A TALE OF TWO CITIES - 2 - 18 in English Moral Stories by Charles Dickens books and stories PDF | A TALE OF TWO CITIES - 2 - 18




By Charles Dickens

The Golden Thread


Nine Days

The marriage-day was shining brightly, and they were ready outside the

closed door of the Doctor's room, where he was speaking with Charles

Darnay. They were ready to go to church; the beautiful bride, Mr.

Lorry, and Miss Pross--to whom the event, through a gradual process of

reconcilement to the inevitable, would have been one of absolute bliss,

but for the yet lingering consideration that her brother Solomon 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 brought

you across the Channel, such a baby! Lord bless me! How little I thought

what I was doing! How lightly I valued the obligation I was conferring

on my friend Mr. Charles!”

“You didn't mean it,” remarked the matter-of-fact Miss Pross, “and

therefore 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 with her,

on occasion.)

“You were, just now; I saw you do it, and I don't wonder at it. Such

a present of plate as you have made 'em, is enough to bring tears into

anybody'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, I

had no intention of rendering those trifling articles of remembrance

invisible to any one. Dear me! This is an occasion that makes a man

speculate on all he has lost. Dear, dear, dear! To think that there

might 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 the

gentleman 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, “before you

were put in your cradle.”

“Then, I think,” said Mr. Lorry, “that I was very unhandsomely dealt

with, and that I ought to have had a voice in the selection of my

pattern. Enough! Now, my dear Lucie,” drawing his arm soothingly round

her waist, “I hear them moving in the next room, and Miss Pross and

I, as two formal folks of business, are anxious not to lose the final

opportunity of saying something to you that you wish to hear. You leave

your good father, my dear, in hands as earnest and as loving 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 beloved husband, on

your other fortnight's trip in Wales, you shall say that we 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 dear girl with an

old-fashioned bachelor blessing, before Somebody comes to claim his


For a moment, he held the fair face from him to look at the

well-remembered expression on the forehead, and then laid the bright

golden hair against his little brown wig, with a genuine tenderness and

delicacy 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 Charles

Darnay. He was so deadly pale--which had not been the case when they

went 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 to the

shrewd glance of Mr. Lorry it disclosed some shadowy indication that the

old air of avoidance and dread had lately passed over him, like a cold


He gave his arm to his daughter, and took her down-stairs to the chariot

which Mr. Lorry had hired in honour of the day. The rest followed in

another carriage, and soon, in a neighbouring church, where no strange

eyes looked on, Charles Darnay and Lucie Manette were happily married.

Besides the glancing tears that shone among the smiles of the little

group when it was done, some diamonds, very bright and sparkling,

glanced on the bride's hand, which were newly released from the

dark obscurity of one of Mr. Lorry's pockets. They returned home to

breakfast, and all went well, and in due course the golden hair that had

mingled with the poor shoemaker's white locks in the Paris garret, were

mingled with them again in the morning sunlight, on the threshold of the

door at parting.

It was a hard parting, though it was not for long. But her father

cheered her, and said at last, gently disengaging himself from her

enfolding arms, “Take her, Charles! She is yours!”

And her agitated hand waved to them from a chaise window, and she was


The corner being out of the way of the idle and curious, and the

preparations having been very simple and few, the Doctor, Mr. Lorry,

and Miss Pross, were left quite alone. It was when they turned into

the welcome shade of the cool old hall, that Mr. Lorry observed a great

change to have come over the Doctor; as if the golden arm uplifted

there, had struck him a poisoned blow.

He had naturally repressed much, and some revulsion might have been

expected in him when the occasion for repression was gone. But, it was

the old scared lost look that troubled Mr. Lorry; and through his absent

manner of clasping his head and drearily wandering away into his own

room when they got up-stairs, Mr. Lorry was reminded of Defarge 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 back

presently. Then, we will take him a ride into the country, and dine

there, and all will be well.”

