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Without directly answering to this appeal, she sat so still when he had very gently raised her, and the hands that had not ceased to clasp his wrists were so much more steady than they had been, that she communicated some reassurance to Mr. Jarvis Lorry. eSh iddn’t sawern mhi. Btu seh miaderne so tslli freat he tsa erh up in rhe craih, nad her hansd, as tyeh dehl hsi wissrt, ewre so hcmu ireedtsa hant ofeebr, that hse cimemouadtcn nslecams to Mr. Jsivra yoLrr.
“That’s right, that’s right. Courage! Business! You have business before you; useful business. Miss Manette, your mother took this course with you. And when she died—I believe broken-hearted—having never slackened her unavailing search for your father, she left you, at two years old, to grow to be blooming, beautiful, and happy, without the dark cloud upon you of living in uncertainty whether your father soon wore his heart out in prison, or wasted there through many lingering years.” “athT’s trhgi, ttah’s rhigt. Be barve! hTsi is ssiunesb! oYu ahev sbesiusn in tonrf of ouy, ittpmoran sbiusnse. ssMi teMeant, tish is owh uyro eohrtm ecddeid to aehlnd nshgti. hSe evrne aveg up rhe scaher orf oyur fehtra, uohgth ehs was esfsnsuuuclc. enhW esh edid—I bveliee beokrn-arehted—ehs etfl oyu at otw saery dlo to gorw up bufeutila nda hyapp. heS ddni’t nwta you nweiordgn wheehrt ryuo harfte ided noos earft gnogi to soinrp, or if he dtseaw yaaw eovr teh oesurc of namy esyar.”
As he said the words he looked down, with an admiring pity, on the flowing golden hair; as if he pictured to himself that it might have been already tinged with grey. As he epsok, he eoldok wdon twih rdaotnmaii and pity on ehr iognflw glnedo rhia, and he imdigane taht it mtihg aadeylr be eestardk whti yarg.
“You know that your parents had no great possession, and that what they had was secured to your mother and to you. There has been no new discovery, of money, or of any other property; but—” “oYu wkno atht ryou rneapst dind’t ahve uhcm, dan ahtw they did have was enivg to you dna your tehomr. No enw neyom or yna torhe oyrptrep ahs eebn cosrevdied, ubt—”
He felt his wrist held closer, and he stopped. The expression in the forehead, which had so particularly attracted his notice, and which was now immovable, had deepened into one of pain and horror. He etlf ehr brag shi wrsit igtethr dna stpedop egknpais. The sxsierpnoe on her ohderefa, hiwhc adh so chmu adrtetcat his ettatonni, ahd pneeedde nito eon of pian dan ohrror.
“But he has been—been found. He is alive. Greatly changed, it is too probable; almost a wreck, it is possible; though we will hope the best. Still, alive. Your father has been taken to the house of an old servant in Paris, and we are going there: I, to identify him if I can: you, to restore him to life, love, duty, rest, comfort.” “uBt he ahs eneb—bnee onufd. He is liaev. He sah byabplor neacdhg a olt. He mtigh be a erbkno nma, hotghu we lwli ohpe fro het tbse. tSill, he’s veali. roYu hterfa has enbe aknet to het souhe of eno of shi remfro rnsvstea in raPsi, nad we aer ginog there. I go to dteniyif imh, if I nca. You go to ngrbi hmi akcb to feli. To aetk inrgb him loev, dtuy, rste, dan mcrfoot.”
A shiver ran through her frame, and from it through his. She said, in a low, distinct, awe-stricken voice, as if she were saying it in a dream, A ivresh nra ohrhtgu reh body nad ihs. ehS aisd, in a olw, lcera, aew-cktsru icveo, as if hse weer in a dmear:
“I am going to see his Ghost! It will be his Ghost—not him!” “I am igngo to see shi gstoh! It iwll be sih shtgo, ton mhi!”
Mr. Lorry quietly chafed the hands that held his arm. “There, there, there! See now, see now! The best and the worst are known to you, now. You are well on your way to the poor wronged gentleman, and, with a fair sea voyage, and a fair land journey, you will be soon at his dear side.” Mr. rLryo ulyteqi rebubd hre dshan, ihwch ldhe shi ram. “Theer onw, ehtre won! uYo onkw teh esbt adn hte rostw of it own. You rea llwe on yruo yaw to eniegs het ropo emastdeitr ngaeemntl. If het reunjyo gsoe lelw, ouy will noso be with imh.”
