Book I - Chapter IV. The Preparation

by Charles Dickens

　　When the mail got successfully to Dover, in the course of theforenoon, the head drawer at the Royal George Hotel opened thecoach-door as his custom was. He did it with some flourish ofceremony, for a mail journey from London in winter was an achievementto congratulate an adventurous traveller upon.

　　By that time, there was only one adventurous traveller left becongratulated: for the two others had been set down at theirrespective roadside destinations. The mildewy inside of the coach,with its damp and dirty straw, its disageeable smell, and itsobscurity, was rather like a larger dog-kennel. Mr. Lorry, thepassenger, shaking himself out of it in chains of straw, a tangle ofshaggy wrapper, flapping hat, and muddy legs, was rather like alarger sort of dog.

　　"There will be a packet to Calais, tomorrow, drawer?"

　　"Yes, sir, if the weather holds and the wind sets tolerable fair.The tide will serve pretty nicely at about two in the afternoon,sir. Bed, sir?"

　　"I shall not go to bed till night; but I want a bedroom, and a barber."

　　"And then breakfast, sir? Yes, sir. That way, sir, if you please.Show Concord! Gentleman's valise and hot water to Concord. Pull offgentleman's boots in Concord. (You will find a fine sea-coal fire,sir.) Fetch barber to Concord. Stir about there, now, for Concord!"

　　The Concord bed-chamber being always assigned to a passenger by themail, and passengers by the mail being always heavily wrapped up fromhead to foot, the room had the odd interest for the establishment ofthe Royal George, that although but one kind of man was seen to gointo it, all kinds and varieties of men came out of it. Consequently,another drawer, and two porters, and several maids and the landlady,were all loitering by accident at various points of the road betweenthe Concord and the coffee-room, when a gentleman of sixty, formallydressed in a brown suit of clothes, pretty well worn, but very wellkept, with large square cuffs and large flaps to the pockets, passedalong on his way to his breakfast.

　　The coffee-room had no other occupant, that forenoon, than thegentleman in brown. His breakfast-table was drawn before the fire,and as he sat, with its light shining on him, waiting for the meal,he sat so still, that he might have been sitting for his portrait.

　　Very orderly and methodical he looked, with a hand on each knee, anda loud watch ticking a sonorous sermon under his flapped waist-coat,as though it pitted its gravity and longevity against the levity andevanescence of the brisk fire. He had a good leg, and was a littlevain of it, for his brown stockings fitted sleek and close, and wereof a fine texture; his shoes and buckles, too, though plain, weretrim. He wore an odd little sleek crisp flaxen wig, setting veryclose to his head: which wig, it is to be presumed, was made of hair,but which looked far more as though it were spun from filaments ofsilk or glass. His linen, though not of a fineness in accordancewith his stockings, was as white as the tops of the waves that brokeupon the neighbouring beach, or the specks of sail that glinted inthe sunlight far at sea. A face habitually suppressed and quieted,was still lighted up under the quaint wig by a pair of moist brighteyes that it must have cost their owner, in years gone by, some painsto drill to the composed and reserved expression of Tellson's Bank.He had a healthy colour in his cheeks, and his face, though lined,bore few traces of anxiety. But, perhaps the confidential bachelorclerks in Tellson's Bank were principally occupied with the cares ofother people; and perhaps second-hand cares, like second-handclothes, come easily off and on.

　　Completing his resemblance to a man who was sitting for his portrait,Mr. Lorry dropped off to sleep. The arrival of his breakfast rousedhim, and he said to the drawer, as he moved his chair to it:

　　"I wish accommodation prepared for a young lady who may come here atany time to-day. She may ask for Mr. Jarvis Lorry, or she may onlyask for a gentleman from Tellson's Bank. Please to let me know."

　　"Yes, sir. Tellson's Bank in London, sir?"

　　"Yes."

　　"Yes, sir. We have oftentimes the honour to entertain your gentlemenin their travelling backwards and forwards betwixt London and Paris,sir. A vast deal of travelling, sir, in Tellson and Company's House."

　　"Yes. We are quite a French House, as well as an English one."

　　"Yes, sir. Not much in the habit of such travelling yourself,I think, sir?"

　　"Not of late years. It is fifteen years since we--since I--came last from France."

