The life stories of those who have appeared in this narrative are now nearly complete. The little that remains for their historian to relate can be told in a few simple words.
Before three months had passed, Rose Fleming and Harry Maylie were married in the village church that would henceforth be the center of the young clergyman’s work. On that same day, they moved into their new and happy home. Mrs. Maylie took up residence with her son and daughter-in-law to enjoy the peaceful remainder of her days. She found her greatest joy in observing the happiness of those she loved most, upon whom she had unceasingly bestowed the warmest affection and care throughout her well-spent life.
Upon a thorough investigation, it was discovered that the remaining property in the custody of Monks—which had never prospered in his hands or those of his mother—would yield only about three thousand pounds if divided equally between himself and Oliver. According to the provisions of his father’s will, Oliver would have been entitled to the entire amount. However, Mr. Brownlow was unwilling to deprive the elder son of a final opportunity to turn away from his past vices and pursue an honest career. He proposed this equal distribution, to which his young ward joyfully agreed.
Monks, still using his assumed name, relocated with his portion of the inheritance to a distant part of the New World. There, having quickly squandered his money, he once again fell into his old habits of crime. After serving a long prison sentence for a new act of fraud, he eventually succumbed to his chronic illness and died in prison. Far from home, the remaining members of Fagin’s gang met similar ends.
Mr. Brownlow officially adopted Oliver as his son. Relocating with him and the faithful Mrs. Bedwin to a house within a mile of the parsonage where Harry and Rose lived, he fulfilled the only remaining wish of Oliver’s earnest heart. In doing so, he linked together a small circle of friends whose lives approached as nearly to perfect happiness as is possible in this changing world.
Shortly after the wedding, the worthy Dr. Losberne returned to Chertsey. However, deprived of the presence of his old friends, he soon became restless. For a few months, he contented himself with hinting that the local air no longer agreed with him. Eventually, realizing that the town was no longer the home it once was, he handed his medical practice over to his assistant and took a cottage outside the village where Harry was pastor. He recovered his spirits instantaneously. There, he took up gardening, fishing, and carpentry with his characteristic impetuosity. In each of these pursuits, he has since become famous throughout the neighborhood as a leading authority.
Before leaving Chertsey, the doctor had formed a strong friendship with Mr. Grimwig, a feeling that the eccentric gentleman cordially returned. Consequently, Mr. Grimwig visits the village many times throughout the year. On these occasions, he gardens and fishes with great enthusiasm, doing everything in a highly unusual manner but always maintaining that his way is the only correct one. On Sundays, he never fails to criticize Harry’s sermons to his face, though he always informs Dr. Losberne in strict confidence afterward that he considers them excellent. It has become a favorite joke for Mr. Brownlow to tease him about his old prophecy concerning Oliver, reminding him of the night they sat waiting for the boy’s return. Mr. Grimwig, however, stubbornly contends that he was right in principle, pointing out that Oliver did not actually come back that night after all—an argument that always ends in laughter.
As for Noah Claypole, he received a free pardon from the Crown after testifying against Fagin. Finding that a life of honest work did not suit him, he considered how he might earn a living without too much effort. He eventually went into business as a professional informer. His strategy is to walk out once a week during church hours, accompanied by Charlotte, who is dressed in respectable clothing. Charlotte "faints" at the doors of various pubs, and when the sympathetic landlord provides brandy to restore her, Noah reports the establishment for serving alcohol during church hours the next day, pocketing half the fine. Sometimes Mr. Claypole faints himself, but the result is always the same.
Mr. and Mrs. Bumble, having lost their positions, were gradually reduced to a state of great poverty and misery. Ultimately, they became paupers in the very same workhouse where they had once lorded it over others. Mr. Bumble has been heard to say that, in his current state of degradation, he does not even have the spirit to be thankful that he is finally separated from his wife.
Mr. Giles and Brittles remain in their old posts, though the former is now bald and the latter quite grey. They live at the parsonage but divide their service so equally among Rose, Oliver, Mr. Brownlow, and the doctor that the villagers have never been able to figure out which household they actually belong to.
Master Charles Bates, appalled by the horror of Sikes’s crime, spent much time reflecting on whether an honest life was not, after all, the better path. Having reached the conclusion that it certainly was, he turned his back on his past and resolved to improve himself in a new environment. He struggled hard and suffered much for a time, but his contented nature and firm purpose allowed him to succeed. Having started as a simple farm laborer, he is now the most successful and cheerful young sheep-farmer in all of Northamptonshire.
And now, the hand that writes these words hesitates as it approaches the end of its task. I would gladly linger a little longer with those whose lives I have followed for so long.
I would like to show Rose Maylie in all the grace of her early womanhood, shedding a gentle light on everyone who walks her path. I would describe her as the heart and joy of her family circle, whether by the fireside in winter or in the fields at noon. I would watch her goodness and charity abroad, and her tireless devotion to her duties at home. I would paint her and Agnes’s child happy in their mutual love, spending hours together picturing the friends they lost. I would call back the sound of the children playing at her knees and the sympathetic tear that so often glistened in her blue eyes.
How Mr. Brownlow continued to fill the mind of his adopted son with knowledge, becoming more attached to him as Oliver’s noble nature developed—how he found in the boy traits of his old friend that brought back sweet and soothing memories—how the two orphans, having been tested by hardship, remembered its lessons through mercy toward others and gratitude to God—these are matters that do not need to be told in detail. I have said that they were truly happy; and without strong affection, humanity of heart, and gratitude to that Being whose great attribute is benevolence, true happiness can never be achieved.
Within the altar of the old village church, there stands a white marble tablet which bears, as of yet, only one word: "AGNES." There is no coffin in that tomb, and may it be many years before another name is placed above it. But if the spirits of the dead ever return to earth to visit spots made holy by the love of those they knew in life, I believe that the ghost of Agnes sometimes hovers around that quiet corner. I believe this in spite of the fact that the world saw her as weak and erring, for I know that in that sacred place, she is remembered only with love.