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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


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