business, and unfit to cope with such intricate and difficultmatters. I do not possess the kind of information necessary; I donot possess the kind of intelligence; I want guiding. There is noman in this world on whom I could so rely for right guidance, ason you. Tell me, how does this relapse come about? Is theredanger of another? Could a repetition of it be prevented? Howshould a repetition of it be treated? How does it come about at all?Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two CitiesWhat can I do for my friend? No man ever can have been moredesirous in his heart to serve a friend, than I am to serve mine, if Iknew how. But I don’t know how to originate, in such a case. Ifyour sagacity, knowledge, and experience, could put me on theright track, I might be able to do so much; unenlightened andundirected, I can do so little. Pray discuss it with me; pray enableme to see it a little more clearly, and teach me how to be a littlemore useful.”Doctor Manette sat meditating after these earnest words werespoken, and Mr. Lorry did not press him.“I think it probable,” said the Doctor, breaking silence with aneffort, “that the relapse you have described, my dear friend, wasnot quite unforeseen by its subject.”“Was it dreaded by him?” Mr. Lorry ventured to ask.“Very much.” He said it with an involuntary shudder.“You have no idea how such an apprehension weighs on thesufferer’s mind, and how difficult—how almost impossible—it is,for him to force himself to utter a word upon the topic thatoppresses him.”“Would he,” asked Mr. Lorry, “be sensibly relieved if he couldprevail upon himself to impart that secret brooding to any one,when it is on him?”“I think so. But it is, as I told you, next to impossible. I evenbelieve it—in some cases—to be quite impossible.”“Now,” said Mr. Lorry, gently laying his hand on the Doctor’sarm again, after a short silence on both sides, “to what would yourefer this attack?”“I believe,” returned Doctor Manette, “that there had been astrong and extraordinary revival of the train of thought andCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesremembrance that was the first cause of the malady. Some intenseassociations of the most distressing nature were vividly recalled, Ithink. It is probable that there had long been a dread lurking inhis mind, that those associations would be recalled—say, undercertain circumstances—say, on a particular occasion. He tried toprepare himself in vain; perhaps the effort to prepare himselfmade him less able to bear it.”“Would he remember what took place in the relapse?” askedMr. Lorry with natural hesitation.The Doctor looked desolately round the room, shook his head,and answered, in a low voice, “Not at all.”“Now, as to the future,” hinted Mr. Lorry.“As to the future,” said the Doctor, recovering firmness, “Ishould have great hope. As it pleased Heaven in its mercy torestore him so soon, I should have great hope. He, yielding underthe pressure of a complicated something, long dreaded and longvaguely foreseen and contended against, and recovering after thecloud had burst and passed, I should hope the worst was over.”“Well, well! That’s good comfort. I am thankful!” said Mr.Lorry.“I am thankful!” repeated the Doctor, bending his head withreverence.“There are two other points,” said Mr. Lorry, “on which I amanxious to be instructed. I may go on?”“You cannot do your friend a better service.” The Doctor gavehim his hand.“To the first, then. He is of a studious habit, and unusuallyenergetic; he applies himself with great ardour to the acquisitionof professional knowledge, to the conducting of experiments, toCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesmany things. Now, does he do too much?”“I think not. It may be the character of his mind, to be always insingular need of occupation. That may be, in part, natural to it; inpart, the result of affliction. The less it was occupied with healthythings, the more it would be in danger of turning in the unhealthydirection. He may have observed himself, and made thediscovery.”“You are sure that he is not under too great a strain?”“I think I am quite sure of it.”“My dear Manette, if he were overworked now—”“My dear Lorry, I doubt if that could easily be. There has beena violent stress in one direction, and it needs a counterweight.”“Excuse me, as a persistent man of business. Assuming, for amoment, that he was overworked; it would show itself in somerenewal of this disorder?”“I do not think so. I do not think,” said Doctor Manette with thefirmness of self-conviction, “that anything but the one train ofassociation would renew it. I think that, henceforth, nothing butsome extraordinary jarring of that chord could renew it. Afterwhat has happened, and after his recovery, I find it difficult toimagine any such violent sounding of that string again. I trust, andI almost believe, that the circumstances likely to renew it areexhausted.”He spoke with the diffidence of a man who knew how slight athing would overset the delicate organisation of the mind, and yetwith the confidence of a man who had slowly won his assuranceout of personal endurance and distress. It was not for his friend toabate that confidence. He professed himself more relieved andencouraged than he really was, and approached his second andCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citieslast point. He felt it to be the most difficult of all; but,remembering his old Sunday morning conversation with MissPross, and remembering what he had seen in the last nine days, heknew that he must face it.