Soon after the marriage of the young people, the worthy doctorreturned to Chertsey,
where, bereft of the presence of his oldfriends, he would have been discontented
if his temperament hadadmitted of such a feeling; and would have turned quite peevishif
he had known how. For two or three months, he contentedhimself with hinting that
he feared the air began to disagreewith him; then, finding that the place really
no longer was, tohim, what it had been, he settled his business on his assistant,took
a bachelor's cottage outside the village of which his youngfriend was pastor, and
instantaneously recovered. Here he tookto gardening, planting, fishing, carpentering,
and various otherpursuits of a similar kind: all undertaken with hischaracteristic
impetuosity. In each and all he has since becomefamous throughout the neighborhood,
as a most profound authority.
Before his removal, he had managed to contract a strongfriendship for Mr. Grimwig,
which that eccentric gentlemancordially reciprocated. He is accordingly visited
by Mr. Grimwiga great many times in the course of the year. On all suchoccasions,
Mr. Grimwig plants, fishes, and carpenters, with greatardour; doing everything in
a very singular and unprecedentedmanner, but always maintaining with his favourite
asseveration,that his mode is the right one. On Sundays, he never fails tocriticise
the sermon to the young clergyman's face: alwaysinforming Mr. Losberne, in strict
confidence afterwards, that heconsiders it an excellent performance, but deems it
as well notto say so. It is a standing and very favourite joke, for Mr.Brownlow
to rally him on his old prophecy concerning Oliver, andto remind him of the night
on which they sat with the watchbetween them, waiting his return; but Mr. Grimwig
contends thathe was right in the main, and, in proof thereof, remarks thatOliver
did not come back after all; which always calls forth alaugh on his side, and increases
his good humour.
Mr. Noah Claypole: receiving a free pardon from the Crown inconsequence of being
admitted approver against Fagin: andconsidering his profession not altogether as
safe a one as hecould wish: was, for some little time, at a loss for the meansof
a livelihood, not burdened with too much work. After someconsideration, he went
into business as an Informer, in whichcalling he realises a genteel subsistence.
His plan is, to walkout once a week during church time attended by Charlotte inrespectable
attire. The lady faints away at the doors ofcharitable publicans, and the gentleman
being accommodated withthree-penny worth of brandy to restore her, lays an informationnext
day, and pockets half the penalty. Sometimes Mr. Claypolefaints himself, but the
result is the same.
Mr. and Mrs. Bumble, deprived of their situations, were graduallyreduced to great
indigence and misery, and finally became paupersin that very same workhouse in which
they had once lorded it overothers. Mr. Bumble has been heard to say, that in this
reverseand degradation, he has not even spirits to be thankful for beingseparated
from his wife.
As to Mr. Giles and Brittles, they still remain in their oldposts, although the
former is bald, and the last-named boy quitegrey. They sleep at the parsonage, but
divide their attentionsso equally among its inmates, and Oliver and Mr. Brownlow,
andMr. Losberne, that to this day the villagers have never been ableto discover
to which establishment they properly belong.
Master Charles Bates, appalled by Sikes's crime, fell into atrain of reflection
whether an honest life was not, after all,the best. Arriving at the conclusion that
it certainly was, heturned his back upon the scenes of the past, resolved to amend
itin some new sphere of action. He struggled hard, and sufferedmuch, for some time;
but, having a contented disposition, and agood purpose, succeeded in the end; and,
from being a farmer'sdrudge, and a carrier's lad, he is now the merriest young grazierin
all Northamptonshire.
And now, the hand that traces these words, falters, as itapproaches the conclusion
of its task; and would weave, for alittle longer space, the thread of these adventures.
I would fain linger yet with a few of those among whom I have solong moved, and
share their happiness by endeavouring to depictit. I would show Rose Maylie in all
the bloom and grace of earlywomanhood, shedding on her secluded path in life soft
and gentlelight, that fell on all who trod it with her, and shone intotheir hearts.
I would paint her the life and joy of thefire-side circle and the lively summer
group; I would follow herthrough the sultry fields at noon, and hear the low tones
of hersweet voice in the moonlit evening walk; I would watch her in allher goodness
and charity abroad, and the smiling untiringdischarge of domestic duties at home;
I would paint her and herdead sister's child happy in their love for one another,
andpassing whole hours together in picturing the friends whom theyhad so sadly lost;
I would summon before me, once again, thosejoyous little faces that clustered round
her knee, and listen totheir merry prattle; I would recall the tones of that clearlaugh,
and conjure up the sympathising tear that glistened in thesoft blue eye. These,
and a thousand looks and smiles, and turnsfo thought and speech--I would fain recall
them every one.
How Mr. Brownlow went on, from day to day, filling the mind ofhis adopted child
with stores of knowledge, and becoming attachedto him, more and more, as his nature
developed itself, and showedthe thriving seeds of all he wished him to become--how
he tracedin him new traits of his early friend, that awakened in his ownbosom old
remembrances, melancholy and yet sweet andsoothing--how the two orphans, tried by
adversity, remembered itslessons in mercy to others, and mutual love, and fervent
thanksto Him who had protected and preserved them--these are allmatters which need
not to be told. I have said that they weretruly happy; and without strong affection
and humanity of heart,and gratitude to that Being whose code is Mercy, and whose
greatattribute is Benevolence to all things that breathe, happinesscan never be
attained.
Within the altar of the old village church there stands a whitemarble tablet,
which bears as yet but one word: 'AGNES.' Thereis no coffin in that tomb; and may
it be many, many years, beforeanother name is placed above it! But, if the spirits
of the Deadever come back to earth, to visit spots hallowed by the love--thelove
beyond the grave--of those whom they knew in life, I believethat the shade of Agnes
sometimes hovers round that solemn nook.I believe it none the less because that
nook is in a Church, andshe was weak and erring.