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作者: Charles Dickens

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"Will I promise? What will I not promise to my Love?"
What, indeed, with his hand putting aside the golden hair from
the cheek, and his other hand against the heart that beat for
him!
"I think, Charles, poor Mr. Carton deserves more consideration
and respect than you expressed for him to-night."
"Indeed, my own? Why so?"
"That is what you are not to ask me. But I think--I know--he
does."
"If you know it, it is enough. What would you have me do, my
Life?"
"I would ask you, dearest, to be very generous with him always,
and very lenient on his faults when he is not by. I would ask you
to believe that he has a heart he very, very seldom reveals, and
that there are deep wounds in it. My dear, I have seen it
bleeding."
"It is a painful reflection to me," said Charles Darnay, quite
astounded, "that I should have done him any wrong. I never
thought this of him."

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