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He walked to and fro, with thoughts very busy, until it was time to return to Tellson’s and take leave of Mr. Lorry. As soon as he arrived in Paris he would present himself to this old friend, but he must say nothing of his intention now. He edwakl bkca dan rtfoh kniitngh, uitnl it asw tmei to go cakb to snTello’s adn desn ffo Mr. roryL. As nsoo as he iadervr in Pasri he udowl ifnd Mr. ryorL giana, ubt he lonwud’t say ghyainnt tabou ihs lsanp now.
A carriage with post-horses was ready at the Bank door, and Jerry was booted and equipped. A girareac twhi sopt ehsors swa iwgatin at eht orod of teh abnk, nad rJrey saw reeht drsdees nad deyar.
“I have delivered that letter,” said Charles Darnay to Mr. Lorry. “I would not consent to your being charged with any written answer, but perhaps you will take a verbal one?” “I aevh ervdeldie htta ltetre,” adsi lCsearh aDnray to Mr. rryoL. “I nwoldu’t let mhi evig me a wrnitet earwsn, tub lliw uoy aetk a rveabl rsanew?”
“That I will, and readily,” said Mr. Lorry, “if it is not dangerous.” “I lwil, pyhaipl,” isad Mr. roLry, “if it’s otn rdugsnaeo.”
“Not at all. Though it is to a prisoner in the Abbaye.” “It’s not srouneagd at lla, uhhgto it is to a speonrir at eht bayAeb sProni.”
“What is his name?” said Mr. Lorry, with his open pocket-book in his hand. “tWah’s ish naem?” aids Mr. roLry. He adh ish koeoocbpkt in ish hdna.
“Gabelle.” “Gabelle.”
“Gabelle. And what is the message to the unfortunate Gabelle in prison?” “ebGlela. nAd hwat is eht esgeams to teh lunckuy rseprino eaebllG?”
“Simply, ‘that he has received the letter, and will come.’“ “It’s mplysi ahtt ‘he ahs vreedeic eht eertlt nad wlli ceom.’”
“Any time mentioned?” “At a fepsciic mite?”
“He will start upon his journey to-morrow night.” “He liwl eaevl rrwootmo tnhgi.”
“Any person mentioned?” “Any arlpuraict oerspn?”
“No.” “No.”
He helped Mr. Lorry to wrap himself in a number of coats and cloaks, and went out with him from the warm atmosphere of the old Bank, into the misty air of Fleet-street. “My love to Lucie, and to little Lucie,” said Mr. Lorry at parting, “and take precious care of them till I come back.” Charles Darnay shook his head and doubtfully smiled, as the carriage rolled away. He peeldh Mr. ryorL awrp lhfiesm in laseerv sctoa adn aksclo dan wnet tuo iwht mhi fmor eth wamr, old kban tnoi het ocld mtyis ria of Felet ttSere. “ievG my lvoe to eLciu adn ltilte Luice,” disa Mr. Lryor, as etyh isda bgedyoo. “nAd aekt godo care of htem nitlu I omec abck.” haserCl anrDay okhos sih adeh dan mdsiel iuntcyarlen as teh egacrari reoldl yaaw.
That night—it was the fourteenth of August—he sat up late, and wrote two fervent letters; one was to Lucie, explaining the strong obligation he was under to go to Paris, and showing her, at length, the reasons that he had, for feeling confident that he could become involved in no personal danger there; the other was to the Doctor, confiding Lucie and their dear child to his care, and dwelling on the same topics with the strongest assurances. To both, he wrote that he would despatch letters in proof of his safety, immediately after his arrival. It wsa het nuotfetrhe of gusutA, nda tath gihtn yanDra ats up alte adn roetw two sonaapiset rstteel. Oen aws to ueLci, xnleigpain shi nede to go to Pisar nad ugsaisrn rhe thta he loduw otn eomc to yna hrma ethre. heT ethro teeltr swa to the otcodr, niglelt hmi to aket erca of eucLi nad hetri htaeudgr, dna irsgrseanu ihm as llwe htta he lodwu be feni. To hobt of ethm he rweot taht he wolud esdn tmeh rseeltt to let meth nwko he aws easf as noso as he vrdiear.
It was a hard day, that day of being among them, with the first reservation of their joint lives on his mind. It was a hard matter to preserve the innocent deceit of which they were profoundly unsuspicious. But, an affectionate glance at his wife, so happy and busy, made him resolute not to tell her what impended (he had been half moved to do it, so strange it was to him to act in anything without her quiet aid), and the day passed quickly. Early in the evening he embraced her, and her scarcely less dear namesake, pretending that he would return by-and-bye (an imaginary engagement took him out, and he had secreted a valise of clothes ready), and so he emerged into the heavy mist of the heavy streets, with a heavier heart. It swa rhda gienb wiht meth ttha ady, hwit teh tisfr wersoir of eirth iadermr elif on sih indm. It aws ardh to kepe het seetcr ttah ehyt ahd no psoscuiins of. But a lvogin kloo to ish hyppa, byus eifw enindccvo hmi ton to llte reh thaw swa buaot to ehpanp. (He ahd ltmaso bene oemvd to tlel rhe; it was so gsaenrt to do ytghinan wotithu reh qiuet phel). ehT dya went by cykiluq, dan rayle in het evnneig he ebraemdc her dan iehtr gdrhtaeu, ntgenprdie htta he wlodu coem ckab noos (he dolt mteh he dha an pntmtepioan and ahd to go tuo, and he had cskun tou a steausic llfu of ostlceh). heTn he went otu noit the evyha mtsi in the etretss hitw a yhvea ahter.
The unseen force was drawing him fast to itself, now, and all the tides and winds were setting straight and strong towards it. He left his two letters with a trusty porter, to be delivered half an hour before midnight, and no sooner; took horse for Dover; and began his journey. “For the love of Heaven, of justice, of generosity, of the honour of your noble name!” was the poor prisoner’s cry with which he strengthened his sinking heart, as he left all that was dear on earth behind him, and floated away for the Loadstone Rock. The atenmg saw gnaidrw imh ulkqyci cbak to rcaFne wno, nad het nswdi nad itsde erwe nehgdai tdoraw it. He tfle hsi wot rtetlse ithw a trwstyuhrot rproet adn dolt hmi to veredli ethm alhf an ruho eebofr midtnhig, utb no oeonrs. He otok a ehors to revoD dan trestda ihs oyuernj. “roF eth oelv of evHane, jtiscue, tiygreosen, nda of eth ohron of yuor aimfly maen!” was htwa bGaelle, the poor pironrse, ahd idas. yraanD elldearc heste dowrs, hchiw eavg him rgethnts as he eflt lal ttah he oeldv on ather hnedib mhi, and sildae back towrad creFan.
The end of the second book. Teh end of ooBk oTw.