Mr. Brownlow

“ Brownlow, advancing, "which were placed in your hands for better security by a man called Monks."
"It's all a lie together," replied the Jew. "I haven't one—not one."
"For the love of God," said Mr. Brownlow, solemnly, "do not say that now, upon the very verge of death, but tell me where they are. You know that Sikes is dead, that Monks has confessed, that there is no hope of any further gain. Where are those papers?"
"Oliver," cried the Jew, beckoning to him. "Here, here! Let me whisper to you."
"I am not afraid," said Oliver, in a low voice, as he relinquished Mr. Brownlow's hand. ”

“ As Oliver knew the name of the street in which Mr. Brownlow resided, they were enabled to drive straight thither. When the coach turned into it, his heart beat so violently, that he could scarcely draw his breath.
‘Now, my boy, which house is it?’ inquired Mr. Losberne.
‘That! That!’ replied Oliver, pointing eagerly out of the window. ‘The white house. Oh! make haste! Pray make haste! I feel as if I should die: it makes me tremble so.’
‘Come, come!’ said the good doctor, patting him on the shoulder. ”

“ The twilight was beginning to close in, when Mr. Brownlow alighted from a hackney-coach at his own door, and knocked softly. The door being opened, a sturdy man got out of the coach and stationed himself on one side of the steps, while another man who had been seated on the box dismounted too, and stood upon the other side. At a sign from Mr. Brownlow, they helped out a third man, and taking him between them, hurried him into the house. This man was Monks.
They walked in the same manner up the stairs without speaking, and Mr. Brownlow, preceding them, led the way into a back-room. ”

“ Brownlow paced the room to and fro for some minutes; evidently so much disturbed by the beadle’s tale, that even Mr. Grimwig forbore to vex him further.
At length he stopped, and rang the bell violently.
“Mrs. Bedwin,” said Mr. Brownlow, when the housekeeper appeared; “that boy, Oliver, is an imposter.”
“It can’t be, sir. It cannot be,” said the old lady energetically.
“I tell you he is,” retorted the old gentleman. “What do you mean by can’t be? We have just heard a full account of him from his birth; and he has been a thorough-paced little villain, all his life.” ”

“ The command was obeyed; and as Oliver was taken out he fainted away again in the yard, and lay with his face a deadly white and a cold tremble convulsing his frame.
"Poor boy! poor boy!" said Mr. Brownlow, bending over him. "Call a coach, somebody, pray. Directly!"
A coach was obtained, and Oliver, having been carefully laid on one seat, the old gentleman got in and sat himself on the other.
"May I go with you?" said the book-stall keeper, looking in.
"Bless me, yes, my dear sir," said Mr. Brownlow quickly. "I forgot you. Dear, dear! I have this unhappy book still! Jump in. Poor fellow! ”

“ The two figures of the young lady and her companion soon afterwards appeared upon the bridge. They stopped at the summit of the stairs.
"Hark!" cried the young lady, listening. "Did she call! I thought I heard her voice."
"No, my love," replied Mr. Brownlow, looking sadly back. "She has not moved, and will not till we are gone."
Rose Maylie lingered, but the old gentleman drew her arm through his, and led her with gentle force away. As they disappeared, the girl sunk down nearly at her full length upon one of the stone stairs, and vented the anguish of her heart in bitter tears. ”

“ The wretch!’
‘Come,’ said Mr. Brownlow, ‘these are not the characteristics of young Oliver Twist; so he needn’t excite your wrath.’
‘They are not,’ replied Mr. Grimwig. ‘He may have worse.’
Here, Mr. Brownlow coughed impatiently; which appeared to afford Mr. Grimwig the most exquisite delight.
‘He may have worse, I say,’ repeated Mr. Grimwig. ‘Where does he come from! Who is he? What is he? He has had a fever. What of that? Fevers are not peculiar to good people; are they? Bad people have fevers sometimes; haven’t they, eh? I knew a man who was hung in Jamaica for murdering his master. ”

