28 Oliver Twist - Read By Stephanie Poppins

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 28 Looks after Oliver and proceeds with his adventures.

Moles tear your throats,

Muttered Sykes,

Grinding his teeth.

I wish I was amongst some of you,

You'd howl the wholesome for it.

As Sykes growled forth with the most desperate ferocity his desperate nature was capable of,

He rested the body of the wounded boy across his bended knee and turned his head for an instant to look back at his pursuers.

There was little to be made out in the mist and darkness,

But the loud shouting of men vibrated through the air and the barking of the neighbouring dogs,

Roused by the sound of the alarm bell,

Resounded in every direction.

Stop you white-livered hound,

Cried the robber,

Shouting after Toby Crackett,

Who making the best use of his long legs was already ahead.

Stop!

The repetition of the word brought Toby to a dead standstill,

For he was not quite satisfied he was beyond the range of pistol shot and Sykes was in no mood to be played with.

He made a show of returning,

But ventured in a low voice,

Broken for want of breath,

To intimate considerable reluctance as he came along slowly.

Quaker!

Cried Sykes,

Laying the boy in a dry ditch at his feet.

Don't play booty with me!

At this moment the noise grew louder.

Sykes,

Looking around,

Could discern the men who had given chase were already climbing the gate of the field in which he stood.

A couple of the dogs were some paces in advance.

It's all up,

Bill,

Cried Toby.

Drop the kit and show them your heels.

With this parting advice,

Mr Crackett,

Preferring the chance of being shot by his friend to the certainty of being taken by his enemies,

Fairly turned tail and darted off at full speed.

Sykes clenched his teeth,

Took one look around,

Threw over the prostate form of Oliver,

The cape in which he'd been horridly muffled,

Ran along the front of the hedge as if to distract the attention of those behind from the spot where the boy lay,

Paused for a second before another hedge,

And whirling his pistol high into the air,

Cleared it at a hound and was gone.

The dogs,

Who in common with their master seemed to have no particular relish for the sport in which they were engaged,

Readily answered to their command.

Pincher,

Neptune,

Come here!

Three men who had by this time advanced some distance into the field stopped to take counsel together.

My advice,

Or at least ways I should say my orders is,

Said the fattest man of the party,

We immediately go home.

I'm agreeable to anything which is agreeable to Mr Giles,

Said the shorter man.

I shouldn't appear to wish ill manner,

Gentlemen,

Said the third.

Mr Giles ought to know.

Certainly,

Replied the shorter man,

Whatever Mr Giles says,

It isn't our place to contradict him.

I know my situation,

Thank my stars.

To tell the truth,

The little man did seem to know his situation,

And to know perfectly well it was by no means a desirable one,

For his teeth chattered in his head as he spoke.

You're afraid,

Brittles,

Said Mr Giles.

I ain't,

Said Brittles.

You are,

Said Giles.

These four retorts arose from Mr Giles' taunt,

And Mr Giles' taunt had arisen from his indignation at having the responsibility of going home again imposed upon himself under the cover of a compliment.

I'll tell you what it is,

Gentlemen,

We're all afraid,

He said.

But it's amazing what a man will do when his blood is up.

I should have committed murder,

I know.

I should if we'd have caught one of them rascals.

Encouraging each other with such converse as this,

The three men hurried back to a tree,

Behind which they left a lantern,

Lest its light should inform the thieves what direction to fire.

They made the best of their way home at a good round trot,

And long after their dusky forms had ceased to be discernible,

The light might have been seen twinkling and dancing in the distance.

The air grew colder as the day came slowly on.

The mist rolled along the ground like a dense cloud of smoke.

The grass was wet,

The pathways and low places were all mire and water.

Still,

Oliver lay motionless and insensible on the spot where Sykes had left him.

Morning drew on apace.

The air became more sharp and piercing.

The objects,

Which had looked dim and terrible in the darkness,

Grew more and more defined,

And gradually resolved into their familiar shapes.

The rain came down thick and fast and pattered noisily among the leafless bushes.

But Oliver felt it not as it beat against him,

For he lay stretched,

Helpless and unconscious on a bed of clay.

At length,

A low cry of pain broke the stillness that prevailed,

And uttering it,

The boy awoke.

His left arm,

Rudely bandaged in a shawl,

Hung heavy and useless at his side.

