- زمان مطالعه 2 دقیقه
- سطح خیلی سخت
دانلود اپلیکیشن «زیبوک»
این فصل را میتوانید به بهترین شکل و با امکانات عالی در اپلیکیشن «زیبوک» بخوانید
متن انگلیسی فصل
Oliver is found again
Oliver began to recover and slowly regain his strength. The picture that had caused Mr Brownlow’s excitement was taken down from the wall, and was not mentioned again. Oliver was disappointed at the disappearance of the picture, since he liked the woman’s face, but he had many other things to think about now.
They were happy days, while Oliver was getting better. He played cards with Mrs Bedwin and listened to stories about her family. The days were all so quiet and relaxing, after the hardships and poverty of his previous life. Mr Brownlow bought him a new suit and new shoes, and Oliver’s dirty old clothes were given away.
One day Mr Brownlow asked him to come to his study for a little talk. Oliver went in and sat down. He looked at Mr Brownlow s serious face in alarm. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to send me away, sir, please!’ he exclaimed. ‘Let me stay here! I could help with the housework… please, sir!’
‘My dear child, don’t be afraid,’ said Mr Brownlow kindly. ‘I won’t desert you. I believe that you’re a good boy, not a common thief. You told me you’re an orphan - that seems to be the truth. But I want to hear now the whole story of your life, and how you came to be with the boys I saw you with that day.’
Oliver began his story but was soon interrupted by the arrival of Mr Grimwig, an old friend of Mr Brownlow’s. Mr Grimwig was a fierce old gentleman and very fond of arguments. He clearly knew all about Oliver and inspected him closely.
‘So this is the hoy, is it?’ he said at last.
Oliver bowed politely and was introduced by Mr Brownlow.
Tea was then brought in, and during the meal Mr Grimwig stared so hard at Oliver that the boy felt rather contused. Eventually, Mr Grimwig whispered to Mr Brownlow. He may be a good-looking boy, but I think he’s deceiving you, my good friend.’
‘Nonsense!’ said Mr Brownlow, becoming angry.
‘Well, we’ll see,’ answered his friend. ‘We’ll see.’
Later that afternoon Mr Brownlow wanted to return some books to a bookseller, and to send some money for new books that he had already collected. Mr Grimwig suggested that Oliver should go. ‘He’ll be sure to deliver everything safely,’ he said with a smile. ‘Yes, please let me take them,’ said Oliver, delighted to be of use. Mr Brownlow hesitated, but Mr Grimwig’s smile had annoyed him. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Here are the books, Oliver, and a five-pound note. The bookseller will give you ten shillings change.’
‘I won’t be ten minutes,’ replied Oliver eagerly, and he ran out into the street.
‘So you expect him to come back, do you?’ enquired Mr Grimwig.
‘Yes, I do,’ said Mr Brownlow, smiling confidently. ‘Don’t you?’
‘No. He has a new suit of clothes, some valuable books, and a five-pound note in his pocket. He’ll join his old friends the thieves, and laugh at you. If he comes back. I’ll eat my hat.’
The two men sat by the window with a pocket-watch between them, and waited for Oliver’s return.
Oliver hurried through the streets to the bookshop, thinking how lucky he was. Suddenly there was a loud scream behind him. ‘Oh, my dear brother!’ Before he could look round, a pair of arms was thrown tightly around his neck.
‘Don’t!’ he cried, struggling. ‘Let go! Why are you stopping me? Who is it?’
The young woman holding him started to cry loudly. ‘I’ve found him! Oh! Oliver! You naughty hoy, to make me suffer so much! Come home immediately, you cruel boy!’ She burst into tears and several people stopped to stare at what was happening.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked one of the watching women.
‘He ran away from his parents a month ago,’ the young woman said. ‘They’re hard-working, respectable people, and he left them to join a gang of thieves and had characters, and almost broke mother’s heart.’
‘Go home, you horrible child,’ said another woman.
‘Yes - go back to your parents,’ said a third.
‘But I haven’t got any!’ replied Oliver, greatly alarmed. ‘I haven’t got a sister, either. I’m an orphan. I live in Pentonville.’
‘Listen to him! Make him come home,’ the young woman said to the crowd, ‘or he’ll kill his dear mother and father, and break my heart.
Suddenly Oliver recognized the woman he had seen in Fagin’s house. ‘It’s Nancy!’ he said, without thinking.
‘You see?’ cried Nancy to the crowd. ‘He knows me!’
Just then a big man ran out of a beer shop, followed by a white dog. ‘What’s this? Young Oliver! Come home to your poor mother, you young devil! And what books are these? You’ve stolen them, haven’t you? Give them that me. The man, who was Bill Sikes, seized Oliver with one strong hand and hit him on the head with the other.
‘That’ll do him good!’ shouted some of the crowd. ‘It’s the only way to treat boys like him.’
Bill Sikes held onto Oliver’s arm. ‘Come on, you young thief!’
Still weak from illness, and terrified by the growling dog, Oliver could not resist. He was taken through the dark narrow streets at great speed. Sikes and Nancy gave him no chance to escape and Oliver had no breath to call out for help. All too quickly, he was back in Fagin’s house, where his old friends were waiting for him.
‘Delighted to see you looking so well, my dear,’ Fagin said, bowing politely. ‘Why didn’t you write, and say you were coming? We’d have got something warm for supper.’
The Dodger and Charley Bates roared with laughter, and the
Dodger began looking through the books Oliver had with him.
‘Give them back!’ Oliver cried. ‘Those books belong to the kind old gentleman who took me into his home. Send him back the books and the money - he’ll think I stole them!’
‘You’re right,’ laughed Fagin. ‘He think that!’
Oliver jumped to his feet and ran wildly from the room, shouting for help. The Dodger and Fagin caught him easily, and brought him back. Then the old man picked up a long piece of wood.
‘So you wanted to get away, my dear, did you? Wanted to call the police and get help? We’ll cure you of that.’
He hit Oliver hard on the shoulders with the stick. He was raising it for a second hit when Nancy rushed forward and, seizing the piece of wood, threw it into the fire.
‘I won’t let you do it, Fagin!’ she shouted. ‘You’ve got him again. Isn’t that enough? Now leave him alone.’
Fagin and Sikes looked at each other, shocked by her reaction.
‘You’d better keep quiet, my girl,’ grow led Sikes.
‘No, I won’t!’ cried the girl wildly. ‘Now you’ve got the boy, you’ll turn him into a thief and a liar. Isn’t that enough, without killing him too?’
She rushed at Fagin and would have hit him if Sikes had not held her arms so tightly that she couldn’t move. She struggled wildly for a while, then, exhausted, she fainted. Sikes laid her down in the corner, as surprised as Fagin at her anger.
‘She can be really wild when she’s angry,’ Sikes said.
Fagin wiped his forehead. ‘That’s the trouble with women, he said, ‘but she’s a clever girl in her work.’
Then Charley Bates and the Dodger took away Oliver’s expensive new suit, gave him some old clothes, and locked him up in a dark room. Oliver fell tired and ill, and was soon fast asleep.
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