Book II - Chapter XVIII. Nine Days

by Charles Dickens

　　The marriage-day was shining brightly, and they were ready outsidethe closed door of the Doctor's room, where he was speaking withCharles Darnay. They were ready to go to church; the beautiful bride,Mr. Lorry, and Miss Pross--to whom the event, through a gradual processof reconcilement to the inevitable, would have been one of absolutebliss, but for the yet lingering consideration that her brotherSolomon should have been the bridegroom.

　　"And so," said Mr. Lorry, who could not sufficiently admire the bride,and who had been moving round her to take in every point of her quiet,pretty dress; "and so it was for this, my sweet Lucie, that I broughtyou across the Channel, such a baby' Lord bless me' How little Ithought what I was doing! How lightly I valued the obligation I wasconferring on my friend Mr. Charles!"

　　"You didn't mean it," remarked the matter-of-fact Miss Pross, "andtherefore how could you know it? Nonsense!"

　　"Really? Well; but don't cry," said the gentle Mr. Lorry.

　　"I am not crying," said Miss Pross; "you are."

　　"I, my Pross?" (By this time, Mr. Lorry dared to be pleasant withher, on occasion.)

　　"You were, just now; I saw you do it, and I don't wonder at it. Sucha present of plate as you have made 'em, is enough to bring tears intoanybody's eyes. There's not a fork or a spoon in the collection,"said Miss Pross, "that I didn't cry over, last night after the box came,till I couldn't see it."

　　"I am highly gratified," said Mr. Lorry, "though, upon my honour, Ihad no intention of rendering those trifling articles of remembranceinvisible to any one. Dear me! This is an occasion that makes a manspeculate on all he has lost. Dear, dear, dear! To think that theremight have been a Mrs. Lorry, any time these fifty years almost!"

　　"Not at all!" From Miss Pross.

　　"You think there never might have been a Mrs. Lorry?" asked thegentleman of that name.

　　"Pooh!" rejoined Miss Pross; "you were a bachelor in your cradle."

　　"Well!" observed Mr. Lorry, beamingly adjusting his little wig,"that seems probable, too."

　　"And you were cut out for a bachelor," pursued Miss Pross, "beforeyou were put in your cradle."

　　"Then, I think," said Mr. Lorry, "that I was very unhandsomely dealtwith, and that I ought to have had a voice in the selection of mypattern. Enough! Now, my dear Lucie," drawing his arm soothinglyround her waist, "I hear them moving in the next room, and Miss Prossand I, as two formal folks of business, are anxious not to lose thefinal opportunity of saying something to you that you wish to hear.You leave your good father, my dear, in hands as earnest and asloving as your own; he shall be taken every conceivable care of;during the next fortnight, while you are in Warwickshire and thereabouts,even Tellson's shall go to the wall (comparatively speaking) before him.And when, at the fortnight's end, he comes to join you and your belovedhusband, on your other fortnight's trip in Wales, you shall say thatwe have sent him to you in the best health and in the happiest frame.Now, I hear Somebody's step coming to the door. Let me kiss my deargirl with an old-fashioned bachelor blessing, before Somebody comesto claim his own."

　　For a moment, he held the fair face from him to look at thewell-remembered expression on the forehead, and then laid the brightgolden hair against his little brown wig, with a genuine tenderness anddelicacy which, if such things be old-fashioned, were as old as Adam.

　　The door of the Doctor's room opened, and he came out with CharlesDarnay. He was so deadly pale--which had not been the case when theywent in together--that no vestige of colour was to be seen in his face.But, in the composure of his manner he was unaltered, except that tothe shrewd glance of Mr. Lorry it disclosed some shadowy indicationthat the old air of avoidance and dread had lately passed over him,like a cold wind.

　　He gave his arm to his daughter, and took her down-stairs to the chariotwhich Mr. Lorry had hired in honour of the day. The rest followed inanother carriage, and soon, in a neighbouring church, where no strangeeyes looked on, Charles Darnay and Lucie Manette were happily married.

