Previous - Next

It had been bright day, for hours, when Oliver opened his eyes;
he felt cheerful and happy. The crisis of the disease was safely
past. He belonged to the world again.

In three days' time he was able to sit in an easy-chair, well
propped up with pillows; and, as he was still too weak to walk,
Mrs. Bedwin had him carried downstairs into the little
housekeeper's room, which belonged to her. Having him set, here,
by the fire-side, the good old lady sat herself down too; and,
being in a state of considerable delight at seeing him so much
better, forthwith began to cry most violently.

'Never mind me, my dear,' said the old lady; 'I'm only having a
regular good cry. There; it's all over now; and I'm quite
comfortable.'

'You're very, very kind to me, ma'am,' said Oliver.

'Well, never you mind that, my dear,' said the old lady; 'that's
got nothing to do with your broth; and it's full time you had it;
for the doctor says Mr. Brownlow may come in to see you this
morning; and we must get up our best looks, because the better we
look, the more he'll be pleased.' And with this, the old lady
applied herself to warming up, in a little saucepan, a basin full
of broth: strong enough, Oliver thought, to furnish an ample
dinner, when reduced to the regulation strength, for three
hundred and fifty paupers, at the lowest computation.

'Are you fond of pictures, dear?' inquired the old lady, seeing
that Oliver had fixed his eyes, most intently, on a portrait
which hung against the wall; just opposite his chair.

'I don't quite know, ma'am,' said Oliver, without taking his eyes
from the canvas; 'I have seen so few that I hardly know. What a
beautiful, mild face that lady's is!'

'Ah!' said the old lady, 'painters always make ladies out
prettier than they are, or they wouldn't get any custom, child.
The man that invented the machine for taking likenesses might
have known that would never succeed; it's a deal too honest. A
deal,' said the old lady, laughing very heartily at her own
acuteness.

'Is--is that a likeness, ma'am?' said Oliver.

'Yes,' said the old lady, looking up for a moment from the broth;
'that's a portrait.'

'Whose, ma'am?' asked Oliver.

'Why, really, my dear, I don't know,' answered the old lady in a
good-humoured manner. 'It's not a likeness of anybody that you
or I know, I expect. It seems to strike your fancy, dear.'

'It is so pretty,' replied Oliver.

'Why, sure you're not afraid of it?' said the old lady: observing
in great surprise, the look of awe with which the child regarded
the painting.

'Oh no, no,' returned Oliver quickly; 'but the eyes look so
sorrowful; and where I sit, they seem fixed upon me. It makes my
heart beat,' added Oliver in a low voice, 'as if it was alive,
and wanted to speak to me, but couldn't.'

'Lord save us!' exclaimed the old lady, starting; 'don't talk in
that way, child. You're weak and nervous after your illness.
Let me wheel your chair round to the other side; and then you

Previous - Next