XIX. An Opinion
Worn out by anxious watching, Mr. Lorry fell asleep at his post. On thetenth morning of his suspense, he was startled by the shining of the suninto the room where a heavy slumber had overtaken him when it was darknight.
He rubbed his eyes and roused himself; but he doubted, when he haddone so, whether he was not still asleep. For, going to the door of theDoctor's room and looking in, he perceived that the shoemaker's benchand tools were put aside again, and that the Doctor himself sat readingat the window. He was in his usual morning dress, and his face (whichMr. Lorry could distinctly see), though still very pale, was calmlystudious and attentive.
Even when he had satisfied himself that he was awake, Mr. Lorry feltgiddily uncertain for some few moments whether the late shoemaking mightnot be a disturbed dream of his own; for, did not his eyes show him hisfriend before him in his accustomed clothing and aspect, and employedas usual; and was there any sign within their range, that the change ofwhich he had so strong an impression had actually happened?
It was but the inquiry of his first confusion and astonishment, theanswer being obvious. If the impression were not produced by a realcorresponding and sufficient cause, how came he, Jarvis Lorry, there?How came he to have fallen asleep, in his clothes, on the sofa in DoctorManette's consulting-room, and to be debating these points outside theDoctor's bedroom door in the early morning?
Within a few minutes, Miss Pross stood whispering at his side. If hehad had any particle of doubt left, her talk would of necessity haveresolved it; but he was by that time clear-headed, and had none.He advised that they should let the time go by until the regularbreakfast-hour, and should then meet the Doctor as if nothing unusualhad occurred. If he appeared to be in his customary state of mind, Mr.Lorry would then cautiously proceed to seek direction and guidance fromthe opinion he had been, in his anxiety, so anxious to obtain.
Miss Pross, submitting herself to his judgment, the scheme was workedout with care. Having abundance of time for his usual methodicaltoilette, Mr. Lorry presented himself at the breakfast-hour in his usualwhite linen, and with his usual neat leg. The Doctor was summoned in theusual way, and came to breakfast.
So far as it was possible to comprehend him without overstepping thosedelicate and gradual approaches which Mr. Lorry felt to be the only safeadvance, he at first supposed that his daughter's marriage had takenplace yesterday. An incidental allusion, purposely thrown out, tothe day of the week, and the day of the month, set him thinking andcounting, and evidently made him uneasy. In all other respects, however,he was so composedly himself, that Mr. Lorry determined to have the aidhe sought. And that aid was his own.
Therefore, when the breakfast was done and cleared away, and he and theDoctor were left together, Mr. Lorry said, feelingly:
”My dear Manette, I am anxious to have your opinion, in confidence, on avery curious case in which I am deeply interested; that is to say, it isvery curious to me; perhaps, to your better information it may be lessso.”
Glancing at his hands, which were discoloured by his late work, theDoctor looked troubled, and listened attentively. He had already glancedat his hands more than once.
”Doctor Manette,” said Mr. Lorry, touching him affectionately on thearm, ”the case is the case of a particularly dear friend of mine. Praygive your mind to it, and advise me well for his sake--and above all,for his daughter's--his daughter's, my dear Manette.”
”If I understand,” said the Doctor, in a subdued tone, ”some mentalshock--?”
”Yes!”
”Be explicit,” said the Doctor. ”Spare no detail.”
Mr. Lorry saw that they understood one another, and proceeded.
”My dear Manette, it is the case of an old and a prolonged shock,of great acuteness and severity to the affections, the feelings,the--the--as you express it--the mind. The mind. It is the case of ashock under which the sufferer was borne down, one cannot say for howlong, because I believe he cannot calculate the time himself, and thereare no other means of getting at it. It is the case of a shock fromwhich the sufferer recovered, by a process that he cannot tracehimself--as I once heard him publicly relate in a striking manner. It isthe case of a shock from which he has recovered, so completely, as tobe a highly intelligent man, capable of close application of mind, andgreat exertion of body, and of constantly making fresh additions to hisstock of knowledge, which was already very large. But, unfortunately,there has been,” he paused and took a deep breath--”a slight relapse.”
The Doctor, in a low voice, asked, ”Of how long duration?”
”Nine days and nights.”
”How did it show itself? I infer,” glancing at his hands again, ”in theresumption of some old pursuit connected with the shock?”
”That is the fact.”
”Now, did you ever see him,” asked the Doctor, distinctly andcollectedly, though in the same low voice, ”engaged in that pursuitoriginally?”