　　Besides the glancing tears that shone among the smiles of the littlegroup when it was done, some diamonds, very bright and sparkling,glanced on the bride's hand, which were newly released from the darkobscurity of one of Mr. Lorry's pockets. They returned home tobreakfast, and all went well, and in due course the golden hair thathad mingled with the poor shoemaker's white locks in the Paris garret,were mingled with them again in the morning sunlight, on the thresholdof the door at parting.

　　It was a hard parting, though it was not for long. But her fathercheered her, and said at last, gently disengaging himself from herenfolding arms, "Take her, Charles! She is yours!"

　　And her agitated hand waved to them from a chaise window, andshe was gone.

　　The corner being out of the way of the idle and curious, and thepreparations having been very simple and few, the Doctor, Mr. Lorry,and Miss Pross, were left quite alone. It was when they turned intothe welcome shade of the cool old hall, that Mr. Lorry observed agreat change to have come over the Doctor; as if the golden armuplifted there, had struck him a poisoned blow.

　　He had naturally repressed much, and some revulsion might have beenexpected in him when the occasion for repression was gone. But, itwas the old scared lost look that troubled Mr. Lorry; and throughhis absent manner of clasping his head and drearily wandering awayinto his own room when they got up-stairs, Mr. Lorry was reminded ofDefarge the wine-shop keeper, and the starlight ride.

　　"I think," he whispered to Miss Pross, after anxious consideration,"I think we had best not speak to him just now, or at all disturb him.I must look in at Tellson's; so I will go there at once and come backpresently. Then, we will take him a ride into the country, and dinethere, and all will be well."

　　It was easier for Mr. Lorry to look in at Tellson's, than to lookout of Tellson's. He was detained two hours. When he came back,he ascended the old staircase alone, having asked no question ofthe servant; going thus into the Doctor's rooms, he was stopped bya low sound of knocking.

　　"Good God!" he said, with a start. "What's that?"

　　Miss Pross, with a terrified face, was at his ear. "O me, O me!All is lost!" cried she, wringing her hands. "What is to be toldto Ladybird? He doesn't know me, and is making shoes!"

　　Mr. Lorry said what he could to calm her, and went himself into theDoctor's room. The bench was turned towards the light, as it hadbeen when he had seen the shoemaker at his work before, and his headwas bent down, and he was very busy.

　　"Doctor Manette. My dear friend, Doctor Manette!"

　　The Doctor looked at him for a moment--half inquiringly, half as ifhe were angry at being spoken to--and bent over his work again.

　　He had laid aside his coat and waistcoat; his shirt was open at thethroat, as it used to be when he did that work; and even the oldhaggard, faded surface of face had come back to him. He worked hard--impatiently--as if in some sense of having been interrupted.

　　Mr. Lorry glanced at the work in his hand, and observed that it wasa shoe of the old size and shape. He took up another that was lyingby him, and asked what it was.

　　"A young lady's walking shoe," he muttered, without looking up."It ought to have been finished long ago. Let it be."

　　"But, Doctor Manette. Look at me!"

　　He obeyed, in the old mechanically submissive manner, withoutpausing in his work.

　　"You know me, my dear friend? Think again. This is not your properoccupation. Think, dear friend!"

　　Nothing would induce him to speak more. He looked up, for an instantat a time, when he was requested to do so; but, no persuasion wouldextract a word from him. He worked, and worked, and worked, in silence,and words fell on him as they would have fallen on an echoless wall,or on the air. The only ray of hope that Mr. Lorry could discover,was, that he sometimes furtively looked up without being asked. In that,there seemed a faint expression of curiosity or perplexity--as thoughhe were trying to reconcile some doubts in his mind.

