oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第117章

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from　me　because　of　this；　have　shrunk　from　you；　and　proved　you　so　
far　right。　Such　power　and　patronage；　such　relatives　of　influence　
and　rank；　as　smiled　upon　me　then；　look　coldly　now；　but　there　are　
smiling　fields　and　waving　trees　in　England’s　richest　county；　and　by　
one　village　church—mine；　Rose；　my　own！—there　stands　a　rustic　
dwelling　which　you　can　make　me　prouder　of；　than　all　the　hopes　I　
have　renounced；　measured　a　thousandfold。　This　is　my　rank　and　
station　now；　and　here　I　lay　it　down！”　

*****　

“It’s　a　trying　time　waiting　supper　for　lovers；”　said　Mr。　Grimwig；　
waking　up；　and　pulling　his　pocket…handkerchief　from　over　his　
head。　

Truth　to　tell；　the　supper　had　been　waiting　a　most　unreasonable　
time。　Neither　Mrs。　Maylie；　nor　Harry；　nor　Rose　（who　all　came　in　
together）；　could　offer　a　word　in　extenuation。　

“I　had　serious　thoughts　of　eating　my　head　tonight；”　said　Mr。　
Grimwig；　“for　I　began　to　think　I　should　get　nothing　else。　I’ll　take　
the　liberty；　if　you’ll　allow　me；　of　saluting　the　bride　that　is　to　be。”　

Mr。　Grimwig　lost　no　time　in　carrying　this　notice　into　effect　upon　
the　blushing　girl；　and　the　example；　being　contagious；　was　followed　
both　by　the　doctor　and　Mr。　Brownlow。　Some　people　affirm　that　
Harry　Maylie　had　been　observed　to　set　it；　originally；　in　a　dark　
room　adjoining；　but　the　best　authorities　consider　this　downright　
scandal；　he　being　young　and　a　clergyman。　

“Oliver；　my　child；”　said　Mrs。　Maylie；　“where　have　you　been；　and　
why　do　you　look　so　sad？　There　are　tears　stealing　down　your　face　at　
this　moment。　What　is　the　matter？”　

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It　is　a　world　of　disappointment—often　to　the　hopes　we　most　
cherish；　and　hopes　that　do　our　nature　the　greatest　honour。　

Poor　Dick　was　dead！　

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Oliver　Twist　567　

Chapter　52　

Fagin’s　Last　Night　Alive　

The　court　was　paved；　from　floor　to　roof；　with　human　faces。　
Inquisitive　and　eager　eyes　peered　from　every　inch　of　
space。　From　the　rail　before　the　dock；　away　into　the　
sharpest　angle　of　the　smallest　corner　in　the　galleries；　all　looks　
were　fixed　upon　one　man—Fagin。　Before　him　and　behind—above；　
below；　on　the　right　and　on　the　left—he　seemed　to　stand　
surrounded　by　a　firmament；　all　bright　with　gleaming　eyes。　

He　stood　there；　in　all　this　glare　of　living　light；　with　one　hand　
resting　on　the　wooden　slab　before　him；　the　other　held　to　his　ear；　
and　his　head　thrust　forward　to　enable　him　to　catch　with　greater　
distinctness　every　word　that　fell　from　the　presiding　judge；　who　
was　delivering　his　charge　to　the　jury。　At　times；　he　turned　his　eyes　
sharply　upon　them　to　observe　the　effect　of　the　slightest　
featherweight　in　his　favour；　and　when　the　points　against　him　were　
stated　with　terrible　distinctness；　looked　towards　his　counsel；　in　
mute　appeal　that　he　would；　even　then；　urge　something　in　his　
behalf。　Beyond　these　manifestations　of　anxiety；　he　stirred　not　
hand　or　foot。　He　had　scarcely　moved　since　the　trial　began；　and　
now　that　the　judge　ceased　to　speak；　he　still　remained　in　the　same　
strained　attitude　of　close　attention；　with　his　gaze　bent　on　him；　as　
though　he　listened　still。　

A　slight　bustle　in　the　court；　recalled　him　to　himself。　Looking　
round；　he　saw　that　the　jurymen　had　turned　together　to　consider　of　
their　verdict。　As　his　eyes　wandered　to　the　gallery；　he　could　see　the　

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people　rising　above　each　other　to　see　his　face—some　hastily　
applying　their　glasses　to　their　eyes—and　others　whispering　to　
their　neighbours　with　looks　expressive　of　abhorrence。　A　few　there　
were；　who　seemed　unmindful　of　him；　and　looked　only　to　the　jury；　
in　impatient　wonder　how　they　could　delay。　But　in　no　one　face—　
not　even　among　the　women；　of　whom　there　were　many　there—　
could　he　read　the　faintest　sympathy　with　himself；　or　any　feeling　by　
one　of　all…absorbing　interest　that　he　should　be　condemned。　