　　"Indeed, sir? That was before my time here, sir. Before our people'stime here, sir. The George was in other hands at that time, sir."

　　"I believe so."

　　"But I would hold a pretty wager, sir, that a House like Tellson andCompany was flourishing, a matter of fifty, not to speak of fifteenyears ago?"

　　"You might treble that, and say a hundred and fifty, yet not be farfrom the truth."

　　"Indeed, sir!"

　　Rounding his mouth and both his eyes, as he stepped backward from thetable, the waiter shifted his napkin from his right arm to his left,dropped into a comfortable attitude, and stood surveying the guestwhile he ate and drank, as from an observatory or watchtower.According to the immemorial usage of waiters in all ages.

　　When Mr. Lorry had finished his breakfast, he went out for a strollon the beach. The little narrow, crooked town of Dover hid itselfaway from the beach, and ran its head into the chalk cliffs, like amarine ostrich. The beach was a desert of heaps of sea and stonestumbling wildly about, and the sea did what it liked, and what itliked was destruction. It thundered at the town, and thundered atthe cliffs, and brought the coast down, madly. The air among thehouses was of so strong a piscatory flavour that one might havesupposed sick fish went up to be dipped in it, as sick people wentdown to be dipped in the sea. A little fishing was done in the port,and a quantity of strolling about by night, and looking seaward:particularly at those times when the tide made, and was near flood.Small tradesmen, who did no business whatever, sometimes unaccountablyrealised large fortunes, and it was remarkable that nobody in theneighbourhood could endure a lamplighter.

　　As the day declined into the afternoon, and the air, which had beenat intervals clear enough to allow the French coast to be seen,became again charged with mist and vapour, Mr. Lorry's thoughtsseemed to cloud too. When it was dark, and he sat before thecoffee-room fire, awaiting his dinner as he had awaited his breakfast,his mind was busily digging, digging, digging, in the live red coals.

　　A bottle of good claret after dinner does a digger in the red coalsno harm, otherwise than as it has a tendency to throw him out ofwork. Mr. Lorry had been idle a long time, and had just poured outhis last glassful of wine with as complete an appearance ofsatisfaction as is ever to be found in an elderly gentleman of afresh complexion who has got to the end of a bottle, when a rattlingof wheels came up the narrow street, and rumbled into the inn-yard.

　　He set down his glass untouched. "This is Mam'selle!" said he.

　　In a very few minutes the waiter came in to announce that MissManette had arrived from London, and would be happy to see thegentleman from Tellson's.

　　"So soon?"

　　Miss Manette had taken some refreshment on the road, and requirednone then, and was extremely anxious to see the gentleman fromTellson's immediately, if it suited his pleasure and convenience.

　　The gentleman from Tellson's had nothing left for it but to empty hisglass with an air of stolid desperation, settle his odd little flaxenwig at the ears, and follow the waiter to Miss Manette's apartment.It was a large, dark room, furnished in a funereal manner with blackhorsehair, and loaded with heavy dark tables. These had been oiledand oiled, until the two tall candles on the table in the middle ofthe room were gloomily reflected on every leaf; as if they wereburied, in deep graves of black mahogany, and no light to speak ofcould be expected from them until they were dug out.

　　The obscurity was so difficult to penetrate that Mr. Lorry,picking his way over the well-worn Turkey carpet, supposed

　　Miss Manette to be, for the moment, in some adjacent room, until,having got past the two tall candles, he saw standing to receive himby the table between them and the fire, a young lady of not more thanseventeen, in a riding-cloak, and still holding her straw travelling-hat by its ribbon in her hand. As his eyes rested on a short, slight,pretty figure, a quantity of golden hair, a pair of blue eyes thatmet his own with an inquiring look, and a forehead with a singularcapacity (remembering how young and smooth it was), of rifting andknitting itself into an expression that was not quite one of perplexity,or wonder, or alarm, or merely of a bright fixed attention, though itincluded all the four expressions-as his eyes rested on these things,a sudden vivid likeness passed before him, of a child whom he hadheld in his arms on the passage across that very Channel, one coldtime, when the hail drifted heavily and the sea ran high. Thelikeness passed away, like a breath along the surface of the gauntpier-glass behind her, on the frame of which, a hospital processionof negro cupids, several headless and all cripples, were offeringblack baskets of Dead Sea fruit to black divinities of the femininegender-and he made his formal bow to Miss Manette.

