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don； that fine morning。
‘Father；' said Young Jerry； as they walked along： taking care to keep at arm's length and to have the stool well between them： ‘what's a ResurrectionMan？'
Mr。 Cruncher came to a stop on the pavement before lie answered； ‘How should I know？'
‘I thought you knowed everything； father；' said the artless boy。
‘Hem！ Well；' returned Mr。 Cruncher； going on again； and lifting off his hat to give his spikes free play； ‘he's a tradesman。'
‘What‘s his goods； father？' asked the brisk Young Jerry。
‘His goods；' said Mr。 Cruncher； after turning it over in his mind； is a branch of Scientific goods。'
‘Persons' bodies； ain't it； father？' asked the lively boy。
‘I believe it is something of that sort；' said Mr。 Cruncher。
‘Oh； father； I should so like to be a Resurrectionman when I ‘m quite growed up！'
Mr。 Cruncher was soothed； but shook his head in a dubious and moral way。 ‘It depends upon how you dewelop your talents。 Be careful to dewelop your talents； and never to say no more than you can help to nobody； and there's no telling at the present time what you may not come to be fit for。' As Young Jerry； thus encouraged； went on a few yards in advance； to plant the stool in the shadow of the Bar； Mr。 Cruncher added to himself： ‘Jerry； you honest tradesman； there's hopes wot that boy will yet be a blessing to you； and a recompense to you for his mother！
CHAPTER XVII
One Night
NEVER did the sun go down with a brighter glory on the quiet comer in Soho； than one memorable evening when Doctor and his daughter sat under the plane…tree together。 Never did the moon rise with a milder radiance over great London； than on that night when it found them still seated under the tree； and shone upon their faces through its leaves。
Lucie was to be married to…morrow。 She had reserved this last evening for her father； and they sat alone under the plane…tree。
‘You are happy； my dear father？'
‘Quite； my child。'
They had said little though they had been there a long time。 When it was yet light enough to work and read； she had neither engaged herself in her usual work； nor had she read to him。 She had employed herself in both ways； at his side under the tree； many and many a time； but； this time was not quite like any other； and nothing could make it so。
And I am very happy to…night； dear father。 I am deeply happy in the love that Heaven has so blessedmy love for Charles； and Charles's love for me。 But； if my life were not to be still consecrated to you； or if my marriage were so arranged as that it would part us； even by the length of a few of these streets； I should be more unhappy and self…reproachful now than I can tell you。 Even as it is…'
Even as it was； she could not command her voice。
In the sad moonlight； she clasped him by the neck； and lad her face upon his breast。 In the moonlight which is always sad； as the light of the sun itself Bas the light called human life is…at its coming and its going。
‘Dearest dear！ Can you tell me； this last time； that you feel quite； quite sure； no new affections of mine； and no new duties of mine； will ever interpose between us？ I know it well； but do you know it？ In your own heart； do you feel quite certain？'
Her father answered； with a cheerful firmness of conviction he could scarcely have assumed； ‘Quite sure； my darling！ More than that；' he added； as he tenderly kissed her： ‘my future is far brighter； Lucie； seen through your marriage； than it could have beennay； than it ever waswithout it。'
‘If I could hope that； my father！…'
‘Believe it； love！ Indeed it is so。 Consider how natural and how plain it is； my dear； that it should be so。 You； devoted and young； cannot fully appreciate the anxiety I have felt that your life should not be wasted'
She moved her hand towards his lips； but he took it in his； and repeated the word。
‘wasted； my childshould not be wasted； struck aside from the natural order of thingsfor my sake。 Your unselfishness cannot entirely comprehend how much my mind has gone on this； but； only ask yourself how could my happiness be perfect； while yours was incomplete？'
‘If I had never seen Charles； my father； I should have been quite happy with you。'
He smiled at her unconscious admission that she would have been unhappy without Charles； having seen him； and replied：
‘My child； you did see him； and it is Charles。 If it had not been Charles； it would have been another。 Or； if it had been no other； I should have been the cause； and then the dark part of my life would have cast its shadow beyond myself and would have fallen on you。'
