A certain portion of his time was passed at Cambridge, where

he read with undergraduates as a sort of tolerated smuggler who

drove a contraband trade in European languages, instead of

conveying Greek and Latin through the Custom-house. The rest of

his time he passed in London.

Now, from the days when it was always summer in Eden, to

these days when it is mostly winter in fallen latitudes, the world of

a man has invariably gone one wayCharles Darnay’s waythe

way of the love of a woman.

He had loved Lucie Manette from the hour of his danger. He

had never heard a sound so sweet and dear as the sound of her

compassionate voice; he had never seen a face so tenderly

beautiful, as hers when it was confronted with his own on the edge

of the grave that had been dug for him. But, he had not yet spoken

to her on the subject; the assassination at the deserted chateau far

away beyond the heaving water, and the long, long, dusty roads

the solid stone chateau which had itself become the mere mist of a

dreamhad been done a year, and he had never yet, by so much

as a single spoken word, disclosed to her the state of his heart.

That he had his reasons for this, he knew full well. It was again

a summer day when, lately arrived in London from his college

occupation, he turned into the quiet corner in Soho, bent on

seeking an opportunity of opening his mind to Doctor Manette. It

was the close of the summer day, and he knew Lucie to be out

with Miss Pross.

He found the Doctor reading in his armchair at a window. The

energy which had at once supported him under his old sufferings

and aggravated their sharpness, had been gradually restored to

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

him. He was now a very energetic man indeed, with great firmness

of purpose, strength of resolution, and vigour of action. In his

recovered energy he was sometimes a little fitful and sudden, as he

had at first been in the exercise of his other recovered faculties;

but, this had never been frequently observable, and had grown

more and more rare.

He studied much, slept little, sustained a great deal of fatigue

with ease, and was equably cheerful. To him, now entered Charles

Darnay, at sight of whom he laid aside his book and held out his

hand.

“Charles Darnay! I rejoice to see you. We have been counting

on your return these three or four days past. Mr. Stryver and

Sydney Carton were both here yesterday, and both made you out

to be more than due.”

“I am obliged to them for their interest in the matter,” he

answered, a little coldly as to them, though very warmly as to the

Doctor. “Miss Manette“

“Is well,” said the Doctor, as he stopped short, “and your return

will delight us all. She has gone out on some household matters,

but will soon be home.”

“Doctor Manette, I knew she was from home. I took the