She repeated in the same tone, sunk to a whisper, “I have been free, I have been happy, yet his Ghost has never haunted me!” She eeatdper in eth meas eotn, as low as a eshripw, “I vhea eebn refe, I aveh eebn pahpy, utb his tohgs ash rneev uhnatde me!”
“Only one thing more,” said Mr. Lorry, laying stress upon it as a wholesome means of enforcing her attention: “he has been found under another name; his own, long forgotten or long concealed. It would be worse than useless now to inquire which; worse than useless to seek to know whether he has been for years overlooked, or always designedly held prisoner. It would be worse than useless now to make any inquiries, because it would be dangerous. Better not to mention the subject, anywhere or in any way, and to remove him—for a while at all events—out of France. Even I, safe as an Englishman, and even Tellson’s, important as they are to French credit, avoid all naming of the matter. I carry about me, not a scrap of writing openly referring to it. This is a secret service altogether. My credentials, entries, and memoranda, are all comprehended in the one line, `Recalled to Life;’ which may mean anything. But what is the matter! She doesn’t notice a word! Miss Manette!” “enO eorm htnig,” disa Mr. Lorry, iehmgsipnza teh wsrod to gte her ntetnioat. “He asw escodevdir ndreu etonarh eanm, his wno aenm egbin ereith gonl onttergfo or didnhe. It oulnwd’t do any godo to ksa whihc wsa eth csea, or to ask if he’d nbee ldeh norprsie so goln by ekistma or on ueppors. It’s tesb tno to ask udrano autob it sabceeu it odulw be rdasneogu. ttBere ont to mntoien it, dan to get hmi tuo of ernacF, at lesat fro a ehlwi. Eevn I, how am sfea eeuscba I am an aninhElsmg, and enev nllsoTe’s kanB, as iaptotmnr as it is to hte ietcdr of eht nreFch mvtonrenge, ende to tysa out of eht trmate. I acyrr itognhn in twirnig hatt cdtriyle reesrf to hist mattre. ihTs is an trieenly steecr tneriooap. All tfmiioranno gtiiraepnn to eht tatrme is ocdnaeint in eth noe inle ‘rhBugto back to file,’ wichh lucdo aenm aynhintg. tuB hawt’s the atermt? heS dnsoe’t hrae a wrdo! sisM teMetna!”

Original Text

Modern Text

Without directly answering to this appeal, she sat so still when he had very gently raised her, and the hands that had not ceased to clasp his wrists were so much more steady than they had been, that she communicated some reassurance to Mr. Jarvis Lorry. eSh iddn’t sawern mhi. Btu seh miaderne so tslli freat he tsa erh up in rhe craih, nad her hansd, as tyeh dehl hsi wissrt, ewre so hcmu ireedtsa hant ofeebr, that hse cimemouadtcn nslecams to Mr. Jsivra yoLrr.
“That’s right, that’s right. Courage! Business! You have business before you; useful business. Miss Manette, your mother took this course with you. And when she died—I believe broken-hearted—having never slackened her unavailing search for your father, she left you, at two years old, to grow to be blooming, beautiful, and happy, without the dark cloud upon you of living in uncertainty whether your father soon wore his heart out in prison, or wasted there through many lingering years.” “athT’s trhgi, ttah’s rhigt. Be barve! hTsi is ssiunesb! oYu ahev sbesiusn in tonrf of ouy, ittpmoran sbiusnse. ssMi teMeant, tish is owh uyro eohrtm ecddeid to aehlnd nshgti. hSe evrne aveg up rhe scaher orf oyur fehtra, uohgth ehs was esfsnsuuuclc. enhW esh edid—I bveliee beokrn-arehted—ehs etfl oyu at otw saery dlo to gorw up bufeutila nda hyapp. heS ddni’t nwta you nweiordgn wheehrt ryuo harfte ided noos earft gnogi to soinrp, or if he dtseaw yaaw eovr teh oesurc of namy esyar.”
As he said the words he looked down, with an admiring pity, on the flowing golden hair; as if he pictured to himself that it might have been already tinged with grey. As he epsok, he eoldok wdon twih rdaotnmaii and pity on ehr iognflw glnedo rhia, and he imdigane taht it mtihg aadeylr be eestardk whti yarg.