“ Fang, tossing the card contemptuously away with the newspaper, "who is this fellow?"
"My name, sir," said the old gentleman, speaking like a gentleman,—"my name, sir, is Brownlow. Permit me to inquire the name of the magistrate who offers a gratuitous and unprovoked insult to a respectable man, under the protection of the bench." Saying this, Mr. Brownlow looked round the office as if in search of some person who would afford him the required information. ”

“ Grimwig was an old friend of his, and he must not mind his being a little rough in his manners; for he was a worthy creature at bottom, as he had reason to know.
‘Shall I go downstairs, sir?’ inquired Oliver.
‘No,’ replied Mr. Brownlow, ‘I would rather you remained here.’
At this moment, there walked into the room: supporting himself by a thick stick: a stout old gentleman, rather lame in one leg, who was dressed in a blue coat, striped waistcoat, nankeen breeches and gaiters, and a broad-brimmed white hat, with the sides turned up with green. ”

“ With many interruptions, and repeated insults, Mr. Brownlow contrived to state his case; observing that, in the surprise of the moment, he had run after the boy because he had saw him running away; and expressing his hope that, if the magistrate should believe him, although not actually the thief, to be connected with the thieves, he would deal as leniently with him as justice would allow.
'He has been hurt already,' said the old gentleman in conclusion. ”

“ Brownlow returned, accompanied by Oliver, whom Mr. Grimwig received very graciously; and if the gratification of that moment had been the only reward for all her anxiety and care in Oliver’s behalf, Rose Maylie would have been well repaid.
‘There is somebody else who should not be forgotten, by the bye,’ said Mr. Brownlow, ringing the bell. ‘Send Mrs. Bedwin here, if you please.’
The old housekeeper answered the summons with all dispatch; and dropping a curtsey at the door, waited for orders.
‘Why, you get blinder every day, Bedwin,’ said Mr. Brownlow, rather testily. ”

“ CHAPTER VII TIDD versus BROWNLOW
At four o'clock that day a carriage drove up to the hotel and two gentlemen alighted. They were shown into the coffee-room and Mudd was sent for. He came, expecting to find police officers, and found Brownlow and Mr. Tidd.
"One moment, Mr. Tidd," said Brownlow, then he took Mudd outside into the hall.
"He's not fit to be seen," said Mudd, when the other had explained. "No client must see him. He's right enough to look at and speak to, but he's not himself. What made you bring him here, Mr. Brownlow—now, of all times?" ”

“ Brownlow."
"He's always overworking," said Brownlow. "I think he's been suffering from brain-fag, Mudd; he's very reticent about himself, but I'm glad he saw a doctor."
"Saw a doctor! Why, he never told me."
"Didn't he? Well, he did—Dr. Oppenshaw, of Harley Street. This is between you and me. Try and make him rest more, Mudd."
"I will," said Mudd. "He wants rest. I've been uneasy about him a long while. What's the [Pg 68] doctor's number in Harley Street, Mr. Brownlow?"
"110A," said Brownlow, picking the number out of his marvellous memory; "but don't let Mr. Pettigrew know I told you. ”

“ Brownlow contemptuously from head to foot. "Swear him!"
"Before I am sworn I must beg to say one word," said Mr. Brownlow; "and that is, that I never, without actual experience, could have believed——"
"Hold your tongue, sir!" said Mr. Fang peremptorily.
"I will not, sir!" replied the old gentleman.
"Hold your tongue this instant, or I 'll have you turned out of the office!" said Mr. Fang. "You're an insolent, impertinent fellow. How dare you bully a magistrate!"
"What!" exclaimed the old gentleman, reddening.
"Swear this person!" said Fang to the clerk. "I 'll not hear another word. ”

