XVIII. Nine Days
The marriage-day was shining brightly, and they were ready outside theclosed door of the Doctor's room, where he was speaking with CharlesDarnay. They were ready to go to church; the beautiful bride, Mr.Lorry, and Miss Pross--to whom the event, through a gradual process ofreconcilement to the inevitable, would have been one of absolute bliss,but for the yet lingering consideration that her brother Solomon shouldhave 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 I thoughtwhat I was doing! How lightly I valued the obligation I was conferringon 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 with her,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," saidMiss Pross, "that I didn't cry over, last night after the box came, tillI 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, "thatseems probable, too."
"And you were cut out for a bachelor," pursued Miss Pross, "before youwere 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 soothingly roundher waist, "I hear them moving in the next room, and Miss Pross andI, as two formal folks of business, are anxious not to lose the finalopportunity of saying something to you that you wish to hear. You leaveyour good father, my dear, in hands as earnest and as loving as yourown; he shall be taken every conceivable care of; during the nextfortnight, while you are in Warwickshire and thereabouts, even Tellson'sshall go to the wall (comparatively speaking) before him. And when, atthe fortnight's end, he comes to join you and your beloved husband, onyour other fortnight's trip in Wales, you shall say that we have senthim to you in the best health and in the happiest frame. Now, I hearSomebody's step coming to the door. Let me kiss my dear girl with anold-fashioned bachelor blessing, before Somebody comes to claim hisown."
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 to theshrewd glance of Mr. Lorry it disclosed some shadowy indication that theold air of avoidance and dread had lately passed over him, like a coldwind.
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 thedark obscurity of one of Mr. Lorry's pockets. They returned home tobreakfast, and all went well, and in due course the golden hair that hadmingled with the poor shoemaker's white locks in the Paris garret, weremingled with them again in the morning sunlight, on the threshold of thedoor 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, and she wasgone.
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 a greatchange to have come over the Doctor; as if the golden arm upliftedthere, 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, it wasthe old scared lost look that troubled Mr. Lorry; and through his absentmanner of clasping his head and drearily wandering away into his ownroom when they got up-stairs, Mr. Lorry was reminded of Defarge thewine-shop keeper, and the starlight ride.
"I think," he whispered to Miss Pross, after anxious consideration, "Ithink 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 look out ofTellson's. He was detained two hours. When he came back, he ascended theold staircase alone, having asked no question of the servant; going thusinto 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 islost!" 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 theDoctor's room. The bench was turned towards the light, as it had beenwhen he had seen the shoemaker at his work before, and his head was bentdown, 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 hewere 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 workedhard--impatiently--as if in some sense of having been interrupted.
Mr. Lorry glanced at the work in his hand, and observed that it was ashoe of the old size and shape. He took up another that was lying byhim, and asked what it was.
"A young lady's walking shoe," he muttered, without looking up. "Itought 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 inhis 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 instant ata time, when he was requested to do so; but, no persuasion would extracta word from him. He worked, and worked, and worked, in silence, andwords fell on him as they would have fallen on an echoless wall, or onthe air. The only ray of hope that Mr. Lorry could discover, was, thathe sometimes furtively looked up without being asked. In that, thereseemed a faint expression of curiosity or perplexity--as though he weretrying to reconcile some doubts in his mind.
Two things at once impressed themselves on Mr. Lorry, as important aboveall others; t
he 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 the latterprecaution, by giving out that the Doctor was not well, and required afew days of complete rest. In aid of the kind deception to be practisedon his daughter, Miss Pross was to write, describing his having beencalled away professionally, and referring to an imaginary letter oftwo or three hurried lines in his own hand, represented to have beenaddressed 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 coursebeing thereby rendered practicable, Mr. Lorry resolved to watch himattentively, with as little appearance as possible of doing so. Hetherefore made arrangements to absent himself from Tellson's for thefirst time in his life, and took his post by the window in the sameroom.
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 the dusk,with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, that he was insome misty way asking himself, "Why not?" The sagacity of the man ofbusiness 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, hefell asleep. In the morning, he was up betimes, and went straight to hisbench 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. Hereturned no reply, but it was evident that he heard what was said, andthat he thought about it, however confusedly. This encouraged Mr. Lorryto have Miss Pross in with her work, several times during the day;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 heappeared to be stirred by some perception of inconsistencies surroundinghim.
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, heslipped 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, six days,seven days, eight days, nine days.
With a hope ever darkening, and with a heart always growing heavier andheavier, Mr. Lorry passed through this anxious time. The secret waswell kept, and Lucie was unconscious and happy; but he could not fail toobserve that the shoemaker, whose hand had been a little out at first,was growing dreadfully skilful, and that he had never been so intent onhis work, and that his hands had never been so nimble and expert, as inthe dusk of the ninth evening.