a tale of two cities(双城记)-13

“Really, then?” said Mr. Lorry, as an amendment.“Really, is bad enough,” returned Miss Pross, “but better. Yes, Iam very much put out.”“May I ask the cause?”“I don’t want dozens of people who are not at all worthy ofLadybird, to come here looking after her,” said Miss Pross.“Do dozens come for that purpose?”“Hundreds,” said Miss Pross.It was characteristic of this lady (as of some other people beforeher time and since), that whenever her original proposition wasquestioned, she exaggerated it.“Dear me!” said Mr. Lorry, as the safest remark he could thinkof.“I have lived with the darling—or the darling has lived with me,and paid me for it; which she certainly should never have done,you may take your affidavit, if I could have afforded to keep eithermyself or her for nothing—since she was ten years old. And it’sreally very hard,” said Miss Pross.Not seeing with precision what was very hard, Mr. Lorry shookhis head; using that important part of himself as a sort of fairyCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiescloak that would fit anything.“All sorts of people who are not in the least degree worthy ofthe pet, are always turning up,” said Miss Pross. “When you beganit—”“I began it, Miss Pross?”“Didn’t you? Who brought her father to life?”“Oh! If that was beginning it—” said Mr. Lorry.“It wasn’t ending it, I suppose? I say, when you began it, it washard enough; not that I have any fault to find with Doctor Manette,except that he is not worthy of such a daughter, which is noimputation on him, for it was not to be expected that anybodyshould be, under any circumstances. But it really is doubly andtrebly hard to have crowds and multitudes of people turning upafter him (I could have forgiven him), to take Ladybird’s affectionsaway from me.”Mr. Lorry knew Miss Pross to be very jealous, but he also knewher by this time to be, beneath the surface of her eccentricity, oneof those unselfish creatures—found only among women—who will,for pure love and admiration, bind themselves willing slaves, toyouth when they have lost it, to beauty that they never had, toaccomplishments that they were never fortunate enough to gain,to bright hopes that never shone upon their own sombre lives. Heknew enough of the world to know that there is nothing in it betterthan the faithful service of the heart; so rendered and so free fromany mercenary taint, he had such an exalted respect for it, that inthe retributive arrangements made by his own mind—we all makesuch arrangements, more or less—he stationed Miss Pross muchnearer to the lower Angels than many ladies immeasurably bettergot up both by Nature and Art, who had balances at Tellson’s.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Cities“There never was, nor will be, but one man worthy ofLadybird,” said Miss Pross; “and that was my brother Solomon, ifhe hadn’t made a mistake in life.”Here again: Mr. Lorry’s inquiries into Miss Pross’s personalhistory had established the fact that her brother Solomon was aheartless scoundrel who had stripped her of everything shepossessed, as a stake to speculate with, and had abandoned her inher poverty for evermore, with no touch of compunction. MissPross’s fidelity of belief in Solomon (deducting a mere trifle forthis slight mistake) was quite a serious matter with Mr. Lorry, andhad its weight in his good opinion of her.“As we happen to be alone for the moment, and are both peopleof business,” he said, when they had got back to the drawing-roomand had sat down there in friendly relations, “let me ask you—does the Doctor, in talking with Lucie, never refer to theshoemaking time, yet?”“Never.”“And yet keeps that bench and those tools beside him?”“Ah!” returned Miss Pross, shaking her head. “But I don’t sayhe don’t refer to it within himself.”“Do you believe that he thinks of it much?”“I do,” said Miss Pross.“Do you imagine—” Mr. Lorry had begun, when Miss Prosstook him up short with:“Never imagine anything. Have no imagination at all.”“I stand corrected; do you suppose—you go so far as tosuppose, sometimes?”“Now and then,” said Miss Pross.“Do you suppose,” Mr. Lorry went on, with a laughing twinkleCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesin his bright eye, as it looked kindly at her, “that Doctor Manettehas any theory of his own, preserved through all those years,relative to the cause of his being so oppressed; perhaps, even tothe name of his oppressor?”“I don’t suppose anything about it but what Ladybird tells me.”“And that is—?”“That she thinks he has.”“Now don’t be angry at my asking all these questions; because Iam a mere dull man of business, and you are a woman ofbusiness.”“Dull?” Miss Pross inquired, with placidity.Rather wishing his modest adjective away, Mr. Lorry replied,“No, no, no. Surely not. To return to business:—Is it notremarkable that Doctor Manette, unquestionably innocent of anycrime as we are all well assured he is, should never touch uponthat question? I will not say with me, though he had businessrelations with me many years ago, and we are now intimate; I willsay with the fair daughter to whom he is so devotedly attached,and who is so devotedly attached to him? Believe me, Miss Pross, Idon’t approach the topic with you, out of curiosity, but out ofzealous interest.”