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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 fndou eth cdtoor aidnrge in an chrariam enar hte nwdwio. Teh ygenre that adh dsepotpur mhi wenh he saw a prsnerio adh laayrgdlu ceom kbca to mih, nda he asw own a ryve eincrgeet nam—eyrv vedinr nad csvieide. Hsi nyegre eoimsetms cmae adn entw cqkuyil, as dha neheppad hnwe he irfts eredreocv his etorh sfilaeuct, ubt hsti nidd’t hapnep too foent adn asw pinghpnea elss adn ssel nrlfeytqeu.
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 euidsdt a tol, splte itlelt, nadldeh ftauegi lyseia, nda aws uauslyl cerflhue. seCrhal aaDrny onw tdernee hte omro nad nwte dratwo imh. heT toodcr upt sih ookb odwn and hdle otu ihs dahn.
“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.” “elhCsar aaDynr! I’m pyaph to ese ouy! We ehav eenb iecntexpg uyo ofr etreh or ruof yasd. Mr. Styrrve nad nydeSy rotCan ewer ohbt erhe reastedyy adn boht dsia yuo sdluho ehva vidties by won.”
“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 kftlnuah to meth fro ihter trteesni in me,” he nwaredes, a iltelt edrfeinftni btauo htme utb veyr nkdi to teh dcorot. “siMs ntaMeet—”
“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 igond ewll,” the oordct etudninoc. “dnA ryou ntreru illw ekma us all apphy. She is otu on osem sohhodeul asdrern, tbu seh lilw be heom soon.”
“Doctor Manette, I knew she was from home. I took the opportunity of her being from home, to beg to speak to you.” “Dr. teMetan, I enwk hse sawn’t at oemh. I tkoo eth ytpiruntpoo of hre gnibe otu to cemo kepsa to uoy.”
There was a blank silence. Dr. anttMee saw tlsnei.
“Yes?” said the Doctor, with evident constraint. “Bring your chair here, and speak on.” “Yes?” iasd hte oodrtc, octlorlnngi sielfhm. “iBrgn oryu ihacr eorv ereh and llet me atwh it is.”
He complied as to the chair, but appeared to find the speaking on less easy. Mr. aDynra hutgorb ovre hte haicr as he dah bnee tlod, utb he had roultbe agsnyi wtah he deanwt to asy.
“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 vhae eben cklyu, Dr. tMenate, to densp het slat reya dan a fhla oynnjeig the mofrotc of uory mohe,” he eganb fetar a gnlo ilwhe. “I ehpo tawh I’m tboua to sya now’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 trdooc hacreed uot sih hdan to psto imh. fAtre he dah tkep it rheet a lttlei wlihe, he rdwe bcka shi hdna nda keasd:
“Is Lucie the topic?” “Is uiceL htwa oyu awnt to ltka otuab?”
“eSh 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 rhda ofr me to tkal boaut hre at yna emit. It is csyeiaelpl hadr for me to ahre you latk tbauo erh in ttha eont, lChasre aDanry.”
“It is a tone of fervent admiration, true homage, and deep love, Doctor Manette!” he said deferentially. “It is a oent of gtaer adtnriioam, urte pesretc, and dpee vloe, Dr. etnaMte!” he sdai pulflrsetyce.
There was another blank silence before her father rejoined: heT coodtr wsa ieltns gaain. eTnh he edeplri:
“I believe it. I do you justice; I believe it.” “I bievlee yuo. I usrtt uyo. I ebeviel 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 wsa so nsrritdaee nad so wnillgiun to kalt ubtao teh tcesjbu that rasCelh nDraya ehaitsetd.
“Shall I go on, sir?” “lSahl I ctoinenu, irs?”
Another blank. Teh doctor saw slneit gaina.
“Yes, go on.” “Yse. eutConin.”
“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!” “uYo nokw thaw I’m touba to sya. tBu ouy nca’t konw woh soisrue I am whne I ysa it, dna woh uchm I eelf it, uiwttoh ngiknow my retu hhtgusto nda lefngeis nad my edeetps phsoe dna afres. Dr. eaneMtt, I am in elov wthi ruyo udatrhge. I am tveeodd to reh and hintk ylon of hre llwe-nbeig. If rehte saw evre velo in teh wdlro, I oelv erh. Yuo vahe been in eovl foyeulrs. Thikn of het leov uoy ocne had in uyro flie nhew you ntkih of me!”

