He occupied rooms in the Bank, in his fidelity to the House of

which he had grown to be a part, like strong root-ivy. It chanced

that they derived a kind of security from the patriotic occupation

of the main building, but the true-hearted old gentleman never

calculated about that. All such circumstances were indifferent to

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him, so that he did his duty. On the opposite side of the courtyard,

under a colonnade, was extensive standing for carriageswhere,

indeed, some carriages of Monseigneur yet stood. Against two of

the pillars were fastened two great flaring flambeaux, and in the

light of these, standing to in the open air, was a large grindstone: a

roughly mounted thing which appeared to have hurriedly been

brought there from some neighbouring smithy, or other workshop.

Rising and looking out of the window at these harmless objects,

Mr. Lorry shivered, and retired to his seat by the fire. He had

opened, not only the glass window, but the lattice blind outside it,

and he had closed both again, and he shivered through his frame.

From the streets beyond the high wall and the strong gate,

there came the usual night hum of the city, with now and then an

indescribable ring in it, weird and unearthly, as if some unwonted

sounds of a terrible nature were going up to Heaven.

“Thank God,” said Mr. Lorry, clasping his hands, “that no one

near and dear to me is in this dreadful town tonight. May He have

mercy on all who are in danger!”

Soon afterwards the bell at the great gate sounded, and he

thought, “They have come back!” and sat listening. But, there was

no loud irruption into the courtyard, as he had expected, and he

heard the gate clash again, and all was quiet.

The nervousness and dread that were upon him inspired that

vague uneasiness respecting the Bank, which a great change

would naturally awaken, with such feelings roused. It was well

guarded, and he got up to go among the trusty people watching it,

when his door suddenly opened, and two figures rushed in, at

sight of which he fell back in amazement.

Lucie and her father! Lucie with her arms stretched out to him,

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and with that old look of earnestness so concentrated and

intensified, that it seemed as though it had been stamped upon her

face expressly to give force and power to it in this one passage of

her life.

“What is this?” cried Mr. Lorry, breathless and confused.

“What is the matter? Lucie! Manette! What has happened? What

has brought you here? What is it?”

With the look fixed upon him, in her paleness and wildness, she

panted out in his arms, imploringly, “O my dear friend! My

husband!”

“Your husband, Lucie?”

“Charles.”

“What of Charles?”

“Here.”