Hello.
Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,
Your go-to romantic podcast that guarantees you a calm and entertaining transition into a great night's sleep.
Come with me as we immerse ourselves in a romantic journey to a time long since forgotten.
But before we begin,
Let's take a moment to focus on where we are now.
Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.
Now close your eyes and feel yourself sink deeper into the support beneath you.
It is time to relax and fully let go.
There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.
Happy listening.
Chapter 17 Continued Mr.
Bumble opened his eyes,
Read the advertisement slowly and carefully,
Several times,
And in something more than five minutes was on his way to Pentonville,
Having actually in his excitement left the glass of hot gin and water untasted.
Is Mr.
Brown now at home?
Inquired Mr.
Bumble of the girl who opened the door.
To this inquiry,
The girl returned the not uncommon but rather evasive reply of,
I don't know,
Where do you come from?
Mr.
Bumble no sooner uttered Oliver's name in explanation of his errand than Mrs.
Bedwin,
Who had been listening at the parlour door,
Hastened into the passage in a breathless state.
Come in,
Come in,
Said the old lady.
I knew we should hear of him.
Poor dear,
I knew we should.
I was certain of it.
Bless his heart,
I said so all along.
Having heard this,
The worthy old lady hurried back into the parlour again and,
Seating herself on a sofa,
Burst into tears.
The girl,
Who was not quite so susceptible,
Had run upstairs meanwhile and now returned with a request that Mr.
Bumble would follow her immediately,
Which he did.
He was shown into the little black study,
Where sat Mr.
Brownlow and his friend Mr.
Grimwig,
With decanters and glasses before them.
The latter gentleman at once burst into the explanation.
A beetle,
A parish beetle.
Oh,
I'll eat my head.
Pray don't interrupt just now,
Said Mr.
Brownlow.
Take a seat,
Will you?
Mr.
Bumble sat himself down,
Quite confounded by the oddity of Mr.
Grimwig's manner.
Mr.
Brownlow moved the lamp so as to obtain an uninterrupted view of the beetle's countenance and said,
With a little impatience,
Now,
Sir,
You come in consequence of having seen the advertisement.
Yes,
Sir,
Said Mr.
Bumble.
And you are a beetle,
Are you not?
I am a parochial beetle,
Gentlemen,
Rejoined Mr.
Bumble proudly.
Of course,
Observed Mr.
Grimwig aside to his friend,
I knew he was,
A beetle all over.
Mr.
Brownlow gently shook his head to impose silence on his friend and resumed,
Do you know where the poor boy is now?
No more than nobody,
Replied Mr.
Bumble.
Well,
What do you know of him?
Inquired the old gentleman.
Speak out,
My friend,
If you have anything to say.
You don't happen to know any good of him,
Do you?
Said Mr.
Grimwig,
Caustically,
After a tentative perusal of Mr.
Bumble's features.
Mr.
Bumble,
Catching at the inquiry very quickly,
Shook his head with portentous solemnity.
You see,
Said Mr.
Grimwig,
Looking triumphantly at Mr.
Brownlow.
Mr.
Brownlow looked apprehensively at Mr.
Bumble's pursed-up countenance and requested him to communicate what he knew regarding Oliver in as few words as possible.
Mr.
Bumble put down his hat,
Unbuttoned his coat,
Folded his arms,
Inclined his head in a retrospective manner,
And after a few moments' reflection,
Commenced his story.
It would be tedious if given in the beetle's words,
Occupying as it did some twenty minutes in the telling,
But the sum and substance of it was that Oliver was a foundling born of low,
Ambitious,
Parents,
That he had from his birth displayed no better qualities than treachery,
Ingratitude,
And malice,
That he had terminated his brief career in his place of birth by making a cowardly attack on an unoffending lad and running away in the night-time from his master's house.
In proof of his being really the person he represented,
Mr.
Bumble laid upon the table the papers he'd brought to town.
Folding his arms again,
He then awaited Mr.
Brownlow's observations.
"'I fear it is all too true,
' said the old gentleman sorrowfully after looking over the papers.
"'This is not much for your intelligence,
But I would gladly have given you treble the money if it had been favourable to the boy.
' It is not improbable that if Mr.
Bumble had been possessed of this information at an earlier period of the interview,
He might have imparted a very different colouring to his little history.
It was too late to do it now,
However,
So he shook his head gravely and,
Pocketing the five guineas,
Withdrew.
Mr.
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.
' "'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 he can't be?
We've just heard a full account of him from his birth and he's been a thoroughly paced little villain all his life.
' "'I will never believe it,
Sir,
' replied the old lady firmly.
"'Never.
' "'You old women never believe anything but quack doctors and lying story-books,
' growled Mr.
Grimwig.
"'I knew it all along.
Why didn't you take my advice in the beginning?
' "'You would if he hadn't had a fever,
I suppose.
"'He was interesting,
Wasn't he?
' "'Interesting!
Bah!
' And Mr.
Grimwig poked the fire with a flourish.
"'He was a dear,
Grateful,
Gentle child,
Sir,
' retorted Mrs.
Bedwin indignantly.
"'I know what children are,
Sir,
And I've done these forty years,
And people who can't say the same shouldn't say anything about them.
That's my opinion.
' This was a hard hit at Mr.
Grimwig,
Who was a bachelor.
As it extorted nothing from that gentleman but a smile,
The old lady tossed her head and smoothed down her apron preparatory to another speech when she was stopped by Mr.
Brownlow.
"'Silence,
' said the old gentleman,
Feigning an anger he was far from feeling.
"'Never let me hear the boy's name again.
"'I rang to tell you that.
"'Never,
Never on any pretence,
Mind.
"'You may leave the room,
Mrs.
Bedwin.
"'Remember,
I am in earnest.
' There were sad hearts at Mr.
Brownlow's that night.
And Oliver's heart sank within him when he thought of his good friends.
It was well for him that he could not know what they'd heard,
Or it might have broken outright.
