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them； but whom can I help？ Mary Rudge will have a home； and a
firm friend when she most wants one； but Barnaby—poor
Barnaby—willing Barnaby—what aid can I render him？ There are
many； many men of sense； God forgive me；’ cried the honest
locksmith； stopping in a narrow count to pass his hand across his
eyes； ‘I could better afford to lose than Barnaby。 We have always
been good friends； but I never knew； till now； how much I loved
the lad。’
There were not many in the great city who thought of Barnaby
that day； otherwise than as an actor in a show which was to take
place to…morrow。 But if the whole population had had him in their
minds； and had wished his life to be spared； not one among them
could have done so with a purer zeal or greater singleness of heart
than the good locksmith。
Barnaby was to die。 There was no hope。 It is not the least evil
attendant upon the frequent exhibition of this last dread
punishment； of Death； that it hardens the minds of those who deal
it out； and makes them； though they be amiable men in other
respects； indifferent to； or unconscious of； their great
responsibility。 The word had gone forth that Barnaby was to die。 It
went forth； every month； for lighter crimes。 It was a thing so
common； that very few were startled by the awful sentence； or
cared to question its propriety。 Just then； too； when the law had
been so flagrantly outraged； its dignity must be asserted。 The
symbol of its dignity；—stamped upon every page of the criminal
statute…book；—was the gallows； and Barnaby was to die。
They had tried to save him。 The locksmith had carried petitions
and memorials to the fountain…head； with his own hands。 But the
well was not one of mercy； and Barnaby was to die。
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 817…
Barnaby Rudge 818
From the first his mother had never left him； save at night； and
with her beside him； he was as usual contented。 On this last day；
he was more elated and more proud than he had been yet； and
when she dropped the book she had been reading to him aloud；
and fell upon his neck； he stopped in his busy task of folding a
piece of crape about his hat； and wondered at her anguish。 Grip
uttered a feeble croak； half in encouragement； it seemed； and half
in remonstrance； but he wanted heart to sustain it； and lapsed
abruptly into silence。
With them who stood upon the brink of the great gulf which
none can see beyond； Time； so soon to lose itself in vast Eternity；
rolled on like a mighty river； swollen and rapid as it nears the sea。
It was morning but now； they had sat and talked together in a
dream； and here was evening。 The dreadful hour of separation；
which even yesterday had seemed so distant； was at hand。
They walked out into the courtyard； clinging to each other； but
not speaking。 Barnaby knew that the jail was a dull； sad； miserable
place； and looked forward to to…morrow； as to a passage from it to
something bright and beautiful。 He had a vague impression too；
that he was expected to be brave—that he was a man of great
consequence； and that the prison people would be glad to make
him weep。 He trod the ground more firmly as he thought of this；
and bade her take heart and cry no more； and feel how steady his
hand was。 ‘They call me silly； mother。 They shall see to…morrow！’
Dennis and Hugh were in the courtyard。 Hugh came forth from
his cell as they did； stretching himself as though he had been
sleeping。 Dennis sat upon a bench in a corner； with his knees and
chin huddled together； and rocked himself to and fro like a person
in severe pain。
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 818…
Barnaby Rudge 819
The mother and son remained on one side of the court； and
these two men upon the other。 Hugh strode up and down； glancing
fiercely every now and then at the bright summer sky； and looking
round； when he had done so； at the walls。
‘No reprieve； no reprieve！ Nobody comes near us。 There’s only
the night left now！’ moaned Dennis faintly； as he wrung his hands。
‘Do you think they’ll reprieve me in the night； brother？ I’ve known
reprieves come in the night； afore now。 I’ve known ’em come as
late as five； six； and seven o’clock in the morning。 Don’t you think
there’s a good chance yet；—don’t you？ Say you do。 Say you do；
young man；’ whined the miserable creature； with an imploring
gesture towards Barnaby； ‘or I shall go mad！’
‘Better be mad than sane； here；’ said Hugh。 ‘Go mad。’
‘But tell me what you think。 Somebody tell me what he thinks！’
cried the wretched object；—so mean； and wretched； and
despicable； that even Pity’s self might have turned away； at sight
of such a being in the likeness of a man—‘isn’t there a chance for
me；—isn’t there a good chance for me？ Isn’t it likely they may be
doing this to frighten me？ Don’t you think it is？ Oh！’ he almost
shrieked； as he wrung his hands； ‘won’t anybody give me comfort！’
‘You ought to be the best； instead of the worst；’ said Hugh；
stopping before him。 ‘Ha； ha； ha！ See the hangman； when it comes
home to him！’
‘You don’t know what it is；’ cried Dennis； actually writhing as
he spoke： ‘I do。 That I should come to be worked off！ I！ I！ That I
should come！’
‘And why not？’ said Hugh； as he thrust back his matted hair to
get a better view of his late associate。 ‘How often； before I knew
your trade； did I hear you talking of this as if it was a treat？’
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 819…
Barnaby Rudge 820
‘I an’t unconsistent；’ screamed the miserable creature； ‘I’d talk
so again； if I was hangman。 Some other man has got my old
opinions at this minute。 That makes it worse。 Somebody’s longing
to work me off。 I know by myself that somebody must be！’
‘He’ll soon