| Book the Second - the Golden Thread
24. XXIV. Drawn to the Loadstone Rock
 (continued)He knew very well, that in his horror of the deed which had culminated
 the bad deeds and bad reputation of the old family house, in his
 resentful suspicions of his uncle, and in the aversion with which his
 conscience regarded the crumbling fabric that he was supposed to
 uphold, he had acted imperfectly.  He knew very well, that in his love
 for Lucie, his renunciation of his social place, though by no means
 new to his own mind, had been hurried and incomplete.  He knew that
 he ought to have systematically worked it out and supervised it, and
 that he had meant to do it, and that it had never been done. The happiness of his own chosen English home, the necessity of being
 always actively employed, the swift changes and troubles of the time
 which had followed on one another so fast, that the events of this
 week annihilated the immature plans of last week, and the events of
 the week following made all new again; he knew very well, that to the
 force of these circumstances he had yielded:--not without disquiet,
 but still without continuous and accumulating resistance.  That he
 had watched the times for a time of action, and that they had shifted
 and struggled until the time had gone by, and the nobility were
 trooping from France by every highway and byway, and their property
 was in course of confiscation and destruction, and their very names
 were blotting out, was as well known to himself as it could be to any
 new authority in France that might impeach him for it. But, he had oppressed no man, he had imprisoned no man; he was so far
 from having harshly exacted payment of his dues, that he had
 relinquished them of his own will, thrown himself on a world with no
 favour in it, won his own private place there, and earned his own
 bread.  Monsieur Gabelle had held the impoverished and involved estate
 on written instructions, to spare the people, to give them what little
 there was to give--such fuel as the heavy creditors would let them
 have in the winter, and such produce as could be saved from the same
 grip in the summer--and no doubt he had put the fact in plea and proof,
 for his own safety, so that it could not but appear now. This favoured the desperate resolution Charles Darnay had begun to make,
 that he would go to Paris. |