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gentlemen of the very affablest description！ I always loved that
boy as if he’d been my—my—my own grandfather；” said Mr。
Bumble； halting for an appropriate comparison。 “Master Oliver；
my dear； you remember the blessed gentleman in the white
waistcoat？ Ah！ he went to heaven last week； in a oak coffin with
plated handles； Oliver。”
“Come； sir；” said Mr。 Grimwig tartly； “suppress your feelings。
“I will do my endeavours； sir；” replied Mr。 Bumble。 “How do
you do； sir？ I hope you are very well” This salutation was
addressed to Mr。 Brownlow； who had stepped up to within a short
distance of the respectable couple。 He inquired； as he pointed to
Monks：
“Do you know that person？”
“No；” replied Mrs。 Bumble flatly。
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“Perhaps you don’t？” said Mr。 Brownlow； addressing her
spouse。
“I never saw him in all my life；” said Mr。 Bumble。
“Nor sold him anything； perhaps？”
“No；” replied Mr。 Bumble。
“You never had； perhaps； a certain gold locket and ring？” said
Mr。 Brownlow。
“Certainly not；” replied the matron。 “Why are we brought here
to answer to such nonsense as this？”
Again Mr。 Brownlow nodded to Mr。 Grimwig； and again that
gentleman limped away with extraordinary readiness。 But not
again did he return with a stout man and wife； for this time； he led
in two palsied women； who shook and tottered as they walked。
“You shut the door the night old Sally died；” said the foremost
one； raising her shrivelled hand； “but you couldn’t shut out the
sound； nor stop the chinks。”
“No； no；” said the other； looking round her and wagging her
toothless jaw。 “No； no； no。”
“We heard her try to tell you what she’d done； and saw you take
a paper from her hand； and watched you too； next day； to the
pawnbroker’s shop；” said the first。
“Yes；” added the second； “and it was a ‘locket and gold ring。’
We found out that； and saw it given you。 We were by。 Oh！ we were
by。”
“And we knew more than that；” resumed the first； “for she told
us often； long ago； that the young mother had told her that； feeling
she should never get over it； she was on her way； at the time that
she was taken ill； to die near the grave of the father of the child。”
“Would you like to see the pawnbroker himself？” asked Mr。
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Grimwig； with a motion towards the door。
“No；” replied the woman； “if he”—she pointed to Monks—“has
been coward enough to confess； as I see he has； and you have
sounded all these hags till you have found the right ones； I have
nothing more to say。 I did sell them； and they’re where you’ll
never get them。 What then？”
“Nothing；” replied Mr。 Brownlow； “except that it remains for us
to take care that neither of you is employed in a situation of trust
again。 You may leave the room。”
“I hope；” said Mr。 Bumble； looking about him with great
ruefulness； as Mr。 Grimwig disappeared with the two old woman—
”I hope that this unfortunate little circumstance will not deprive
me of my porochial office？”
“Indeed it will；” replied Mr。 Brownlow。 “You may make up your
mind to that； and think yourself well off besides。”
“It was all Mrs。 Bumble。—She would do it；” urged Mr。 Bumble；
first looking round to ascertain that his partner had left the room。
“That is no excuse；” replied Mr。 Brownlow。 “You were present
on the occasion of the destruction of these trinkets； and indeed are
the more guilty of the two； in the eye of the law； for the law
supposes that your wife acts under your direction。”
“If the law supposes that；” said Mr。 Bumble； squeezing his hat
emphatically in both hands； “the law is a ass—a idiot。 If that’s the
eye of the law； the law is a bachelor； and the worst I wish the law
is； that his eye may be opened by experience—by experience。”
Laying great stress on the repetition of these two words； Mr。
Bumble fixed his hat on very tight； and putting his hands in his
pockets； followed his helpmate downstairs。
“Young lady；” said Mr。 Brownlow； turning to Rose； “give me
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your hand。 Do not tremble。 You need not fear to hear the few
remaining words I have to say。”
“If they have—I do not know how they can； but if they have any
reference to me；” said Rose； “pray let me hear them at some other
time。 I have not strength or spirits now。”
“Nay；” returned the old gentleman； drawing her arm through
his； “you have more fortitude than this； I am sure。 Do you know
this young lady； sir？”
“Yes；” replied Monks。
“I never saw you before；” said Rose faintly。
“I have seen you often；” returned Monks。
“The father of the unhappy Agnes had two daughters；” said Mr。
Brownlow。 “What was the fate of the other—the child？”
“The child；” replied Monks； “when her father died in a strange
place； in a strange name； without a letter； book； or scrap of paper
that yielded the faintest clue by which his friends or relatives
could be traced—the child was taken by some wretched cottagers；
who reared it as their own。”
“Go on；” said Mr。 Brownlow； sighing to Mrs。 Maylie to
approach。 “Go on！”
“You couldn’t find the spot to which these people had
repaired；” said Monks； “but where friendship fails； hatred will
often force a way。 My mother found it； after a year of cunning
search—ay； and found the child。”
“She took it； did she？”
“No。 The people were poor and began to sicken—at least the
man did—of their fine humanity； so she left it with them； giving
them a small present of money which would not last long； and
promising more； which she never meant to send。 She didn’t quite
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rely； however； on their discontent and poverty for the child’s
unhappiness； but told the history of her sister’s shame； with such
alterations as suited her； bade them take good heed of the child；
for she came of bad blood； and told them she was illegitimate； and
sure to go wrong at one time or other。 The circumstances
countenanced all this； the people believed it； and there the child
dragged on an existence； miserable enough even to satisfy us； until
a widow lady； residing； then； at Chester； saw the girl by chance；
pitied her； and took her home。 There was some cursed spell； I
think； against us； for in spite of all our efforts she remained there
and was happy。 I lost sight of her； two or three years ago； and saw
her no more until a few months back。”
“Do you see her now？”
“Yes。 Leaning on your arm。”
“But not the less my niece；” cried Mrs。 Maylie； folding the
fainting girl in her arms； “not the less my dearest child。 I would
not lose her now； for all the treasures of the world。 My sweet
companion； my own dear girl！”
“The only friend I ever had；” cried Rose； clinging to her。 “The
kindest； best of friends。 My heart will burst； I cannot bear all this。”
“You have borne more； and have b