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PinkMonkey.com-Nicholas Nickelby by Charles Dickens




708

waistcoat, and also of locking the door on the outside, lest he
should muster up sufficient energy to make an attempt at escape,
that worthy gentleman left him to his meditations.

What those meditations were, and how the poor creature’s
heart sunk within him when he thought--when did he, for a
moment, cease to think?--of his late home, and the dear friends
and familiar faces with which it was associated, cannot be told. To
prepare the mind for such a heavy sleep, its growth must be
stopped by rigour and cruelty in childhood; there must be years of
misery and suffering, lightened by no ray of hope; the chords of
the heart, which beat a quick response to the voice of gentleness
and affection, must have rusted and broken in their secret places,
and bear the lingering echo of no old word of love or kindness.
Gloomy, indeed, must have been the short day, and dull the long,
long twilight, preceding such a night of intellect as his.

There were voices which would have roused him, even then;
but their welcome tones could not penetrate there; and he crept to
bed the same listless, hopeless, blighted creature, that Nicholas
had first found him at the Yorkshire school.


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