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.