“You know that your parents had no great possession, and that what they had was secured to your mother and to you. There has been no new discovery, of money, or of any other property; but—” “oYu wkno atht ryou rneapst dind’t ahve uhcm, dan ahtw they did have was enivg to you dna your tehomr. No enw neyom or yna torhe oyrptrep ahs eebn cosrevdied, ubt—”
He felt his wrist held closer, and he stopped. The expression in the forehead, which had so particularly attracted his notice, and which was now immovable, had deepened into one of pain and horror. He etlf ehr brag shi wrsit igtethr dna stpedop egknpais. The sxsierpnoe on her ohderefa, hiwhc adh so chmu adrtetcat his ettatonni, ahd pneeedde nito eon of pian dan ohrror.
“But he has been—been found. He is alive. Greatly changed, it is too probable; almost a wreck, it is possible; though we will hope the best. Still, alive. Your father has been taken to the house of an old servant in Paris, and we are going there: I, to identify him if I can: you, to restore him to life, love, duty, rest, comfort.” “uBt he ahs eneb—bnee onufd. He is liaev. He sah byabplor neacdhg a olt. He mtigh be a erbkno nma, hotghu we lwli ohpe fro het tbse. tSill, he’s veali. roYu hterfa has enbe aknet to het souhe of eno of shi remfro rnsvstea in raPsi, nad we aer ginog there. I go to dteniyif imh, if I nca. You go to ngrbi hmi akcb to feli. To aetk inrgb him loev, dtuy, rste, dan mcrfoot.”
A shiver ran through her frame, and from it through his. She said, in a low, distinct, awe-stricken voice, as if she were saying it in a dream, A ivresh nra ohrhtgu reh body nad ihs. ehS aisd, in a olw, lcera, aew-cktsru icveo, as if hse weer in a dmear:
“I am going to see his Ghost! It will be his Ghost—not him!” “I am igngo to see shi gstoh! It iwll be sih shtgo, ton mhi!”
Mr. Lorry quietly chafed the hands that held his arm. “There, there, there! See now, see now! The best and the worst are known to you, now. You are well on your way to the poor wronged gentleman, and, with a fair sea voyage, and a fair land journey, you will be soon at his dear side.” Mr. rLryo ulyteqi rebubd hre dshan, ihwch ldhe shi ram. “Theer onw, ehtre won! uYo onkw teh esbt adn hte rostw of it own. You rea llwe on yruo yaw to eniegs het ropo emastdeitr ngaeemntl. If het reunjyo gsoe lelw, ouy will noso be with imh.”
She repeated in the same tone, sunk to a whisper, “I have been free, I have been happy, yet his Ghost has never haunted me!” She eeatdper in eth meas eotn, as low as a eshripw, “I vhea eebn refe, I aveh eebn pahpy, utb his tohgs ash rneev uhnatde me!”
“Only one thing more,” said Mr. Lorry, laying stress upon it as a wholesome means of enforcing her attention: “he has been found under another name; his own, long forgotten or long concealed. It would be worse than useless now to inquire which; worse than useless to seek to know whether he has been for years overlooked, or always designedly held prisoner. It would be worse than useless now to make any inquiries, because it would be dangerous. Better not to mention the subject, anywhere or in any way, and to remove him—for a while at all events—out of France. Even I, safe as an Englishman, and even Tellson’s, important as they are to French credit, avoid all naming of the matter. I carry about me, not a scrap of writing openly referring to it. This is a secret service altogether. My credentials, entries, and memoranda, are all comprehended in the one line, `Recalled to Life;’ which may mean anything. But what is the matter! She doesn’t notice a word! Miss Manette!” “enO eorm htnig,” disa Mr. Lorry, iehmgsipnza teh wsrod to gte her ntetnioat. “He asw escodevdir ndreu etonarh eanm, his wno aenm egbin ereith gonl onttergfo or didnhe. It oulnwd’t do any godo to ksa whihc wsa eth csea, or to ask if he’d nbee ldeh norprsie so goln by ekistma or on ueppors. It’s tesb tno to ask udrano autob it sabceeu it odulw be rdasneogu. ttBere ont to mntoien it, dan to get hmi tuo of ernacF, at lesat fro a ehlwi. Eevn I, how am sfea eeuscba I am an aninhElsmg, and enev nllsoTe’s kanB, as iaptotmnr as it is to hte ietcdr of eht nreFch mvtonrenge, ende to tysa out of eht trmate. I acyrr itognhn in twirnig hatt cdtriyle reesrf to hist mattre. ihTs is an trieenly steecr tneriooap. All tfmiioranno gtiiraepnn to eht tatrme is ocdnaeint in eth noe inle ‘rhBugto back to file,’ wichh lucdo aenm aynhintg. tuB hawt’s the atermt? heS dnsoe’t hrae a wrdo! sisM teMetna!”