51 Cont. Oliver Twist - Read By Stephanie Poppins

Oliver Twist, written by Charles Dickens in the 19th Century, tells the story of an orphan boy and his adventures in London's slums.

In this episode, Mr and Mrs Bumble are held to account.

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Transcript

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. That's it! 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 know where you need to go. Happy listening Chapter 51 Continued Do my eyes deceive me? Cried Mr Bumble with ill-famed enthusiasm. Who is that little oliver? Oh Oliver, If only you knew how I'd been grieving for you! Oh, You town fool. Moment mrs bumble come, Sir, " said Mr Grimwig, Tartly. I will do my endeavour, Sir. Replied Mr Bumble. How do you do, Sir? I hope you're very well. This salutation was addressed to Mr Brownlow, Who had stepped up to within a short distance of the respectable couple. He pointed to monks. Do you know that person? No, Replied Mrs Bumble. Nor sold him anything behind. No. Replied Mrs. Bumble. You never had a certain gold locket and ring. Certainly not, Replied the Matron. Why, We bought here. To ask such nonsense of 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. 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, But you couldn't shut out the sound nor stop the chinks. No, " said the other, Looking round and wagging her toothless jaws. We heard her try and tell you what she'd done and saw you take a paper from her hand and watch you too. You went to the pawnbroker's shop. Said the first. Yes i did the second and it was a locket and a gold ring we found that out and we saw it giving you We were, We were boys. And we know more than that! Resumed the first. Would you like to see the pawnbroker himself? Asked Mr Grimwig with a motion towards the door. Replied the woman. She pointed to monks, Who'd been cowed enough to confess as I see he has. And you've sounded all these hags until you've found the right ones. I've nothing more to say. I did sell them and they're where you'll never get them. So what about it? Nothing, Replied Mr Brownlow, Except it remains for us to take care that neither of you is employed in a situation of trust again. Now leave the room. I hope, " said Mr. Bumble, Looking about him, I hope this unfortunate little circumstance will not deprive me of my parochial office. Indeed it will, Replied Mr Brownlow. You may make up your mind to do that and think yourself well off besides. If it was all Mrs. Bumble, She would do it. Oh good, Mr. Bumble. First looking round to ascertain 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 your wife acts under your direction. If the law supposes that, The law is an ass. An idiot. Said Mr Bumble, Squeezing his hat emphatically in both hands. 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, I say. Laying great stress on the repetition of these two words, Mr. Bumble fixed his hat on very tight and put his hands into his pocket. Young lady, " said Mr Brownlow, Turning to Rose. Give me your hand. And do not tremble. You need not fear to hear the few remaining words we have to say. If they have, I don't 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 the strength or the spirits now. Nay, Returned the old gentleman, Drawing her arm through his. You have more fortitude than this, I'm sure. Do you know this young lady, Sir? Yes? Replied monks. I've never seen you before, " said Rose faintly. I've seen you often. Return 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 read it as their own. Go on, " said Mr Brownlow, Signing to Mrs Mailey to approach. You couldn't find a spot to which these people have repaired? " said Monks. But where friendship fails, Hatred will often force away. My mother found it after a year of cunning search and found the child. She took it, Did she? No, The people were poor and begged 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 wouldn't last long. She promised more, Which she never meant to send. She told the history of her sister's shame, And such alterations as suited her. She made 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 another. The circumstances countenanced all this, The people believed it, And the child dragged on an existence miserable enough even to satisfy us. Until a widow lady, Residing then at Chester, Saw the child by chance, Pitied her and took her home. There were some curses spent, I think, Against us. 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? Yeah, Said Monks. She's leaning on your arm. But not the less my niece, Cried Mrs. Mailey, 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 dear old girl. The only friend I ever had, Cried Rose, Clinging to her. The dearest best of friends. My heart will burst, I cannot bear all this. You have borne more and have been through all the best and gentlest creature that ever shed happiness on anyone she ever knew. Said Mrs Mailie. Now come, My love. Remember who this is who waits to clasp you in his arms. Then Oliver rushed forward. Rose, Dear darling Rose. I'll never call you aunt, Sister, My own dear sister, That something taught my heart to love so dearly from the first. Then he glided away and gave place to Harry Meyley. I know it all, " he said, Taking a seat beside the lovely girl. Dear Rose, I know everything now. Oh, Harry! " said Rose, Bursting into tears. I wish I could spare myself this pain. Then why inflict it upon yourself? When I left you last, I left you with a firm determination to level all fancied barriers between yourself and me. I would make yours mine, Rose, That no pride of birth should curl at the lip of you. But I would turn from it. This I have done. Those who have shrunk from me because of this have shrunk from you and proved you so far right. Such power and patronage, Such relatives of influence and rank, Has smiled upon me then. Look coldly upon me now. But there are smiling fields and waving trees in England's richest county. And by one village church, Mine grows my own. There stands a rustic dwelling which you can make me prouder of than all of the hopes I've renounced, Measured a thousandfold. This is my Rankin Station now and here I lay it down. My dearest, Sweetest, Rose.