me, Dick; and I am going to
seek my fortune, some long way off. I don’t
know where. How pale you are!’
‘I heard the doctor tell them I was dying,’
replied the child with a faint smile. ’I
am very glad to see you, dear; but don’t stop,
don’t stop!’
‘Yes, yes, I will, to say good-b’ye to
you,’ replied Oliver. ’I shall see
you again, Dick. I know I shall! You will
be well and happy!’
‘I hope so,’ replied the child.
’After I am dead, but not before. I know
the doctor must be right, Oliver, because I dream
so much of Heaven, and Angels, and kind faces that
I never see when I am awake. Kiss me,’
said the child, climbing up the low gate, and flinging
his little arms round Oliver’s neck. ‘Good-b’ye,
dear! God bless you!’
The blessing was from a young child’s lips,
but it was the first that Oliver had ever heard invoked
upon his head; and through the struggles and sufferings,
and troubles and changes, of his after life, he never
once forgot it.
OLIVER WALKS TO LONDON. HE ENCOUNTERS ON THE
ROAD A STRANGE SORT OF YOUNG GENTLEMAN