“Well! To the best of my understanding, and bad’s the best,you’ll tell me,” said Miss Pross, softened by the tone of theapology, “he is afraid of the whole subject.”“Afraid?”“It’s plain enough, I should think, why he may be. It’s adreadful remembrance. Besides that, his loss of himself grew outof it. Not knowing how he lost himself, or how he recoveredhimself, he may never feel certain of not losing himself again. ThatCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesalone wouldn’t make the subject pleasant, I should think.”It was a profounder remark than Mr. Lorry had looked for.“True,” said he, “and fearful to reflect upon. Yet, a doubt lurks inmy mind, Miss Pross, whether it is good for Doctor Manette tohave that suppression always shut up within him. Indeed, it is thisdoubt and the uneasiness it sometimes causes me that has led meto our present confidence.”“Can’t be helped,” said Miss Pross, shaking her head. “Touchthat string, and he instantly changes for the worse. Better leave italone. In short, must leave it alone, like or no like. Sometimes, hegets up in the dead of the night, and will be heard, by us overheadthere, walking up and down, walking up and down, in his room.Ladybird has learnt to know then that his mind is walking up anddown, walking up and down, in his old prison. She hurries to him,and they go on together, walking up and down, walking up anddown, until he is composed. But he never says a word of the truereason of his restlessness, to her, and she finds it best not to hint atit to him. In silence they go walking up and down together,walking up and down together, till her love and company havebrought him to himself.”Notwithstanding Miss Pross’s denial of her own imagination,there was a perception of the pain of being monotonously hauntedby one sad idea, in her repetition of the phrase, walking up anddown, which testified to her possessing such a thing.The corner has been mentioned as a wonderful corner forechoes; it had begun to echo so resoundingly to the tread ofcoming feet, that it seemed as though the very mention of thatweary pacing to and fro had set it going.“Here they are!” said Miss Pross, rising to break up theCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesconference; “and now we shall have hundreds of people prettysoon!”It was such a curious corner in its acoustical properties, such apeculiar Ear of a place, that as Mr. Lorry stood at the openwindow, looking for the father and daughter whose steps he heard,he fancied they would never approach. Not only would the echoesdie away, as though the steps had gone; but, echoes of other stepsthat never came would be heard in their stead, and would dieaway for good when they seemed close at hand. However, fatherand daughter did at last appear, and Miss Pross was ready at thestreet door to receive them.Miss Pross was a pleasant sight, albeit wild, and red, and grim,taking off her darling’s bonnet when she came upstairs, andtouching it up with the ends of her handkerchief, and blowing thedust off it, and folding her mantle ready for laying by, andsmoothing her rich hair with as much pride as she could possiblyhave taken in her own hair if she had been the vainest andhandsomest of women. Her darling was a pleasant sight too,embracing her and thanking her, and protesting against hertaking so much trouble for her—which last she only dared to doplayfully, or Miss Pross, sorely hurt, would have retired to her ownchamber and cried. The Doctor was a pleasant sight too, lookingon at them, and telling Miss Pross how she spoilt Lucie, in accentsand with eyes that had as much spoiling in them as Miss Prosshad, and would have had more if it were possible. Mr. Lorry was apleasant sight too, beaming at all this in his little wig, andthanking his bachelor stars for having lighted him in his decliningyears to a Home. But, no Hundreds of people came to see thesights, and Mr. Lorry looked in vain for the fulfilment of MissCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two CitiesPross’s prediction.Dinner-time, and still no Hundreds of people. In thearrangements of the little household, Miss Pross took charge of thelower regions, and always acquitted herself marvellously. Herdinners, of a very modest quality, were so well cooked and so wellserved, and so neat in their contrivances, half English and halfFrench, that nothing could be better. Miss Pross’s friendshipbeing of the thoroughly practical kind, she had ravaged Soho andthe adjacent provinces, in search of impoverished French, who,tempted by shillings and half-crowns, would impart culinarymysteries to her. From these decayed sons and daughters of Gaul,she had acquired such wonderful arts, that the woman and girlwho formed the staff of domestics regarded her as quite aSorceress, or Cinderella’s Godmother: who would send out for afowl, a rabbit, a vegetable or two from the garden, and changethem into anything she pleased.On Sundays, Miss Pross dined at the Doctor’s table, but onother days persisted in taking her meals at unknown periods,either in the lower regions, or in her own room on the secondfloor—a blue chamber, to which no one but her Ladybird evergained admittance. On this occasion, Miss Pross, responding toLadybird’s pleasant face and pleasant efforts to please her, unbentexceedingly; so the dinner was very pleasant, too.It was an oppressive day, and, after dinner, Lucie proposed thatthe