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1As the captive of many years sat looking fixedly, by turns, at Mr. Lorry and at Defarge, some long obliterated marks of
2an actively intent intelligence in the middle of the forehead, gradually forced themselves through the black mist that
3had fallen on him. They were overclouded again, they were fainter, they were gone; but they had been there. And so
4exactly was the expression repeated on the fair young face of her who had crept along the wall to a point where she
5could see him, and where she now stood looking at him, with hands which at first had been only raised in frightened
6compassion, if not even to keep him off and shut out the sight of him, but which were now extending towards him,
7trembling with eagerness to lay the spectral face upon her warm young breast, and love it back to life and hope--so
8exactly was the expression repeated (though in stronger characters) on her fair young face, that it looked as though it
9had passed like a moving light, from him to her. Darkness had fallen on him in its place. He looked at the two, less and
10less attentively, and his eyes in gloomy abstraction sought the ground and looked about him in the old way. Finally,
11with a deep long sigh, he took the shoe up, and resumed his work. "Have you recognised him, monsieur?" asked Defarge in
12a whisper. "Yes; for a moment. At first I thought it quite hopeless, but I have unquestionably seen, for a single
13moment, the face that I once knew so well. Hush! Let us draw further back. Hush!" She had moved from the wall of the
14garret, very near to the bench on which he sat. There was something awful in his unconsciousness of the figure that
15could have put out its hand and touched him as he stooped over his labour. Not a word was spoken, not a sound was made.
16She stood, like a spirit, beside him, and he bent over his work. It happened, at length, that he had occasion to change
17the instrument in his hand, for his shoemaker's knife. It lay on that side of him which was not the side on which she
18stood. He had taken it up, and was stooping to work again, when his eyes caught the skirt of her dress. He raised them,
19and saw her face. The two spectators started forward, but she stayed them with a motion of her hand. She had no fear of
20his striking at her with the knife, though they had. He stared at her with a fearful look, and after a while his lips
21began to form some words, though no sound proceeded from them. By degrees, in the pauses of his quick and laboured
22breathing, he was heard to say: "What is this?" With the tears streaming down her face, she put her two hands to her
23lips, and kissed them to him; then clasped them on her breast, as if she laid his ruined head there. "You are not the
24gaoler's daughter?" She sighed "No." "Who are you?" Not yet trusting the tones of her voice, she sat down on the bench
25beside him. He recoiled, but she laid her hand upon his arm. A strange thrill struck him when she did so, and visibly
26passed over his frame; he laid the knife down softly, as he sat staring at her. Her golden hair, which she wore in long
27curls, had been hurriedly pushed aside, and fell down over her neck. Advancing his hand by little and little, he took it
28up and looked at it. In the midst of the action he went astray, and, with another deep sigh, fell to work at his
29shoemaking. But not for long. Releasing his arm, she laid her hand upon his shoulder. After looking doubtfully at it,
30two or three times, as if to be sure that it was really there, he laid down his work, put his hand to his neck, and took
31off a blackened string with a scrap of folded rag attached to it. He opened this, carefully, on his knee, and it
32contained a very little quantity of hair: not more than one or two long golden hairs, which he had, in some old day,
33wound off upon his finger. He took her hair into his hand again, and looked closely at it. "It is the same. How can it
34be! When was it! How was it!" As the concentrated expression returned to his forehead, he seemed to become conscious
35that it was in hers too. He turned her full to the light, and looked at her. "She had laid her head upon my shoulder,
36that night when I was summoned out--she had a fear of my going, though I had none--and when I was brought to the North
37Tower they found these upon my sleeve. 'You will leave me them? They can never help me to escape in the body, though
38they may in the spirit.' Those were the words I said. I remember them very well." He formed this speech with his lips
39many times before he could utter it. But when he did find spoken words for it, they came to him coherently, though
40slowly. "How was this?--Was it you?" Once more, the two spectators started, as he turned upon her with a frightful
41suddenness. But she sat perfectly still in his grasp, and only said, in a low voice, "I entreat you, good gentlemen, do
42not come near us, do not speak, do not move!" "Hark!" he exclaimed. "Whose voice was that?" His hands released her as he
43uttered this cry, and went up to his white hair, which they tore in a frenzy. It died out, as everything but his
44shoemaking did die out of him, and he refolded his little packet and tried to secure it in his breast; but he still
45looked at her, and gloomily shook his head. "No, no, no; you are too young, too blooming. It can't be. See what the
46prisoner is. These are not the hands she knew, this is not the face she knew, this is not a voice she ever heard. No,
47no. She was--and He was--before the slow years of the North Tower--ages ago. What is your name, my gentle angel?"
48Hailing his softened tone and manner, his daughter fell upon her knees before him, with her appealing hands upon his
49breast. "O, sir, at another time you shall know my name, and who my mother was, and who my father, and how I never knew
50their hard, hard history. But I cannot tell you at this time, and I cannot tell you here. All that I may tell you, here
51and now, is, that I pray to you to touch me and to bless me. Kiss me, kiss me! O my dear, my dear!" His cold white head
52mingled with her radiant hair, which warmed and lighted it as though it were the light of Freedom shining on him. "If
53you hear in my voice--I don't know that it is so, but I hope it is--if you hear in my voice any resemblance to a voice
54that once was sweet music in your ears, weep for it, weep for it! If you touch, in touching my hair, anything that
55recalls a beloved head that lay on your breast when you were young and free, weep for it, weep for it! If, when I hint
56to you of a Home that is before us, where I will be true to you with all my duty and with all my faithful service, I
57bring back the remembrance of a Home long desolate, while your poor heart pined away, weep for it, weep for it!" She
58held him closer round the neck, and rocked him on her breast like a child. "If, when I tell you, dearest dear, that your
59agony is over, and that I have come here to take you from it, and that we go to England to be at peace and at rest, I
60cause you to think of your useful life laid waste, and of our native France so wicked to you, weep for it, weep for it!
61And if, when I shall tell you of my name, and of my father who is living, and of my mother who is dead, you learn that I
62have to kneel to my honoured father, and implore his pardon for having never for his sake striven all day and lain awake
63and wept all night, because the love of my poor mother hid his torture from me, weep for it, weep for it! Weep for her,
64then, and for me! Good gentlemen, thank God! I feel his sacred tears upon my face, and his sobs strike against my heart.
65O, see! Thank God for us, thank God!"
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