Олівер Твіст

Chapter 35

           Inaword,’saidtheyounglady,turningaway,ashertemporaryfirmnessforsookher,‘thereisastainuponmyname,whichtheworldvisitsoninnocentheads.Iwillcarryitintonobloodbutmyown;andthereproachshallrestaloneonme.

           ‘Onewordmore,Rose.DearestRose!onemore!’criedHarry,throwinghimselfbeforeher.‘IfIhadbeenlesslessfortunate,theworldwouldcallitifsomeobscureandpeacefullifehadbeenmydestinyifIhadbeenpoor,sick,helplesswouldyouhaveturnedfrommethen?Orhasmyprobableadvancementtorichesandhonour,giventhisscruplebirth?’

           ‘Donotpressmetoreply,’answeredRose.‘Thequestiondoesnotarise,andneverwill.Itisunfair,almostunkind,tourgeit.

           ‘IfyouranswerbewhatIalmostdaretohopeitis,’retortedHarry,‘itwillshedagleamofhappinessuponmylonelyway,andlightthepathbeforeme.Itisnotanidlethingtodosomuch,bytheutteranceofafewbriefwords,foronewholovesyoubeyondallelse.Oh,Rose:inthenameofmyardentandenduringattachment;inthenameofallIhavesufferedforyou,andallyoudoommetoundergo;answermethisonequestion!’

           ‘Then,ifyourlothadbeendifferentlycast,’rejoinedRose;‘ifyouhadbeenevenalittle,butnotsofar,aboveme;ifIcouldhavebeenahelpandcomforttoyouinanyhumblesceneofpeaceandretirement,andnotablotanddrawbackinambitiousanddistinguishedcrowds;Ishouldhavebeensparedthistrial

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