Oliver Twist
group; I would follow her through the sultry fields at noon, and hear
the low tones of her sweet voice in the moonlit evening walk; I would
watch her in all her goodness and charity abroad, and the smiling
untiring discharge of domestic duties at home; I would paint her and
her dead sister’s child happy in their love for one another, and
passing whole hours together in picturing the friends whom they had so
sadly lost; I would summon before me, once again, those joyous little
faces that clustered round her knee, and listen to their merry prattle;
I would recall the tones of that clear laugh, and conjure up the
sympathising tear that glistened in the soft blue eye. These, and a
thousand looks and smiles, and turns of thought and speech—I would fain
recall them every one.
How Mr. Brownlow went on, from day to day, filling the mind of his
adopted child with stores of knowledge, and becoming attached to him,
more and more, as his nature developed itself, and showed the thriving
seeds of all he wished him to become—how he traced in him new traits of
his early friend, that awakened in his own bosom old remembrances,
melancholy and yet sweet and soothing—how the two orphans, tried by
adversity, remembered its lessons in mercy to others, and mutual love,
and fervent thanks to Him who had protected and preserved them—these
are all matters which need not to be told. I have said that they were
truly happy; and without strong affection and humanity of heart, and
gratitude to that Being whose code is Mercy, and whose great attribute
is Benevolence to all things that breathe, happiness can never be
attained.
Within the altar of the old village church there stands a white marble
tablet, which bears as yet but one word: “AGNES.” There is no coffin in
that tomb; and may it be many, many years, before another name is
placed above it! But, if the spirits of the Dead ever come back to
earth, to visit spots hallowed by the love—the love beyond the grave—of
those whom they knew in life, I believe that the shade of Agnes
sometimes hovers round that solemn nook. I believe it none the less
because that nook is in a Church, and she was weak and erring.