Oliver Twist 雾都孤儿 - Chapter 12
时间：2016-02-18 03:16:44
（单词翻译:单击）
The coach rattled1 away, over nearly the same ground as that which Oliver had traversed when he first entered London in company with the Dodger2; and, turning a different way when it reached the Angel at Islington, stopped at length before a neat house, in a quiet shady street near Pentonville.
Here, a bed was prepared, without loss of time, in which Mr. Brownlow saw his young charge carefully and comfortably deposited; and here, he was tended with a kindness and solicitude3 that knew no bounds. But, for many days, Oliver remained insensible to all the goodness of his new friends.
The sun rose and sank, and rose and sank again, and many times after that; and still the boy lay stretched on his uneasy bed, dwindling4 away beneath the dry and wasting heat of fever.
The worm does not work more surely on the dead body, than does this slow creeping fire upon the living frame. Weak, and thin, and pallid5, he awoke at last from what seemed to have been a long and troubled dream.
Feebly raising himself in the bed, with his head resting on his trembling arm, he looked anxiously around. 'What room is this?
Where have I been brought to?' said Oliver. 'This is not the place I went to sleep in.' He uttered these words in a feeble voice, being very faint and weak; but they were overheard at once.
The curtain at the bed's head was hastily drawn6 back, and a motherly old lady, very neatly7 and precisely8 dressed, rose as she undrew it, from an arm-chair close by, in which she had been sitting at needle-work. 'Hush9, my dear,' said the old lady softly.
'You must be very quiet, or you will be ill again; and you have been very bad,--as bad as bad could be, pretty nigh.
Lie down again; there's a dear!'
With those words, the old lady very gently placed Oliver's head upon the pillow; and, smoothing back his hair from his forehead, looked so kindly10 and loving in his face, that he could not help placing his little withered11 hand in hers, and drawing it round his neck. 'Save us!' said the old lady, with tears in her eyes.
'What a grateful little dear it is.
Pretty creetur!
What would his mother feel if she had sat by him as I have, and could see him now!' 'Perhaps she does see me,' whispered Oliver, folding his hands together; 'perhaps she has sat by me.
I almost feel as if she had.' 'That was the fever, my dear,' said the old lady mildly. 'I suppose it was,' replied Oliver, 'because heaven is a long way off; and they are too happy there, to come down to the bedside of a poor boy.
But if she knew I was ill, she must have pitied me, even there; for she was very ill herself before she died.
She can't know anything about me though,' added Oliver after a moment's silence.
'If she had seen me hurt, it would have made her sorrowful; and her face has always looked sweet and happy, when I have dreamed of her.' The old lady made no reply to this; but wiping her eyes first, and her spectacles, which lay on the counterpane, afterwards, as if they were part and parcel of those features, brought some cool stuff for Oliver to drink; and then, patting him on the cheek, told him he must lie very quiet, or he would be ill again. So, Oliver kept very still; partly because he was anxious to obey the kind old lady in all things; and partly, to tell the truth, because he was completely exhausted12 with what he had already said.
which, being brought near the bed, showed him a gentleman with a very large and loud-ticking gold watch in his hand, who felt his pulse, and said he was a great deal better. 'You _are_ a great deal better, are you not, my dear?' said the gentleman. 'Yes, thank you, sir,' replied Oliver. 'Yes,
I know you are,' said the gentleman:
'No, I know you're not.
He is not hungry, Mrs. Bedwin,' said the gentleman:
looking very wise. The old lady made a respectful inclination16 of the head, which seemed to say that she thought the doctor was a very clever man. The doctor appeared much of the same opinion himself. 'You feel sleepy, don't you, my dear?' said the doctor. 'No, sir,' replied Oliver. 'No,' said the doctor, with a very shrewd and satisfied look. 'You're not sleepy.
Nor thirsty.
Are you?' 'Yes, sir, rather thirsty,' answered Oliver. 'Just as I expected, Mrs. Bedwin,' said the doctor.
'It's very natural that he should be thirsty.
You may give him a little tea, ma'am, and some dry toast without any butter.
Don't keep him too warm, ma'am; but be careful that you don't let him be too cold; will you have the goodness?' The old lady dropped a curtsey.
The doctor, after tasting the cool stuff, and expressing a qualified17 approval of it, hurried away:
his boots creaking in a very important and wealthy manner as he went downstairs. Oliver dozed18 off again, soon after this; when he awoke, it was nearly twelve o'clock.
