双城记 查尔斯·狄更斯-第42部分

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g　the　dark　streets；　could　have　heard　her　innocent　disclosure；　and　could　have　seen　the　drops　of　pity　kissed　away　by　her　husband　from　the　soft　blue　eyes　so　loving　of　that　husband；　he　might　have　cried　to　the　night……and　the　words　would　not　have　parted　from　his　lips　for　the　first　time……
‘God　bless　her　for　her　sweet　passion！'　
CHAPTER　XXI
Echoing　Footsteps
A　WONDERFUL　corner　for　echoes；　it　has　been　remarked；　that　corner　where　the　Doctor　lived。　Ever　busily　winding　the　golden　thread　which　bound　her　husband；　and　her　father；　and　herself；　and　her　old　directress　and　panion；　in　a　life　of　quiet　bliss；　Lucie　sat　in　the　still　house　in　the　tranquilly　resounding　corner；　listening　to　the　echoing　footsteps　of　years。
At　first；　there　were　times；　though　she　was　a　perfectly　happy　young　wife；　when　her　work　would　slowly　fall　from　her　hands；　and　her　eyes　would　be　dimmed。　For；　there　was　something　ing　in　the　echoes；　something　light；　afar　off；　and　scarcely　audible　yet；　that　stirred　her　heart　too　much。　Fluttering　hopes　and　doubts……hope；　of　a　love　as　yet　unknown　to　her：　doubts；　of　her　remaining　upon　earth；　to　enjoy　that　new　delight……divided　her　breast。　Among　the　echoes　then；　there　would　arise　the　sound　of　footsteps　at　her　own　early　grave；　and　thoughts　of　the　husband　who　would　be　left　so　desolate；　and　who　would　mourn　for　her　so　much；　swelled　to　her　eyes；　and　broke　like　waves。
That　time　passed；　and　her　little　Lucie　lay　on　her　bosom。　Then；　among　the　advancing　echoes；　there　was　the　tread　of　her　tiny　feet　and　the　sound　of　her　prattling　words。　Let　greater　echoes　resound　as　they　would；　the　young　mother　at　the　cradle　side　could　always　hear　those　ing。　They　came；　and　the　shady　house　was　sunny　with　a　child's　laugh；　and　the　Divine　friend　of　children；　to　whom　in　her　trouble　she　had　confided　hers；　seemed　to　take　her　child　in　His　arms；　as　He　took　the　child　of　old；　and　made　it　a　sacred　joy　to　her。
Ever　busily　winding　the　golden　thread　that　bound　them　all　together；　weaving　the　service　of　her　happy　influence　through　the　tissue　of　all　their　lives；　and　making　it　predominate　nowhere；　Lucie　heard　in　the　echoes　of　years　none　but　friendly　and　soothing　sounds。　Her　husband's　step　was　strong　and　prosperous　among　them；　her　father's　firm　and　equal。　Lo；　Miss　Pross；　in　harness　of　string；　awakening　the　echoes；　as　an　unruly　charger；　whip…corrected；　snorting　and　pawing　the　earth　under　the　plane…tree　in　the　garden！
Even　when　there　were　sounds　of　sorrow　among　the　rest；　they　were　not　harsh　nor　cruel。　Even　when　golden　hair；　like　her　own；　lay　in　a　halo　on　a　pillow　round　the　worn　face　of　a　little　boy；　and　he　said；　with　a　radiant　smile；　‘Dear　papa　and　mamma；　I　am　very　sorry　to　leave　you　both；　and　to　leave　my　pretty　sister；　but　I　am　called；　and　I　must　go！'　those　were　not　tears　all　of　agony　that　wetted　his　young　mother's　cheek；　as　the　spirit　departed　from　her　embrace　that　had　been　entrusted　to　it。　Suffer　them　and　forbid　them　not。　They　see　my　Father's　face。　O　Father；　blessed　words！
Thus；　the　rustling　of　an　Angel's　wings　got　blended　with　the　other　echoes；　and　they　were　not　wholly　of　earth；　but　had　in　them　that　breath　of　Heaven。　Sighs　of　the　winds　that　blew　over　a　little　garden…tomb　were　mingled　with　them　also；　and　both　were　audible　to　Lucie；　in　a　hushed　murmur……like　the　breathing　of　a　summer　sea　asleep　upon　a　sandy　shore……as　the　little　Lucie；　ically　studious　at　the　task　of　the　morning；　or　dressing　a　doll　at　her　mother's　footstool；　chattered　in　the　tongues　of　the　Two　Cities　that　were　blended　in　her　life。
