have come here to realise. Let me carry through the rest of my

misdirected life, the remembrance that I opened my heart to you,

last of all the world; and that there was something left in me at this

time which you could deplore and pity.”

“Which I entreated you to believe, again and again, most

fervently, with all my heart, was capable of better things, Mr.

Carton!”

“Entreat me to believe it no more, Miss Manette. I have proved

myself, and I know better. I distress you; I draw fast to an end. Will

you let me believe, when I recall this day, that the last confidence

of my life was reposed in your pure and innocent breast, and that

it lies there alone, and will be shared by no one?”

“If that will be a consolation to you, yes.”

“Not even by the dearest one ever to be known to you?”

“Mr. Carton,” she answered, after an agitated pause, “the secret

is yours, not mine; and I promise to respect it.”

“Thank you. And again God bless you.”

He put her hand to his lips, and moved towards the door.

“Be under no apprehension, Miss Manette, of my ever

resuming this conversation by so much as a passing word. I will

never refer to it again. If I were dead, that could not be surer than

it is henceforth. In the hour of my death, I shall hold sacred the

one good remembranceand shall thank and bless you for it

that my last avowal of my