The old lady tenderly bade him good-night shortly afterwards, and left him in charge of a fat old woman who had just come:
bringing with her, in a little bundle, a small Prayer Book and a large nightcap. Putting the latter on her head and the former on the table, the old woman, after telling Oliver that she had come to sit up with him, drew her chair close to the fire and went off into a series of short naps, chequered at frequent intervals20 with sundry21 tumblings forward, and divers22 moans and chokings. These, however, had no worse effect than causing her to rub her nose very hard, and then fall asleep again. And thus the night crept slowly on.
Oliver lay awake for some time, counting the little circles of light which the reflection of the rushlight-shade threw upon the ceiling; or tracing with his languid eyes the intricate pattern of the paper on the wall. The darkness and the deep stillness of the room were very solemn; as they brought into the boy's mind the thought that death had been hovering23 there, for many days and nights, and might yet fill it with the gloom and dread24 of his awful presence, he turned his face upon the pillow, and fervently25 prayed to Heaven. Gradually, he fell into that deep tranquil26 sleep which ease from recent suffering alone imparts; that calm and peaceful rest which it is pain to wake from.
Who, if this were death, would be roused again to all the struggles and turmoils27 of life; to all its cares for the present; its anxieties for the future; more than all, its weary recollections of the past! It had been bright day, for hours, when Oliver opened his eyes; he felt cheerful and happy.
The crisis of the disease was safely past.
He belonged to the world again. In three days' time he was able to sit in an easy-chair, well propped28 up with pillows; and, as he was still too weak to walk, Mrs. Bedwin had him carried downstairs into the little housekeeper's room, which belonged to her.
Having him set, here, by the fire-side, the good old lady sat herself down too; and, being in a state of considerable delight at seeing him so much better, forthwith began to cry most violently. 'Never mind me, my dear,' said the old lady; 'I'm only having a regular good cry.
There; it's all over now; and I'm quite comfortable.' 'You're very, very kind to me, ma'am,' said Oliver. 'Well, never you mind that, my dear,' said the old lady; 'that's got nothing to do with your broth29; and it's full time you had it; for the doctor says Mr. Brownlow may come in to see you this morning; and we must get up our best looks, because the better we look, the more he'll be pleased.'
And with this, the old lady applied30 herself to warming up, in a little saucepan, a basin full of broth:
strong enough, Oliver thought, to furnish an ample dinner, when reduced to the regulation strength, for three hundred and fifty paupers31, at the lowest computation. 'Are you fond of pictures, dear?' inquired the old lady, seeing that Oliver had fixed32 his eyes, most intently, on a portrait which hung against the wall; just opposite his chair. 'I don't quite know, ma'am,' said Oliver, without taking his eyes from the canvas; 'I have seen so few that I hardly know.
What a beautiful, mild face that lady's is!' 'Ah!' said the old lady, 'painters always make ladies out prettier than they are, or they wouldn't get any custom, child. The man that invented the machine for taking likenesses might have known that would never succeed; it's a deal too honest.
A deal,' said the old lady, laughing very heartily34 at her own acuteness. 'Is--is that a likeness33, ma'am?' said Oliver. 'Yes,' said the old lady, looking up for a moment from the broth; 'that's a portrait.' 'Whose, ma'am?' asked Oliver. 'Why, really, my dear, I don't know,' answered the old lady in a good-humoured manner.
'It's not a likeness of anybody that you or I know, I expect.
It seems to strike your fancy, dear.' 'It is so pretty,' replied Oliver. 'Why, sure you're not afraid of it?' said the old lady: observing in great surprise, the look of awe35 with which the child regarded the painting. 'Oh no, no,' returned Oliver quickly; 'but the eyes look so sorrowful; and where I sit, they seem fixed upon me.
It makes my heart beat,' added Oliver in a low voice, 'as if it was alive, and wanted to speak to me, but couldn't.' 'Lord save us!' exclaimed the old lady, starting; 'don't talk in that way, child.
You're weak and nervous after your illness. Let me wheel your chair round to the other side; and then you won't see it.
There!' said the old lady, suiting the action to the word; 'you don't see it now, at all events.' Oliver _did_ see it in his mind's eye as distinctly as if he had not altered his position; but he thought it better not to worry the kind old lady; so he smiled gently when she looked at him; and Mrs. Bedwin, satisfied that he felt more comfortable, salted and broke bits of toasted bread into the broth, with all the bustle36 befitting so solemn a preparation. Oliver got through it with extraordinary expedition.
He had scarcely swallowed the last spoonful, when there came a soft rap at the door.
'Come in,' said the old lady; and in walked Mr. Brownlow. Now, the old gentleman came in as brisk as need be; but, he had no sooner raised his spectacles on his forehead, and thrust his hands behind the skirts of his dressing-gown to take a good long look at Oliver, than his countenance37 underwent a very great variety of odd contortions38.
