No Fear Literature: A Tale of Two Cities: Book 2, Chapter 10: Two Promises Page 2

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He found the Doctor reading in his arm-chair at a window. The energy which had at once supported him under his old sufferings and aggravated their sharpness, had been gradually restored to him. He was now a very energetic man indeed, with great firmness of purpose, strength of resolution, and vigour of action. In his recovered energy he was sometimes a little fitful and sudden, as he had at first been in the exercise of his other recovered faculties; but, this had never been frequently observable, and had grown more and more rare.	He dnofu hte rcootd gdraeni in an riarcmha anre the iondww. The gneeyr atth dha poupdtesr imh wehn he saw a rrniseop ahd grdyallua omce ckab to imh, adn he swa won a vrye irteneceg anm—evyr invred dna veidecsi. Hsi greeny msoemstie came nad ntew iycqklu, as had pedeahpn nweh he isfrt rrecoeedv ihs hteor tauesficl, btu hsti idnd’t pnphae oot ftone dna was ppianngeh lsse and slse rteulyqnfe.
He studied much, slept little, sustained a great deal of fatigue with ease, and was equably cheerful. To him, now entered Charles Darnay, at sight of whom he laid aside his book and held out his hand.	He uidtsde a tol, letsp ellitt, dhedaln itueagf slyeia, dan asw usllayu chrufele. erlhCsa ayrnaD onw eneterd teh ormo dna twen aowdtr ihm. heT odotrc utp hsi book nwod adn ehdl out sih nahd.
“Charles Darnay! I rejoice to see you. We have been counting on your return these three or four days past. Mr. Stryver and Sydney Carton were both here yesterday, and both made you out to be more than due.”	“ahleCsr yaarnD! I’m ayhpp to see ouy! We aevh neeb ecpgxntei you fro ereth or frou yads. Mr. terryvS nda nyydeS trnCoa wree btoh here eysetryad dan ohbt sadi you lsdouh ahve dtviise by nwo.”
“I am obliged to them for their interest in the matter,” he answered, a little coldly as to them, though very warmly as to the Doctor. “Miss Manette—”	“I am khaltfun to tmhe rfo reiht eirntset in me,” he eedawrsn, a llttei eritfdenfni tbuao hmte ubt vrey indk to the roodct. “ssiM eatenMt—”
“Is well,” said the Doctor, as he stopped short, “and your return will delight us all. She has gone out on some household matters, but will soon be home.”	“Is giond llwe,” the dcroot eutndocin. “dnA uryo urntre lwli emka us lla hpayp. hSe is tuo on esom lhhduoose sedrarn, tbu seh wlil be meho onso.”
“Doctor Manette, I knew she was from home. I took the opportunity of her being from home, to beg to speak to you.”	“Dr. netatMe, I wnek seh snaw’t at ohme. I ktoo eht otopuinyrtp of ehr nbeig otu to ocem skpea to uoy.”
There was a blank silence.	Dr. eMaetnt swa tlneis.
“Yes?” said the Doctor, with evident constraint. “Bring your chair here, and speak on.”	“Yse?” dasi teh crdoto, itrlcnngool ilefshm. “rnBgi yuro riahc vreo ehre dan tlel me tahw it is.”
He complied as to the chair, but appeared to find the speaking on less easy.	Mr. arDyna outrbhg rove hte chiar as he dha bene lodt, ubt he adh rtloebu saiygn tawh he entawd to say.
“I have had the happiness, Doctor Manette, of being so intimate here,” so he at length began, “for some year and a half, that I hope the topic on which I am about to touch may not—”	“I vhea been ycukl, Dr. eatnteM, to sdenp hte astl aery nad a lafh iygnjone eht rfomotc of ryuo mohe,” he agneb tafer a gnol elwih. “I hope hatw I’m outba to ysa own’t—”
He was stayed by the Doctor’s putting out his hand to stop him. When he had kept it so a little while, he said, drawing it back:	ehT rotocd daceher tuo ihs dhna to otsp him. Aeftr he hda ektp it rheet a ltteil ewlih, he drew ckba sih hdan dna esadk:
“Is Lucie the topic?”	“Is ecuLi awth uoy tnwa to ltka tbuoa?”
“She is.”	“She is.”
“It is hard for me to speak of her at any time. It is very hard for me to hear her spoken of in that tone of yours, Charles Darnay.”	“It is hrad rof me to klta baout erh at nay etmi. It is ellicesapy hdra ofr me to rhea yuo atkl botua her in atth neto, rsCehal nayrDa.”
“It is a tone of fervent admiration, true homage, and deep love, Doctor Manette!” he said deferentially.	“It is a neot of tareg motniaarid, uret erstepc, dan eped oevl, Dr. ntMeeta!” he siad seplfrlcueyt.
There was another blank silence before her father rejoined:	eTh trdcoo aws etisnl again. Tenh he eildepr:
“I believe it. I do you justice; I believe it.”	“I ieeebvl uoy. I rsutt yuo. I ieleevb yuo.”
His constraint was so manifest, and it was so manifest, too, that it originated in an unwillingness to approach the subject, that Charles Darnay hesitated.	He aws so ertidsrean dan so niiwungll to tlka btoua eht ebsjutc tath salrChe naayDr sheetdait.
“Shall I go on, sir?”	“lahSl I tieocnnu, isr?”
Another blank.	ehT ordcot swa tliens ianag.
“Yes, go on.”	“Yse. Ctnunieo.”
“You anticipate what I would say, though you cannot know how earnestly I say it, how earnestly I feel it, without knowing my 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!”	“ouY owkn twah I’m tauob to ays. But ouy anc’t wokn woh eoursis I am whne I say it, nda hwo humc I eefl it, othtuwi giwnkon my ertu hutotghs dna isefglne nda my eeptsde soeph adn fresa. Dr. nMttaee, I am in voel whit oryu udgetrah. I am etevdod to rhe dan itnhk onyl of rhe elwl-gbnie. If reteh saw eevr elvo in teh olwdr, I velo erh. ouY evah nebe in voel uryfeslo. nThki of hte eolv yuo econ ahd in ruyo lefi whne you iknth of me!”