Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
them being handed into the coach by an arm in uniform, the eyes
connected with the arm looked, not an every day or an every night
look, at monsieur with the white head. “It is well. Forward!” from
the uniform. “Adieu!” from Defarge. And so, under a short grove
of feebler and feebler over-swinging lamps, out under the great
grove of stars.
Beneath that arch of unmoved and eternal lights; some, so
remote from this little earth that the learned tell us it is doubtful
whether their rays have even yet discovered it, as a point in space
where anything is suffered or done: the shadows of the night were
broad and black. All through the cold and restless interval, until
dawn, they once more whispered in the ears of Mr. Jarvis Lorry
sitting opposite the buried man who had been dug out, and
wondering what subtle powers were for ever lost to him, and what
were capable of restorationthe old inquiry:
“I hope you care to be recalled to life?”
And the old answer:
“I can’t say.”
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
BOOK THE SECOND
THE GOLDEN
THREAD
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Chapter VII
FIVE YEARS LATER
T
ellson’s Bank by Temple Bar was an old-fashioned place,
even in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty.
It was very small, very dark, very ugly, very
incommodious. It was an old-fashioned place, moreover, in the
moral attribute that the partners in the House were proud of its
smallness, proud of its darkness, proud of its ugliness, proud of its
incommodiousness. They were even boastful of its eminence in