Oliver looked very worn and shadowy from sickness, and made an ineffectual attempt to stand up, out of respect to his benefactor39, which terminated in his sinking back into the chair again; and the fact is, if the truth must be told, that Mr. Brownlow's heart, being large enough for any six ordinary old gentlemen of humane40 disposition41, forced a supply of tears into his eyes, by some hydraulic42 process which we are not sufficiently43 philosophical44 to be in a condition to explain. 'Poor boy, poor boy!' said Mr. Brownlow, clearing his throat. 'I'm rather hoarse45 this morning, Mrs. Bedwin.
I'm afraid I have caught cold.' 'I hope not, sir,' said Mrs. Bedwin.
'Everything you have had, has been well aired, sir.' 'I don't know, Bedwin.
I don't know,' said Mr. Brownlow; 'I rather think I had a damp napkin at dinner-time yesterday; but never mind that.
How do you feel, my dear?' 'Very happy, sir,' replied Oliver.
'Have you given him any nourishment47, Bedwin?
Any slops, eh?' 'He has just had a basin of beautiful strong broth, sir,' replied Mrs. Bedwin:
drawing herself up slightly, and laying strong emphasis on the last word:
to intimate that between slops, and broth will compounded, there existed no affinity48 or connection whatsoever49. 'Ugh!' said Mr. Brownlow, with a slight shudder50; 'a couple of glasses of port wine would have done him a great deal more good. Wouldn't they, Tom White, eh?' 'My name is Oliver, sir,' replied the little invalid51:
with a look of great astonishment52. 'Oliver,' said Mr. Brownlow; 'Oliver what?
Oliver White, eh?' 'No, sir, Twist, Oliver Twist.' 'Queer name!' said the old gentleman.
'What made you tell the magistrate53 your name was White?' 'I never told him so, sir,' returned Oliver in amazement54. This sounded so like a falsehood, that the old gentleman looked somewhat sternly in Oliver's face.
It was impossible to doubt him; there was truth in every one of its thin and sharpened lineaments. 'Some mistake,' said Mr. Brownlow.
But, although his motive56 for looking steadily57 at Oliver no longer existed, the old idea of the resemblance between his features and some familiar face came upon him so strongly, that he could not withdraw his gaze. 'I hope you are not angry with me, sir?' said Oliver, raising his eyes beseechingly58. 'No, no,' replied the old gentleman.
'Why! what's this?
Bedwin, look there!' As he spoke59, he pointed60 hastily to the picture over Oliver's head, and then to the boy's face.
There was its living copy. The eyes, the head, the mouth; every feature was the same. The expression was, for the instant, so precisely alike, that the minutest line seemed copied with startling accuracy! Oliver knew not the cause of this sudden exclamation61; for, not being strong enough to bear the start it gave him, he fainted away.
A weakness on his part, which affords the narrative62 an opportunity of relieving the reader from suspense63, in behalf of the two young pupils of the Merry Old Gentleman; and of recording-- That when the Dodger, and his accomplished64 friend Master Bates, joined in the hue-and-cry which was raised at Oliver's heels, in consequence of their executing an illegal conveyance65 of Mr. Brownlow's personal property, as has been already described, they were actuated by a very laudable and becoming regard for themselves; and forasmuch as the freedom of the subject and the liberty of the individual are among the first and proudest boasts of a true-hearted Englishman, so, I need hardly beg the reader to observe, that this action should tend to exalt66 them in the opinion of all public and patriotic67 men, in almost as great a degree as this strong proof of their anxiety for their own preservation68 and safety goes to corroborate69 and confirm the little code of laws which certain profound and sound-judging philosophers have laid down as the main-springs of all Nature's deeds and actions:
the said philosophers very wisely reducing the good lady's proceedings70 to matters of maxim71 and theory:
and, by a very neat and pretty compliment to her exalted72 wisdom and understanding, putting entirely73 out of sight any considerations of heart, or generous impulse and feeling. For, these are matters totally beneath a female who is acknowledged by universal admission to be far above the numerous little foibles and weaknesses of her sex. If I wanted any further proof of the strictly74 philosophical nature of the conduct of these young gentlemen in their very delicate predicament, I should at once find it in the fact (also recorded in a foregoing part of this narrative), of their quitting the pursuit, when the general attention was fixed upon Oliver; and making immediately for their home by the shortest possible cut.
Although I do not mean to assert that it is usually the practice of renowned75 and learned sages76, to shorten the road to any great conclusion (their course indeed being rather to lengthen77 the distance, by various circumlocutions and discursive78 staggerings, like unto those in which drunken men under the pressure of a too mighty79 flow of ideas, are prone80 to indulge); still, I do mean to say, and do say distinctly, that it is the invariable practice of many mighty philosophers, in carrying out their theories, to evince great wisdom and foresight81 in providing against every possible contingency82 which can be supposed at all likely to affect themselves.
