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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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The
surgeon
deposited
it
in
her
arms
.
She
imprinted
her
cold
white
lips
passionately
on
its
forehead
;
passed
her
hands
over
her
face
;
gazed
wildly
round
;
shuddered
;
fell
back
--
and
died
.
They
chafed
her
breast
,
hands
,
and
temples
;
but
the
blood
had
stopped
forever
.
They
talked
of
hope
and
comfort
.
They
had
been
strangers
too
long
.
'
It
's
all
over
,
Mrs.
Thingummy
!
'
said
the
surgeon
at
last
.
'
Ah
,
poor
dear
,
so
it
is
!
'
said
the
nurse
,
picking
up
the
cork
of
the
green
bottle
,
which
had
fallen
out
on
the
pillow
,
as
she
stooped
to
take
up
the
child
.
'
Poor
dear
!
'
'
You
need
n't
mind
sending
up
to
me
,
if
the
child
cries
,
nurse
,
'
said
the
surgeon
,
putting
on
his
gloves
with
great
deliberation
.
'
It
's
very
likely
it
WILL
be
troublesome
.
Give
it
a
little
gruel
if
it
is
.
'
He
put
on
his
hat
,
and
,
pausing
by
the
bed-side
on
his
way
to
the
door
,
added
,
'
She
was
a
good-looking
girl
,
too
;
where
did
she
come
from
?
'
'
She
was
brought
here
last
night
,
'
replied
the
old
woman
,
'
by
the
overseer
's
order
.
She
was
found
lying
in
the
street
.
She
had
walked
some
distance
,
for
her
shoes
were
worn
to
pieces
;
but
where
she
came
from
,
or
where
she
was
going
to
,
nobody
knows
.
'
The
surgeon
leaned
over
the
body
,
and
raised
the
left
hand
.
'
The
old
story
,
'
he
said
,
shaking
his
head
:
'
no
wedding-ring
,
I
see
.
Ah
!
Good-night
!
'
The
medical
gentleman
walked
away
to
dinner
;
and
the
nurse
,
having
once
more
applied
herself
to
the
green
bottle
,
sat
down
on
a
low
chair
before
the
fire
,
and
proceeded
to
dress
the
infant
.
What
an
excellent
example
of
the
power
of
dress
,
young
Oliver
Twist
was
!
Wrapped
in
the
blanket
which
had
hitherto
formed
his
only
covering
,
he
might
have
been
the
child
of
a
nobleman
or
a
beggar
;
it
would
have
been
hard
for
the
haughtiest
stranger
to
have
assigned
him
his
proper
station
in
society
.
But
now
that
he
was
enveloped
in
the
old
calico
robes
which
had
grown
yellow
in
the
same
service
,
he
was
badged
and
ticketed
,
and
fell
into
his
place
at
once
--
a
parish
child
--
the
orphan
of
a
workhouse
--
the
humble
,
half-starved
drudge
--
to
be
cuffed
and
buffeted
through
the
world
--
despised
by
all
,
and
pitied
by
none
.
Oliver
cried
lustily
.
If
he
could
have
known
that
he
was
an
orphan
,
left
to
the
tender
mercies
of
church-wardens
and
overseers
,
perhaps
he
would
have
cried
the
louder
.
