Stranica 280 [280]
OCR
212 OLIVER TWIST. follow her through the sultry fields at awakened in his own bosom old rememnoon, and hear the low tones of her sweet brances, melancholy, and yet sweet and voice in the moonlit evening walk; I | soothing—how the two orphans, tried by Px) charity abroad, and the smiling, untirin discharge of domestic duties at home; would paint her and her dead sister’s child, happy in their mutual love, and the friends whom they had so sadly lost; I would summon before me once again those joyous little faces that clustered round her knee, and listen to their merry prattle; I would recall the tones of that clear merry laugh, and conjure up the sympathising tear that glistened in that soft blue eye. ‘hese, and a thousand looks and smiles, and turns of thought and speech—1 would fain recall them, every one. How Mr. Brownlow went on from day to day filling the mind of his adopted child with stores of knowledge, and becoming attached to him more and more as his nature developed itself, and showed the thriving seeds of all he could wish new traits of his early friend, that cy to others, and mutual love, and fervent thanks to Him who had protected and preserved them—these are all matters said that they were truly happy, and without strong affection and humanity of heart, and gratitude to that Being whose code is mercy, and whose great breathe, true happiness can never be attained. Within the altar of the old village church stands a white marble tablet, which bears as yet but one word, ‘ Agnes.’ There is no in that tomb, and may it be many, many years, before another name is placed above it! But if the spirits of the dead ever come back to earth, to visit spots hallowed by the love — the love beyond the grave —of those whom they knew in life, I do believe that the shade of that poor girl often hovers about that solemn nook—ay, though it is a