Thus, to do a great right, you may do a little wrong; and you may take any means which the end to be attained83, will justify84; the amount of the right, or the amount of the wrong, or indeed the distinction between the two, being left entirely to the philosopher concerned, to be settled and determined85 by his clear, comprehensive, and impartial86 view of his own particular case. It was not until the two boys had scoured87, with great rapidity, through a most intricate maze55 of narrow streets and courts, that they ventured to halt beneath a low and dark archway.
Having remained silent here, just long enough to recover breath to speak, Master Bates uttered an exclamation of amusement and delight; and, bursting into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, flung himself upon a doorstep, and rolled thereon in a transport of mirth. 'What's the matter?' inquired the Dodger. 'Ha! ha! ha!' roared Charley Bates. 'Hold your noise,' remonstrated88 the Dodger, looking cautiously round.
'Do you want to be grabbed, stupid?' 'I can't help it,' said Charley, 'I can't help it!
To see him splitting away at that pace, and cutting round the corners, and knocking up again' the posts, and starting on again as if he was made of iron as well as them, and me with the wipe in my pocket, singing out arter him--oh, my eye!' The vivid imagination of Master Bates presented the scene before him in too strong colours.
As he arrived at this apostrophe, he again rolled upon the door-step, and laughed louder than before. 'What'll Fagin say?' inquired the Dodger; taking advantage of the next interval19 of breathlessness on the part of his friend to propound89 the question. 'What?' repeated Charley Bates. 'Ah, what?' said the Dodger. 'Why, what should he say?' inquired Charley:
stopping rather suddenly in his merriment; for the Dodger's manner was impressive.
'What should he say?' Mr. Dawkins whistled for a couple of minutes; then, taking off his hat, scratched his head, and nodded thrice. 'What do you mean?' said Charley. 'Toor rul lol loo, gammon and spinnage, the frog he wouldn't, and high cockolorum,' said the Dodger:
Master Bates felt it so; and again said, 'What do you mean?' The Dodger made no reply; but putting his hat on again, and gathering91 the skirts of his long-tailed coat under his arm, thrust his tongue into his cheek, slapped the bridge of his nose some half-dozen times in a familiar but expressive92 manner, and turning on his heel, slunk down the court.
Master Bates followed, with a thoughtful countenance. The noise of footsteps on the creaking stairs, a few minutes after the occurrence of this conversation, roused the merry old gentleman as he sat over the fire with a saveloy and a small loaf in his hand; a pocket-knife in his right; and a pewter pot on the trivet.
There was a rascally93 smile on his white face as he turned round, and looking sharply out from under his thick red eyebrows94, bent95 his ear towards the door, and listened. 'Why, how's this?' muttered the Jew:
changing countenance; 'only two of 'em?
Where's the third?
They can't have got into trouble.
Hark!' The footsteps approached nearer; they reached the landing. The door was slowly opened; and the Dodger and Charley Bates entered, closing it behind them.
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收听单词发音
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1
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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dodger
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| n.躲避者；躲闪者；广告单 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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turmoils
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| n.混乱( turmoil的名词复数 )；焦虑 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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paupers
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| n.穷人( pauper的名词复数 )；贫民；贫穷 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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contortions
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| n.扭歪，弯曲；扭曲，弄歪，歪曲( contortion的名词复数 ) | |
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benefactor
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| n. 恩人，行善的人，捐助人 | |
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humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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hydraulic
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| adj.水力的；水压的，液压的；水力学的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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affinity
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| n.亲和力，密切关系 | |
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whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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56
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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58
beseechingly
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| adv. 恳求地 | |
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59
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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61
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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62
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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63
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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66
exalt
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| v.赞扬，歌颂，晋升，提升 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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68
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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corroborate
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| v.支持，证实，确定 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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maxim
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| n.格言，箴言 | |
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72
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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73
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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sages
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| n.圣人( sage的名词复数 )；智者；哲人；鼠尾草（可用作调料） | |
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lengthen
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| vt.使伸长，延长 | |
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discursive
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| adj.离题的，无层次的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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81
foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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82
contingency
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| n.意外事件，可能性 | |
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83
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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impartial
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| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
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scoured
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| 走遍（某地）搜寻（人或物）( scour的过去式和过去分词 )； （用力）刷； 擦净； 擦亮 | |
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remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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propound
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| v.提出 | |
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90
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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91
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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92
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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93
rascally
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| adj. 无赖的，恶棍的 adv. 无赖地，卑鄙地 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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