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“And what have I heard？ What have I heard？” cried Rose。
“That a sense of his deep disgrace so worked upon my own father
that he shunned all There； we have said enough； Harry； we have
said enough。”
“Not yet； not yet；” said the young man； detaining her as she
rose。 “My hopes； my wishes； prospects； feeling—every thought in
life except my love for you—have undergone a change。 I offer you；
now； no distinction among a bustling crowd； no mingling with a
world of malice and detraction where the blood is called into
honest cheeks by aught but real disgrace and shame； but a home—
a heart and home—yes； dearest Rose； and those； and those alone；
are all I have to offer。”
“What do you mean？” she faltered。
“I mean but this—that when I left you last； I left you； with a
firm determination to level all fancied barriers between yourself
and me； resolved that if my world could not be yours； I would
make yours mine； that no pride of birth should curl the lip at you；
for I would turn from it。 This I have done。 Those who have shrunk
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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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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