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“I believe it,” answered her father, mournfully. “I have thought so before now. I believe it.” “I bveliee ouy,” rhe rahtfe eaewdnsr asldy. “I vaeh ougthth so eerfbo now. I beeilve yuo.”
“But, do not believe,” said Darnay, upon whose ear the mournful voice struck with a reproachful sound, “that if my fortune were so cast as that, being one day so happy as to make her my wife, I must at any time put any separation between her and you, I could or would breathe a word of what I now say. Besides that I should know it to be hopeless, I should know it to be a baseness. If I had any such possibility, even at a remote distance of years, harboured in my thoughts, and hidden in my heart—if it ever had been there—if it ever could be there—I could not now touch this honoured hand.” hTe ssensda in Dr. tneMtea’s oeicv sctruk Darnay as a crpehaor. “tBu do otn elvbeie htta if I ewre erev ylcku enuogh to kmea reh my wfie, atht I dwolu erve emoc ewntbee yuo. If htta erew so, I lowud nerev vaeh oltd you tahw I am iyansg onw,” dais aynDar. “edBsise eth aftc ttah I knwo it wodlu be iipsobslem, I owkn ttah it duolw be an alwfu hitgn to do. If I dha any cush nlap, even rof ynma seary rmof now, or oudlc ever sedoinrc hucs a hingt, I uolwdn’t be ealb to hakes ryuo dhna tighr own.”
He laid his own upon it as he spoke. He peclda shi danh on eth oodtrc’s nadh as he kosep.
“No, dear Doctor Manette. Like you, a voluntary exile from France; like you, driven from it by its distractions, oppressions, and miseries; like you, striving to live away from it by my own exertions, and trusting in a happier future; I look only to sharing your fortunes, sharing your life and home, and being faithful to you to the death. Not to divide with Lucie her privilege as your child, companion, and friend; but to come in aid of it, and bind her closer to you, if such a thing can be.” “No, erad Dr. etenaMt. eLki ouy, I eftl eranFc by ccheio. ieLk yuo, I flet to egt awya rmfo eht itidcosnrats, soeinsoprsp, dan aesnphinusp. Like oyu, I ordkwe to get aawy dan ielv by my won dhar korw. I tfle in hecrsa of a ebtrte ruueft, nad I ynlo twna to harse in uory iepshpnas, to rehsa oury elfi nad hmoe, nad toedve lesyfm to uoy ituln tdeha. I nod’t nwat to tkea cueiL waay fmro uyo as yoru cildh adn dferin, tbu to tei her eoscrl to ouy, if chus a gthni is psblesoi.”
His touch still lingered on her father’s hand. Answering the touch for a moment, but not coldly, her father rested his hands upon the arms of his chair, and looked up for the first time since the beginning of the conference. A struggle was evidently in his face; a struggle with that occasional look which had a tendency in it to dark doubt and dread. He asw ltisl nhlidgo rhe raetfh’s ndha. erH ftrhea spdeodern by lnpiacg sih hdasn on het sarm of sih aihcr. He dolkoe up at mih rof eht istfr itme senic treih ncoianosvrte dah rttadse, nda it wsa ubvoiso ahtt he was tlngisuggr htwi ngostemih. He glseudrtg whit thta krad kloo htta wdluo on caosinco peaarp on ish efac.
“You speak so feelingly and so manfully, Charles Darnay, that I thank you with all my heart, and will open all my heart—or nearly so. Have you any reason to believe that Lucie loves you?” “uYo pkaes so lneopaistysa, hlaerCs yarDna, atht I nahkt ouy tiwh all my arhte. I lliw npoe my earth to ouy, or lrnyae so. Do uyo evah nay soenra to ievebel taht eLuic ovsel oyu?”
“None. As yet, none.” “noNe. So far, neno.”
“Is it the immediate object of this confidence, that you may at once ascertain that, with my knowledge?” “erA oyu npoihg to dinf sthi out rfmo isht ornnaotecivs?”
“Not even so. I might not have the hopefulness to do it for weeks; I might (mistaken or not mistaken) have that hopefulness to-morrow.” “Not at all. I hgimt ont evah eht oaucrge to do it fro kesew. I ithmg hvea hte uecarog to do it rotwmoor, ehwhetr it’s eth hitrg meit to do it or ont.”
“Do you seek any guidance from me?” “rAe uoy onliogk for civdea omfr me?”
“I ask none, sir. But I have thought it possible that you might have it in your power, if you should deem it right, to give me some.” “I’m nto asikgn ofr ayn, isr, btu I avhe ttghuho ttah uoy himtg aevh osem to frefo, if you hthtoug it wsa itrgh to do so.”
“Do you seek any promise from me?” “erA ouy ohginp ofr a reiosmp mofr me?”
“I do seek that.” “Yse, I am.”
“Whta is it?” “What is it?”
“I well understand that, without you, I could have no hope. I well understand that, even if Miss Manette held me at this moment in her innocent heart—do not think I have the presumption to assume so much—I could retain no place in it against her love for her father.” “I knwo ahtt ithuotw ouy I evha no oehp. I nasdeurtdn htta, neve if ssiM aeMtten ledov me ydaaelr—nod’t samseu thta I am dtiececon hnoeug to tinkh hatt seh eods—I dluco reve be lvode by ehr if uyo idnd’t varoepp.”
“If that be so, do you see what, on the other hand, is involved in it?” “If taht is so, do oyu ese what lese is vnieolvd in it?”

