hen 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!"

"Where?" asked Rose.

"Going into a house," replied Oliver. "And Giles asked, for me, whether he
lived there, and they said he did. Look here," producing a scrap of paper,
"here it is; here's where he lives--I'm going there directly! OH, DEAR ME!
DEAR ME! what shall I do when I come to hear him speak again!"

With her attention not a little distracted by these exclamations of joy,
an idea came to Rose, and she determined upon turning this discovery to
account.

"Quick!" she said, "tell them to fetch a hackney-coach, and be ready to go
with me. I will take you to see Mr. Brownlow directly."

Oliver needed no urging and they were soon on their way to Craven Street.
When they arrived, Rose left Oliver in the coach, and sending up her card,
requested to see Mr. Brownlow on business. She was shown up stairs, and
presented to Mr. Brownlow, an elderly gentleman of benevolent appearance,
in a bottle-green coat, and with him was his friend, Mr. Grimwig. Rose
began at once upon her errand, to the great amazement of the two old
gentlemen. She related in a few natural words all that had befallen Oliver
since he left Mr. Brownlow's house, concluding with the assurance that his
only sorrow for many months had been the not being able to meet with his
former benefactor and friend.

"Thank God!" said Mr. Brownlow. "This is great happiness to me; great
happiness! But why not have brought him?"

"He is waiting in a coach at the door," replied Rose.

"At this door!" cried Mr. Brownlow. With which he hurried down the stairs,
without another word, and came back with Oliver. Then Mrs. Bedwin was sent
for. "God be good to me!" she cried, embracing him; "it is my innocent
boy! He would come back--I knew he would! How well he looks, and how like
a gentleman's son he is dressed again! Where have you been, this long,
long while?"

Running on thus,--now holding Oliver from her, now clasping him to her and
passing her fingers through his hair, the good soul laughed and wept upon
his neck by turns.

Leaving Oliver with her, Mr. Brownlow led Rose into another room, by her
request,