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 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

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 hands

had been a little out at first, was growing dreadfully skilful, and

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

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.

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

Chapter XXV

AN OPINION

W

orn out by anxious watching, Mr. Lorry fell asleep at his

post. On the tenth morning of his suspense, he was

startled by the shining of the sun into the room where a

slumber had overtaken him when it was dark night.

He rubbed his eyes and roused himself; but he doubted, when

he had done so, whether he was not still asleep. For, going to the

door of the Doctor’s room and looking in, he perceived that the

shoemaker’s bench and tools were put aside again, and that the

Doctor himself sat reading at the window. He was in his usual

morning dress, and his face (which Mr. Lorry could distinctly see),

though still very pale, was calmly studious and attentive.

Even when he had satisfied himself that he was awake, Mr.

Lorry felt giddily uncertain for some few moments whether the

late shoemaking might not be a disturbed dream of his own; for,

did not his eyes show him his friend before him in his accustomed

clothing and aspect, and employed as usual; and was there any

sign within their range, that the change of which he had so strong