A Tale of Two Cities by Dave Mckay, Charles Dickens (sight word books TXT) 📕

seem so much older than he was, stayed on his face like a heavy cloud. As he was leaving the court room, the jury turned back to face the court.

They said that they could not agree, and the head jury man asked if they could leave the court to talk more freely between themselves. The judge (maybe thinking about George Washington) showed some surprise that they were not in agreement, but said that they could leave under guard, and he himself would leave for a break. It was now late in the day and the lanterns were being lighted. It was understood that the jury could be quite some time, so many people left to get food, and the prisoner sat down against the wall where he was being held.

Mr. Lorry, who had gone out with the young woman and her father, now returned and waved his hand for Jerry, who was easily able to come to him now that so many people had left.

"Jerry, if you wish to have something to eat, feel free to do it; but stay close by. When the jury comes in, please come in with them, because I want you to run to the bank with the news when it comes. You will be able to get there much more quickly than me."

Mr. Carton came up at that time, and touched Mr. Lorry on the arm.

"How is the young woman?"

"She is very worried; but her father is helping her through it. She is glad to be out of the court."

"I'll tell the prisoner. It would not be wise for a banker like yourself to be seen with him, you know."

Mr. Lorry turned red, as if he disagreed with the point, but was not going to argue it. Mr. Carton walked toward the bar that was around where the prisoner was seated, and, as that was the way out of the court, Jerry followed him, all eyes and ears.

"Mr. Darnay!"

The prisoner came forward.

"You must be wanting to know what has happened to the witness, Miss Manette. She should be okay now. She was at her worst when she was in here."

"I am very sorry to be the reason for her troubles. Could you tell her so for me, with my sincere thanks?"

"I could. And I will, if you ask me.” Mr. Carton's spirit was one of little or no interest in Mr. Darnay. He was half turned away from the prisoner, with his elbow leaning on the bar.

"I do ask. And you have my sincere thanks."

"What," asked Carton, still half turned, "do you think they'll say?"

"The worst."

"It is the wisest way to see it, and what is probably going to happen. But I think their going out is a good sign."

Because he had to move along, Jerry heard no more. He left them -- so much the same in looks, but so different in spirit -- standing side by side under the mirror above them.

It was a slow hour and a half that Jerry had to wait outside the court. The crowd was rough, but the meat pie and beer were good, and Jerry was just going off to sleep on a hard, rough bench when talk and movement from people around him made him know that things were happening inside the court, and so he moved with the crowd toward the door.

"Jerry! Jerry!" Mr. Lorry was already calling at the door when he got there.

"Here, sir! I had to fight to get back in. Here I am, sir."

Mr. Lorry handed him a paper through the crowd. "Quickly. Have you got it?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Written on the paper were the words Not Guilty.

"If you had said 'Called back to life'," Jerry said as he turned, "this time I would have known what you were trying to say by it."

He had no way to say or even think more than that until he was clear of the Old Bailey, because the crowd came pouring out of the court and almost pushed him over in their anger at the sad ending to such a long day. The loud buzz filled the street like the sound of flies looking for another piece of dead meat to land on.

4. The Winner's Happiness

In the dark roads behind the court, the last of those people who had become a soup of hate, cooking in the Old Bailey all day, was leaving. Doctor Manette and his daughter, Lucie, Mr. Lorry, and the defence lawyer, Mr. Stryver, were, at that same time, standing in a circle around Mr. Charles Darnay -- just freed -- sharing his happiness on having just been saved from death.

Even if the light had been better, it would be difficult to think of Doctor Manette, who was standing straight and tall, as the old shoemaker from the room in Paris. Yet, anyone who looked at him closely would see that there was something strange about him. He would still lose his thoughts at times, and there was often a sadness in his low voice without any good reason. When the reason was clear, as happened in the court when he was questioned about his time in prison, it was easy to understand the change in him. But at other times, without any good reason, one could almost see the shadow of the government prison in Paris, some three hundred miles away, coming over his face.

Only his daughter would be able to pull him out of those sad times. She was the golden thread that held together his past and his present in a way that was stronger than the sadness he felt in both. The sound of her voice, the light of her face, and the touch of her hand almost always helped him through the dark times. But not quite always, for there were times she could remember, not many, when her powers had failed for a while. Yet, for now, she believed that those times were over.

Mr. Darnay had kissed her hand sincerely and with many thanks, and had turned to Mr. Stryver, whom he also thanked warmly. Mr. Stryver, a man of little more than thirty, but looking twenty years older, was fat, loud, red, and free from anything that would keep him from pushing his way into and through a crowd or any other thing standing in his way. It seemed that it was this spirit that had served most to move him up in the world.

Mr. Stryver still had his wig and robe on, and he said, pushing himself up close in front of Darnay, so much so that he squeezed innocent Mr. Lorry right out of the picture, "I'm glad to have saved you so well, Mr. Darnay. It was an awful set of arguments that the Attorney-General used, very awful; not that it would have stopped them from winning on most days."

