Lorry asks what the information was. He does reassure Mr. Lorry that another relapse seems highly unlikely. After all, there are no more big shocks in store. Thank goodness. Now comes the tricky part: Mr. Lorry and Miss Pross have come up with a plan.
Nevertheless, they decide to give it a go. The doctor seems more disturbed than before. Pained by this thought, the doctor explains that the bench was once the only thing that kept him sane. In some ways, then, the bench symbolizes his strength, not his weakness.
I may go on? He is of a studious habit, and unusually energetic; he applies himself with great ardour to the acquisition of professional knowledge, to the conducting of experiments, to many things.
Now, does he do too much? It may be the character of his mind, to be always in singular need of occupation. That may be, in part, natural to it; in part, the result of affliction. The less it was occupied with healthy things, the more it would be in danger of turning in the unhealthy direction. He may have observed himself, and made the discovery.
There has been a violent stress in one direction, and it needs a counterweight. Assuming for a moment, that he WAS overworked; it would show itself in some renewal of this disorder? I think that, henceforth, nothing but some extraordinary jarring of that chord could renew it.
After what has happened, and after his recovery, I find it difficult to imagine any such violent sounding of that string again. I trust, and I almost believe, that the circumstances likely to renew it are exhausted. He spoke with the diffidence of a man who knew how slight a thing would overset the delicate organisation of the mind, and yet with the confidence of a man who had slowly won his assurance out of personal endurance and distress.
It was not for his friend to abate that confidence. He professed himself more relieved and encouraged than he really was, and approached his second and last point. He felt it to be the most difficult of all; but, remembering his old Sunday morning conversation with Miss Pross, and remembering what he had seen in the last nine days, he knew that he must face it.
We will say, to put a case and for the sake of illustration, that he had been used, in his bad time, to work at a little forge. We will say that he was unexpectedly found at his forge again. Is it not a pity that he should keep it by him?
Lorry, with an anxious look at his friend. He once yearned so frightfully for that occupation, and it was so welcome when it came; no doubt it relieved his pain so much, by substituting the perplexity of the fingers for the perplexity of the brain, and by substituting, as he became more practised, the ingenuity of the hands, for the ingenuity of the mental torture; that he has never been able to bear the thought of putting it quite out of his reach.
Even now, when I believe he is more hopeful of himself than he has ever been, and even speaks of himself with a kind of confidence, the idea that he might need that old employment, and not find it, gives him a sudden sense of terror, like that which one may fancy strikes to the heart of a lost child. I ask for information, as a plodding man of business who only deals with such material objects as guineas, shillings, and bank-notes—may not the retention of the thing involve the retention of the idea?
If the thing were gone, my dear Manette, might not the fear go with it? In short, is it not a concession to the misgiving, to keep the forge? Lorry, shaking his head; for he gained in firmness as he saw the Doctor disquieted.
I only want your authority. I am sure it does no good. However, Doctor Manette is perhaps the one exception to this criticism. In his conversation with Mr. Lorry, he displays the multifaceted nature of his character, ranging from a loving father to a capable professional to a nervous victim. Although troubled by his relapse, he seems more confident in its wake, possibly because he knew Darnay's revelation might trigger a relapse and he now believes nothing else is likely to cause it to happen again.
His insistence that he is not overworked and needs to work in order to balance his mind displays a self-knowledge that is especially impressive in light of the complete lack of self-awareness that he exhibited when Mr.
Lorry first observed him in the Paris garret. Lorry, clearing his throat, "we will call — Blacksmith's work. Blacksmith's work. We will say, to put a case and for the sake of illustration, that he had been used, in his bad time, to work at a little forge.
We will say that he was unexpectedly found at his forge again. Is it not a pity that he should keep it by him? The Doctor shaded his forehead with his hand, and beat his foot nervously on the ground. Barnard deftly realizes the confessional scene in which Dr.
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