Олівер Твіст

Chapter 52

           Inthesameway,whenheturnedhiseyestowardsthejudge,hismindbegantobusyitselfwiththefashionofhisdress,andwhatitcost,andhowheputiton.Therewasanoldfatgentlemanonthebench,too,whohadgoneout,somehalfanhourbefore,andnowcomeback.Hewonderedwithinhimselfwhetherthismanhadbeentogethisdinner,whathehadhad,andwherehehadhadit;andpursuedthistrainofcarelessthoughtuntilsomenewobjectcaughthiseyeandrousedanother.

           Notthat,allthistime,hismindwas,foraninstant,freefromoneoppressiveoverwhelmingsenseofthegravethatopenedathisfeet;itwaseverpresenttohim,butinavagueandgeneralway,andhecouldnotfixhisthoughtsuponit.Thus,evenwhilehetrembled,andturnedburninghotattheideaofspeedydeath,hefelltocountingtheironspikesbeforehim,andwonderinghowtheheadofonehadbeenbrokenoff,andwhethertheywouldmendit,orleaveitasitwas.Then,hethoughtofallthehorrorsofthegallowsandthescaffold—andstoppedtowatchamansprinklingthefloortocoolit—andthenwentontothinkagain.

           Atlengththerewasacryofsilence,andabreathlesslookfromalltowardsthedoor.Thejuryreturned,andpassedhimclose.Hecouldgleannothingfromtheirfaces;theymightaswellhavebeenofstone.Perfectstillnessensued—notarustle—notabreath—Guilty.

           Thebuildingrangwithatremendousshout,andanother,andanother,andthenitechoedloudgroans,thatgatheredstrengthastheyswelledout,likeangrythunder.

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