It was the first time； except at the trial； of her ever hearing him refer to the period of his suffering。 It gave her a strange and new sensation while his words were in her ears； and she remembered it long afterwards。
‘See！' said the Doctor of Beauvais； raising his hand towards the moon。 ‘I have looked at her from my prison…window； when I could not bear her light。 I have looked at her when it has been such torture to me to think of her shining upon what I had lost； that I have beaten my head against my prison…walls。 I have looked at her； in a state so dull and lethargic； that I have thought of nothing but the number of horizontal lines ‘I could draw across her at the full； and the number of perpendicular lines with which I could intersect them。' He added in his inward and pondering manner； as he looked at the moon； ‘It was twenty either way； I remember； and the twentieth was difficult to squeeze in。'
The strange thrill with which she heard him go back to that time； deepened as he dwelt upon it； but； there was nothing to shock her in the manner of his reference。 He only seemed to contrast his present cheerfulness and felicity with the dire endurance that was over。
‘I have looked at her； speculating thousands of times upon the unborn child from whom I had been rent。 Whether it was alive。 Whether it had been born alive； or the poor mother's shock had killed it。 Whether it was a son who would some day avenge his father。 （There was a time in my imprisonment； when my desire for vengeance was unbearable。） Whether it was a son who would never know his father's story； who might even live to weigh the possibility of his father's having disappeared of his own will and act。 Whether it was a daughter who would grow to be a woman。'
She drew closer to him； and kissed his cheek and his hand。 ‘I have pictured my daughter； to myself； as perfectly forgetful of merather； altogether ignorant of me； and unconscious of me。 I have cast up the years of her age； year after year。 I have seen her married to a man who knew nothing of my fate。 I have altogether perished from the remembrance of the living； and in the next generation my place was a blank。'
‘My father！ Even to hear that you had such thoughts of a daughter who never existed； strikes to my heart as if I had been that child。'
‘You； Lucie？ It is out of the consolation and restoration you have brought to me； that these remembrances arise； and pass between us and the moon on this last night。what did I say just now？'
She knew nothing of you。 She cared nothing for you。'
‘So！ But on other moonlight nights； when the sadness and the silence have touched me in a different wayhave affected me with something as like a sorrowful sense of peace； as any emotion that had pain for its foundations couldI have imagined her as coming to me in my cell； and leading me out into the freedom beyond the fortress。 I have seen her image in the moonlight often； as I now see you； except that I never held her in my arms； it stood between the little grated window and the door。 But； you understand that that was not the child I am speaking of？'
‘The figure was not； thetheimage； the fancy？'
‘No。 That was another thing。 It stood before my disturbed sense of sight； but it never moved。 The phantom that my mind pursued； was another and more real child。 Of her outward appearance I know no more than that she was like her mother。 The other had that likeness tooas you havebut was not the same。 Can you follow me； Lucie？ Hardly； I think I ‘doubt you must have beer； a solitary prisoner to understand these prisoner perplexed distinctions。
His collected and calm manner could not prevent her blood from running cold； as he thus tried to anatomise his old condition。
‘In that more peaceful state； I have imagined her； in the moonlight； coming to me and taking me out to show me that the home of her married life was lull of her loving remembrance of her lost father。 My picture was in her room； and I was in her prayers。 Her life was active； cheerful； useful； hut my poor history pervaded it all。'
‘I was that child；my father。 I was not half so good； but in my love that was I。'
‘And she showed me her children；' said the Doctor of Beauvais； ‘and they had heard of me； and had been taught to pity me。 When they passed a prison of the State； they kept far from its frowning walls； and looked up at its bars； and spoke in whispers。 She could never deliver me； I imagined that she always brought me back after showing me such things。 But then； blessed with the relief of tears； I fell upon my knees； and blessed her。'
‘I am that child； I hope； my father。 O my dear； my dear； will you ble