“ Monks was silent.
‘The will,’ said Mr. Brownlow, speaking for him, ‘was in the same spirit as the letter. He talked of miseries which his wife had brought upon him; of the rebellious disposition, vice, malice, and premature bad passions of you his only son, who had been trained to hate him; and left you, and your mother, each an annuity of eight hundred pounds. The bulk of his property he divided into two equal portions—one for Agnes Fleming, and the other for their child, if it should be born alive, and ever come of age. If it were a girl, it was to inherit the money unconditionally ”

“ 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 [281] or relatives could be traced—the child was taken by some wretched cottagers, who reared it as their own.”
“Go on,” said Mr. Brownlow, signing 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. ”

“ '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; ”

“ To this also Monks agreed.
"You must do more than that," said Mr. Brownlow; "Make restitution to Oliver. You have not forgotten the provisions of the will. Carry them into execution so far as your brother is concerned, and then go where you please. In this world you need meet no more."
To this also, at length Monks gave fearing assent.
A few days later Oliver found himself in a travelling carriage rolling fast towards his native town, with the Maylies, Mrs. Bedwin, Dr. Losberne, and Mr. Grimwig, while Mr. Brownlow followed in a post-chaise with Monks. ”

“ Mr. Brownlow knew that, although the mother and father were dead, the elder brother was alive, and at once commenced a search for him. Now he had discovered him in the man Monks, the friend of thieves and murderers, and by a chance clue he found also that there had been a will, dividing the property between the two brothers. That will had been destroyed, together with all proofs of Oliver's parentage, so that Monks might have the entire property. Fearing discovery, Monks had bargained with Fagin to keep the child a thief or to kill him outright. ”

“ "Your tale is of the longest," observed Monks moving restlessly in his chair.
"It is a true tale of grief, and trial, and sorrow, young man," returned Mr. Brownlow, "and such tales usually are; if it were one of unmixed joy and happiness, it would be very brief. ”

“ Speak the truth, and you shall not be friendless while I live.’
Oliver’s sobs checked his utterance for some minutes; when he was on the point of beginning to relate how he had been brought up at the farm, and carried to the workhouse by Mr. Bumble, a peculiarly impatient little double-knock was heard at the street-door: and the servant, running upstairs, announced Mr. Grimwig.
‘Is he coming up?’ inquired Mr. Brownlow.
‘Yes, sir,’ replied the servant. ‘He asked if there were any muffins in the house; and, when I told him yes, he said he had come to tea.’
Mr. Brownlow smiled ”

“ You have a fine family growing up to enjoy it, Mrs. Brownlow, and I am sure no one congratulates you more heartily than I.”
“Don’t; it can’t be,” cried the heiress, nearly crying, and wringing the old farmer’s hand. “He must have meant Elvira. You know he sent for you. Has everything been hunted over? There must be a later will.”
“Indeed, Mrs. Brownlow,” said the solicitor, “you may rest assured that full search has been made. Mr. Richards had the same impression, and we have been searching every imaginable receptacle.” ”

“ Brownlow, although himself somewhat of an impetuous gentleman: knowing his friend’s peculiarities, bore with great good humour; as Mr. Grimwig, at tea, was graciously pleased to express his entire approval of the muffins, matters went on very smoothly; and Oliver, who made one of the party, began to feel more at his ease than he had yet done in the fierce old gentleman’s presence. ”

“ That when the Dodger, and his accomplished friend Master Bates, joined in the hue-and-cry which was raised at Oliver's heels, in consequence of their executing an illegal conveyance of Mr. Brownlow's personal property, as has been already described, they were actuated by a very laudable and becoming regard for themselves; ”

“ He was untiring in his energy, and availed himself of the advantages of the Methodist Itinerancy to study and improve his education, which he did in all the English branches.
Mr. Brownlow is about six feet high, and weighs about 175 pounds; has had as fine a constitution as any man ever had. He has no gray hairs in his head, and will pass for a man of thirty-five years. He has had the strongest voice of any man in East Tennessee, where he has resided for the last thirty years, and raised an interesting family. ”