It was easier for Mr. Lorry to look in at Tellson's, than to look out of

Tellson's. He was detained two hours. When he came back, he ascended the

old staircase alone, having asked no question of the servant; going thus

into the Doctor's rooms, he was stopped by a 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 told to Ladybird?

He doesn't know me, and is making shoes!”

Mr. Lorry said what he could to calm her, and went himself into the

Doctor's room. The bench was turned towards the light, as it had been

when he had seen the shoemaker at his work before, and his head was 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 if he

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 the

throat, as it used to be when he did that work; and even the old

haggard, 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 was a

shoe of the old size and shape. He took up another that was lying by

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, without pausing in

his work.

“You know me, my dear friend? Think again. This is not your proper

occupation. Think, dear friend!”

Nothing would induce him to speak more. He looked up, for an instant at

a time, when he was requested to do so; but, no persuasion would extract

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 though he were

trying to reconcile some doubts in his mind.

Two things at once impressed themselves on Mr. Lorry, as important above

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. In

conjunction with Miss Pross, he took immediate steps towards the latter

precaution, by giving out that the Doctor was not well, and required a

few days of complete rest. In aid of the kind deception to be practised

on his daughter, Miss Pross was to write, describing his having been

called away professionally, and referring to an imaginary 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 in

the hope of his coming to himself. If that should happen soon, he kept

another course in reserve; which was, to have a certain opinion that he

thought the best, on the Doctor's case.

In the hope of his recovery, and of resort to this third course

being thereby rendered practicable, Mr. Lorry resolved to watch him

attentively, with as little appearance as possible of doing so. He

therefore made arrangements to absent himself from Tellson's for the

first time in his life, and took his post by the window in the same


He was not long in discovering that it was worse than useless to speak

to him, since, on being pressed, he became worried. He abandoned that

attempt on the first day, and resolved merely to keep himself always

before him, as a silent protest against the delusion into which he had

fallen, or was falling. He remained, therefore, in his seat near the

window, reading and writing, and expressing in as many pleasant and

natural 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 hour

after 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 rose

and 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:


“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 the dusk,

with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, that he was in

some misty way asking himself, “Why not?” The sagacity of the man of

business perceived an advantage here, and determined to hold it.

Miss Pross and he divided the night into two watches, and observed him

at intervals from the adjoining room. He paced up and down for a long

time before he lay down; but, when he did finally lay himself down, he

fell asleep. In the morning, he was up betimes, and went straight to his

bench and to work.

On this second day, Mr. Lorry saluted him cheerfully by his name,

and spoke to him on topics that had been of late familiar to them. He

returned no reply, but it was evident that he heard what was said, and

that he thought about it, however confusedly. This encouraged Mr. Lorry

to have Miss Pross in with her work, several times during the day;

at those times, they quietly spoke of Lucie, and of her father then

present, precisely in the usual manner, and as if there were nothing

amiss. This was done without any demonstrative accompaniment, not long

enough, or often enough to harass him; and it lightened Mr. Lorry's

friendly heart to believe that he looked up oftener, and that he

appeared to be stirred by some perception of inconsistencies surrounding


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 answer

from him, and, after remaining absent for an hour, returned. In the

meanwhile, the Doctor had removed to the seat in the window, and had

sat there looking down at the plane-tree; but, on Mr. Lorry's return, he

slipped away to his bench.

The time went very slowly on, and Mr. Lorry's hope darkened, and his

heart grew heavier again, and grew yet heavier and heavier every day.

The third day came and went, the fourth, the fifth. Five days, six days,

seven days, eight days, nine days.

With a hope ever darkening, and with a heart always growing heavier and

heavier, Mr. Lorry passed through this anxious time. The secret was

well kept, and Lucie was unconscious and happy; but he could not fail to

observe that the shoemaker, whose hand had been a little out at first,

was growing dreadfully skilful, and that he had never been so intent on

his work, and that his hands had never been so nimble and expert, as in

the dusk of the ninth evening.


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Ebiniyi Ogooluwa

Ebiniyi Ogooluwa 3 years ago