“The occupation resumed under the influence of this passingaffliction so happily recovered from,” said Mr. Lorry, clearing histhroat, “we will call Blacksmith’s work, Blacksmith’s work. We willsay, to put a case and for the sake of illustration, that he had beenused, in his bad time, to work at a little forge. We will say that hewas unexpectedly found at his forge again. Is it not a pity that heshould keep it by him?”The Doctor shaded his forehead with his hand, and beat his footnervously on the ground.“You do not find it easy to advise me?” said Mr. Lorry. “I quiteunderstand it to be a nice question. And yet I think—” And therehe shook his head, and stopped.“You see,” said Doctor Manette, turning to him after an uneasypause, “it is very hard to explain, consistently, the innermostworkings of this poor man’s mind. He once yearned so frightfullyfor that occupation, and it was so welcome when it came; no doubtit relieved his pain so much, by substituting the perplexity of thefingers for the perplexity of the brain, and by substituting, as hebecame more practised, the ingenuity of the hands, for theingenuity of the mental torture; that he has never been able tobear the thought of putting it quite out of his reach. Even now,when I believe he is more hopeful of himself than he has everbeen, and even speaks of himself with a kind of confidence, theidea that he might need that old employment, and not find it, giveshim a sudden sense of terror, like that which one may fancyCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesstrikes to the heart of a lost child.”He looked like his allusion as he raised his eyes to Mr. Lorry’sface.“But may not—mind! I ask for information, as a plodding manof business who only deals with such material objects as guineas,shillings, and banknotes—may not the retention of the thinginvolve the retention of the idea? If the thing were gone, my dearManette, might not the fear go with it? In short, is it not aconcession to the misgiving, to keep the forge?”There was another silence.“You see, too,” said the Doctor, tremulously, “it is such an oldcompanion.”“I would not keep it,” said Mr. Lorry, shaking his head; for hegained in firmness as he saw the Doctor disquieted. “I wouldrecommend him to sacrifice it. I only want your authority. I amsure it does no good. Come! Give me your authority, like a deargood man. For his daughter’s sake, my dear Manette!”Very strange to see what a struggle there was within him!“In her name, then, let it be done; I sanction it. But, I would nottake it away while he was present. Let it be removed when he isnot there; let him miss his old companion after an absence.”Mr. Lorry readily engaged for that, and the conference wasended. They passed the day in the country, and the Doctor wasquite restored. On the three following days he remained perfectlywell, and on the fourteenth day he went away to join Lucie andher husband. The precaution that had been taken to account forhis silence, Mr. Lorry had previously explained to him, and he hadwritten to Lucie in accordance with it, and she had no suspicions.On the night of the day on which he left the house, Mr. LorryCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citieswent into his room with a chopper, saw, chisel, and hammer,attended by Miss Pross carrying a light. There, with closed doors,and in a mysterious and guilty manner, Mr. Lorry hacked theshoemaker’s bench to pieces, while Miss Pross held the candle asif she were assisting at a murder—for which, indeed, in hergrimness, she was no unsuitable figure. The burning of the body(previously reduced to pieces convenient for the purpose) wascommenced without delay in the kitchen fire; and the tools, shoes,and leather, were buried in the garden. So wicked do destructionand secrecy appear to honest minds, that Mr. Lorry and MissPross, while engaged in the commission of their deed and in theremoval of its traces, almost felt, and almost looked, likeaccomplices in a horrible crime.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two CitiesChapter XXVIA PLEAW hen the newly-married pair came home, the first personwho appeared, to offer his congratulations, was SydneyCarton. They had not been at home many hours, whenhe presented himself. He was not improved in habits, or in looks,or in manner; but there was a certain rugged air of fidelity abouthim, which was new to the observation of Charles Darnay.He watched his opportunity of taking Darnay aside into awindow, and of speaking to him when no one overheard.