The disappointment was a cruel one, for all through his sickness Oliver had anticipated the delight of seeing his first benefactor, and clearing himself of guilt, but now that was impossible.

In a fortnight the Maylies went to the country, and Oliver, whose life had been spent in squalid crowds, seemed to enter on a new existence there.  The sky and the balmy air, the woods and glistening water, the rose and honeysuckle, were each a daily joy to him.  Every morning he went to a white-haired old gentleman who taught him to read better and to write, then he would walk and talk with Rose and Mrs. Maylie, and so three happy months glided away.

In the summer Rose was taken down with a terrible fever, and anxiety hung like a cloud over the cottage where she was so dear, but at length the danger passed and the loving hearts grew lighter again.

Meanwhile a man named Monks,—­a friend of Fagin’s—­had by chance seen Oliver, had been strangely excited and angered at sight of him, and after carefully learning some details of the boy’s history, had gone to the beadle at the workhouse where Oliver began life, and by dint of bribes, had extorted information concerning Oliver’s mother, which only one person knew.  Satisfied with what he learned, Monks conferred with Fagin, telling some facts about Oliver which caused Nancy, who happened to overhear them, to become terror-stricken.

As soon as she could, she stole away from her companions, out towards the West End of London, to a hotel where the Maylies were then boarding, and which she had heard Monks mention.  Nancy was such a ragged object that she found it difficult to have her name carried up to Rose Maylie, but at length she succeeded, and was ushered into the sweet young lady’s presence, where she quickly related what she had come to tell.  That Monks had accidentally seen Oliver, and found out where he was living, and with whom;—­that a bargain had been struck with Fagin that he should have a certain sum of money if Oliver were brought back, and a still larger amount if the boy could be made a thief.  Nancy then went on to tell that Monks spoke of Oliver as his young brother, and boasted that the proofs of the boy’s identity lay at the bottom of the river—­that he, Monks, had money which by right should have been shared with Oliver, and that his one desire was to take the boy’s life.

These disclosures made Rose Maylie turn pale, and ask many questions, from which she discovered that Nancy’s confession was actuated by a real liking for Oliver and a fierce hatred for the man Monks.  Her tale finished, and refusing money, or help of any kind, Nancy went as swiftly as she had come, and when she left, Rose sank into a chair completely overcome by what she had heard.

Of course the matter was too serious to pass over, and the next day, as Rose was trying to decide upon a course of action, Oliver settled it for her, by rushing in with breathless haste, and exclaiming, “I have seen the gentleman—­the gentleman who was so good to me—­Mr. Brownlow!”