Олівер Твіст

Chapter 12

           Thedarknessandthedeepstillnessoftheroomwereverysolemn;astheybroughtintotheboy’smindthethoughtthatdeathhadbeenhoveringthere,formanydaysandnights,andmightyetfillitwiththegloomanddreadofhisawfulpresence,heturnedhisfaceuponthepillow,andferventlyprayedtoHeaven.

           Gradually,hefellintothatdeeptranquilsleepwhicheasefromrecentsufferingaloneimparts;thatcalmandpeacefulrestwhichitispaintowakefrom.Who,ifthisweredeath,wouldberousedagaintoallthestrugglesandturmoilsoflife;toallitscaresforthepresent;itsanxietiesforthefuture;morethanall,itswearyrecollectionsofthepast!

           Ithadbeenbrightday,forhours,whenOliveropenedhiseyes;hefeltcheerfulandhappy.Thecrisisofthediseasewassafelypast.Hebelongedtotheworldagain.

           Inthreedays’timehewasabletositinaneasy-chair,wellproppedupwithpillows;and,ashewasstilltooweaktowalk,Mrs.Bedwinhadhimcarrieddownstairsintothelittlehousekeeper’sroom,whichbelongedtoher.Havinghimset,here,bythefire-side,thegoodoldladysatherselfdowntoo;and,beinginastateofconsiderabledelightatseeinghimsomuchbetter,forthwithbegantocrymostviolently.

           ‘Nevermindme,mydear,’saidtheoldlady;‘I’monlyhavingaregulargoodcry.There;it’sallovernow;andI’mquitecomfortable.

           ‘You’revery,verykindtome,ma’am,’saidOliver.

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