“Mr. Darnay,” said Carton, “I wish we might be friends.”“We are already friends, I hope.”“You are good enough to say so, as a fashion of speech; but, Idon’t mean any fashion of speech. Indeed, when I say I wish wemight be friends, I scarcely mean quite that, either.”Charles Darnay—as was natural—asked him, in all goodhumour and good-fellowship, what he did mean?“Upon my life,” said Carton, smiling, “I find that easier tocomprehend in my own mind, than to convey to yours. However,let me try. You remember a certain famous occasion when I wasmore drunk than—than usual?”“I remember a certain famous occasion when you forced me toconfess that you had been drinking.”“I remember it too. The curse of those occasions is heavy uponme, for I always remember them. I hope it may be taken intoaccount one day, when all days are at an end for me! Don’t beCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesalarmed; I am not going to preach.”“I am not at all alarmed. Earnestness in you, is anything butalarming to me.”“Ah!” said Carton, with a careless wave of his hand, as if hewaved that away. “On the drunken occasion in question (one of alarge number, as you know), I was insufferable about liking you,and not liking you. I wish you would forget it.”“I forgot it long ago.”“Fashion of speech again! But, Mr. Darnay, oblivion is not soeasy to me, as you represent it to be to you. I have by no meansforgotten it, and a light answer does not help me to forget it.”“If it was a light answer,” returned Darnay, “I beg yourforgiveness for it. I had no other object than to turn a slight thing,which, to my surprise, seems to trouble you too much, aside. Ideclare to you, on the faith of a gentleman, that I have longdismissed it from my mind. Good Heaven, what was there todismiss! Have I had nothing more important to remember, in thegreat service you rendered me that day?”“As to the great service,” said Carton, “I am bound to avow toyou, when you speak of it in that way, that it was mereprofessional claptrap. I don’t know that I cared what became ofyou, when I rendered it.—Mind! I say when I rendered it; I amspeaking of the past.”“You make light of the obligation,” returned Darnay, “but I willnot quarrel with your light answer.”“Genuine truth, Mr. Darnay, trust me! I have gone aside frommy purpose; I was speaking about our being friends. Now, youknow me; you know I am incapable of all the higher and betterflights of men. If you doubt it, ask Stryver, and he’ll tell you so.”Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Cities“I prefer to form my own opinion, without the aid of his.”“Well! At any rate you know me as a dissolute dog, who hasnever done any good, and never will.”“I don’t know that you ‘never will.’”“But I do, and you must take my word for it. Well! If you couldendure to have such a worthless fellow, and a fellow of suchindifferent reputation, coming and going at odd times, I should askthat I might be permitted to come and go as a privileged personhere; that I might be regarded as a useless (and I would add, if itwere not for the resemblance I detected between you and me), anunornamental, piece of furniture, tolerated for its old service, andtaken no notice of. I doubt if I should abuse the permission. It is ahundred to one if I should avail myself of it four times in a year. Itwould satisfy me, I daresay, to know that I had it.”“Will you try?”“That is another way of saying that I am placed on the footing Ihave indicated. I thank you, Darnay. I may use that freedom withyour name?”“I think so, Carton, by this time.”They shook hands upon it, and Sydney turned away. Within aminute afterwards, he was, to all outward appearance, asunsubstantial as ever.When he was gone, and in the course of an evening passed withMiss Pross, the Doctor, and Mr. Lorry, Charles Darnay made somemention of this conversation in general terms, and spoke ofSydney Carton as a problem of carelessness and recklessness. Hespoke of him, in short, not bitterly or meaning to bear hard uponhim, but as anybody might who saw him as he showed himself.He had no idea that this could dwell in the thoughts of his fairCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesyoung wife; but, when he afterwards joined her in their ownrooms, he found her waiting for him with the old pretty lifting ofthe forehead strongly marked.“We are thoughtful tonight!” said Darnay, drawing his armabout her.“Yes, dearest Charles,” with her hands on his breast, and theinquiring and attentive expression fixed upon him; “we are ratherthoughtful tonight, for we have something on our mind tonight.”“What is it, my Lucie?”“Will you promise not to press one question on me, if I beg younot to ask it?”“Will I promise? What will I not promise to my Love?”What, indeed, with his hand putting aside the golden hair fromthe cheek, and his other hand against the heart that beat for him!“I think, Charles, poor Mr. Carton deserves more considerationand respect than you expressed for him tonight.”“Indeed, my own? Why so?”