　　Two things at once impressed themselves on Mr. Lorry, as importantabove all others; the first, that this must be kept secret from Lucie;the second, that it must be kept secret from all who knew him. Inconjunction with Miss Pross, he took immediate steps towards thelatter precaution, by giving out that the Doctor was not well, andrequired a few days of complete rest. In aid of the kind deceptionto be practised on his daughter, Miss Pross was to write, describinghis having been called away professionally, and referring to animaginary letter of two or three hurried lines in his own hand,represented to have been addressed to her by the same post.

　　These measures, advisable to be taken in any case, Mr. Lorry took inthe hope of his coming to himself. If that should happen soon, he keptanother course in reserve; which was, to have a certain opinion that hethought the best, on the Doctor's case.

　　In the hope of his recovery, and of resort to this third course beingthereby rendered practicable, Mr. Lorry resolved to watch himattentively, with as little appearance as possible of doing so.He therefore made arrangements to absent himself from Tellson's for thefirst time in his life, and took his post by the window in the same room.

　　He was not long in discovering that it was worse than useless to speakto him, since, on being pressed, he became worried. He abandoned thatattempt on the first day, and resolved merely to keep himself alwaysbefore him, as a silent protest against the delusion into which he hadfallen, or was falling. He remained, therefore, in his seat near thewindow, reading and writing, and expressing in as many pleasant andnatural ways as he could think of, that it was a free place.

　　Doctor Manette took what was given him to eat and drink, and worked on,that first day, until it was too dark to see--worked on, half an hourafter Mr. Lorry could not have seen, for his life, to read or write.When he put his tools aside as useless, until morning, Mr. Lorry roseand said to him:

　　"Will you go out?"

　　He looked down at the floor on either side of him in the old manner,looked up in the old manner, and repeated in the old low voice:

　　"Out?"

　　"Yes; for a walk with me. Why not?"

　　He made no effort to say why not, and said not a word more. But,Mr. Lorry thought he saw, as he leaned forward on his bench in thedusk, with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, that hewas in some misty way asking himself, "Why not?" The sagacity of theman of business perceived an advantage here, and determined to hold it.

　　Miss Pross and he divided the night into two watches, and observed himat intervals from the adjoining room. He paced up and down for a longtime before he lay down; but, when he did finally lay himself down,he fell asleep. In the morning, he was up betimes, and went straightto his bench and to work.

　　On this second day, Mr. Lorry saluted him cheerfully by his name, andspoke to him on topics that had been of late familiar to them. Hereturned no reply, but it was evident that he heard what was said,and that he thought about it, however confusedly. This encouragedMr. Lorry to have Miss Pross in with her work, several times during theday; at those times, they quietly spoke of Lucie, and of her father thenpresent, precisely in the usual manner, and as if there were nothingamiss. This was done without any demonstrative accompaniment, not longenough, or often enough to harass him; and it lightened Mr. Lorry'sfriendly heart to believe that he looked up oftener, and that he appearedto be stirred by some perception of inconsistencies surrounding him.

　　When it fell dark again, Mr. Lorry asked him as before:

　　"Dear Doctor, will you go out?"

　　As before, he repeated, "Out?"

　　"Yes; for a walk with me. Why not?"

　　This time, Mr. Lorry feigned to go out when he could extract no answerfrom him, and, after remaining absent for an hour, returned. In themeanwhile, the Doctor had removed to the seat in the window, and hadsat there looking down at the plane-tree; but, on Mr. Lorry's return,be slipped away to his bench.

　　The time went very slowly on, and Mr. Lorry's hope darkened, and hisheart grew heavier again, and grew yet heavier and heavier every day.The third day came and went, the fourth, the fifth. Five days, sixdays, seven days, eight days, nine days.

　　With a hope ever darkening, and with a heart always growing heavierand heavier, Mr. Lorry passed through this anxious time. The secretwas well kept, and Lucie was unconscious and happy; but he could notfail to observe that the shoemaker, whose hand had been a little outat first, was growing dreadfully skilful, and that he had never beenso intent on his work, and that his hands had never been so nimble andexpert, as in the dusk of the ninth evening.