XI. Dusk
The wretched wife of the innocent man thus doomed to die, fell underthe sentence, as if she had been mortally stricken. But, she uttered nosound; and so strong was the voice within her, representing that it wasshe of all the world who must uphold him in his misery and not augmentit, that it quickly raised her, even from that shock.
The Judges having to take part in a public demonstration out of doors,the Tribunal adjourned. The quick noise and movement of the court'semptying itself by many passages had not ceased, when Lucie stoodstretching out her arms towards her husband, with nothing in her facebut love and consolation.
"If I might touch him! If I might embrace him once! O, good citizens, ifyou would have so much compassion for us!"
There was but a gaoler left, along with two of the four men who hadtaken him last night, and Barsad. The people had all poured out to theshow in the streets. Barsad proposed to the rest, "Let her embracehim then; it is but a moment." It was silently acquiesced in, and theypassed her over the seats in the hall to a raised place, where he, byleaning over the dock, could fold her in his arms.
"Farewell, dear darling of my soul. My parting blessing on my love. Weshall meet again, where the weary are at rest!"
They were her husband's words, as he held her to his bosom.
"I can bear it, dear Charles. I am supported from above: don't sufferfor me. A parting blessing for our child."
"I send it to her by you. I kiss her by you. I say farewell to her byyou."
"My husband. No! A moment!" He was tearing himself apart from her."We shall not be separated long. I feel that this will break my heartby-and-bye; but I will do my duty while I can, and when I leave her, Godwill raise up friends for her, as He did for me."
Her father had followed her, and would have fallen on his knees to bothof them, but that Darnay put out a hand and seized him, crying:
"No, no! What have you done, what have you done, that you should kneelto us! We know now, what a struggle you made of old. We know, now whatyou underwent when you suspected my descent, and when you knew it. Weknow now, the natural antipathy you strove against, and conquered, forher dear sake. We thank you with all our hearts, and all our love andduty. Heaven be with you!"
Her father's only answer was to draw his hands through his white hair,and wring them with a shriek of anguish.
"It could not be otherwise," said the prisoner. "All things have workedtogether as they have fallen out. It was the always-vain endeavour todischarge my poor mother's trust that first brought my fatal presencenear you. Good could never come of such evil, a happier end was not innature to so unhappy a beginning. Be comforted, and forgive me. Heavenbless you!"
As he was drawn away, his wife released him, and stood looking after himwith her hands touching one another in the attitude of prayer, andwith a radiant look upon her face, in which there was even a comfortingsmile. As he went out at the prisoners' door, she turned, laid her headlovingly on her father's breast, tried to speak to him, and fell at hisfeet.
Then, issuing from the obscure corner from which he had never moved,Sydney Carton came and took her up. Only her father and Mr. Lorry werewith her. His arm trembled as it raised her, and supported her head.Yet, there was an air about him that was not all of pity--that had aflush of pride in it.
"Shall I take her to a coach? I shall never feel her weight."
He carried her lightly to the door, and laid her tenderly down in acoach. Her father and their old friend got into it, and he took his seatbeside the driver.
When they arrived at the gateway where he had paused in the dark notmany hours before, to picture to himself on which of the rough stones ofthe street her feet had trodden, he lifted her again, and carried her upthe staircase to their rooms. There, he laid her down on a couch, whereher child and Miss Pross wept over her.
"Don't recall her to herself," he said, softly, to the latter, "she isbetter so. Don't revive her to consciousness, while she only faints."
"Oh, Carton, Carton, dear Carton!" cried little Lucie, springing up andthrowing her arms passionately round him, in a burst of grief. "Now thatyou have come, I think you will do something to help mamma, something tosave papa! O, look at her, dear Carton! Can you, of all the people wholove her, bear to see her so?"
He bent over the child, and laid her blooming cheek against his face. Heput her gently from him, and looked at her unconscious mother.
"Before I go," he said, and paused--"I may kiss her?"
It was remembered afterwards that when he bent down and touched her facewith his lips, he murmured some words. The child, who was nearest tohim, told them afterwards, and told her grandchildren when she was ahandsome old lady, that she heard him say, "A life you love."
When he had gone out into the next room, he turned suddenly on Mr. Lorryand her father, who were following, and said to the latter:
"You had great influence but yesterday, Doctor Manette; let it at leastbe tried. These judges, and all the men in power, are very friendly toyou, and very recognisant of your services; are they not?"
"Nothing connected with Charles was concealed from me. I had thestrongest assurances that I should save him; and I did." He returned theanswer in great trouble, and very slowly.
"Try them again. The hours between this and to-morrow afternoon are fewand short, but try."
"I intend to try. I will not rest a moment."
"That's well. I have known such energy as yours do great things beforenow--though never," he added, with a smile and a sigh together, "suchgreat things as this. But try! Of little worth as life is when we misuseit, it is worth that effort. It would cost nothing to lay down if itwere not."
"I will go," said Doctor Manette, "to the Prosecutor and the Presidentstraight, and I will go to others whom it is better not to name. I willwrite too, and--But stay! There is a Celebration in the streets, and noone will be accessible until dark."
"That's true. Well! It is a forlorn hope at the best, and not much theforlorner for being delayed till dark. I should like to know how youspeed; though, mind! I expect nothing! When are you likely to have seenthese dread powers, Doctor Manette?"
"Immediately after dark, I should hope. Within an hour or two fromthis."
"It will be dark soon after four. Let us stretch the hour or two. If Igo to Mr. Lorry's at nine, shall I hear what you have done, either fromour friend or from yourself?"
"Yes."
"May you prosper!"
Mr. Lorry followed Sydney to the outer door, and, touching him on theshoulder as he was going away, caused him to turn.
"I have no hope," said Mr. Lorry, in a low and sorrowful whisper.
"Nor have I."
"If any one of these men, or all of these men, were disposed to sparehim--which is a large supposition; for what is his life, or any man'sto them!--I doubt if they durst spare him after the demonstration in thecourt."
"And so do I. I heard the fall of the axe in that sound."
Mr. Lorry leaned his arm upon the door-post, and bowed his face upon it.
"Don't despond," said Carton, very gently; "don't grieve. I encouragedDoctor Manette in this idea, because I felt that it might one day beconsolatory to her. Otherwise, she might think 'his life was wantonlythrown away or wasted,' and that might trouble her."
"Yes, yes, yes," returned Mr. Lorry, drying his eyes, "you are right.But he will perish; there is no real hope."
"Yes. He will perish: there is no real hope," echoed Carton.
And walked with a settled step, down-stairs.
A Tale of Two Cities Page 41
