OLIVER TWIST by Charles Dickens

Author:Charles Dickens [Dickens, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: archivio inglese, cover, english
ISBN: 9780141322438
Publisher: PUFFIN
Published: 2012-02-07T10:57:31+00:00

CHAPTER XXIX

Has an introductory account of the inmates of

the house to which Oliver resorted.

IN A HANDSOME ROOM (THOUGH ITS FURNITURE HAD RATHER THE air of old-fashioned comfort than of modem elegance) there sat two ladies at a well-spread breakfast-table., Mr. Giles, dressed with scrupulous care in a full suit of black, was in attendance upon them. He had taken his station some half way between the sideboard and the breakfast-table and—with his body drawn up to its full height, his head thrown back and inclined the merest trifle on one side, his left leg advanced, and his right hand thrust into his waistcoat, while his left hung down by his side, grasping a waiter—looked like one who laboured under the very agreeable sense of his own merits and importance.

Of the two ladies, one was well advanced in years; but the high-backed oaken chair in which she sat was not more upright than she. Dressed with the utmost nicety and precision, in a quaint mixture of by-gone costume, with some slight concessions to the prevailing taste, which rather served to point the old style pleasantly than to impair its effect, she sat, in a stately manner, with her hands folded on the table before her. Her eyes (and age had dimmed but little of their brightness) were attentively fixed upon her young companions.

The young lady was in the lovely bloom and spring-time of womanhood, at that age when, if ever angels be for God’s . good purposes enthroned in mortal forms, they may be, without impiety, supposed to abide in such as hers.

She was not past seventeen. Cast in so slight and exquisite a mould, so mild and gentle, so pure and beautiful that earth seemed not her element, nor its rough creatures her fit companions. The very intelligence that shone in her deep blue eye, and was stamped upon her noble head, seemed scarcely of her age, or of the world; and yet the changing expression of sweetness and good-humour, the thousand lights that played about the face and left no shadow there; above all, the smile, the cheerful, happy smile—were made for Home, and fireside peace and happiness.

She was busily engaged in the little offices of the table. Chancing to raise her eyes as the elder lady was regarding her, she playfully put back her hair, which was simply braided on her forehead, and threw into her beaming look such an expression of affection and artless loveliness that blessed spirits might have smiled to look upon her.

“And Brittles has been gone upwards of an hour, has he?” asked the old lady, after a pause.

“An hour and twelve minutes, ma‘am,” replied Mr. Giles, referring to a silver watch, which he drew forth by a black ribbon.

“He is always slow,” remarked the old lady.

“Brittles always was a slow boy, ma‘am,” replied the attendant. And seeing, by the by, that Brittles had been a slow boy for upwards of thirty years, there appeared no great probability of his ever being a fast one.

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