`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.'

`My husband, it is so. I fear he is not to be reclaimed; there is scarcely a hope that anything in his character or fortunes is reparable now. But, I am sure that he is capable of good things, gentle things, even magnanimous things.'

She looked so beautiful in the purity of her faith in this lost man, that her husband could have looked at her as she was for hours.

`And, O my dearest Love!' she urged, clinging nearer to him, laying her head upon his breast, and raising her eyes to his, `remember how strong we are in our happiness, and how weak he is in his misery!'

The supplication touched him home. `I will always remember it, dear Heart! I will remember it as long as I live.'

He bent over the golden head, and put the rosy lips to his, and folded her in his arms. If one forlorn wanderer then pacing the dark streets, could have heard her innocent disclosure, and could have seen the drops of pity kissed away by her husband from the soft blue eyes so loving of that husband, he might have cried to the night--and the words would not have parted from his lips for the first time--

`God bless her for her sweet compassion!'