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you with all the constancy and fervour of her present years and
character, united to the trustfulness and attachment of the early
days in which you were lost to her.

I know perfectly well that if you had been restored to her from the
world beyond this life, you could hardly be invested, in her sight,
with a more sacred character than that in which you are always
with her. I know that when she is clinging to you, the hands of
baby, girl, and woman, all in one, are round your neck. I know that
in loving you she sees and loves her mother at her own age, sees
and loves you at my age, loves her mother broken-hearted, loves
you through your dreadful trial and in your blessed restoration. I
have known this, night and day, since I have known you in your
home.” Her father sat silent, with his face bent down. His
breathing was a little quickened; but he repressed all other signs of

“Dear Doctor Manette, always knowing this, always seeing her and
you with this hallowed light about you, I have forborne, and
forborne, as long as it was in the nature of man to do it. I have felt,
and do even now feel, that to bring my loveeven mine-between
you, is to touch your history with something not quite so good as
itself. But I love her. Heaven is my witness that I love her!” “I
believe it,” answered her father, mournfully. “I have thought so
before now. I believe it.” “But, do not believe,” said Darnay, upon
whose ear the mournful voice struck with a reproachful sound,
“that if my fortune were so cast as that, being one day so happy as
to make her my wife, I must at any time put any separation
between her and you, I could or would breathe a word of what I
now say. Besides that I should know it to be hopeless, I should
know it to be a baseness. If I had any such possibility, even at a
remote distance of years, harboured in my thoughts, and hidden in
my heart-if it ever had been there-if it ever could be there-I could
not now touch this honoured hand.” He laid his own upon it as he

“No, dear Doctor Manette. Like you, a voluntary exile from France;
like you, driven from it by its distractions, oppressions, and
miseries; like you, striving to live away from it by my own
exertions, and trusting in a happier future; I look only to sharing
your fortunes, sharing your Life and home, and being faithful to
you to the death. Not to divide with Lucie her privilege as your
child, companion, and friend; but to come in aid of it, and bind her
closer to you, if such a thing can be.” His touch still lingered on her
father’s hand. Answering the touch for a moment, but not coldly,
her father rested his hands upon the arms of his chair, and looked
up for the first time since the beginning of the conference. A
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