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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Barnaby Rudge: a tale of the Riots of 'eighty"

Hugh walked straight up to them, and set his foot upon it with a
sound as though it had been struck by a heavy weapon. Then, with folded
arms, he stood to have his irons knocked off: scowling haughtily round,
as those who were present eyed him narrowly and whispered to each other.
It took so much time to drag Dennis in, that this ceremony was over with
Hugh, and nearly over with Barnaby, before he appeared. He no sooner
came into the place he knew so well, however, and among faces with which
he was so familiar, than he recovered strength and sense enough to clasp
his hands and make a last appeal.
'Gentlemen, good gentlemen,' cried the abject creature, grovelling down
upon his knees, and actually prostrating himself upon the stone floor:
'Governor, dear governor--honourable sheriffs--worthy gentlemen--have
mercy upon a wretched man that has served His Majesty, and the Law, and
Parliament, for so many years, and don't--don't let me die--because of a
mistake.'
'Dennis,' said the governor of the jail, 'you know what the course
is, and that the order came with the rest. You know that we could do
nothing, even if we would.'
'All I ask, sir,--all I want and beg, is time, to make it sure,' cried
the trembling wretch, looking wildly round for sympathy.


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