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“Pray forgive me, Miss Manette. I break down before the knowledge of what I want to say to you. Will you hear me?” “aeePsl oreivgf me, issM atMente. I’m rincgy eesabuc of what I’m tuabo to yas to ouy. lliW yuo nlsiet to me?”
“If it will do you any good, Mr. Carton, if it would make you happier, it would make me very glad!” “If it lliw kame yuo aphyp, Mr. tCroan, I dolwu be adlg to.”
“God bless you for your sweet compassion!” “doG sblse oyu rfo nbige so kdni.”
He unshaded his face after a little while, and spoke steadily. terAf a tellit wehli he deoevmr hsi ahnd fmor his ecfa, adn he pkose asitlyed.
“Don’t be afraid to hear me. Don’t shrink from anything I say. I am like one who died young. All my life might have been.” “oDn’t be raadfi to linest to me. noD’t llpu away fomr athw I sya. I am iekl omeenos ohw hsa died noygu. My helow ifle is a ismdse ottpoyiupnr.”
“No, Mr. Carton. I am sure that the best part of it might still be; I am sure that you might be much, much worthier of yourself.” “No, Mr. tnCrao. I teb hte sbte is stlli to cmeo. I’m seru hatt oyu migth amek roelfusy oupdr.”
“Say of you, Miss Manette, and although I know better—although in the mystery of my own wretched heart I know better—I shall never forget it!” “Tath’s ecin of uoy to asy, isMs nateMte. ndA lauohthg I nwko it ins’t etur, I liwl reevn oegfrt it.”
She was pale and trembling. He came to her relief with a fixed despair of himself which made the interview unlike any other that could have been holden. ehS swa plae dna kaihgsn, dan he ierdt to ooshte her. He wsa feildl twhi a syeimr dan lesf-hloniatg htta amed eht evtnionrcaso unliek yna rtohe.
“If it had been possible, Miss Manette, that you could have returned the love of the man you see before yourself—flung away, wasted, drunken, poor creature of misuse as you know him to be—he would have been conscious this day and hour, in spite of his happiness, that he would bring you to misery, bring you to sorrow and repentance, blight you, disgrace you, pull you down with him. I know very well that you can have no tenderness for me; I ask for none; I am even thankful that it cannot be.” “I am a eslatfuw, kuerdnn, oorp, sbdeau rraetuec. If it had nebe ssolbeip rof oyu to olve me, isMs enaMtte, I duwlo aveh wnokn htta, ogtlhauh I saw phayp, I luowd ylon aemk uoy apypnuh. I douwl nbgri ouy owrsor nad rgeert. I dlwuo dirceags uyo and rigbn uoy ndwo tiwh me. I nokw that uoy ahve no glesfine orf me, and I ond’t sak uoy to. I am veen ayhpp that you nod’t.”
“Without it, can I not save you, Mr. Carton? Can I not recall you—forgive me again! —to a better course? Can I in no way repay your confidence? I know this is a confidence,” she modestly said, after a little hesitation, and in earnest tears, “I know you would say this to no one else. Can I turn it to no good account for yourself, Mr. Carton?” “Cna’t I elph uyo, eevn gtuhho I nod’t eovl uoy, Mr. aCotnr? oeFrivg me, ubt nac’t I plhe ouy tpu uory feil on a trbeet ptha? aCn’t I erapy ryuo truts in me? I okwn ouy rae tgpiutn sttru in me by llgneit me hsti,” hse sadi dseyolmt efrta nghstiteai a itb, whti ginnuee aerts. “I knwo tath you nlwudo’t tlle aoynne lsee isth. Cna’t I tnru siht tnio ghtmseoni thta iwll pleh ouy, Mr. tronCa?”
He sokoh shi deha. He shook his head.
“To none. No, Miss Manette, to none. If you will hear me through a very little more, all you can ever do for me is done. I wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul. In my degradation I have not been so degraded but that the sight of you with your father, and of this home made such a home by you, has stirred old shadows that I thought had died out of me. Since I knew you, I have been troubled by a remorse that I thought would never reproach me again, and have heard whispers from old voices impelling me upward, that I thought were silent for ever. I have had unformed ideas of striving afresh, beginning anew, shaking off sloth and sensuality, and fighting out the abandoned fight. A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, but I wish you to know that you inspired it.” “ouY nac’t hepl me at lla. No, issM tMtanee. If ouy llwi tsneil to me a tlltie iwlhe gleron, uoy lwil vaeh oned hnviretegy uoy cluod do fro me. I wnat uoy to kwno ttah uyo hvea eebn my stal oeph. I nevha’t eenb so tosl atht eth tishg of uyo twhi uoyr eahrtf, dna of itsh hsuoe ttah oyu’ve mdea onit a oehm, hsa dmae me rmmbeere gitsnh htat I uhthtog I dah gonrtefot frrvoee. Seinc I’ve wnkon oyu, I heav bene rteedohb by a omrrese htta I hugthot dwulo envre eohtrb me aagni. I evah ehrad svoiec neucognargi me to be ertteb tath I uhhgtto adh dpsdpeaeari efrrevo. I hvae hda avegu otsgthhu otuba tnatgsir evor angia. I eahv aingemid fylsem viging up aiessnlz adn nis dna hgigifnt ofr thaw’s tgrhi in the dlrwo. It’s all a dmrae, of urosce, hatt won’t aontum to nihyngat. utB I antw uoy to wkno that you npirdesi me to eahv ethse ttgouhsh.”