The　echoes　rarely　answered　to　the　actual　tread　of　Sydney　Carton。　Some　half…dozen　times　a　year；　at　most；　he　claimed　his　privilege　of　ing　in　uninvited；　and　would　sit　among　them　through　the　evening；　as　he　had　once　done　often。　He　never　came　there　heated　with　wine。　And　one　other　thing　regarding　him　was　whispered　in　the　echoes；　which　has　been　whispered　by　all　true　echoes　for　ages　and　ages。
No　man　ever　really　loved　a　woman；　lost　her；　and　knew　her　with　a　blameless　though　an　unchanged　mind；　when　she　was　a　wife　and　a　mother；　but　her　children　had　a　strange　sympathy　with　him……an　instinctive　delicacy　of　pity　for　him。　What　fine　hidden　sensibilities　are　touched　in　such　a　case；　no　echoes　tell；　but　it　is　so；　and　it　was　so　here。　Carton　was　the　first　stranger　to　whom　little　Lucie　held　out　her　chubby　arms；　and　he　kept　his　place　with　her　as　she　grew。　The　little　boy　had　spoken　of　him；　almost　at　the　last。　‘Poor　Carton！　Kiss　him　for　me！'
Mr。　Stryver　shouldered　his　way　through　the　law；　like　some　great　engine　forcing　itself　through　turbid　water；　and　dragged　his　useful　friend　in　his　wake；　like　a　boat　towed　astern。　As　the　boat　so　favoured　is　usually　in　a　rough　plight；　and　mostly　under　water；　so；　Sydney　had　a　swamped　life　of　it。　But；　easy　and　strong　custom；　unhappily　so　much　easier　and　stronger　in　him　than　any　stimulating　sense　of　desert　or　disgrace；　made　it　the　life　he　was　to　lead；　and　he　no　more　thought　of　emerging　from　his　state　of　lion's　jackal；　than　any　real　jackal　may　be　supposed　to　think　of　rising　to　be　a　lion。　Stryver　was　rich；　had　married　a　florid　widow　with　property　and　three　boys；　who　had　nothing　particularly　shining　about　them　but　the　straight　hair　of　their　dumpling　heads。
These　three　young　gentleman；　Mr。　Stryver；　exuding　patronage　of　the　most　offensive　quality　from　every　pore；　had　walked　before　him　like　three　sheep　to　the　quiet　corner　in　Soho；　and　had　offered　as　pupils　to　Lucie's　husband：　delicately　saying；　‘Halloa！　here　are　three　lumps　of　bread…and…cheese　towards　your　matrimonial　picnic；　Darnay！'　The　polite　rejection　of　the　three　lumps　of　bread…and…cheese　had　quite　bloated　Mr。　Stryver　with　indignation；　which　he　afterwards　turned　to　account　in　the　training　of　the　young　gentlemen；　by　directing　them　to　beware　of　the　pride　of　Beggars；　like　that　tutor…fellow。　He　was　also　in　the　habit　of　declaiming　to　Mrs。　Stryver；　over　his　full…bodied　wine；　on　the　arts　Mrs。　Darnay　had　once　put　in　practice　to　‘catch'　him；　and　on　the　diamond…cut…diamond　arts　in　himself；　madam；　which　had　rendered　him　‘not　to　be　caught。'　Some　of　his　King's　Bench　familiars；　who　were　occasionally　parties　to　the　full…bodied　wine　and　the　lie；　excused　him　for　the　latter　by　saying　that　he　had　told　it　so　often；　that　he　believed　it　himself……which　is　surely　such　an　incorrigible　aggravation　of　an　originally　bad　offence；　as　to　justify　any　such　offender's　being　carried　off　to　some　suitably　retired　spot；　and　there　hanged　out　of　the　way。