”Once.”
”And when the relapse fell on him, was he in most respects--or in allrespects--as he was then?”
”I think in all respects.”
”You spoke of his daughter. Does his daughter know of the relapse?”
”No. It has been kept from her, and I hope will always be kept from her.It is known only to myself, and to one other who may be trusted.”
The Doctor grasped his hand, and murmured, ”That was very kind. That wasvery thoughtful!” Mr. Lorry grasped his hand in return, and neither ofthe two spoke for a little while.
”Now, my dear Manette,” said Mr. Lorry, at length, in his mostconsiderate and most affectionate way, ”I am a mere man of business,and unfit to cope with such intricate and difficult matters. I do notpossess the kind of information necessary; I do not possess the kind ofintelligence; I want guiding. There is no man in this world on whomI could so rely for right guidance, as on you. Tell me, how does thisrelapse come about? Is there danger of another? Could a repetition of itbe prevented? How should a repetition of it be treated? How does it comeabout at all? What can I do for my friend? No man ever can have beenmore desirous in his heart to serve a friend, than I am to serve mine,if I knew how.
”But I don't know how to originate, in such a case. If your sagacity,knowledge, and experience, could put me on the right track, I might beable to do so much; unenlightened and undirected, I can do so little.Pray discuss it with me; pray enable me to see it a little more clearly,and teach me how to be a little more useful.”
Doctor Manette sat meditating after these earnest words were spoken, andMr. Lorry did not press him.
”I think it probable,” said the Doctor, breaking silence with an effort,”that the relapse you have described, my dear friend, was not quiteunforeseen by its subject.”
”Was it dreaded by him?” Mr. Lorry ventured to ask.
”Very much.” He said it with an involuntary shudder.
”You have no idea how such an apprehension weighs on the sufferer'smind, and how difficult--how almost impossible--it is, for him to forcehimself to utter a word upon the topic that oppresses him.”
”Would he,” asked Mr. Lorry, ”be sensibly relieved if he could prevailupon himself to impart that secret brooding to any one, when it is onhim?”
”I think so. But it is, as I have told you, next to impossible. I evenbelieve it--in some cases--to be quite impossible.”
”Now,” said Mr. Lorry, gently laying his hand on the Doctor's arm again,after a short silence on both sides, ”to what would you refer thisattack?”
”I believe,” returned Doctor Manette, ”that there had been a strong andextraordinary revival of the train of thought and remembrance thatwas the first cause of the malady. Some intense associations of a mostdistressing nature were vividly recalled, I think. It is probable thatthere had long been a dread lurking in his mind, that those associationswould be recalled--say, under certain circumstances--say, on aparticular occasion. He tried to prepare himself in vain; perhaps theeffort to prepare himself made him less able to bear it.”
”Would he remember what took place in the relapse?” asked Mr. Lorry,with natural hesitation.
The Doctor looked desolately round the room, shook his head, andanswered, in a low voice, ”Not at all.”
”Now, as to the future,” hinted Mr. Lorry.
”As to the future,” said the Doctor, recovering firmness, ”I should havegreat hope. As it pleased Heaven in its mercy to restore him so soon, Ishould have great hope. He, yielding under the pressure of a complicatedsomething, long dreaded and long vaguely foreseen and contended against,and recovering after the cloud had burst and passed, I should hope thatthe worst was over.”
”Well, well! That's good comfort. I am thankful!” said Mr. Lorry.
”I am thankful!” repeated the Doctor, bending his head with reverence.
”There are two other points,” said Mr. Lorry, ”on which I am anxious tobe instructed. I may go on?”
”You cannot do your friend a better service.” The Doctor gave him hishand.
”To the first, then. He is of a studious habit, and unusually energetic;he applies himself with great ardour to the acquisition of professionalknowledge, to the conducting of experiments, to many things. Now, doeshe do too much?”
”I think not. It may be the character of his mind, to be always insingular need of occupation. That may be, in part, natural to it; inpart, the result of affliction. The less it was occupied with healthythings, the more it would be in danger of turning in the unhealthydirection. He may have observed himself, and made the discovery.”
”You are sure that he is not under too great a strain?”
”I think I am quite sure of it.”
”My dear Manette, if he were overworked now--”
”My dear Lorry, I doubt if that could easily be. There has been aviolent stress in one direction, and it needs a counterweight.”
”Excuse me, as a persistent man of business. Assuming for a moment,that he _was_ overworked; it would show itself in some renewal of thisdisorder?”
