Олівер Твіст

Chapter 11

           Therewerethefacesoffriends,andfoes,andofmanythathadbeenalmoststrangerspeeringintrusivelyfromthecrowd;therewerethefacesofyoungandbloominggirlsthatwerenowoldwomen;therewerefacesthatthegravehadchangedandclosedupon,butwhichthemind,superiortoitspower,stilldressedintheiroldfreshnessandbeauty,callingbackthelustreoftheeyes,thebrightnessofthesmile,thebeamingofthesoulthroughitsmaskofclay,andwhisperingofbeautybeyondthetomb,changedbuttobeheightened,andtakenfromearthonlytobesetupasalight,toshedasoftandgentleglowuponthepathtoHeaven.

           ButtheoldgentlemancouldrecallnoonecountenanceofwhichOliver’sfeaturesboreatrace.So,heheavedasighovertherecollectionsheawakened;andbeing,happilyforhimself,anabsentoldgentleman,buriedthemagaininthepagesofthemustybook.

           Hewasrousedbyatouchontheshoulder,andarequestfromthemanwiththekeystofollowhimintotheoffice.Heclosedhisbookhastily;andwasatonceusheredintotheimposingpresenceoftherenownedMr.Fang.

           Theofficewasafrontparlour,withapanelledwall.Mr.Fangsatbehindabar,attheupperend;andononesidethedoorwasasortofwoodenpeninwhichpoorlittleOliverwasalreadydeposited;tremblingverymuchattheawfulnessofthescene.

           Mr.Fangwasalean,long-backed,stiff-necked,middle-sizedman,withnogreatquantityofhair,andwhathehad,growingonthebackandsidesofhishead.Hisfacewasstern,andmuchflushed.

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