English
Iwasthree-and-twentyyearsofage.NotanotherwordhadIheardtoenlightenmeonthesubjectofmyexpectations,andmytwenty-thirdbirthdaywasaweekgone.
WehadleftBarnard’sInnmorethanayear,andlivedintheTemple.
OurchamberswereinGarden-court,downbytheriver.
Mr.PocketandIhadforsometimepartedcompanyastoouroriginalrelations,thoughwecontinuedonthebestterms.
Notwithstandingmyinabilitytosettletoanything—whichIhopearoseoutoftherestlessandincompletetenureonwhichIheldmymeans—Ihadatasteforreading,andreadregularlysomanyhoursaday.
ThatmatterofHerbert’swasstillprogressing,andeverythingwithmewasasIhavebroughtitdowntothecloseofthelastprecedingchapter.
BusinesshadtakenHerbertonajourneytoMarseilles.
Iwasalone,andhadadullsenseofbeingalone.
Dispiritedandanxious,longhopingthatto-morrowornextweekwouldclearmyway,andlongdisappointed,Isadlymissedthecheerfulfaceandreadyresponseofmyfriend.
Itwaswretchedweather;stormyandwet,stormyandwet;andmud,mud,mud,deepinallthestreets.
Dayafterday,avastheavyveilhadbeendrivingoverLondonfromtheEast,anditdrovestill,asifintheEasttherewereanEternityofcloudandwind.
Sofurioushadbeenthegusts,thathighbuildingsintownhadhadtheleadstrippedofftheirroofs;andinthecountry,treeshadbeentornup,andsailsofwindmillscarriedaway;andgloomyaccountshadcomeinfromthecoast,ofshipwreckanddeath.
Violentblastsofrainhadaccompaniedtheseragesofwind,andthedayjustclosedasIsatdowntoreadhadbeentheworstofall.
AlterationshavebeenmadeinthatpartoftheTemplesincethattime,andithasnotnowsolonelyacharacterasithadthen,norisitsoexposedtotheriver.
Welivedatthetopofthelasthouse,andthewindrushinguptherivershookthehousethatnight,likedischargesofcannon,orbreakingsofasea.
Whentheraincamewithitanddashedagainstthewindows,Ithought,raisingmyeyestothemastheyrocked,thatImighthavefanciedmyselfinastorm-beatenlighthouse.
Occasionally,thesmokecamerollingdownthechimneyasthoughitcouldnotbeartogooutintosuchanight;andwhenIsetthedoorsopenandlookeddownthestaircase,thestaircaselampswereblownout;andwhenIshadedmyfacewithmyhandsandlookedthroughtheblackwindows(openingthemeversolittle,wasoutofthequestionintheteethofsuchwindandrain)Isawthatthelampsinthecourtwereblownout,andthatthelampsonthebridgesandtheshorewereshuddering,andthatthecoalfiresinbargesontheriverwerebeingcarriedawaybeforethewindlikered-hotsplashesintherain.
Ireadwithmywatchuponthetable,purposingtoclosemybookateleveno’clock.
AsIshutit,SaintPaul’s,andallthemanychurch-clocksintheCity—someleading,someaccompanying,somefollowing—struckthathour.
Thesoundwascuriouslyflawedbythewind;andIwaslistening,andthinkinghowthewindassailedandtoreit,whenIheardafootsteponthestair.
Whatnervousfollymademestart,andawfullyconnectitwiththefootstepofmydeadsister,mattersnot.
Itwaspastinamoment,andIlistenedagain,andheardthefootstepstumbleincomingon.
Rememberingthen,thatthestaircase-lightswereblownout,Itookupmyreading-lampandwentouttothestair-head.
Whoeverwasbelowhadstoppedonseeingmylamp,forallwasquiet.
“Thereissomeonedownthere,istherenot?”Icalledout,lookingdown.
“Yes,”saidavoicefromthedarknessbeneath.
“Whatfloordoyouwant?”
“Thetop.Mr.Pip.”
“Thatismyname.—Thereisnothingthematter?”
“Nothingthematter,”returnedthevoice.Andthemancameon.
Istoodwithmylampheldoutoverthestair-rail,andhecameslowlywithinitslight.
Itwasashadedlamp,toshineuponabook,anditscircleoflightwasverycontracted;sothathewasinitforamereinstant,andthenoutofit.
Intheinstant,Ihadseenafacethatwasstrangetome,lookingupwithanincomprehensibleairofbeingtouchedandpleasedbythesightofme.
