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Whereas, to this wretched hour I am ignorant of both.

* * *

"These scraps of paper fail me. One was taken from me, with a warning, yesterday. I must finish my record to-day.

"She was a good, compassionate lady, and not happy in her marriage.

How could she be! The brother distrusted and disliked her, and his influence was all opposed to her; she stood in dread of him, and in dread of her husband too.

When I handed her down to the door, there was a child, a pretty boy from two to three years old, in her carriage.

"'For his sake, Doctor,' she said, pointing to him in tears, 'I would do all I can to make what poor amends I can.

He will never prosper in his inheritance otherwise.

I have a presentiment that if no other innocent atonement is made for this, it will one day be required of him.

What I have left to call my own-it is little beyond the worth of a few jewels-I will make it the first charge of his life to bestow, with the compassion and lamenting of his dead mother, on this injured family, if the sister can be discovered.'

"She kissed the boy, and said, caressing him, 'It is for thine own dear sake. Thou wilt be faithful, little Charles?' The child answered her bravely, 'Yes!' I kissed her hand, and she took him in her arms, and went away caressing him. I never saw her more.

"As she had mentioned her husband's name in the faith that I knew it, I added no mention of it to my letter. I sealed my letter, and, not trusting it out of my own hands, delivered it myself that day.

"That night, the last night of the year, towards nine o'clock, a man in a black dress rang at my gate, demanded to see me, and softly followed my servant, Ernest Defarge, a youth, up-stairs.

When my servant came into the room where I sat with my wife-O my wife, beloved of my heart! My fair young English wife!-we saw the man, who was supposed to be at the gate, standing silent behind him.

"An urgent case in the Rue St. Honore, he said. It would not detain me, he had a coach in waiting.

"It brought me here, it brought me to my grave.

When I was clear of the house, a black muffler was drawn tightly over my mouth from behind, and my arms were pinioned.

The two brothers crossed the road from a dark corner, and identified me with a single gesture.

The Marquis took from his pocket the letter I had written, showed it me, burnt it in the light of a lantern that was held, and extinguished the ashes with his foot.

Not a word was spoken.

I was brought here, I was brought to my living grave.

"If it had pleased God to put it in the hard heart of either of the brothers, in all these frightful years, to grant me any tidings of my dearest wife-so much as to let me know by a word whether alive or dead-I might have thought that He had not quite abandoned them.

But, now I believe that the mark of the red cross is fatal to them, and that they have no part in His mercies.

And them and their descendants, to the last of their race, I, Alexandre Manette, unhappy prisoner, do this last night of the year 1767, in my unbearable agony, denounce to the times when all these things shall be answered for.

I denounce them to Heaven and to earth."

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