The bandage was saturated with blood.

He was so weak he could scarcely raise himself into a sitting posture,

But when he had done so,

He looked feebly around for help.

Trembling in every joint from cold and exhaustion,

He made an effort to stand upright,

But shuddering from head to foot,

He fell prostrate on the ground.

After some time,

He realised,

If he stayed there,

He must surely die.

So he got up on his feet in a seat to walk.

His head was dizzy,

And he staggered to and fro like a drunken man,

But he kept up nevertheless.

And with his head drooping languidly on his breast,

When stumbling onwards,

He knew not whither.

And now hosts of bewildering and confused ideas came crowding on.

He seemed to be walking between Sykes and Crackett,

Who were angrily disputing for the very words they said.

Sounded in his ears.

When he caught his own attention,

By making some violent effort to save himself from falling,

He found he was talking to them.

Then he was alone,

With Sykes plodding on as the previous day.

Suddenly he started back at the report of firearms,

Then rose into the air,

Loud cries and shouts.

Through all these rapid visions,

There ran an undefined,

Uneasy consciousness of pain,

Which wearied and tormented him incessantly.

Thus he staggered on,

Creeping almost mechanically between the bars of gates or hedgecaps as they came in his way,

Until he reached a road.

Here the rain began to fall so heavily it roused him.

He looked about.

He saw that at no great distance,

There was a house which perhaps he could reach.

Pitying his condition,

They might have compassion on him.

And if they did not,

It would be better,

He hoped,

To die near human beings than in the lonely open fields.

He summoned up all his strength for one last trial and bent his faltering steps before it.

As he grew nearer to this house,

A feeling came over him he'd seen it before.

He remembered nothing of its details,

But the shape and aspect of the building seemed familiar.

At Gardner Law,

On the grass inside,

He'd fallen on his knees last night and prayed the two men's mercy.

It was the very house they had attempted to rob.

Oliver felt such fear come over him when he recognised the place.

For one instant,

He forgot the agony of his wound and thought only of flight.

But he could barely stand.

It happened about this time Mr Giles,

Brittles and the Tinker were recruiting themselves after the fatigues and terrors of the night with tea and sundries in the kitchen.

Not that it was Mr Giles' habit to admit to too great familiarity the humbler servants.

But death,

Fires and burglary make all men equals.

So Mr Giles sat with his legs stretched out before the kitchen fender,

Leaning his left arm on the table,

While with his right,

He illustrated a circumstantial and minute account of the robbery.

It was about half past two,

He said,

Or I wouldn't swear that it might have been a little nearer three when I woke up.

And turning round on my bed,

As it might be so,

I fancied I heard a noise.

What sort of a noise?

Asked the cook.

A kind of busting noise,

Replied Mr Giles.

Then the cook and housemaid screamed suddenly.

That was a knock,

He said,

Assuming perfect serenity.

Open the door,

Somebody.

Nobody moved.

It seems a strange sort of thing,

And not coming at such a time in the morning,

Said Mr Giles,

Surveying the pale faces which surrounded him.

As he spoke,

He looked at Brittles,

But that young man being naturally modest,

Tended no reply.

Mr Giles,

Held on fast by the tinker's arm,

To prevent his running away,

As he pleasantly said,

Gave the word of command to open the door,

And Brittles obeyed.

And there was Oliver Twist,

Speechless and exhausted,

Who raised his heavy eyes and mutely solicited their compassion.

Mr Giles,

Seizing the boy by one leg and one arm,

Lugged him straight into the hall and deposited him at full length on the floor thereof.

Here he is,

Bawled Giles.

He's one of the thieves,

Mum.

He's a thief,

Miss.

Wounded.

I shot him,

And Brittles held the light.

The two women servants ran upstairs to carry the intelligence that Mr Giles had captured a robber,

And the tinker busied himself in endeavouring to restore Oliver,

Lest he should die before he could be hanged.

Don't be frightened,

Miss,

Cried Mr Giles.

I ain't much injured.

He didn't make a very desperate resistance,

I was soon too many for him.

Poor fellow,

Replied the lady.

Treat him kindly,

Giles,

For my sake.

And bending over Oliver,

Mr Giles helped to carry him upstairs with the care and solicitude of a woman.