These　were　among　the　echoes　to　which　Lucie；　sometimes　pensive；　sometimes　amused　and　laughing；　listened　in　the　echoing　corner；　until　her　little　daughter　was　six　years　old。　How　near　to　her　heart　the　echoes　of　her　child's　tread　came；　and　those　of　her　own　dear　father's；　always　active　and　self…possessed；　and　those　of　her　dear　husband's；　need　not　be　told。　Nor；　how　the　lightest　echo　of　their　united　home；　directed　by　herself　with　such　a　wise　and　elegant　thrift　that　it　was　more　abundant　than　any　waste；　was　music　to　her。　Nor；　how　there　were　echoes　all　about　her；　sweet　in　her　ears；　of　the　many　times　her　father　had　told　her　that　he　found　her　more　devoted　to　him　married　（if　that　could　be）　than　single；　and　of　the　many　times　her　husband　had　said　to　her　that　no　cares　and　duties　seemed　to　divide　her　love　for　him　or　her　help　to　him；　and　asked　her　‘What　is　the　magic　secret；　my　darling；　of　your　being　everything　to　all　of　us；　as　if　there　were　only　one　of　us；　yet　never　seeming　to　be　hurried；　or　to　have　too　much　to　do？'　
But；　there　were　other　echoes；　from　a　distance；　that　rumbled　menacingly　in　the　corner　all　through　this　space　of　time。　And　it　was　now；　about　little　Lucie's　sixth　birthday；　that　they　began　to　have　an　awful　sound；　as　of　a　great　storm　in　France　with　a　dreadful　sea　rising。
On　a　night　in　mid…July；　one　thousand　seven　hundred　and　eighty…nine；　Mr。　Lorry　came　in　late；　from　Tellson's；　and　sat　himself　down　by　Lucie　and　her　husband　in　the　dark　window。　It　was　a　hot；　wild　night；　and　they　were　all　three　reminded　of　the　old　Sunday　night　when　they　had　looked　at　the　lightning　from　the　same　place。
‘I　began　to　think；'　said　Mr。　Lorry；　pushing　his　brown　wig　back；　‘that　I　should　have　to　pass　the　night　at　Tellson's。　We　have　been　so　full　of　business　all　day；　that　we　have　not　known　what　to　do　first；　or　which　way　to　turn。　There　is　such　an　uneasiness　in　Paris；　that　we　have　actually　a　run　of　confidence　upon　us！　Our　customers　over　there；　seem　not　to　be　able　to　confide　their　property　to　us　fast　enough。　There　is　positively　a　mania　among　some　of　them　for　sending　it　to　England。'
‘That　has　a　bad　look；'　said　Darnay。
‘A　bad　look；　you　say；　my　dear　Darnay？　Yes；　but　we　don't　know　what　reason　there　is　in　it。　People　are　so　unreasonable！　Some　of　us　at　Tellson's　are　getting　old；　and　we　really　can't　be　troubled　out　of　the　ordinary　course　without　due　occasion。'
‘Still；'　said　Darnay；　‘you　know　how　gloomy　and　threatening　the　sky　is。'
‘I　know　that；　to　be　sure；'　assented　Mr。　Lorry；　trying　to　persuade　himself　that　his　sweet　temper　was　soured；　and　that　he　grumbled；　‘but　I　am　determined　to　be　peevish　after　my　long　day's　botheration。　Where　is　Manette？'
‘Here　he　is；'　said　the　Doctor；　entering　the　dark　room　at　the　moment。
‘I　am　quite　glad　you　are　at　home；　for　these　hurries　and　forebodings　by　which　I　have　been　surrounded　all　day　long；　have　made　me　nervous　without　reason。　You　are　not　going　out；　I　hope？'
‘No；　I　am　going　to　play　backgammon　with　you；　if　you　like；'　said　the　Doctor。
‘I　don't　think　I　do　like；　if　I　may　speak　my　mind。　I　am　not　fit　to　be　pitted　against　you　to…night。　Is　the　tea…board　still　there；　Lucie？　I　can't　see。'
‘Of　course；　it　has　been　kept　for　you。'　
‘Thank　ye；　my　dear。　The　precious　child　is　safe　in　bed？'　
‘And　sleeping　soundly。
‘That's　right；　all　safe　and　well！　I　don't　know　why　anything　should　be　otherwise　than　safe　and　well　here；　thank　God；　but　I　have　been　so　put　out　all　day；　and　I　am　not　as　young　as　I　was！　My　tea；　my　dear！　Thank　ye。　Now；　e　and　take　your　place　in　the　circle；　and　let　us　sit　quiet；　and　hear　the　echoes　about　which　you　have　your　theory。'
‘Not　a　theory；　it　was　a　fancy。'
‘A　fancy；　then；　my　wise　pet；'　said　Mr。　Lorry；　patting　her　hand。　‘They　are　very　numerous　and　very　loud；　though；　are　they　not？　Only　hear　them！'
Headlong；　mad；　and　dangerous　footsteps　to　force　their　way　into　anybody's　life；　footsteps　not　easily　made　clean　again　if　once　stained　red；　the　footsteps　ragi