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

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 palewhich had not been the

case when they went in togetherthat 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 wind.

He gave his arm to his daughter, and took her downstairs 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.

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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 gone.

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 upstairs, 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 in 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