Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty by Charles Dickens (classic books for 7th graders .txt) 📕

her dumb; and, lost in the horrors they had witnessed, and those they might be yet reserved for, she sat incapable of thought, or speech, or outward show of grief: as rigid, and almost as white and cold, as marble.

Oh, how many, many times, in that long ride, did Dolly think of her old lover,—poor, fond, slighted Joe! How many, many times, did she recall that night when she ran into his arms from the very man now projecting his hateful gaze into the darkness where she sat, and leering through the glass in monstrous admiration! And when she thought of Joe, and what a brave fellow he was, and how he would have rode boldly up, and dashed in among these villains now, yes, though they were double the number—and here she clenched her little hand, and pressed her foot upon the ground—the pride she felt for a moment in having won his heart, faded in a burst of tears, and she sobbed more bitterly than ever.

As the night wore on, and they proceeded by ways which were quite unknown to them—for they could recognise none of the objects of which they sometimes caught a hurried glimpse—their fears increased; nor were they without good foundation; it was not difficult for two beautiful young women to find, in their being borne they knew not whither by a band of daring villains who eyed them as some among these fellows did, reasons for the worst alarm. When they at last entered London, by a suburb with which they were wholly unacquainted, it was past midnight, and the streets were dark and empty. Nor was this the worst, for the carriage stopping in a lonely spot, Hugh suddenly opened the door, jumped in, and took his seat between them.

It was in vain they cried for help. He put his arm about the neck of each, and swore to stifle them with kisses if they were not as silent as the grave.

‘I come here to keep you quiet,’ he said, ‘and that’s the means I shall take. So don’t be quiet, pretty mistresses—make a noise—do—and I shall like it all the better.’

They were proceeding at a rapid pace, and apparently with fewer attendants than before, though it was so dark (the torches being extinguished) that this was mere conjecture. They shrunk from his touch, each into the farthest corner of the carriage; but shrink as Dolly would, his arm encircled her waist, and held her fast. She neither cried nor spoke, for terror and disgust deprived her of the power; but she plucked at his hand as though she would die in the effort to disengage herself; and crouching on the ground, with her head averted and held down, repelled him with a strength she wondered at as much as he. The carriage stopped again.

‘Lift this one out,’ said Hugh to the man who opened the door, as he took Miss Haredale’s hand, and felt how heavily it fell. ‘She’s fainted.’

‘So much the better,’ growled Dennis—it was that amiable gentleman. ‘She’s quiet. I always like ‘em to faint, unless they’re very tender and composed.’

‘Can you take her by yourself?’ asked Hugh.

‘I don’t know till I try. I ought to be able to; I’ve lifted up a good many in my time,’ said the hangman. ‘Up then! She’s no small weight, brother; none of these here fine gals are. Up again! Now we have her.’

Having by this time hoisted the young lady into his arms, he staggered off with his burden.

‘Look ye, pretty bird,’ said Hugh, drawing Dolly towards him. ‘Remember what I told you—a kiss for every cry. Scream, if you love me, darling. Scream once, mistress. Pretty mistress, only once, if you love me.’

Thrusting his face away with all her force, and holding down her head, Dolly submitted to be carried out of the chaise, and borne after Miss Haredale into a miserable cottage, where Hugh, after hugging her to his breast, set her gently down upon the floor.

Poor Dolly! Do what she would, she only looked the better for it, and tempted them the more. When her eyes flashed angrily, and her ripe lips slightly parted, to give her rapid breathing vent, who could resist it? When she wept and sobbed as though her heart would break, and bemoaned her miseries in the sweetest voice that ever fell upon a listener’s ear, who could be insensible to the little winning pettishness which now and then displayed itself, even in the sincerity and earnestness of her grief? When, forgetful for a moment of herself, as she was now, she fell on her knees beside her friend, and bent over her, and laid her cheek to hers, and put her arms about her, what mortal eyes could have avoided wandering to the delicate bodice, the streaming hair, the neglected dress, the perfect abandonment and unconsciousness of the blooming little beauty? Who could look on and see her lavish caresses and endearments, and not desire to be in Emma Haredale’s place; to be either her or Dolly; either the hugging or the hugged? Not Hugh. Not Dennis.

‘I tell you what it is, young women,’ said Mr Dennis, ‘I an’t much of a lady’s man myself, nor am I a party in the present business further than lending a willing hand to my friends: but if I see much more of this here sort of thing, I shall become a principal instead of a accessory. I tell you candid.’

‘Why have you brought us here?’ said Emma. ‘Are we to be murdered?’

‘Murdered!’ cried Dennis, sitting down upon a stool, and regarding her with great favour. ‘Why, my dear, who’d murder sich chickabiddies as you? If you was to ask me, now, whether you was brought here to be married, there might be something in it.’

And here he exchanged a grin with Hugh, who removed his eyes from Dolly for the purpose.

‘No, no,’ said Dennis, ‘there’ll be no murdering, my pets. Nothing of that sort. Quite the contrairy.’

‘You are an older man than your companion, sir,’ said Emma, trembling. ‘Have you no pity for us? Do you not consider that we are women?’

‘I do indeed, my dear,’ retorted Dennis. ‘It would be very hard not to, with two such specimens afore my eyes. Ha ha! Oh yes, I consider that. We all consider that, miss.’

He shook his head waggishly, leered at Hugh again, and laughed very much, as if he had said a noble thing, and rather thought he was coming out.

‘There’ll be no murdering, my dear. Not a bit on it. I tell you what though, brother,’ said Dennis, cocking his hat for the convenience of scratching his head, and looking gravely at Hugh, ‘it’s worthy of notice, as a proof of the amazing equalness and dignity of our law, that it don’t make no distinction between men and women. I’ve heerd the judge say, sometimes, to a highwayman or housebreaker as had tied the ladies neck and heels—you’ll excuse me making mention of it, my darlings—and put ‘em in a cellar, that he showed no consideration to women. Now, I say that there judge didn’t know his business, brother; and that if I had been that there highwayman or housebreaker, I should have made answer: “What are you a talking of, my lord? I showed the women as much consideration as the law does, and what more would you have me do?” If you was to count up in the newspapers the number of females as have been worked off in this here city alone, in the