　　"Pray take a seat, sir." In a very clear and pleasant young voice;a little foreign in its accent, but a very little indeed.

　　"I kiss your hand, miss," said Mr. Lorry, with the manners of anearlier date, as he made his formal bow again, and took his seat.

　　"I received a letter from the Bank, sir, yesterday, informing me thatsome intelligence--or discovery--"

　　"The word is not material, miss; either word will do."

　　"--respecting the small property of my poor father, whom I neversaw--so long dead--"

　　Mr. Lorry moved in his chair, and cast a troubled look towards thehospital procession of negro cupids. As if they had any help foranybody in their absurd baskets!

　　"--rendered it necessary that I should go to Paris, there tocommunicate with a gentleman of the Bank, so good as to be despatchedto Paris for the purpose."

　　"Myself."

　　"As I was prepared to hear, sir."

　　She curtseyed to him (young ladies made curtseys in those days), witha pretty desire to convey to him that she felt how much older andwiser he was than she. He made her another bow.

　　"I replied to the Bank, sir, that as it was considered necessary, bythose who know, and who are so kind as to advise me, that I should goto France, and that as I am an orphan and have no friend who could gowith me, I should esteem it highly if I might be permitted to placemyself, during the journey, under that worthy gentleman's protection.The gentleman had left London, but I think a messenger was sent afterhim to beg the favour of his waiting for me here."

　　"I was happy," said Mr. Lorry, "to be entrusted with the charge.I shall be more happy to execute it."

　　"Sir, I thank you indeed. I thank you very gratefully. It was toldme by the Bank that the gentleman would explain to me the details ofthe business, and that I must prepare myself to find them of asurprising nature. I have done my best to prepare myself, and Inaturally have a strong and eager interest to know what they are."

　　"Naturally," said Mr. Lorry. "Yes--I--"

　　After a pause, he added, again settling the crisp flaxen wig at the ears,"It is very difficult to begin."

　　He did not begin, but, in his indecision, met her glance. The youngforehead lifted itself into that singular expression--but it waspretty and characteristic, besides being singular--and she raisedher hand, as if with an involuntary action she caught at, or stayedsome passing shadow.

　　"Are you quite a stranger to me, sir?"

　　"Am I not?" Mr. Lorry opened his hands, and extended them outwardswith an argumentative smile.

　　Between the eyebrows and just over the little feminine nose, the lineof which was as delicate and fine as it was possible to be, theexpression deepened itself as she took her seat thoughtfully in thechair by which she had hitherto remained standing. He watched her asshe mused, and the moment she raised her eyes again, went on:

　　"In your adopted country, I presume, I cannot do better than addressyou as a young English lady, Miss Manette?"

　　"If you please, sir."

　　"Miss Manette, I am a man of business. I have a business charge toacquit myself of. In your reception of it, don't heed me any morethan if I was a speaking machine-truly, I am not much else. I will,with your leave, relate to you, miss, the story of one of ourcustomers."

　　"Story!"

　　He seemed wilfully to mistake the word she had repeated, when headded, in a hurry, "Yes, customers; in the banking business weusually call our connection our customers. He was a Frenchgentleman; a scientific gentleman; a man of great acquirements--a Doctor."

　　"Not of Beauvais?"

　　"Why, yes, of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father,the gentleman was of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father,the gentleman was of repute in Paris. I had the honour of knowinghim there. Our relations were business relations, but confidential.I was at that time in our French House, and had been--oh! twenty years."

　　"At that time--I may ask, at what time, sir?"

　　"I speak, miss, of twenty years ago. He married--an Englishlady--and I was one of the trustees. His affairs, like the affairsof many other French gentlemen and French families, were entirely inTellson's hands. In a similar way I am, or I have been, trustee ofone kind or other for scores of our customers. These are mere businessrelations, miss; there is no friendship in them, no particularinterest, nothing like sentiment. I have passed from one to another,in the course of my business life, just as I pass from one of ourcustomers to another in the course of my business day; in short, Ihave no feelings; I am a mere machine. To go on--"

　　"But this is my father's story, sir; and I begin to think"--the curiously roughened forehead was very intent upon him--"thatwhen I was left an orphan through my mother's surviving my fatheronly two years, it was you who brought me to England. I am almostsure it was you."

