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"n.
low solemnly, “do not say that now, up¬
on,the very verge of death; but tell me
witere they are.
dead, that Monks has confessed, that there
to beguile the time; the crowd were
Every
dark cluster of objects in the very centre
are those papers!"
the rope, and all the hideous apparatus
him. * Here, here.
you.” |
‘7 am not afraid," said Oliver in a low
voice, as he relinquished Mr. Brownlow’s
hand.
s The papers,” said the Jew, drawing
him towards him, "are in a canvas bag,
in a hole a little way up the chimney in
the top front-room. I want to talk to you,
my dear, | want to talk to you.” |
* Yes, yes,” returned Oliver. * Let
me say a prayer. Do. Let me say one
prayer; say only one upon your knees
with me; and we will talk till morning.”
c Outside—outside,” replied the Jew,
pushing the boy before him towards the
door, and looking vacantly over his head.
‘Say I’ve gone to sleep—they 71! believe
you. You can get me out if you take me
so. Now then, now then.”’
. *QOh! God forgive this wretched man!"
cried the boy with a burst of tears.
“«'That’s right, that’s right,” said the
Jew; “that’ll help us on. This door
first. If I shake and tremble as we pass
the gallows, don’t you mind, but hurry
on. Now, now, now.”
“Have you nothing else to ask him,
sir?” inquired the turnkey.
c No other question, replied Mr. Brown¬
low. “If I hoped we could recal him to
a sense of his real position va;
* Nothing will do that, sir,’ replied
the man, shaking his head. " You had
better leave him.”
The door of the cell opened, and the
attendants returned.
6 Press on, press on," cried the Jew.
“Softly, but not so slow. Faster, faster.”
The man laid hands upon him, and dis¬
engaging Oliver from his grasp, held him
back. He writhed and struggled with
the power of desperation, and sent up
shriek upon shriek that penetrated even
those massive walls, and rung in their
ears until they reached the open yard.
It was some time before they left the
prison, for Oliver nearly swooned after
this frightful scene, and was so weak that
for an hour or more he had not the
strength to walk.
Day was dawning when they again
emerged. A great multitude had already
assembled. ‘The windows were filled
with people, smoking and playing cards,
Let me whisper to
CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH,
And Last.
THE fortunes of those who have figured
in this tale are nearly closed, and what
little remains to their historian to relate,
is told in few and simple words.
Before three months had passed, Rose
Fleming and Harry Maylie were married
in the village church which was hence¬
forth to be the scene of the young clergy¬
man’s labours; on the same day they en¬
tered into possession of their new and
happy home.
Mrs. Maylie took up her abode with
her son and daughter-in-law, to enjoy du¬
ring the tranquil remainder of her days
the greatest felicity that age and worth
can know—the contemplation of the hap¬
piness of those on whom the warmest af¬
fections and tenderest cares of a well¬
It appeared on a full and careful inves¬
tigation, that if the wreck of property
remaining in the custody of Monks (which
had never prospered in his hands or those
of his mother,) were equally divided be¬
tween himself and Oliver, it would yield
to each little more than three thousand
pounds. By the provisions of his father’s
will, Oliver would have been entitled to
the whole; but Mr. Brownlow, unwilling
to deprive the elder son of the opportu¬
nity of retrieving his former vices, and
pursuing an honest career, proposed this
mode of distribution, to which his young
charge most joyfully acceded.
Monks, still bearing that assumed
name, retired with his
part of the New World, where, hav¬
ing quickly squandered it, he once more
fell into his old courses, and after under¬
going a long confinement for some fresh
act of fraud and knavery, at length sunk
under an attack of his old disorder, and
died in prison.
Mr. Brownlow adopted Oliver as his
own son, and removing with him and the
old housekeeper to within a mile of the
parsonage-house where his dear friends
resided, gratified the only remaining wish
of Oliver’s warm and earnest heart, and