”I do not think so. I do not think,” said Doctor Manette with thefirmness of self-conviction, ”that anything but the one train ofassociation would renew it. I think that, henceforth, nothing but someextraordinary jarring of that chord could renew it. After what hashappened, and after his recovery, I find it difficult to imagine anysuch violent sounding of that string again. I trust, and I almostbelieve, that the circumstances likely to renew it are exhausted.”
He spoke with the diffidence of a man who knew how slight a thingwould overset the delicate organisation of the mind, and yet with theconfidence of a man who had slowly won his assurance out of personalendurance and distress. It was not for his friend to abate thatconfidence. He professed himself more relieved and encouraged than hereally was, and approached his second and last point. He felt it tobe the most difficult of all; but, remembering his old Sunday morningconversation with Miss Pross, and remembering what he had seen in thelast nine days, he knew that he must face it.
”The occupation resumed under the influence of this passing afflictionso happily recovered from,” said Mr. Lorry, clearing his throat, ”wewill call--Blacksmith's work, Blacksmith's work. We will say, to put acase and for the sake of illustration, that he had been used, in his badtime, to work at a little forge. We will say that he was unexpectedlyfound at his forge again. Is it not a pity that he should keep it byhim?”
The Doctor shaded his forehead with his hand, and beat his footnervously on the ground.
”He has always kept it by him,” said Mr. Lorry, with an anxious look athis friend. ”Now, would it not be better that he should let it go?”
Still, the Doctor, with shaded forehead, beat his foot nervously on theground.
”You do not find it easy to advise me?” said Mr. Lorry. ”I quiteunderstand it to be a nice question. And yet I think--” And there heshook his head, and stopped.
”You see,” said Doctor Manette, turning to him after an uneasy pause,”it is very hard to explain, consistently, the innermost workingsof this poor man's mind. He once yearned so frightfully for thatoccupation, and it was so welcome when it came; no doubt it relievedhis pain so much, by substituting the perplexity of the fingers forthe perplexity of the brain, and by substituting, as he became morepractised, the ingenuity of the hands, for the ingenuity of the mentaltorture; that he has never been able to bear the thought of putting itquite out of his reach. Even now, when I believe he is more hopeful ofhimself than he has ever been, and even speaks of himself with a kindof confidence, the idea that he might need that old employment, and notfind it, gives him a sudden sense of terror, like that which one mayfancy strikes to the heart of a lost child.”
He looked like his illustration, as he raised his eyes to Mr. Lorry'sface.
”But may not--mind! I ask for information, as a plodding man of businesswho only deals with such material objects as guineas, shillings, andbank-notes--may not the retention of the thing involve the retention ofthe idea? If the thing were gone, my dear Manette, might not the fear gowith it? In short, is it not a concession to the misgiving, to keep theforge?”
There was another silence.
”You see, too,” said the Doctor, tremulously, ”it is such an oldcompanion.”
”I would not keep it,” said Mr. Lorry, shaking his head; for he gainedin firmness as he saw the Doctor disquieted. ”I would recommend him tosacrifice it. I only want your authority. I am sure it does no good.Come! Give me your authority, like a dear good man. For his daughter'ssake, my dear Manette!”
Very strange to see what a struggle there was within him!
”In her name, then, let it be done; I sanction it. But, I would not takeit away while he was present. Let it be removed when he is not there;let him miss his old companion after an absence.”
Mr. Lorry readily engaged for that, and the conference was ended. Theypassed the day in the country, and the Doctor was quite restored. On thethree following days he remained perfectly well, and on the fourteenthday he went away to join Lucie and her husband. The precaution thathad been taken to account for his silence, Mr. Lorry had previouslyexplained to him, and he had written to Lucie in accordance with it, andshe had no suspicions.
On the night of the day on which he left the house, Mr. Lorry went intohis room with a chopper, saw, chisel, and hammer, attended by Miss Prosscarrying a light. There, with closed doors, and in a mysterious andguilty manner, Mr. Lorry hacked the shoemaker's bench to pieces, whileMiss Pross held the candle as if she were assisting at a murder--forwhich, indeed, in her grimness, she was no unsuitable figure. Theburning of the body (previously reduced to pieces convenient for thepurpose) was commenced without delay in the kitchen fire; and the tools,shoes, and leather, were buried in the garden. So wicked do destructionand secrecy appear to honest minds, that Mr. Lorry and Miss Pross,while engaged in the commission of their deed and in the removal of itstraces, almost felt, and almost looked, like accomplices in a horriblecrime.