Multimedia Mania/abacus-multimedia-mania.iso/dp/0067/00677.txt

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$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 to impart that secret brooding to any one, when it is on him?"

     "I think so.  But it is, as I have told you, next to impossible.  I even
believe it - in some cases - to be quite impossible."

     "Now," said Mr. Lorry, gently laying his hand on the Doctor's arm again,
after a short silence on both sides, "to what would you refer this attack?"

     "I believe," returned Doctor Manette, "that there had been a strong and
extraordinary revival of the train of thought and remembrance that was the
first cause of the malady.  Some intense associations of a most distressing
nature were vividly recalled, I think.  It is probable that there had long
been a dread lurking in his mind, that those associations would be recalled -
say, under certain circumstances - say, on a particular occasion.  He tried
to prepare himself in vain; perhaps the effort to prepare himself made him
less able to bear it."

     "Would he remember what took place in the relapse?" asked Mr. Lorry,
with natural hesitation.

     The Doctor looked desolately round the room, shook his head, and
answered, in a low voice, "Not at all."

     "Now, as to the future," hinted Mr.Lorry.

     "As to the future," said the Doctor, recovering firmness, "I should have
great hope.  As it pleased Heaven in its mercy to restore him so soon, I
should have great hope.  He, yielding under the pressure of a complicated
something,long dreaded and long vaguely foreseen and contended against, and
recovering after the cloud had burst and passed, I should hope that the worst
was over."

     "Well, well!  That's good comfort.  I am thankful!" said Mr. Lorry.

     "I am thankful!" repeated the Doctor, bending his head with reverence.

     "There are two other points," said Mr. Lorry, "on which I am anxious to
be instructed.  I may go on?"

     "You cannot do your friend a better service."  The Doctor gave him his
hand.

     "To the first, then.  He is of a studious habit, and unusually
energetic; he applies himself with great ardour to the acquisition of
professional knowledge, to the conducting of experiments, to many things.
Now, does he do too much?"

     "I think not.  It may be the character of his mind, to be always in
singular need of occupation.  That may be, in part, natural to it; in part,
the result of affliction.  The less it was occupied with healthy things, the
more it would be in danger of turning in the unhealthy direction.  He may
have observed himself, and made the discovery."

     "You are sure that he is not under too great a strain?"

     "I think I am quite sure of it."

     "My dear Manette, if he were overworked now -"

     "My dear Lorry, I doubt if that could easily be.  There has been a
violent stress in one direction, and it needs a counterweight."

     "Excuse me, as a persistent man of business.  Assuming for a moment,
that he was overworked; it would show itself in some renewal of this
disorder?"

     "I do not think so.  I do not think," said Doctor Manette with the
firmness of self-conviction, "that anything but the one train of association
would renew it.  I think that, henceforth nothing but some extraordinary
jarring of that chord could renew it.  After ,what has happened, and after
his recovery, I find it difficult to imagine any such violent sounding of
that string again.  I trust, and I almost believe, that the circumstances
likely to renew it are exhausted."

     He spoke with the diffidence of a man who knew how slight a thing would
overset the delicate organisation of the mind, and yet with the confidence of
a man who had slowly won his assurance out of personal endurance and
distress.  It was not for his friend to abate that confidence.  He professed
himself more relieved and encouraged than he really was, and approached his
second and last point.  He felt it to be the most difficult of all; but,
remembering his old Sunday morning conversation with Miss Pross, and
remembering what he had seen in the last nine days, he knew that he must face
it.

     "The occupation resumed under the influence of this passing affliction
so happily recovered from," said Mr. Lorry, clearing his throat, "we will
call - lacksmith's work, Blacksmith's work.  We will say, to put a case and
for the sake of illustration, that he had been used, in his bad time, to work
at a little forge.  We will say that he was unexpectedly found at his forge
again.  Is it not a pity that he should keep it by him?"

     The Doctor shaded his forehead with his hand, and beat his foot
nervously on the ground.

     "He has always kept it by him," said Mr. Lorry, with an anxious look at
his friend.  "Now, would it not be better that he should let it go?"

     Still, the Doctor, with shaded forehead, beat his foot nervously on the
ground.

     "You do not find it easy to advise me?" said Mr. Lorry.  "I quite
understand it to be a nice question.  And yet I think -" And there he shook
his head, and stopped.

     "You see," said Doctor Manette, turning to him after an uneasy pause,
"it is very hard to explain, consistently, the innermost workings of this
poor man's mind.  He once yearned so frightfully for that occupation, and it
was so welcome when it came; no doubt it relieved his pain so much, by
substituting the perplexity of the fingers for the perplexity of the brain,
and by substituting, as he became more practised, the ingenuity of the hands,
for the ingenuity of the mental torture; that he has never been able to bear
the thought of putting it quite out of his reach.  Even now, when I believe
he is more hopeful of himself than he has ever been, and even speaks of
himself with a kind of confidence, the idea that he might need that old
employment, and not find it, gives him a sudden sense of terror, like that
which one may fancy strikes to the heart of a lost child."

     He looked like his illustration, as he raised his eyes to Mr. Lorry's
face.

     "But may not-mind!  I ask for information, as a plodding man of business
who only deals with such material objects as guineas, shillings, and bank -
notes - may not the retention of the thing involve the retention of the idea?
If the thing were gone, my dear Manette, might not the fear go with it?  In
short, is it not a concession to the misgiving, to keep the forge?"

     There was another silence.

     "You see, too," said the Doctor, tremulously, "it is such an old
companion."

     "I would not keep it," said Mr. Lorry, shaking his head; for he gained
in firmness as he saw the Doctor disquieted.  "I would recommend him to
sacrifice it.  I only want your authority.  I am sure it does no good.  Come!
Give me your authority, like a dear good man.  For his daughter's sake, my
dear Manette!"

     Very strange to see what a struggle there was within him!

     "In her name, then, let it be done; I sanction it.  But, I would not
take it away while he was present.  Let it be removed when he is not there;
let him miss his old companion after an absence."

     Mr. Lorry readily engaged for that, and the conference was ended.  They
passed the day in the country, and the Doctor was quite restored.  On the
three following days he remained perfectly well, and on the fourteenth day he
went away to join Lucie and her husband.  The precaution that had been taken
to account for his silence, Mr. Lorry had previously explained to him, and he
had written to Lucie in accordance with it, and she had no suspicions.

     On the night of the day on which he left the house, Mr. Lorry went into
his room with a chopper, saw, chisel, and hammer, attended by Miss Pross
carrying a light.  There, with closed doors, and in a mysterious and guilty
manner, Mr. Lorry hacked the shoemaker's bench to pieces, while Miss Pross
held the candle as if she were assisting at a murder - for which, indeed, in
her grimness, she was no unsuitable figure.  The burning of the body
(previously reduced to pieces convenient for the purpose) was commenced
without delay in the kitchen fire; and the tools, shoes, and leather, were
buried in the garden.  So wicked do destruction and secrecy appear to honest
minds, that Mr. Lorry and Miss Pross, while engaged in the commission of
their deed and in the removal of its traces, almost felt, and almost looked,
like accomplices in a horrible crime.

[See Mr. Lorry and Miss Pross: The burning of the body was commenced without
delay in the kitchen fire; and the tools, shoes and leather, were buried in
the garden.]