wine should be carried out under the plane-tree, and theyshould sit there in the air. As everything turned upon her, andrevolved about her, they went out under the plane-tree, and shecarried the wine down for the special benefit of Mr. Lorry. Shehad installed herself, some time before, as Mr. Lorry’s cupbearer;Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesand while they sat under the plane-tree, talking, she kept his glassreplenished. Mysterious backs and ends of houses peeped at themas they talked, and the plane-tree whispered to them in its ownway above their heads.Still, the Hundreds of people did not present themselves. Mr.Darnay presented himself while they were sitting under the plane-tree, but he was only One.Doctor Manette received him kindly, and so did Lucie. But MissPross suddenly became afflicted with a twitching in the head andbody, and retired into the house. She was not unfrequently thevictim of this disorder, and she called it, in familiar conversation,“a fit of the jerks.”The Doctor was in his best condition, and looked speciallyyoung. The resemblance between him and Lucie was very strongat such times, and as they sat side by side, she leaning on hisshoulder, and he resting his arm on the back of her chair, it wasvery agreeable to trace the likeness.He had been talking all day, on many subjects, and withunusual vivacity. “Pray, Doctor Manette,” said Mr. Darnay, as theysat under the plane-tree—and he said it in the natural pursuit ofthe topic in hand, which happened to be the old buildings ofLondon—”have you seen much of the Tower?”“Lucie and I have been there; but only casually. We have seenenough of it, to know that it teems with interest; little more.”“I have been there, as you remember,” said Darnay, with asmile, though reddening a little angrily, “in another character, andnot in a character that gives facilities for seeing much of it. Theytold me a curious thing when I was there.”“What was that?” Lucie asked.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Cities“In making some alterations, the workmen came upon an olddungeon, which had been, for many years, built up and forgotten.Every stone of its inner wall was covered by inscriptions whichhad been carved by prisoners—dates, names, complaints, andprayers. Upon a corner stone in an angle of the wall, one prisoner,who seemed to have gone to execution, had cut as his last work,three letters. They were done with some very poor instrument,and hurriedly, with an unsteady hand. At first, they were read asD.I.C.; but, on being more carefully examined, the last letter wasfound to be G. There was no record or legend of any prisoner withthose initials, and many fruitless guesses were made what thename could have been. At length, it was suggested that the letterswere not initials, but the complete word, DIG. The floor wasexamined very carefully under the inscription, and, in the earthbeneath a stone, or tile, or some fragment of paving, were foundthe ashes of a paper, mingled with the ashes of a small leatherncase or bag. What the unknown prisoner had written will never beread, but he had written something, and hidden it away to keep itfrom the gaoler.”“My father,” exclaimed Lucie, “you are ill!”He had suddenly started up, with his hand to his head. Hismanner and his look quite terrified them all.“No, my dear, not ill. There are large drops of rain falling, andthey made me start. We had better go in.”He recovered himself almost instantly. Rain was really falling inlarge drops, and he showed the back of his hand with raindrops onit. But, he said not a single word in reference to the discovery thathad been told of, and, as they went into the house, the businesseye of Mr. Lorry either detected, or fancied it detected, on his face,Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesas it turned towards Charles Darnay, the same singular look thathad been upon it when it turned towards him in the passages ofthe Court House.He recovered himself so quickly, however, that Mr. Lorry haddoubts of his business eye. The arm of the golden giant in the hallwas not more steady than he was, when he stopped under it toremark to them that he was not yet proof against slight surprises(if he ever would be), and that the rain had startled him.Tea-time, and Miss Pross making tea, with another fit of thejerks upon her, and yet no Hundreds of people. Mr. Carton hadlounged in, but he made only Two.The night was so very sultry, that although they sat with doorsand windows open, they were overpowered by heat. When the tea-table was done with, they all moved to one of the windows, andlooked out into the heavy twilight. Lucie sat by her father; Darnaysat beside her; Carton leaned against a window. The curtains werelong and white, and some of the thunder-gusts that whirled intothe corner, caught them up to the ceiling, and waved them likespectral wings.“The raindrops are still falling, large, heavy, and few,” saidDoctor Manette. “It comes slowly.”“It comes surely,” said Carton.They spoke low, as people watching and waiting mostly do; aspeople in a dark room, watching and waiting for Lightning, alwaysdo.There was a great hurry in the streets, of people speeding awayto get shelter before the storm broke; the wonderful corner forechoes resounded with the echoes of footsteps coming and going,yet not a footstep was there.