As his eyes rested on a short, slight, pretty figure, a quantity of golden hair, a pair of blue eyes that met his own with an inquiring look, and a forehead with a singular capacity (remembering how young and smooth it was), of lifting and knitting itself into an expression that was not quite one of perplexity, or wonder, or alarm, or merely of a bright fixed attention, though it included all the four expressions—as his eyes rested on these things, a sudden vivid likeness passed before him, of a child whom he had held in his arms on the passage across that very Channel, one cold time, when the hail drifted heavily and the sea ran high.

This is Mr. Lorry’s description of Lucie the first time he meets her as an adult. Our first impression of Lucie is one that remains throughout the novel—she is compassionate and innocent enough that Mr. Lorry is reminded of her as a child when he brought her from France to England.

Only his daughter had the power of charming this black brooding from his mind. She was the golden thread that united him to a Past beyond his misery, and to a Present beyond his misery: and the sound of her voice, the light of her face, the touch of her hand, had a strong beneficial influence with him almost always.

This is the narrator’s first description of Doctor Manette’s and Lucie’s relationship after she brings him home from Paris. Although the doctor still has memories of being imprisoned in the Bastille, Lucie’s kindness and love for him can bring him back to his true self. Their relationship shows how powerful the love of family can be even in turbulent times.

I know, Dr. Manette—how can I fail to know—that, mingled with the affection and duty of a daughter who has become a woman, there is, in her heart, towards you, all the love and reliance of infancy itself.

Charles Darnay speaks these words to Doctor Manette as he reveals his love for Lucie. Darnay makes clear that he does not intend to come between Manette and Lucie, and he acknowledges how special their relationship is. Like Mr. Lorry, Darnay compares Lucie to a child in how she loves and depends upon her father.

I would ask you, dearest, to be very generous with him always, and very lenient on his faults when he is not by. I would ask you to believe that he has a heart he very, very seldom reveals, and that there are deep wounds in it. My dear, I have seen it bleeding.

Here, Lucie requests that Darnay be understanding and patient with Carton after Darnay mentions Carton’s tendency to be careless and reckless. Although Carton himself has told Lucie how worthless he believes his life to be, and Lucie has witnessed the careless behavior Darnay references, Lucie’s compassion cannot allow her husband to say any word against Carton. Lucie transforms those around her by simply showing them love, understanding, and kindness.

For, there was something coming in the echoes, something light, afar off, and scarcely audible yet, that stirred her heart too much. Fluttering hopes and doubts—hope, of a love as yet unknown to her; doubts, of her remaining upon earth, to enjoy that new delight—divided her breast.

Here, the narrator reveals that despite settling into a happy routine as Darnay’s wife, Lucie has a sense of foreboding. Lucie’s feelings of dread while being happily married is yet another contradiction in the novel. Lucie feels hope for the child she will soon bear, but also an unexplained fear of death. Although the revolution is brewing across the Channel, Lucie seems to anticipate that something will happen to tear apart her family.