Movingthelampasthemanmoved,Imadeoutthathewassubstantiallydressed,butroughly;likeavoyagerbysea.Thathehadlongiron-greyhair.Thathisagewasaboutsixty.
Thathewasamuscularman,strongonhislegs,andthathewasbrownedandhardenedbyexposuretoweather.
Asheascendedthelaststairortwo,andthelightofmylampincludedusboth,Isaw,withastupidkindofamazement,thathewasholdingoutbothhishandstome.
“Praywhatisyourbusiness?”Iaskedhim.
“Mybusiness?”herepeated,pausing.“Ah!Yes.Iwillexplainmybusiness,byyourleave.”
“Doyouwishtocomein?”
“Yes,”hereplied;“Iwishtocomein,Master.”
Ihadaskedhimthequestioninhospitablyenough,forIresentedthesortofbrightandgratifiedrecognitionthatstillshoneinhisface.
Iresentedit,becauseitseemedtoimplythatheexpectedmetorespondtoit.
But,ItookhimintotheroomIhadjustleft,and,havingsetthelamponthetable,askedhimascivillyasIcould,toexplainhimself.
Helookedabouthimwiththestrangestair—anairofwonderingpleasure,asifhehadsomepartinthethingsheadmired—andhepulledoffaroughoutercoat,andhishat.
Then,Isawthathisheadwasfurrowedandbald,andthatthelongiron-greyhairgrewonlyonitssides.
But,Isawnothingthatintheleastexplainedhim.
Onthecontrary,Isawhimnextmoment,oncemoreholdingoutbothhishandstome.
“Whatdoyoumean?”saidI,halfsuspectinghimtobemad.
Hestoppedinhislookingatme,andslowlyrubbedhisrighthandoverhishead.
“It’sdisapintingtoaman,”hesaid,inacoarsebrokenvoice,“arterhavinglookedfor’ardsodistant,andcomesofur;butyou’renottoblameforthat—neitheronusistoblameforthat.I’llspeakinhalfaminute.Givemehalfaminute,please.”
Hesatdownonachairthatstoodbeforethefire,andcoveredhisforeheadwithhislargebrownveinoushands.
Ilookedathimattentivelythen,andrecoiledalittlefromhim;butIdidnotknowhim.
“There’snoonenigh,”saidhe,lookingoverhisshoulder;“isthere?”
“Whydoyou,astrangercomingintomyroomsatthistimeofthenight,askthatquestion?”saidI.
“You’reagameone,”hereturned,shakinghisheadatmewithadeliberateaffection,atoncemostunintelligibleandmostexasperating;“I’mgladyou’vegrow’dup,agameone!Butdon’tcatchholdofme.
You’dbesorryarterwardstohavedoneit.”
Irelinquishedtheintentionhehaddetected,forIknewhim!
Evenyet,Icouldnotrecallasinglefeature,butIknewhim!
Ifthewindandtherainhaddrivenawaytheinterveningyears,hadscatteredalltheinterveningobjects,hadsweptustothechurchyardwherewefirststoodfacetofaceonsuchdifferentlevels,IcouldnothaveknownmyconvictmoredistinctlythanIknewhimnowashesatinthechairbeforethefire.
Noneedtotakeafilefromhispocketandshowittome;noneedtotakethehandkerchieffromhisneckandtwistitroundhishead;noneedtohughimselfwithbothhisarms,andtakeashiveringturnacrosstheroom,lookingbackatmeforrecognition.
Iknewhimbeforehegavemeoneofthoseaids,though,amomentbefore,Ihadnotbeenconsciousofremotelysuspectinghisidentity.
HecamebacktowhereIstood,andagainheldoutbothhishands.
Notknowingwhattodo—for,inmyastonishmentIhadlostmyself-possession—Ireluctantlygavehimmyhands.
Hegraspedthemheartily,raisedthemtohislips,kissedthem,andstillheldthem.
“Youactednoble,myboy,”saidhe.“Noble,Pip!AndIhaveneverforgotit!”
Atachangeinhismannerasifhewereevengoingtoembraceme,Ilaidahanduponhisbreastandputhimaway.
“Stay!”saidI.“Keepoff!
IfyouaregratefultomeforwhatIdidwhenIwasalittlechild,Ihopeyouhaveshownyourgratitudebymendingyourwayoflife.
Ifyouhavecomeheretothankme,itwasnotnecessary.
Still,howeveryouhavefoundmeout,theremustbesomethinggoodinthefeelingthathasbroughtyouhere,andIwillnotrepulseyou;butsurelyyoumustunderstandthat—I—”
Myattentionwassoattractedbythesingularityofhisfixedlookatme,thatthewordsdiedawayonmytongue.
