relative to the cause of his being so oppressed; perhaps, even to

the name of his oppressor?”

“I don’t suppose anything about it but what Ladybird tells me.”

“And that is?”

“That she thinks he has.”

“Now don’t be angry at my asking all these questions; because I

am a mere dull man of business, and you are a woman of

business.”

“Dull?” Miss Pross inquired, with placidity.

Rather wishing his modest adjective away, Mr. Lorry replied,

“No, no, no. Surely not. To return to business:Is it not

remarkable that Doctor Manette, unquestionably innocent of any

crime as we are all well assured he is, should never touch upon

that question? I will not say with me, though he had business

relations with me many years ago, and we are now intimate; I will

say with the fair daughter to whom he is so devotedly attached,

and who is so devotedly attached to him? Believe me, Miss Pross, I

don’t approach the topic with you, out of curiosity, but out of

zealous interest.”

“Well! To the best of my understanding, and bad’s the best,

you’ll tell me,” said Miss Pross, softened by the tone of the

apology, “he is afraid of the whole subject.”

“Afraid?”

“It’s plain enough, I should think, why he may be. It’s a

dreadful remembrance. Besides that, his loss of himself grew out

of it. Not knowing how he lost himself, or how he recovered

himself, he may never feel certain of not losing himself again. That

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

alone wouldn’t make the subject pleasant, I should think.”

It was a profounder remark than Mr. Lorry had looked for.

“True,” said he, “and fearful to reflect upon. Yet, a doubt lurks in

my mind, Miss Pross, whether it is good for Doctor Manette to

have that suppression always shut up within him. Indeed, it is this

doubt and the uneasiness it sometimes causes me that has led me

to our present confidence.”

“Can’t be helped,” said Miss Pross, shaking her head. “Touch

that string, and he instantly changes for the worse. Better leave it

alone. In short, must leave it alone, like or no like. Sometimes, he

gets up in the dead of the night, and will be heard, by us overhead

there, walking up and down, walking up and down, in his room.

Ladybird has learnt to know then that his mind is walking up and

down, walking up and down, in his old prison. She hurries to him,

and they go on together, walking up and down, walking up and

down, until he is composed. But he never says a word of the true

reason of his restlessness, to her, and she finds it best not to hint at

it to him. In silence they go walking up and down together,

walking up and down together, till her love and company have

brought him to himself.”

Notwithstanding Miss Pross’s denial of her own imagination,

there was a perception of the pain of being monotonously haunted