have come here to realise. Let me carry through the rest of my

misdirected life, the remembrance that I opened my heart to you,

last of all the world; and that there was something left in me at this

time which you could deplore and pity.”

“Which I entreated you to believe, again and again, most

fervently, with all my heart, was capable of better things, Mr.

Carton!”

“Entreat me to believe it no more, Miss Manette. I have proved

myself, and I know better. I distress you; I draw fast to an end. Will

you let me believe, when I recall this day, that the last confidence

of my life was reposed in your pure and innocent breast, and that

it lies there alone, and will be shared by no one?”

“If that will be a consolation to you, yes.”

“Not even by the dearest one ever to be known to you?”

“Mr. Carton,” she answered, after an agitated pause, “the secret

is yours, not mine; and I promise to respect it.”

“Thank you. And again God bless you.”

He put her hand to his lips, and moved towards the door.

“Be under no apprehension, Miss Manette, of my ever

resuming this conversation by so much as a passing word. I will

never refer to it again. If I were dead, that could not be surer than

it is henceforth. In the hour of my death, I shall hold sacred the

one good remembranceand shall thank and bless you for it

that my last avowal of myself was made to you, and that my name,

and faults, and miseries were gently carried in your heart. May it

otherwise be light and happy!”

He was so unlike what he had ever shown himself to be, and it

was so sad to think how much he had thrown away, and how much

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

he every day kept down and perverted, that Lucie Manette wept

mournfully for him as he stood looking back at her.

“Be comforted!” he said, “I am not worth such feeling, Miss

Manette. An hour or two hence, and the low companions and low

habits that I scorn but yield to, will render me less worth such

tears as those, than any wretch who creeps along the streets. Be

comforted! But, within myself, I shall always be, towards you,

what I am now, though outwardly I shall be what you have

heretofore seen me. The last supplication but one I make to you,

is, that you will believe this of me.”

“I will, Mr. Carton.”

“My last supplication of all, is this; and with it, I will relieve you

of a visitor with whom I well know you have nothing in unison,

and between whom and you there is an impassable space. It is

useless to say it, I know, but it rises out of my soul. For you, and

for any dear to you, I would do anything. If my career were of that

better kind that there was any opportunity or capacity of sacrifice

in it, I would embrace any sacrifice for you and for those dear to

you. Try to hold me in your mind, at some quiet times, as ardent

and sincere in this one thing. The time will come, the time will not

be long in coming, when new ties will be formed about youties