“Youwasasaying,”heobserved,whenwehadconfrontedoneanotherinsilence,“thatsurelyImustunderstand.What,surelymustIunderstand?”
“ThatIcannotwishtorenewthatchanceintercoursewithyouoflongago,underthesedifferentcircumstances.
Iamgladtobelieveyouhaverepentedandrecoveredyourself.Iamgladtotellyouso.
Iamgladthat,thinkingIdeservetobethanked,youhavecometothankme.
Butourwaysaredifferentways,nonetheless.Youarewet,andyoulookweary.
Willyoudrinksomethingbeforeyougo?”
Hehadreplacedhisneckerchiefloosely,andhadstood,keenlyobservantofme,bitingalongendofit.
“Ithink,”heanswered,stillwiththeendathismouthandstillobservantofme,“thatIwilldrink(Ithankyou)aforeIgo.”
Therewasatrayreadyonaside-table.Ibroughtittothetablenearthefire,andaskedhimwhathewouldhave?
Hetouchedoneofthebottleswithoutlookingatitorspeaking,andImadehimsomehotrum-and-water.
ItriedtokeepmyhandsteadywhileIdidso,buthislookatmeasheleanedbackinhischairwiththelongdraggledendofhisneckerchiefbetweenhisteeth—evidentlyforgotten—mademyhandverydifficulttomaster.
WhenatlastIputtheglasstohim,Isawwithamazementthathiseyeswerefulloftears.
UptothistimeIhadremainedstanding,nottodisguisethatIwishedhimgone.
ButIwassoftenedbythesoftenedaspectoftheman,andfeltatouchofreproach.
“Ihope,”saidI,hurriedlyputtingsomethingintoaglassformyself,anddrawingachairtothetable,“thatyouwillnotthinkIspokeharshlytoyoujustnow.
Ihadnointentionofdoingit,andIamsorryforitifIdid.Iwishyouwell,andhappy!”
AsIputmyglasstomylips,heglancedwithsurpriseattheendofhisneckerchief,droppingfromhismouthwhenheopenedit,andstretchedouthishand.
Igavehimmine,andthenhedrank,anddrewhissleeveacrosshiseyesandforehead.
“Howareyouliving?”Iaskedhim.
“I’vebeenasheep-farmer,stock-breeder,othertradesbesides,awayinthenewworld,”saidhe:“manyathousandmileofstormywaterofffromthis.”
“Ihopeyouhavedonewell?”
“I’vedonewonderfullywell.There’sotherswentoutalongermeashasdonewelltoo,butnomanhasdonenighaswellasme.I’mfamousforit.”
“Iamgladtohearit.”
“Ihopetohearyousayso,mydearboy.”
Withoutstoppingtotrytounderstandthosewordsorthetoneinwhichtheywerespoken,Iturnedofftoapointthathadjustcomeintomymind.
“Haveyoueverseenamessengeryouoncesenttome,”Iinquired,“sinceheundertookthattrust?”
“Neverseteyesuponhim.Iwarn’tlikelytoit.”
“Hecamefaithfully,andhebroughtmethetwoone-poundnotes.
Iwasapoorboythen,asyouknow,andtoapoorboytheywerealittlefortune.
But,likeyou,Ihavedonewellsince,andyoumustletmepaythemback.
Youcanputthemtosomeotherpoorboy’suse.”Itookoutmypurse.
HewatchedmeasIlaidmypurseuponthetableandopenedit,andhewatchedmeasIseparatedtwoone-poundnotesfromitscontents.
Theywerecleanandnew,andIspreadthemoutandhandedthemovertohim.
Stillwatchingme,helaidthemoneupontheother,foldedthemlong-wise,gavethematwist,setfiretothematthelamp,anddroppedtheashesintothetray.
“MayImakesobold,”hesaidthen,withasmilethatwaslikeafrown,andwithafrownthatwaslikeasmile,“asaskyouhowyouhavedonewell,sinceyouandmewasoutonthemloneshiveringmarshes?”
“How?”
“Ah!”
Heemptiedhisglass,gotup,andstoodatthesideofthefire,withhisheavybrownhandonthemantelshelf.
Heputafootuptothebars,todryandwarmit,andthewetbootbegantosteam;but,heneitherlookedatit,noratthefire,butsteadilylookedatme.
ItwasonlynowthatIbegantotremble.
Whenmylipshadparted,andhadshapedsomewordsthatwerewithoutsound,Iforcedmyselftotellhim(thoughIcouldnotdoitdistinctly),thatIhadbeenchosentosucceedtosomeproperty.