　　Mr. Lorry took the hesitating little hand that confidingly advancedto take his, and he put it with some ceremony to his lips. He thenconducted the young lady straightway to her chair again, and, holdingthe chair-back with his left hand, and using his right by turns torub his chin, pull his wig at the ears, or point what he said, stoodlooking down into her face while she sat looking up into his.

　　"Miss Manette, it was I. And you will see how truly I spoke ofmyself just now, in saying I had no feelings, and that all therelations I hold with my fellow-creatures are mere businessrelations, when you reflect that I have never seen you since.No; you have been the ward of Tellson's House since, and I have beenbusy with the other business of Tellson's House since. Feelings!I have no time for them, no chance of them. I pass my whole life,miss, in turning an immense pecuniary Mangle."

　　After this odd description of his daily routine of employment, Mr.Lorry flattened his flaxen wig upon his head with both hands (whichwas most unnecessary, for nothing could be flatter than its shiningsurface was before), and resumed his former attitude.

　　"So far, miss (as you have remarked), this is the story of yourregretted father. Now comes the difference. If your father had notdied when he did--Don't be frightened! How you start!"

　　She did, indeed, start. And she caught his wrist with both her hands.

　　"Pray," said Mr. Lorry, in a soothing tone, bringing his left handfrom the back of the chair to lay it on the supplicatory fingers thatclasped him in so violent a tremble: "pray control your agitation--a matter of business. As I was saying--"

　　Her look so discomposed him that he stopped, wandered, and began anew:

　　"As I was saying; if Monsieur Manette had not died; if he hadsuddenly and silently disappeared; if he had been spirited away;if it had not been difficult to guess to what dreadful place, thoughno art could trace him; if he had an enemy in some compatriot whocould exercise a privilege that I in my own time have known the boldestpeople afraid to speak of in a whisper, across the water there; forinstance, the privilege of filling up blank forms for the consignmentof any one to the oblivion of a prison for any length of time; if hiswife had implored the king, the queen, the court, the clergy, for anytidings of him, and all quite in vain;--then the history of your fatherwould have been the history of this unfortunate gentleman, the Doctorof Beauvais."

　　"I entreat you to tell me more, sir."

　　"I will. I am going to. You can bear it?"

　　"I can bear anything but the uncertainty you leave me in at this moment."

　　"You speak collectedly, and you--are collected. That's good!"(Though his manner was less satisfied than his words.) "A matter ofbusiness. Regard it as a matter of business-business that must bedone. Now if this doctor's wife, though a lady of great courage andspirit, had suffered so intensely from this cause before her littlechild was born--"

　　"The little child was a daughter, sir."

　　"A daughter. A-a-matter of business--don't be distressed. Miss,if the poor lady had suffered so intensely before her little childwas born, that she came to the determination of sparing the poorchild the inheritance of any part of the agony she had known thepains of, by rearing her in the belief that her father was dead--No, don't kneel! In Heaven's name why should you kneel to me!"

　　"For the truth. O dear, good, compassionate sir, for the truth!"

　　"A-a matter of business. You confuse me, and how can I transactbusiness if I am confused? Let us be clear-headed. If you couldkindly mention now, for instance, what nine times ninepence are,or how many shillings in twenty guineas, it would be so encouraging.I should be so much more at my ease about your state of mind."

　　Without directly answering to this appeal, she sat so still whenhe had very gently raised her, and the hands that had not ceasedto clasp his wrists were so much more steady than they had been,that she communicated some reassurance to Mr. Jarvis Lorry.

　　"That's right, that's right. Courage! Business! You have businessbefore you; useful business. Miss Manette, your mother took thiscourse with you. And when she died--I believe broken-hearted--having never slackened her unavailing search for your father,she left you, at two years old, to grow to be blooming, beautiful,and happy, without the dark cloud upon you of living in uncertaintywhether your father soon wore his heart out in prison, or wastedthere through many lingering years."

　　As he said the words he looked down, with an admiring pity, on theflowing golden hair; as if he pictured to himself that it might havebeen already tinged with grey.

　　"You know that your parents had no great possession, and that whatthey had was secured to your mother and to you. There has been nonew discovery, of money, or of any other property; but--"

　　He felt his wrist held closer, and he stopped. The expression in theforehead, which had so particularly attracted his notice, and whichwas now immovable, had deepened into one of pain and horror.

