The Best of the Bureau/The_Best_of_the_Bureau_Bureau_Development_Inc._1992.iso/dp/0067/00677.txt

Text File | 1992-08-07 | 17KB | 349 lines

$Unique_ID{bob00677}
$Pretitle{}
$Title{(A) Tale Of Two Cities
Chapter XIX}
$Subtitle{}
$Author{Dickens, Charles}
$Affiliation{}
$Subject{lorry
doctor
himself
how
manette
dear
mind
am
case
friend
see
pictures
see
figures
}
$Date{}
$Log{See Mr. Lorry and Miss Pross*0067701.scf
}
Title:       (A) Tale Of Two Cities
Book:        Book The Second: The Golden Thread
Author:      Dickens, Charles

Chapter XIX

An Opinion

     Worn 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 heavy 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 an impression had actually happened?

     It was but the inquiry of his first confusion and astonishment, the
answer being obvious.  If the impression were not produced by a real
corresponding and sufficient cause, how came he, Jarvis Lorry, there?  How
came he to have fallen asleep, in his clothes, on the sofa in Dr. Manette's
consulting-room, and to be debating these points outside the Doctor's bedroom
door in the early morning?

     Within a few minutes, Miss Pross stood whispering at his side.  If he
had had any particle of doubt left, her talk would of necessity have resolved
it; but he was by that time clear-headed, and had none.  He advised that they
should let the time go by until the regular breakfast-hour, and should then
meet the Doctor as if nothing unusual had occurred.  If he appeared to be in
his customary state of mind, Mr. Lorry would then cautiously proceed to seek
direction and guidance from the opinion he had been, in his anxiety, so
anxious to obtain.

     Miss Pross submitting herself to his judgment, the scheme was worked out
with care.  Having abundance of time for his usual methodical toilette, Mr.
Lorry presented himself at the breakfast-hour in his usual white linen, and
with his usual neat leg.  The Doctor was summoned in the usual way, and came
to breakfast.

     So far as it was possible to comprehend him without overstepping those
delicate and gradual approaches which Mr. Lorry felt to be the only safe
advance, he at first supposed that his daughter's marriage had taken place
yesterday.  An incidental allusion, purposely thrown out, to the day of the
week, and the day of the month, set him thinking and counting, and evidently
made him uneasy.  In all other respects, however, he was so composedly
himself, that Mr. Lorry determined to have the aid he sought.  And that aid
was his own.

     Therefore, when the breakfast was done and cleared away, and he and the
Doctor were left together, Mr. Lorry said, feelingly:

     "My dear Manette, I am anxious to have your opinion, in confidence, on a
very curious case in which I am deeply interested: that is to say, it is very
curious to me; perhaps, to your better information it may be less so."

     Glancing at his hands, which were discoloured by his late work, the
Doctor looked troubled, and listened attentively.  He had already glanced at
his hands more than once.

     "Doctor Manette," said Mr. Lorry, touching him affectionately on the
arm, "the case is the case of a particularly dear friend of mine.  Pray give
your mind to it, and advise me well for his sake - and above all, for his
daughter's - his daughter's, my dear Manette."

     "If I understand," said the Doctor, in a subdued tone, "some mental
shock -?"

     "Yes!"

     "Be explicit," said the Doctor.  "Spare no detail."

     Mr. Lorry saw that they understood one another, and proceeded.

     "My dear Manette, it is the case of an old and a prolonged shock, of
great acuteness and severity to the affections, the feelings, the - the - as
you express it - the mind.  The mind.  It is the case of a shock under which
the sufferer was borne down, one cannot say for how long, because I believe
he cannot calculate the time himself, and there are no other means of getting
at it.  It is the case of a shock from which the sufferer recovered, by a
process that he cannot trace himself - as I once heard him publicly relate in
a striking manner.  It is the case of a shock from which he has recovered, so
completely, as to be a highly intelligent man, capable of close application
of mind, and great exertion of body, and of constantly making fresh additions
to his stock of knowledge, which was already very large.  But, unfortunately,
there has been" - he paused and took a deep breath - "a slight relapse."

     The Doctor, in a low voice, asked, "Of how long duration?"

     "Nine days and nights."

     "How did it show itself?  I infer," glancing at his hands again, "in the
resumption of some old pursuit connected with the shock?"

     "That is the fact."

     "Now, did you ever see him," asked the Doctor, distinctly and
collectedly, though in the same low voice, "engaged in that pursuit
originally?"

     "Once."

     "And when the relapse fell on him, was he in most respects - or in all
respects - as he was then?"

     "I think in all respects."

     "You spoke of his daughter.  Does his daughter know of the relapse?"

     "No.  It has been kept from her, and I hope will always be kept from
her.  It is known only to myself, and to one other who may be trusted."

     The Doctor grasped his hand, and murmured, "That was very kind.  That
was very thoughtful!"  Mr. Lorry grasped his hand in return, and neither of
the two spoke for a little while.

     "Now, my dear Manette," said Mr. Lorry, at length, in his most
considerate and most affectionate way, "I am a mere man of business, and
unfit to cope with such intricate and difficult matters.  I do not possess
the kind of information necessary; I do not possess the kind of intelligence;
I want guiding.  There is no man in this world on whom I could so rely for
right guidance, as on you.  Tell me, how does this relapse come about?  Is
there danger of another?  Could a repetition of it be prevented?  How should
a repetition of it be treated?  How does it come about at all?  What can I do
for my friend?  No man ever can have been more desirous in his heart to serve
a friend, than I am to serve mine, if I knew how.  But I don't know how to
originate, in such a case.  If your sagacity, knowledge, and experience,
could put me on the right track, I might be able to do so much; unenlightened
and undirected, I can do so little.  Pray discuss it with me; pray enable me
to see it a little more clearly, and teach me how to be a little more
useful."

     Doctor Manette sat meditating after these earnest words were spoken, and
Mr. Lorry did not press him.

     "I think it probable," said the Doctor, breaking silence with an effort,
"that the relapse you have described, my dear friend, was not quite
unforeseen by its subject."

     "Was it dreaded by him?"  Mr. Lorry ventured to ask.

     "Very much."  He said it with an involuntary shudder.

     "You have no idea how such an apprehension weighs on the sufferer's
mind, and how difficult - how almost impossible - it is, for him to force
himself to utter a word upon the topic that oppresses him."

     "Would he," asked Mr. Lorry, "be sensibly relieved if he could prevail
upon himself