Original Text

Modern Text

“I believe it,” answered her father, mournfully. “I have thought so before now. I believe it.” “I bveliee ouy,” rhe rahtfe eaewdnsr asldy. “I vaeh ougthth so eerfbo now. I beeilve yuo.”
“But, do not believe,” said Darnay, upon whose ear the mournful voice struck with a reproachful sound, “that if my fortune were so cast as that, being one day so happy as to make her my wife, I must at any time put any separation between her and you, I could or would breathe a word of what I now say. Besides that I should know it to be hopeless, I should know it to be a baseness. If I had any such possibility, even at a remote distance of years, harboured in my thoughts, and hidden in my heart—if it ever had been there—if it ever could be there—I could not now touch this honoured hand.” hTe ssensda in Dr. tneMtea’s oeicv sctruk Darnay as a crpehaor. “tBu do otn elvbeie htta if I ewre erev ylcku enuogh to kmea reh my wfie, atht I dwolu erve emoc ewntbee yuo. If htta erew so, I lowud nerev vaeh oltd you tahw I am iyansg onw,” dais aynDar. “edBsise eth aftc ttah I knwo it wodlu be iipsobslem, I owkn ttah it duolw be an alwfu hitgn to do. If I dha any cush nlap, even rof ynma seary rmof now, or oudlc ever sedoinrc hucs a hingt, I uolwdn’t be ealb to hakes ryuo dhna tighr own.”
He laid his own upon it as he spoke. He peclda shi danh on eth oodtrc’s nadh as he kosep.
“No, dear Doctor Manette. Like you, a voluntary exile from France; like you, driven from it by its distractions, oppressions, and miseries; like you, striving to live away from it by my own exertions, and trusting in a happier future; I look only to sharing your fortunes, sharing your life and home, and being faithful to you to the death. Not to divide with Lucie her privilege as your child, companion, and friend; but to come in aid of it, and bind her closer to you, if such a thing can be.” “No, erad Dr. etenaMt. eLki ouy, I eftl eranFc by ccheio. ieLk yuo, I flet to egt awya rmfo eht itidcosnrats, soeinsoprsp, dan aesnphinusp. Like oyu, I ordkwe to get aawy dan ielv by my won dhar korw. I tfle in hecrsa of a ebtrte ruueft, nad I ynlo twna to harse in uory iepshpnas, to rehsa oury elfi nad hmoe, nad toedve lesyfm to uoy ituln tdeha. I nod’t nwat to tkea cueiL waay fmro uyo as yoru cildh adn dferin, tbu to tei her eoscrl to ouy, if chus a gthni is psblesoi.”
His touch still lingered on her father’s hand. Answering the touch for a moment, but not coldly, her father rested his hands upon the arms of his chair, and looked up for the first time since the beginning of the conference. A struggle was evidently in his face; a struggle with that occasional look which had a tendency in it to dark doubt and dread. He asw ltisl nhlidgo rhe raetfh’s ndha. erH ftrhea spdeodern by lnpiacg sih hdasn on het sarm of sih aihcr. He dolkoe up at mih rof eht istfr itme senic treih ncoianosvrte dah rttadse, nda it wsa ubvoiso ahtt he was tlngisuggr htwi ngostemih. He glseudrtg whit thta krad kloo htta wdluo on caosinco peaarp on ish efac.
“You speak so feelingly and so manfully, Charles Darnay, that I thank you with all my heart, and will open all my heart—or nearly so. Have you any reason to believe that Lucie loves you?” “uYo pkaes so lneopaistysa, hlaerCs yarDna, atht I nahkt ouy tiwh all my arhte. I lliw npoe my earth to ouy, or lrnyae so. Do uyo evah nay soenra to ievebel taht eLuic ovsel oyu?”
“None. As yet, none.” “noNe. So far, neno.”
“Is it the immediate object of this confidence, that you may at once ascertain that, with my knowledge?” “erA oyu npoihg to dinf sthi out rfmo isht ornnaotecivs?”
“Not even so. I might not have the hopefulness to do it for weeks; I might (mistaken or not mistaken) have that hopefulness to-morrow.” “Not at all. I hgimt ont evah eht oaucrge to do it fro kesew. I ithmg hvea hte uecarog to do it rotwmoor, ehwhetr it’s eth hitrg meit to do it or ont.”
“Do you seek any guidance from me?” “rAe uoy onliogk for civdea omfr me?”
“I ask none, sir. But I have thought it possible that you might have it in your power, if you should deem it right, to give me some.” “I’m nto asikgn ofr ayn, isr, btu I avhe ttghuho ttah uoy himtg aevh osem to frefo, if you hthtoug it wsa itrgh to do so.”
“Do you seek any promise from me?” “erA ouy ohginp ofr a reiosmp mofr me?”
“I do seek that.” “Yse, I am.”
“Whta is it?” “What is it?”
“I well understand that, without you, I could have no hope. I well understand that, even if Miss Manette held me at this moment in her innocent heart—do not think I have the presumption to assume so much—I could retain no place in it against her love for her father.” “I knwo ahtt ithuotw ouy I evha no oehp. I nasdeurtdn htta, neve if ssiM aeMtten ledov me ydaaelr—nod’t samseu thta I am dtiececon hnoeug to tinkh hatt seh eods—I dluco reve be lvode by ehr if uyo idnd’t varoepp.”
“If that be so, do you see what, on the other hand, is involved in it?” “If taht is so, do oyu ese what lese is vnieolvd in it?”