　　"But he has been--been found. He is alive. Greatly changed, it istoo probable; almost a wreck, it is possible; though we will hope thebest. Still, alive. Your father has been taken to the house of anold servant in Paris, and we are going there: I, to identify him ifI can: you, to restore him to life, love, duty, rest, comfort."

　　A shiver ran through her frame, and from it through his. She said,in a low, distinct, awe-stricken voice, as if she were saying it in adream,

　　"I am going to see his Ghost! It will be his Ghost--not him!"

　　Mr. Lorry quietly chafed the hands that held his arm. "There, there,there! See now, see now! The best and the worst are known to you, now.You are well on your way to the poor wronged gentleman, and, with a fairsea voyage, and a fair land journey, you will be soon at his dear side."

　　She repeated in the same tone, sunk to a whisper, "I have been free,I have been happy, yet his Ghost has never haunted me!"

　　"Only one thing more," said Mr. Lorry, laying stress upon it as awholesome means of enforcing her attention: "he has been found underanother name; his own, long forgotten or long concealed. It would beworse than useless now to inquire which; worse than useless to seekto know whether he has been for years overlooked, or always designedlyheld prisoner. It would be worse than useless now to make any inquiries,because it would be dangerous. Better not to mention the subject,anywhere or in any way, and to remove him--for a while at all events--out of France. Even I, safe as an Englishman, and even Tellson's,important as they are to French credit, avoid all naming of thematter. I carry about me, not a scrap of writing openly referring toit. This is a secret service altogether. My credentials, entries,and memoranda, are all comprehended in the one line, `Recalled toLife;' which may mean anything. But what is the matter! She doesn'tnotice a word! Miss Manette!"

　　Perfectly still and silent, and not even fallen back in her chair,she sat under his hand, utterly insensible; with her eyes open andfixed upon him, and with that last expression looking as if it werecarved or branded into her forehead. So close was her hold upon hisarm, that he feared to detach himself lest he should hurt her;therefore he called out loudly for assistance without moving.

　　A wild-looking woman, whom even in his agitation, Mr. Lorry observedto be all of a red colour, and to have red hair, and to be dressed insome extraordinary tight-fitting fashion, and to have on her head amost wonderful bonnet like a Grenadier wooden measure, and goodmeasure too, or a great Stilton cheese, came running into the room inadvance of the inn servants, and soon settled the question of hisdetachment from the poor young lady, by laying a brawny hand upon hischest, and sending him flying back against the nearest wall.

　　("I really think this must be a man!" was Mr. Lorry's breathlessreflection, simultaneously with his coming against the wall.)

　　"Why, look at you all!" bawled this figure, addressing the innservants. "Why don't you go and fetch things, instead of standingthere staring at me? I am not so much to look at, am I? Why don'tyou go and fetch things? I'll let you know, if you don't bringsmelling-salts, cold water, and vinegar, quick, I will."

　　There was an immediate dispersal for these restoratives, and shesoftly laid the patient on a sofa, and tended her with great skilland gentleness: calling her "my precious!" and "my bird!" and spreadingher golden hair aside over her shoulders with great pride and care.

　　"And you in brown!" she said, indignantly turning to Mr. Lorry;couldn't you tell her what you had to tell her, without frighteningher to death? Look at her, with her pretty pale face and her coldhands. Do you call that being a Banker?"

　　Mr. Lorry was so exceedingly disconcerted by a question so hard toanswer, that he could only look on, at a distance, with much feeblersympathy and humility, while the strong woman, having banished theinn servants under the mysterious penalty of "letting them know"something not mentioned if they stayed there, staring, recovered hercharge by a regular series of gradations, and coaxed her to lay herdrooping head upon her shoulder.

　　"I hope she will do well now," said Mr. Lorry.

　　"No thanks to you in brown, if she does. My darling pretty!"

　　"I hope," said Mr. Lorry, after another pause of feeble sympathy andhumility, "that you accompany Miss Manette to France?"

　　"A likely thing, too!" replied the strong woman. "If it was everintended that I should go across salt water, do you supposeProvidence would have cast my lot in an island?"

　　This being another question hard to answer, Mr. Jarvis Lorry withdrewto consider it.