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Youthful Friends。
The coach rattled away； down Mount Pleasant and up
Exmouth Street； over nearly the same ground as that
which Oliver had traversed when he first entered London
in company with the Dodger； 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 solicitude 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； dwindling away beneath the dry and
wasting heat of fever。 The worm does not his work more surely on
the dead body； than does this slow…creeping fire upon the living
frame。
Weak； and thin； and pallid； 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
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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； for the curtain at the bed’s
head was hastily drawn back； and a motherly old lady； very neatly
and precisely dressed； rose as she undrew it； from an arm…chair
close by； in which she had been sitting at needlework。
“Hush； 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 kindly and loving in his face； that he could not help placing his
little withered 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
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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 exhausted with what he had already said。 He soon fell
in a gentle doze； from which he was awakened by the light of a
candle； which； being brought near the bed； showed him a
gentleman with a 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。 “You’re hungry too；
ain’t you？”
“No； sir！” answered Oliver。
“Hem！” 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 inclination 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；” said 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
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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 qualified approval of it； hurried away；
his boots creaking in a very important and wealthy manner as he
went downstairs。
Oliver dozed 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 night…cap。 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
intervals with sundry tumblings forward； and divers moans and
chokings； which； 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
hovering there； for many days and nights； and might yet fill it with
the gloom and dread of his awful presence； he turned his face
upon the pillow； and fervently prayed to Heaven。
Gradually； he fell into that deep； tranquil 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
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again to all the struggles and turmoils of life； to all its cares for the
present； its anxieties for the future； more than all； its weary
recollection of the past！
It had been bright day； for hours； when Oliver opened his eyes；
and when he did so； 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
propped 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 fireside； 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；” cried 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 broth； 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 wit