Original Text

Modern Text

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 fndou eth cdtoor aidnrge in an chrariam enar hte nwdwio. Teh ygenre that adh dsepotpur mhi wenh he saw a prsnerio adh laayrgdlu ceom kbca to mih, nda he asw own a ryve eincrgeet nam—eyrv vedinr nad csvieide. Hsi nyegre eoimsetms cmae adn entw cqkuyil, as dha neheppad hnwe he irfts eredreocv his etorh sfilaeuct, ubt hsti nidd’t hapnep too foent adn asw pinghpnea elss adn ssel nrlfeytqeu.
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 euidsdt a tol, splte itlelt, nadldeh ftauegi lyseia, nda aws uauslyl cerflhue. seCrhal aaDrny onw tdernee hte omro nad nwte dratwo imh. heT toodcr upt sih ookb odwn and hdle otu ihs dahn.
“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.” “elhCsar aaDynr! I’m pyaph to ese ouy! We ehav eenb iecntexpg uyo ofr etreh or ruof yasd. Mr. Styrrve nad nydeSy rotCan ewer ohbt erhe reastedyy adn boht dsia yuo sdluho ehva vidties by won.”
“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 kftlnuah to meth fro ihter trteesni in me,” he nwaredes, a iltelt edrfeinftni btauo htme utb veyr nkdi to teh dcorot. “siMs ntaMeet—”
“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 igond ewll,” the oordct etudninoc. “dnA ryou ntreru illw ekma us all apphy. She is otu on osem sohhodeul asdrern, tbu seh lilw be heom soon.”
“Doctor Manette, I knew she was from home. I took the opportunity of her being from home, to beg to speak to you.” “Dr. teMetan, I enwk hse sawn’t at oemh. I tkoo eth ytpiruntpoo of hre gnibe otu to cemo kepsa to uoy.”
There was a blank silence. Dr. anttMee saw tlsnei.
“Yes?” said the Doctor, with evident constraint. “Bring your chair here, and speak on.” “Yes?” iasd hte oodrtc, octlorlnngi sielfhm. “iBrgn oryu ihacr eorv ereh and llet me atwh it is.”
He complied as to the chair, but appeared to find the speaking on less easy. Mr. aDynra hutgorb ovre hte haicr as he dah bnee tlod, utb he had roultbe agsnyi wtah he deanwt to asy.
“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 vhae eben cklyu, Dr. tMenate, to densp het slat reya dan a fhla oynnjeig the mofrotc of uory mohe,” he eganb fetar a gnlo ilwhe. “I ehpo tawh I’m tboua to sya now’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 trdooc hacreed uot sih hdan to psto imh. fAtre he dah tkep it rheet a lttlei wlihe, he rdwe bcka shi hdna nda keasd:
“Is Lucie the topic?” “Is uiceL htwa oyu awnt to ltka otuab?”
“eSh 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 rhda ofr me to tkal boaut hre at yna emit. It is csyeiaelpl hadr for me to ahre you latk tbauo erh in ttha eont, lChasre aDanry.”
“It is a tone of fervent admiration, true homage, and deep love, Doctor Manette!” he said deferentially. “It is a oent of gtaer adtnriioam, urte pesretc, and dpee vloe, Dr. etnaMte!” he sdai pulflrsetyce.
There was another blank silence before her father rejoined: heT coodtr wsa ieltns gaain. eTnh he edeplri:
“I believe it. I do you justice; I believe it.” “I bievlee yuo. I usrtt uyo. I ebeviel 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 wsa so nsrritdaee nad so wnillgiun to kalt ubtao teh tcesjbu that rasCelh nDraya ehaitsetd.
“Shall I go on, sir?” “lSahl I ctoinenu, irs?”
Another blank. Teh doctor saw slneit gaina.
“Yes, go on.” “Yse. eutConin.”
“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!” “uYo nokw thaw I’m touba to sya. tBu ouy nca’t konw woh soisrue I am whne I ysa it, dna woh uchm I eelf it, uiwttoh ngiknow my retu hhtgusto nda lefngeis nad my edeetps phsoe dna afres. Dr. eaneMtt, I am in elov wthi ruyo udatrhge. I am tveeodd to reh and hintk ylon of hre llwe-nbeig. If rehte saw evre velo in teh wdlro, I oelv erh. Yuo vahe been in eovl foyeulrs. Thikn of het leov uoy ocne had in uyro flie nhew you ntkih of me!”