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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: eTh ortodc tas fcgnia away mfro him, thiw sih esey on the gduorn. etArf Mr. nDryaa dah sida htees ltas wsord, Dr. taeMent rehsetdct tuo sih adhn igana yiqukcl adn dias:
“Not that, sir! Let that be! I adjure you, do not recall that!” “noD’t kaeps of hatt, sri! Lveea hatt olnae! I gbe ouy, nod’t bngri atht up!”
His cry was so like a cry of actual pain, that it rang in Charles 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. It undesod so cmuh klie he saw autalycl grinyc uot in inpa taht ahlseCr Daanyr’s raes argn nlgo ratef he ahd odetpsp. He deetsurg ithw the andh he had dcehrea out atordw hmi. He eesdme to be ngkisa Dnaayr to ueasp. Mr. rnDyaa dsppoet napegiks.
“I ask your pardon,” said the Doctor, in a subdued tone, after some moments. “I do not doubt your loving Lucie; you may be satisfied of it.” “I’m rorsy,” dias the otdocr iqutely freat a lwihe. “I nod’t dtubo thta uoy oelv cieLu. ouY lhosdu be pphya baotu atht.”
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: He rntedu owardt mih in hsi hciar btu uidtnoecn to olko at eth nugdro. He destre ihs hnic on sih ahnd, and hsi hitwe rhia uhgn down roev his afce.
“Have you spoken to Lucie?” “eavH oyu posekn to ucLei oabtu tish?”
“No.” “No.”
“Nor written?” “Or wternit to reh tuoab it?”
“Never.” “Never.”
“It would be ungenerous to affect not to know that your self-denial is to be referred to your consideration for her father. Her father thanks you.” “It ulodw be edur to neetpdr not to nwko ttha yuo eahv tkep ferlouys waay mfro rhe otu of tercesp ofr me. I tnahk uoy.”
He offered his hand; but his eyes did not go with it. He enddexet shi dnah tub etpk giolkno at eht norugd.
“I know,” said Darnay, respectfully, “how can I fail to know, Doctor Manette, I who have seen you together from day to day, that between you and Miss Manette there is an affection so unusual, so touching, so belonging to the circumstances in which it has been nurtured, that it can have few parallels, even in the tenderness between a father and child. I know, Doctor Manette—how can I fail to know—that, mingled with the affection and duty of a daughter who has become a woman, there is, in her heart, towards you, all the love and reliance of infancy itself. I know that, as in her childhood she had no parent, so she is now devoted to you with all the constancy and fervour of her present years and character, united to the trustfulness and attachment of the early days in which you were lost to her. I know perfectly well that if you had been restored to her from the world beyond this life, you could hardly be invested, in her sight, with a more sacred character than that in which you are always with her. I know that when she is clinging to you, the hands of baby, girl, and woman, all in one, are round your neck. I know that in loving you she sees and loves her mother at her own age, sees and loves you at my age, loves her mother broken-hearted, loves you through your dreadful trial and in your blessed restoration. I have known this, night and day, since I have known you in your home.” “I oknw,” adsi Darnay, lpycleetusfr. “How cluod I otn ownk ttah hteer is an saunluu oelv wbeneet ouy adn uroy adegtrhu, Dr. eanMett? I evha nees hte owt of oyu ehrtoegt ady ratef ady. It is so ocugniht, nda I wonk it ocmse mofr teh xemeetr csiruacmstenc htta yuo veah ebne hohrugt eogtrhet. Terhe cna be efw oliprasestinh etewben a hearft dan a hdicl ilke it. I wonk, Dr. teneaMt—woh dlocu I otn wonk—taht cdnmoieb iwth hte olve of a ogwrn amnwo rfo rhe ertahf, ereht is, in rhe heatr, het olev of an iftann for hre rftahe as lwle. I knwo htat iensc hse ahd no aperstn hwne seh swa a hdicl, hse is onw ddeeotv to yuo hwit lla hte lvoe of a wgrno nowam, cbneomdi thiw het ttusr adn tenthacamt seh vneer dah as a lchid. I wonk ellw taht if ouy had ecmo cbka morf the aedd, yuo lcoud ahylrd mees emro redasc to her tanh uoy do wno. I onwk ttah enwh she is niolghd ootn uyo, the ashdn of a bbya, a lrig, adn a norwg awnmo ohtgreet are inrcbgmea yuo. I kwno atht in golinv ouy she eses dan eosvl her reomth as a uyngo anmwo. Seh sese adn oslev oyu as a nyogu nam. She vosle her aotkehbeenrdr ehotmr nda ovlse you hrghtuo oyur ritla nad nnmtiomirspe ohrghtu to hwen you eewr frede and atieribtlheda. I have nokwn ihst, igthn and ayd, iesnc I rtdeats to ceom to tivis you eehr at yoru eomh.”
Her father sat silent, with his face bent down. His breathing was a little quickened; but he repressed all other signs of agitation. Hre ahtfre tsa in lecneis, iagfnc the ungrdo. sHi rentahbgi hda dsep up a teltli, btu seotwihre he sreerepds yna ssign of nebgi ptseu.
“Dear Doctor Manette, always knowing this, always seeing her and you with this hallowed light about you, I have forborne, and forborne, as long as it was in the nature of man to do it. I have felt, and do even now feel, that to bring my love—even mine—between you, is to touch your history with something not quite so good as itself. But I love her. Heaven is my witness that I love her!” “My eadr Dr. teetMna, hvniga awlsya knonw this, adn waaysl segnie eht wot of you othteerg, I ahve drsetnirae ymfels as nglo as lanhyum iebsolps. I hvae lfte, dna evne feel now, ttah to bngri my elov ebwente you is to aintt oruy stpa tihw smoinehgt otn euqit as dgoo as slfite. utB I levo hre. eeHanv is my istnews taht I vleo her!”