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France in his mind, he did not discuss with himself. But, that
circumstance too, had had its influence in his course.

He walked to and fro, with thoughts very busy, until it was time to
return to Tellson’s and take leave of Mr. Lorry. As soon as he
arrived in Paris he would present himself to this old friend, but he
must say nothing of his intention now.

A carriage with post-horses was ready at the Bank door, and Jerry
was booted and equipped.

“I have delivered that letter,” said Charles Darnay to Mr. Lorry. “I
would not consent to your being charged with any written answer,
but perhaps you will take a verbal one?”

“That I will, and readily,” said Mr. Lorry, “if it is not dangerous.”
“Not at all. Though it is to a prisoner in the Abbaye.” “What is his
name?” said Mr. Lorry, with his open pocket-book in his hand.
“Gabelle.” “Gabelle. And what is the message to the unfortunate
Gabelle in prison?” “Simply, ‘that he has received the letter, and
will come.’” “Any time mentioned?” “He will start upon his
journey to-morrow night.” “Any person mentioned?” “No.” He
helped Mr. Lorry to wrap himself in a number of coats and cloaks,
and went out with him from the warm atmosphere of the old Bank,
into the misty air of Fleet-street. “My love to Lucie, and to little
Lucie,” said Mr. Lorry at parting, “and take precious care of them
till I come back.” Charles Darnay shook his head and doubtfully
smiled, as the carriage rolled away.

That night-it was the fourteenth of August-he sat up late, and
wrote two fervent letters; one was to Lucie, explaining the strong
obligation he was under to go to Paris, and showing her, at length,
the reasons that he had, for feeling confident that he could become
involved in no personal danger there; the other was to the Doctor,
confiding Lucie and their dear child to his care, and dwelling on
the same topics with the strongest assurances. To both, he wrote
that he would despatch letters in proof of his safety, immediately
after his arrival.

It was a hard day, that day of being among them, with the first
reservation of their joint lives on his mind. It was a hard matter to
preserve the innocent deceit of which they were profoundly
unsuspicious. But, an affectionate glance at his wife, so happy and
busy, made him resolute not to tell her what impended (he had
been half moved to do it, so strange it was to him to act in anything
without her quiet aid), and the day passed quickly. Early in the
evening he embraced her, and her scarcely less dear namesake,
pretending that he would return by-and-bye (an imaginary
engagement took him out, and he had secreted a valise of clothes
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