Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 31. Closed

           Fromaradiantcentre,overthewholelengthandbreadthofthetranquilfirmament,greatshootsoflightstreamedamongtheearlystars,likesignsoftheblessedlatercovenantofpeaceandhopethatchangedthecrownofthornsintoaglory.

           Lessremarkable,nowthatshewasnotaloneanditwasdarker,MrsClennamhurriedonatLittleDorrit’sside,unmolested.Theyleftthegreatthoroughfareattheturningbywhichshehadenteredit,andwoundtheirwaydownamongthesilent,empty,cross-streets.Theirfeetwereatthegateway,whentherewasasuddennoiselikethunder.

           ‘Whatwasthat!Letusmakehastein,’criedMrsClennam.

           Theywereinthegateway.LittleDorrit,withapiercingcry,heldherback.

           Inoneswiftinstanttheoldhousewasbeforethem,withthemanlyingsmokinginthewindow;anotherthunderingsound,anditheaved,surgedoutward,openedasunderinfiftyplaces,collapsed,andfell.Deafenedbythenoise,stifled,choked,andblindedbythedust,theyhidtheirfacesandstoodrootedtothespot.Theduststorm,drivingbetweenthemandtheplacidsky,partedforamomentandshowedthemthestars.Astheylookedup,wildlycryingforhelp,thegreatpileofchimneys,whichwasthenaloneleftstandinglikeatowerinawhirlwind,rocked,broke,andhaileditselfdownupontheheapofruin,asifeverytumblingfragmentwereintentonburyingthecrushedwretchdeeper.

           Soblackenedbytheflyingparticlesofrubbishastobeunrecognisable,theyranbackfromthegatewayintothestreet,cryingandshrieking.

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