He had never heard a sound so sweet and dear as the sound of her compassionate voice he had never seen a face so tenderly beautiful, as hers when it was confronted with his own on the edge of the grave that had been dug for him. He had loved Lucie Manette from the hour of his danger. Now, from the days when it was always summer in Eden, to these days when it is mostly winter in fallen latitudes, the world of a man has invariably gone one way-Charles Darnay's way-the way of the love of a woman. The rest of his time he passed in London. A certain portion of his time was passed at Cambridge, where he read with undergraduates as a sort of tolerated smuggler who drove a contraband trade in European languages, instead of conveying Greek and Latin through the Custom-house. He had expected labour, and he found it, and did it and made the best of it. In London, he had expected neither to walk on pavements of gold, nor to lie on beds of roses if he had had any such exalted expectation, he would not have prospered. So, with great perseverance and untiring industry, he prospered. He was well acquainted, more-over, with the circumstances of his country, and those were of ever-growing interest. As a tutor, whose attainments made the student's way unusually pleasant and profitable, and as an elegant translator who brought something to his work besides mere dictionary knowledge, young Mr. Such masters were not at that time easily found Princes that had been, and Kings that were to be, were not yet of the Teacher class, and no ruined nobility had dropped out of Tellson's ledgers, to turn cooks and carpenters.
He could write of them, besides, in sound English, and render them into sound English. He read with young men who could find any leisure and interest for the study of a living tongue spoken all over the world, and he cultivated a taste for its stores of knowledge and fancy. In this age, he would have been a Professor in that age, he was a Tutor.
Charles Darnay was established in England as a higher teacher of the French language who was conversant with French literature.
Two Promises More months, to the number of twelve, had come and gone, and Mr.
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