Олівер Твіст

Chapter 49

           Monksdrewhisbreathyetmorefreely,andlookedroundwithasmileoftriumph.

           ‘Whenyourbrother,’saidMr.Brownlow,drawingnearertotheother’schair,‘Whenyourbrother:afeeble,ragged,neglectedchild:wascastinmywaybyastrongerhandthanchance,andrescuedbymefromalifeofviceandinfamy—’

           ‘What?’criedMonks.

           ‘Byme,’saidMr.Brownlow.‘ItoldyouIshouldinterestyoubeforelong.Isaybyme—Iseethatyourcunningassociatesuppressedmyname,althoughforoughtheknew,itwouldbequitestrangetoyourears.Whenhewasrescuedbyme,then,andlayrecoveringfromsicknessinmyhouse,hisstrongresemblancetothispictureIhavespokenof,struckmewithastonishment.EvenwhenIfirstsawhiminallhisdirtandmisery,therewasalingeringexpressioninhisfacethatcameuponmelikeaglimpseofsomeoldfriendflashingononeinavividdream.IneednottellyouhewassnaredawaybeforeIknewhishistory—’

           ‘Whynot?’askedMonkshastily.

           ‘Becauseyouknowitwell.’

           ‘I!’

           ‘Denialtomeisvain,’repliedMr.Brownlow.‘IshallshowyouthatIknowmorethanthat.’

           ‘You—you—can’tproveanythingagainstme,’stammeredMonks.‘Idefyyoutodoit!’

           ‘Weshallsee,’returnedtheoldgentlemanwithasearchingglance.‘Ilosttheboy,andnoeffortsofminecouldrecoverhim.

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