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It was dark when Charles Darnay left him, and it was an hour

later and darker when Lucie came home; she hurried into the room

alone--for Miss Pross had gone straight up-stairs--and was

surprised to find his reading-chair empty.

"My father!" she called to him. "Father dear!"

Nothing was said in answer, but she heard a low hammering sound

in his bedroom. Passing lightly across the intermediate room, she

looked in at his door and came running back frightened, crying to

herself, with her blood all chilled, "What shall I do! What shall

I do!"

Her uncertainty lasted but a moment; she hurried back, and tapped

at his door, and softly called to him. The noise ceased at the

sound of her voice, and he presently came out to her, and they

walked up and down together for a long time.

She came down from her bed, to look at him in his sleep that

night. He slept heavily, and his tray of shoemaking tools, and

his old unfinished work, were all as usual.

CHAPTER XI. A Companion Picture