As　he　saw　all　this　in　one　bewildered　glance；　the　death…like　
stillness　came　again；　and　looking　back；　he　saw　that　the　jurymen　
had　turned　towards　the　judge。　Hush！　

They　only　sought　permission　to　retire。　

He　looked　wistfully　into　their　faces；　one　by　one；　when　they　
passed　out；　as　though　to　see　which　way　the　greater　number　
leaned；　but　that　was　fruitless。　The　Jailer　touched　him　on　the　
shoulder。　He　followed　mechanically　to　the　end　of　the　dock；　and　sat　
down　on　a　chair。　The　man　pointed　it　out；　or　he　would　not　have　
seen　it。　

He　looked　up　into　the　gallery　again。　Some　of　the　people　were　
eating；　and　some　fanning　themselves　with　handkerchiefs；　for　the　
crowded　place　was　very　hot。　There　was　one　young　man　sketching　
his　face　in　a　little　note…book。　He　wondered　whether　it　was　like；　and　
looked　on　when　the　artist　broke　his　pencil…point；　and　made　
another　with　his　knife；　as　any　idle　spectator　might　have　done。　

In　the　same　way；　when　he　turned　his　eyes　towards　the　judge；　
his　mind　began　to　busy　itself　with　the　fashion　of　his　dress；　and　
what　it　cost；　and　how　he　put　it　on。　There　was　an　old　fat　gentleman　
on　the　bench；　too；　who　had　gone　out；　some　half　an　hour　before；　
and　now　come　back。　He　wondered　within　himself　whether　this　

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man　had　been　to　get　his　dinner；　what　he　had　had；　and　where　he　
had　had　it；　and　pursued　this　train　of　careless　thought　until　some　
new　object　caught　his　eye　and　roused　another。　

Not　that；　all　this　time；　his　mind　was；　for　an　instant；　free　from　
one　oppressive　overwhelming　sense　of　the　grave　that　opened　at　his　
feet；　it　was　ever　present　to　him；　but　in　a　vague　and　general　way；　
and　he　could　not　fix　his　thoughts　upon　it。　Thus；　even　while　he　
trembled；　and　turned　burning　hot　at　the　idea　of　speedy　death；　he　
fell　to　counting　the　iron　spikes　before　him；　and　wondering　how　the　
head　of　one　had　been　broken　off　and　whether　they　would　mend　it；　
or　leave　it　as　it　was。　Then　he　thought　of　all　the　horrors　of　the　
gallows　and　the　scaffold—and　stopped　to　watch　a　man　sprinkling　
the　floor　to　cool　it—and　then　went　on　to　think　again。　

At　length　there　was　a　cry　of　silence；　and　a　breathless　look　from　
all　towards　the　door。　The　jury　returned；　and　passed　him　close。　

He　could　glean　nothing　from　their　faces；　they　might　as　well　
have　been　of　stone。　Perfect　stillness　ensued—not　a　rustle—not　a　
breath—Guilty。　

The　building　rang　with　a　tremendous　shout；　and　another；　and　
another；　and　then　it　echoed　loud　groans；　that　gathered　strength　as　
they　swelled　out；　like　angry　thunder。　It　was　a　peal　of　joy　from　the　
populace　outside；　greeting　the　news　that　he　would　die　on　Monday。　

The　noise　subsided；　and　he　was　asked　if　he　had　anything　to　say　
why　sentence　of　death　should　not　be　passed　upon　him。　He　had　
resumed　his　listening　attitude；　and　looked　intently　at　his　
questioner　while　the　demand　was　made；　but　it　was　twice　repeated　
before　he　seemed　to　hear　it；　and　then　he　only　muttered　that　he　
was　an　old　man—an　old　man—an　old　man—and　so；　dropping　into　
a　whisper；　was　silent　again。　

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The　judge　assumed　the　black　cap；　and　the　prisoner　still　stood　
with　the　same　air　and　gesture。　A　woman　in　the　gallery　uttered　
some　exclamation；　called　forth　by　this　dread　solemnity；　he　looked　
hastily　up　as　if　angry　at　the　interruption；　and　bent　forward　yet　
more　attentively。　The　address　was　solemn　and　impressive；　the　
sentence　fearful　to　hear。　But　he　stood；　like　a　marble　figure；　
without　the　motion　of　a　nerve。　His　haggard　face　was　still　thrust　
forward；　his　underjaw　hanging　down；　and　his　eyes　staring　out　
before　him；　when　the　jailer　put　his　hand　upon　his　arm；　and　
beckoned　him　away。　He　gazed　stupidly　about　him　for　an　instant；　
and　obeyed。　

They　led　him　through　a　paved　room　under　the　court；　where　
some　prisoners　were　waiting　till　their　turns　came；　and　others　were　
talking　to　their　friends；　who　crowded　round　a　grate　which　looked　
into　the　open　yard。　There　was　nobody　there　to　speak　to　him；　but；　
as　he　passed；　the　prisoners　fell　back　to　render　him　more　visible　to　
th