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"It is hard for me to speak of her at any time. It is very hard

for me to hear her spoken of in that tone of yours, Charles

Darnay."

"It is a tone of fervent admiration, true homage, and deep love,

Doctor Manette!" he said deferentially.

There was another blank silence before her father rejoined:

"I believe it. I do you justice; I believe it."

His constraint was so manifest, and it was so manifest, too, that

it originated in an unwillingness to approach the subject, that

Charles Darnay hesitated.

"Shall I go on, sir?"

Another blank.

"Yes, go on."

"You anticipate what I would say, though you cannot know how

earnestly I say it, how earnestly I feel it, without knowing my

secret heart, and the hopes and fears and anxieties with which it

has long been laden. Dear Doctor Manette, I love your daughter

fondly, dearly, disinterestedly, devotedly. If ever there were

love in the world, I love her. You have loved yourself; let your

old love speak for me!"