Олівер Твіст

Chapter 49

           ‘ButIalsoknow,’pursuedtheoldgentleman,‘themisery,theslowtorture,theprotractedanguishofthatill-assortedunion.Iknowhowlistlesslyandwearilyeachofthatwretchedpairdraggedontheirheavychainthroughaworldthatwaspoisonedtothemboth.Iknowhowcoldformalitiesweresucceededbyopentaunts;howindifferencegaveplacetodislike,disliketohate,andhatetoloathing,untilatlasttheywrenchedtheclankingbondasunder,andretiringawidespaceapart,carriedeachagallingfragment,ofwhichnothingbutdeathcouldbreaktherivets,tohideitinnewsocietybeneaththegayestlookstheycouldassume.Yourmothersucceeded;sheforgotitsoon.Butitrustedandcankeredatyourfather’sheartforyears.

           ‘Well,theywereseparated,’saidMonks,‘andwhatofthat?’

           ‘Whentheyhadbeenseparatedforsometime,’returnedMr.Brownlow,‘andyourmother,whollygivenuptocontinentalfrivolities,hadutterlyforgottentheyounghusbandtengoodyearsherjunior,who,withprospectsblighted,lingeredonathome,hefellamongnewfriends.Thiscircumstance,atleast,youknowalready.

           ‘NotI,’saidMonks,turningawayhiseyesandbeatinghisfootupontheground,asamanwhoisdeterminedtodenyeverything.‘NotI.

           ‘Yourmanner,nolessthanyouractions,assuresmethatyouhaveneverforgottenit,orceasedtothinkofitwithbitterness,’returnedMr.Brownlow.

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