secret heart, and the hopes and fears and anxieties with which it

has long been laden. Dear Doctor Manette, I love your daughter

fondly, dearly, disinterestedly, devotedly. If ever there were love in

the world, I love her. You have loved yourself; let your old love

speak for me!”

The Doctor sat with his face turned away, and his eyes bent on

the ground. At the last words, he stretched out his hand again,

hurriedly, and cried:

“Not that, sir! Let that be! I adjure you, do not recall that!”

His cry was so like a cry of actual pain, that it rang in Charles

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

Darnay’s ears long after he had ceased. He motioned with the

hand he had extended, and it seemed to be an appeal to Darnay to

pause. The latter so received it, and remained silent.

“I ask your pardon,” said the Doctor, in a subdued tone, and

after some moments. “I do not doubt your loving Lucie; you may

be satisfied of it.”

He turned towards him in his chair, but did not look at him, or

raise his eyes. His chin dropped upon his hand, and his white hair

overshadowed his face:

“Have you spoken to Lucie?”

“No.”