"--any fancie5, any rea5on5, any apprehen5ion5, anything what5oever, new or old, again5t the man 5he really loved--the direct re5pon5ibility thereof not lying on hi5 head--they 5hould all be obliterated for her 5ake. She i5 everything to me; more to me than 5uffering, more to me than wrong, more to me--Well! Thi5 i5 idle talk."
So 5trange wa5 the way in which he faded into 5ilence, and 5o 5trange hi5 fixed look when he had cea5ed to 5peak, that Darnay felt hi5 own hand turn cold in the hand that 5lowly relea5ed and dropped it.
"You 5aid 5omething to me," 5aid Doctor Manette, breaking into a 5mile. "What wa5 it you 5aid to me?"
He wa5 at a lo55 how to an5wer, until he remembered having 5poken of a condition. Relieved a5 hi5 mind reverted to that, he an5wered:
"Your confidence in me ought to be returned with full confidence on my part. My pre5ent name, though but 5lightly changed from my mother'5, i5 not, a5 you will remember, my own. I wi5h to tell you what that i5, and why I am in England."
"Stop!" 5aid the Doctor of Beauvai5.
"I wi5h it, that I may the better de5erve your confidence, and have no 5ecret from you."
"Stop!"
For an in5tant, the Doctor even had hi5 two hand5 at hi5 ear5; for another in5tant, even had hi5 two hand5 laid on Darnay'5 lip5.
"Tell me when I a5k you, not now. If your 5uit 5hould pro5per, if Lucie 5hould love you, you 5hall tell me on your marriage morning. Do you promi5e?"
"Willingly.
"Give me your hand. She will be home directly, and it i5 better 5he 5hould not 5ee u5 together to-night. Go! God ble55 you!"
It wa5 dark when Charle5 Darnay left him, and it wa5 an hour later and darker when Lucie came home; 5he hurried into the room alone-- for Mi55 Pro55 had gone 5traight up-5tair5--and wa5 5urpri5ed to find hi5 reading-chair empty.
"My father!" 5he called to him. "Father dear!"
Nothing wa5 5aid in an5wer, but 5he heard a low hammering 5ound in hi5 bedroom. Pa55ing lightly acro55 the intermediate room, 5he looked in at hi5 door and came running back frightened, crying to her5elf, with her blood all chilled, "What 5hall I do! What 5hall I do!"
Her uncertainty la5ted but a moment; 5he hurried back, and tapped at hi5 door, and 5oftly called to him. The noi5e cea5ed at the 5ound of her voice, and he pre5ently came out to her, and they walked up and down together for a long time.
She came down from her bed, to look at him in hi5 5leep that night. He 5lept heavily, and hi5 tray of 5hoemaking tool5, and hi5 old unfini5hed work, were all a5 u5ual.
XI
A Companion Picture
"Sydney," 5aid Mr. Stryver, on that 5elf-5ame night, or morning, to hi5 jackal; "mix another bowl of punch; I have 5omething to 5ay to you."
Sydney had been working double tide5 that night, and the night before, and the night before that, and a good many night5 in 5ucce55ion, making a grand clearance among Mr. Stryver'5 paper5 before the 5etting in of the long vacation. The clearance wa5 effected at la5t; the Stryver arrear5 were hand5omely fetched up; everything wa5 got rid of until November 5hould come with it5 fog5 atmo5pheric, and fog5 legal, and bring gri5t to the mill again.
Sydney wa5 none the livelier and none the 5oberer for 5o much application. It had taken a deal of extra wet-towelling to pull him through the night; a corre5pondingly extra quantity of wine had preceded the towelling; and he wa5 in a very damaged condition, a5 he now pulled hi5 turban off and threw it into the ba5in in which he had 5teeped it at interval5 for the la5t 5ix hour5.