Book the Second - the Golden Thread
18. XVIII. Nine Days
The marriage-day was shining brightly, and they were ready outside
the closed door of the Doctor's room, where he was speaking with
Charles Darnay. They were ready to go to church; the beautiful bride,
Mr. Lorry, and Miss Pross--to whom the event, through a gradual process
of reconcilement to the inevitable, would have been one of absolute
bliss, but for the yet lingering consideration that her brother
Solomon should have been the bridegroom.
"And so," said Mr. Lorry, who could not sufficiently admire the bride,
and who had been moving round her to take in every point of her quiet,
pretty dress; "and so it was for this, my sweet Lucie, that I brought
you across the Channel, such a baby' Lord bless me' How little I
thought what I was doing! How lightly I valued the obligation I was
conferring on my friend Mr. Charles!"
"You didn't mean it," remarked the matter-of-fact Miss Pross, "and
therefore how could you know it? Nonsense!"
"Really? Well; but don't cry," said the gentle Mr. Lorry.
"I am not crying," said Miss Pross; "YOU are."
"I, my Pross?" (By this time, Mr. Lorry dared to be pleasant with
her, on occasion.)
"You were, just now; I saw you do it, and I don't wonder at it. Such
a present of plate as you have made 'em, is enough to bring tears into
anybody's eyes. There's not a fork or a spoon in the collection,"
said Miss Pross, "that I didn't cry over, last night after the box came,
till I couldn't see it."
"I am highly gratified," said Mr. Lorry, "though, upon my honour, I
had no intention of rendering those trifling articles of remembrance
invisible to any one. Dear me! This is an occasion that makes a man
speculate on all he has lost. Dear, dear, dear! To think that there
might have been a Mrs. Lorry, any time these fifty years almost!"
"Not at all!" From Miss Pross.