"I will owe you for life, in more ways than one," said the man who had been a prisoner, taking Mr. Stryver's hand.

"I did my best, Mr. Darnay, and I believe my best is as good as any other man's."

Mr. Stryver was clearly waiting for someone to say that his best had been better than most, and so Mr. Lorry said it, not with much enthusiasm, but more as a way to squeeze back into the circle.

"Do you think so?” said Mr. Stryver. "Well, you have been there all day, and you should know, as you too are a man of business."

Mr. Stryver now worked as hard to shoulder Mr. Lorry back into the group as he had earlier worked to shoulder him out.

"As such," said Mr. Lorry, "I will now ask Doctor Manette to break up this meeting and send us all to our homes. Miss Lucie looks sick and Mr. Darnay has had an awful day. We are all tired."

"Speak for yourself, Mr. Lorry," said Stryver. "I have a night's work to do yet. Speak for yourself."

"I do speak for myself," answered Mr. Lorry," and for Mr. Darnay and for Miss Lucie, and... Miss Lucie, do you not think I may speak for all of us?” He asked her with a look toward her father.

Doctor Manette's face had become locked in a strange look at Darnay, a strong look that turned into one of hate and fear. With this strange look on his face, his thoughts had moved away from what was happening around him.

"Father," said Lucie softly, laying her hand on his. He slowly shook the shadow off, and turned to her.

"Shall we go home, father?"

Breathing in deeply, he answered, "Yes."

The friends of the freed prisoner went their way, thinking, because he himself had told them so, that he would not be free to leave the place until the next day. Most of the lights were put out around the Old Bailey, the iron gates were being closed with much noise, and the court was empty, waiting for the next morning's interest in hanging and whipping and burning with a hot iron. Walking between her father and Mr. Darnay, Lucie Manette stepped out into the open air. A coach was called and the father and daughter left.

Mr. Stryver had left them outside so he could shoulder his way back to the court dressing room to take off his robe and wig. Another person, who had not joined the group or said a word to any of them, but who had been leaning against the wall where its shadow was the darkest, quietly walked out after the Manette's left and watched the coach drive away. He now walked up to where Mr. Lorry and Mr. Darnay were standing on the footpath.

"So Mr. Lorry. Men of business may talk with Mr. Darnay now?"

Nothing had been said about Mr. Carton's part in saving Darnay, because no one but Stryver knew of it. Mr. Carton had his court robe off now, but he did not look any better for it, as he spoke:

"If you knew the war that goes on in the mind of a businessman, Mr. Darnay, when he is pulled between doing what is right and doing what will help his business, you would laugh."

Mr. Lorry turned red, and said with some fire, "You have said that before. But we who work for a business are not our own masters. We must think of the business more than ourselves."

"I know, I know," said Mr. Carton with little interest. "Don't be angry, Mr. Lorry. You're as good as the next businessman, I should think. Better, I would say."

"The truth, sir," said Mr. Lorry, not listening to him, "is that my business is none of your business, if I may say that as one who is much older than you."

"Business? Bless me, I don't have a business," said Mr. Carton.

"It is too bad that you do not, sir."

"I think so too."

"If you did, maybe you would be busy with it now," Mr. Lorry said, pushing his point farther.

"Bless you, Mr. Lorry, but I'm sure I would not be," said Mr. Carton.

"Well, sir!" cried Mr. Lorry, who was quite angry that the man showed so little interest in what he was saying, "business is a very good thing, and something others think well of. And, sir, if business stops us from doing or saying some things, then Mr. Darnay, as a young man who understands life, you must know how to make room for that in your thinking. Good night, Mr. Darnay, and may God bless you, sir! I hope that you have been saved today for a rich and happy life. Coach, here!"

Just a little angry with himself as well as with the lawyer, Mr. Lorry climbed into the coach and headed off to Tellson's. Carton, who had the smell of wine on him, laughed and turned to Darnay.

"This is a strange day that puts the two of us together. This must be a strange night for you, standing here on these street stones with one who is so much like you in looks."

"I hardly feel yet that I am a part of this world," returned Darnay.

"I am not surprised. Only a short while ago you were well on your way to another world. You speak very softly."

"I am feeling a little weak."

"Then why the devil don't you get something to eat? I ate when we were waiting for that stupid jury to say which world you should be in. Come with me and I'll show you to the closest hotel, where you can get a good meal."

Pulling Darnay's arm through his own, he led him through a few streets and up a covered walk into a hotel. Here they were taken to a little room where Charles Darnay was soon building up his strength with a good meal and a good wine. Carton sat at the same table, opposite to him, with a separate bottle of wine and his rough way still about him.

"Do you now feel a part of the world again, Mr. Darnay?"

"I am very confused about time and place, but I do feel that."

"It must make you feel very good.” He said it bitterly, and again filled his glass, which was a big one. "As for me, I would really like to forget that I am