obviously the weakness of the position. There is no help for it.”

“But access to him,” said Mr. Lorry, “if it should go ill before

the Tribunal, will not save him.”

“I never said it would.”

Mr. Lorry’s eyes gradually sought the fire; his sympathy with

his darling, and the heavy disappointment of this second arrest,

gradually weakened them; he was an old man now, overborne

with anxiety of late, and his tears fell.

“You are a good man and a true friend,” said Carton, in an

altered voice. “Forgive me if I notice that you are affected. I could

not see my father weep, and sit by, careless. And I could not

respect your sorrow more, if you were my father. You are free

from that misfortune, however.”

Though he said the last words, with a slip into his usual

manner, there was a true feeling and respect both in his tone and

in his touch, that Mr. Lorry, who had never seen the better side of

him, was wholly unprepared for. He gave him his hand, and

Carton gently pressed it.

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“To return to poor Darnay,” said Carton. “Don’t tell Her of this

interview, or this arrangement. It would not enable Her to go to

see him. She might think it was contrived, in case of the worst, to

convey to him the means of anticipating the sentence.”

Mr. Lorry had not thought of that, and he looked quickly at

Car