📝 您未登录，登录后完成练习可保存成绩、查看最佳记录。
总字符
0
正确字符
0
错误字符
0
错误率
0.00%
耗时(秒)
0
速度 WPM
0
0 / 67
1The Fellow of No Delicacy If Sydney Carton ever shone anywhere, he certainly never shone in the house of Doctor Manette.
2He had been there often, during a whole year, and had always been the same moody and morose lounger there. When he cared
3to talk, he talked well; but, the cloud of caring for nothing, which overshadowed him with such a fatal darkness, was
4very rarely pierced by the light within him. And yet he did care something for the streets that environed that house,
5and for the senseless stones that made their pavements. Many a night he vaguely and unhappily wandered there, when wine
6had brought no transitory gladness to him; many a dreary daybreak revealed his solitary figure lingering there, and
7still lingering there when the first beams of the sun brought into strong relief, removed beauties of architecture in
8spires of churches and lofty buildings, as perhaps the quiet time brought some sense of better things, else forgotten
9and unattainable, into his mind. Of late, the neglected bed in the Temple Court had known him more scantily than ever;
10and often when he had thrown himself upon it no longer than a few minutes, he had got up again, and haunted that
11neighbourhood. On a day in August, when Mr. Stryver (after notifying to his jackal that "he had thought better of that
12marrying matter") had carried his delicacy into Devonshire, and when the sight and scent of flowers in the City streets
13had some waifs of goodness in them for the worst, of health for the sickliest, and of youth for the oldest, Sydney's
14feet still trod those stones. From being irresolute and purposeless, his feet became animated by an intention, and, in
15the working out of that intention, they took him to the Doctor's door. He was shown up-stairs, and found Lucie at her
16work, alone. She had never been quite at her ease with him, and received him with some little embarrassment as he seated
17himself near her table. But, looking up at his face in the interchange of the first few common-places, she observed a
18change in it. "I fear you are not well, Mr. Carton!" "No. But the life I lead, Miss Manette, is not conducive to health.
19What is to be expected of, or by, such profligates?" "Is it not--forgive me; I have begun the question on my lips--a
20pity to live no better life?" "God knows it is a shame!" "Then why not change it?" Looking gently at him again, she was
21surprised and saddened to see that there were tears in his eyes. There were tears in his voice too, as he answered: "It
22is too late for that. I shall never be better than I am. I shall sink lower, and be worse." He leaned an elbow on her
23table, and covered his eyes with his hand. The table trembled in the silence that followed. She had never seen him
24softened, and was much distressed. He knew her to be so, without looking at her, and said: "Pray forgive me, Miss
25Manette. I break down before the knowledge of what I want to say to you. Will you hear me?" "If it will do you any good,
26Mr. Carton, if it would make you happier, it would make me very glad!" "God bless you for your sweet compassion!" He
27unshaded his face after a little while, and spoke steadily. "Don't be afraid to hear me. Don't shrink from anything I
28say. I am like one who died young. All my life might have been." "No, Mr. Carton. I am sure that the best part of it
29might still be; I am sure that you might be much, much worthier of yourself." "Say of you, Miss Manette, and although I
30know better--although in the mystery of my own wretched heart I know better--I shall never forget it!" She was pale and
31trembling. He came to her relief with a fixed despair of himself which made the interview unlike any other that could
32have been holden. "If it had been possible, Miss Manette, that you could have returned the love of the man you see
33before yourself--flung away, wasted, drunken, poor creature of misuse as you know him to be--he would have been
34conscious this day and hour, in spite of his happiness, that he would bring you to misery, bring you to sorrow and
35repentance, blight you, disgrace you, pull you down with him. I know very well that you can have no tenderness for me; I
36ask for none; I am even thankful that it cannot be." "Without it, can I not save you, Mr. Carton? Can I not recall
37you--forgive me again!--to a better course? Can I in no way repay your confidence? I know this is a confidence," she
38modestly said, after a little hesitation, and in earnest tears, "I know you would say this to no one else. Can I turn it
39to no good account for yourself, Mr. Carton?" He shook his head. "To none. No, Miss Manette, to none. If you will hear
40me through a very little more, all you can ever do for me is done. I wish you to know that you have been the last dream
41of my soul. In my degradation I have not been so degraded but that the sight of you with your father, and of this home
42made such a home by you, has stirred old shadows that I thought had died out of me. Since I knew you, I have been
43troubled by a remorse that I thought would never reproach me again, and have heard whispers from old voices impelling me
44upward, that I thought were silent for ever. I have had unformed ideas of striving afresh, beginning anew, shaking off
45sloth and sensuality, and fighting out the abandoned fight. A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the
46sleeper where he lay down, but I wish you to know that you inspired it." "Will nothing of it remain? O Mr. Carton, think
47again! Try again!" "No, Miss Manette; all through it, I have known myself to be quite undeserving. And yet I have had
48the weakness, and have still the weakness, to wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you kindled me, heap of ashes
49that I am, into fire--a fire, however, inseparable in its nature from myself, quickening nothing, lighting nothing,
50doing no service, idly burning away." "Since it is my misfortune, Mr. Carton, to have made you more unhappy than you
51were before you knew me--" "Don't say that, Miss Manette, for you would have reclaimed me, if anything could. You will
52not be the cause of my becoming worse." "Since the state of your mind that you describe, is, at all events, attributable
53to some influence of mine--this is what I mean, if I can make it plain--can I use no influence to serve you? Have I no
54power for good, with you, at all?" "The utmost good that I am capable of now, Miss Manette, I have come here to realise.
55Let me carry through the rest of my misdirected life, the remembrance that I opened my heart to you, last of all the
56world; and that there was something left in me at this time which you could deplore and pity." "Which I entreated you to
57believe, again and again, most fervently, with all my heart, was capable of better things, Mr. Carton!" "Entreat me to
58believe it no more, Miss Manette. I have proved myself, and I know better. I distress you; I draw fast to an end. Will
59you let me believe, when I recall this day, that the last confidence of my life was reposed in your pure and innocent
60breast, and that it lies there alone, and will be shared by no one?" "If that will be a consolation to you, yes." "Not
61even by the dearest one ever to be known to you?" "Mr. Carton," she answered, after an agitated pause, "the secret is
62yours, not mine; and I promise to respect it." "Thank you. And again, God bless you." He put her hand to his lips, and
63moved towards the door. "Be under no apprehension, Miss Manette, of my ever resuming this conversation by so much as a
64passing word. I will never refer to it again. If I were dead, that could not be surer than it is henceforth. In the hour
65of my death, I shall hold sacred the one good remembrance--and shall thank and bless you for it--that my last avowal of
66myself was made to you, and that my name, and faults, and miseries were gently carried in your heart. May it otherwise
67be light and happy!"
🎉 全部完成！共 67 行