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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Лавка древностей
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- Стр. 378/459
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At
the
justice
-
room
,
they
found
the
single
gentleman
,
who
had
gone
straight
there
,
and
was
expecting
them
with
desperate
impatience
.
But
not
fifty
single
gentlemen
rolled
into
one
could
have
helped
poor
Kit
,
who
in
half
an
hour
afterwards
was
committed
for
trial
,
and
was
assured
by
a
friendly
officer
on
his
way
to
prison
that
there
was
no
occasion
to
be
cast
down
,
for
the
sessions
would
soon
be
on
,
and
he
would
,
in
all
likelihood
,
get
his
little
affair
disposed
of
,
and
be
comfortably
transported
,
in
less
than
a
fortnight
.
Let
moralists
and
philosophers
say
what
they
may
,
it
is
very
questionable
whether
a
guilty
man
would
have
felt
half
as
much
misery
that
night
,
as
Kit
did
,
being
innocent
.
The
world
,
being
in
the
constant
commission
of
vast
quantities
of
injustice
,
is
a
little
too
apt
to
comfort
itself
with
the
idea
that
if
the
victim
of
its
falsehood
and
malice
have
a
clear
conscience
,
he
cannot
fail
to
be
sustained
under
his
trials
,
and
somehow
or
other
to
come
right
at
last
;
‘
in
which
case
,
’
say
they
who
have
hunted
him
down
,
‘
—
though
we
certainly
don
’
t
expect
it
—
nobody
will
be
better
pleased
than
we
.
’
Whereas
,
the
world
would
do
well
to
reflect
,
that
injustice
is
in
itself
,
to
every
generous
and
properly
constituted
mind
,
an
injury
,
of
all
others
the
most
insufferable
,
the
most
torturing
,
and
the
most
hard
to
bear
;
and
that
many
clear
consciences
have
gone
to
their
account
elsewhere
,
and
many
sound
hearts
have
broken
,
because
of
this
very
reason
;
the
knowledge
of
their
own
deserts
only
aggravating
their
sufferings
,
and
rendering
them
the
less
endurable
.
The
world
,
however
,
was
not
in
fault
in
Kit
’
s
case
.
But
Kit
was
innocent
;
and
knowing
this
,
and
feeling
that
his
best
friends
deemed
him
guilty
—
that
Mr
and
Mrs
Garland
would
look
upon
him
as
a
monster
of
ingratitude
—
that
Barbara
would
associate
him
with
all
that
was
bad
and
criminal
—
that
the
pony
would
consider
himself
forsaken
—
and
that
even
his
own
mother
might
perhaps
yield
to
the
strong
appearances
against
him
,
and
believe
him
to
be
the
wretch
he
seemed
—
knowing
and
feeling
all
this
,
he
experienced
,
at
first
,
an
agony
of
mind
which
no
words
can
describe
,
and
walked
up
and
down
the
little
cell
in
which
he
was
locked
up
for
the
night
,
almost
beside
himself
with
grief
.
Even
when
the
violence
of
these
emotions
had
in
some
degree
subsided
,
and
he
was
beginning
to
grow
more
calm
,
there
came
into
his
mind
a
new
thought
,
the
anguish
of
which
was
scarcely
less
.
The
child
—
the
bright
star
of
the
simple
fellow
’
s
life
—
she
,
who
always
came
back
upon
him
like
a
beautiful
dream
—
who
had
made
the
poorest
part
of
his
existence
,
the
happiest
and
best
—
who
had
ever
been
so
gentle
,
and
considerate
,
and
good
—
if
she
were
ever
to
hear
of
this
,
what
would
she
think
!
As
this
idea
occurred
to
him
,
the
walls
of
the
prison
seemed
to
melt
away
,
and
the
old
place
to
reveal
itself
in
their
stead
,
as
it
was
wont
to
be
on
winter
nights
—
the
fireside
,
the
little
supper
table
,
the
old
man
’
s
hat
,
and
coat
,
and
stick
—
the
half
-
opened
door
,
leading
to
her
little
room
—
they
were
all
there
.
And
Nell
herself
was
there
,
and
he
—
both
laughing
heartily
as
they
had
often
done
—
and
when
he
had
got
as
far
as
this
,
Kit
could
go
no
farther
,
but
flung
himself
upon
his
poor
bedstead
and
wept
.
It
was
a
long
night
,
which
seemed
as
though
it
would
have
no
end
;
but
he
slept
too
,
and
dreamed
—
always
of
being
at
liberty
,
and
roving
about
,
now
with
one
person
and
now
with
another
,
but
ever
with
a
vague
dread
of
being
recalled
to
prison
;
not
that
prison
,
but
one
which
was
in
itself
a
dim
idea
—
not
of
a
place
,
but
of
a
care
and
sorrow
:
of
something
oppressive
and
always
present
,
and
yet
impossible
to
define
.
At
last
,
the
morning
dawned
,
and
there
was
the
jail
itself
—
cold
,
black
,
and
dreary
,
and
very
real
indeed
.
He
was
left
to
himself
,
however
,
and
there
was
comfort
in
that
.
He
had
liberty
to
walk
in
a
small
paved
yard
at
a
certain
hour
,
and
learnt
from
the
turnkey
,
who
came
to
unlock
his
cell
and
show
him
where
to
wash
,
that
there
was
a
regular
time
for
visiting
,
every
day
,
and
that
if
any
of
his
friends
came
to
see
him
,
he
would
be
fetched
down
to
the
grate
.
When
he
had
given
him
this
information
,
and
a
tin
porringer
containing
his
breakfast
,
the
man
locked
him
up
again
;
and
went
clattering
along
the
stone
passage
,
opening
and
shutting
a
great
many
other
doors
,
and
raising
numberless
loud
echoes
which
resounded
through
the
building
for
a
long
time
,
as
if
they
were
in
prison
too
,
and
unable
to
get
out
.
This
turnkey
had
given
him
to
understand
that
he
was
lodged
,
like
some
few
others
in
the
jail
,
apart
from
the
mass
of
prisoners
;
because
he
was
not
supposed
to
be
utterly
depraved
and
irreclaimable
,
and
had
never
occupied
apartments
in
that
mansion
before
.
Kit
was
thankful
for
this
indulgence
,
and
sat
reading
the
church
catechism
very
attentively
(
though
he
had
known
it
by
heart
from
a
little
child
)
,
until
he
heard
the
key
in
the
lock
,
and
the
man
entered
again
.
‘
Now
then
,
’
he
said
,
‘
come
on
!
’
