the existence of the paper, or had had it recalled to him (for the

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

moment or, for good), by the story of the Tower, on that old

Sunday under the dear old plane-tree in the garden. If he had

preserved any definite remembrance of it, there could be no doubt

that he had supposed it destroyed with the Bastille, when he had

found no mention of it among the relics of prisoners which the

populace had discovered there, and which had been described to

all the world. He besought herthough he added that he knew it

was needlessto console her father, by impressing him through

every tender means she could think of , with the truth that he had

done nothing for which he could justly reproach himself, but had

uniformly forgotten himself for their joint sakes. Next to her

preservation of his own last grateful love and blessing, and her

overcoming of her sorrow, to devote herself to their dear child, he

adjured her, as they would meet in Heaven, to comfort her father.

To her father himself, he wrote in the same strain; but, he told

her father that he expressly confided his wife and child to his care.

And he told him this, very strongly, with the hope of rousing him

from any despondency or dangerous retrospect towards which he

foresaw he might be tending.

To Mr. Lorry, he commended them all, and explained his