“Mightamerewarmintaskwhatproperty?”saidhe.
Ifaltered,“Idon’tknow.”
“Mightamerewarmintaskwhoseproperty?”saidhe.
Ifalteredagain,“Idon’tknow.”
“CouldImakeaguess,Iwonder,”saidtheConvict,“atyourincomesinceyoucomeofage!Astothefirstfigurenow.Five?”
Withmyheartbeatinglikeaheavyhammerofdisorderedaction,Iroseoutofmychair,andstoodwithmyhanduponthebackofit,lookingwildlyathim.
“Concerningaguardian,”hewenton.“Thereoughttohavebeensomeguardian,orsuch-like,whilesyouwasaminor.Somelawyer,maybe.
Astothefirstletterofthatlawyer’snamenow.WoulditbeJ?”
Allthetruthofmypositioncameflashingonme;anditsdisappointments,dangers,disgraces,consequencesofallkinds,rushedininsuchamultitudethatIwasbornedownbythemandhadtostruggleforeverybreathIdrew.
“Putit,”heresumed,“astheemployerofthatlawyerwhosenamebegunwithaJ,andmightbeJaggers—putitashehadcomeoverseatoPortsmouth,andhadlandedthere,andhadwantedtocomeontoyou.
‘However,youhavefoundmeout,’yousaysjustnow.Well!However,didIfindyouout?
Why,IwrotefromPortsmouthtoapersoninLondon,forparticularsofyouraddress.Thatperson’sname?Why,Wemmick.”
Icouldnothavespokenoneword,thoughithadbeentosavemylife.
Istood,withahandonthechair-backandahandonmybreast,whereIseemedtobesuffocating—Istoodso,lookingwildlyathim,untilIgraspedatthechair,whentheroombegantosurgeandturn.
Hecaughtme,drewmetothesofa,putmeupagainstthecushions,andbentononekneebeforeme:bringingthefacethatInowwellremembered,andthatIshudderedat,veryneartomine.
“Yes,Pip,dearboy,I’vemadeagentlemanonyou!It’smewothasdoneit!
Isworethattime,sureaseverIearnedaguinea,thatguineashouldgotoyou.
Isworearterwards,sureaseverIspec’latedandgotrich,youshouldgetrich.
Ilivedrough,thatyoushouldlivesmooth;Iworkedhard,thatyoushouldbeabovework.Whatodds,dearboy?
DoItellit,furyoutofeelaobligation?Notabit.
Itellit,furyoutoknowasthattherehunteddunghilldogwotyoukeplifein,gothisheadsohighthathecouldmakeagentleman—and,Pip,you’rehim!”
TheabhorrenceinwhichIheldtheman,thedreadIhadofhim,therepugnancewithwhichIshrankfromhim,couldnothavebeenexceededifhehadbeensometerriblebeast.
“Look’eehere,Pip.I’myoursecondfather.You’remyson—moretomenoranyson.
I’veputawaymoney,onlyforyoutospend.
WhenIwasahired-outshepherdinasolitaryhut,notseeingnofacesbutfacesofsheeptillIhalfforgotwotmen’sandwomen’sfaceswoslike,Iseeyourn.
IdropsmyknifemanyatimeinthathutwhenIwasa-eatingmydinnerormysupper,andIsays,‘Here’stheboyagain,a-lookingatmewhilesIeatsanddrinks!’
Iseeyouthereamanytimes,asplainaseverIseeyouonthemmistymarshes.‘Lordstrikemedead!’
Isayseachtime—andIgoesoutintheairtosayitundertheopenheavens—’butwot,ifIgetslibertyandmoney,I’llmakethatboyagentleman!’AndIdoneit.Why,lookatyou,dearboy!
Lookattheseherelodgingso’yourn,fitforalord!Alord?Ah!
Youshallshowmoneywithlordsforwagers,andbeat‘em!”
Inhisheatandtriumph,andinhisknowledgethatIhadbeennearlyfainting,hedidnotremarkonmyreceptionofallthis.ItwastheonegrainofreliefIhad.
“Look’eehere!”hewenton,takingmywatchoutofmypocket,andturningtowardshimaringonmyfinger,whileIrecoiledfromhistouchasifhehadbeenasnake,“agold‘unandabeauty:that’sagentleman’s,Ihope!
Adiamondallsetroundwithrubies;that’sagentleman’s,Ihope!Lookatyourlinen;fineandbeautiful!
Lookatyourclothes;betterain’ttobegot!
Andyourbookstoo,”turninghiseyesroundtheroom,“mountingup,ontheirshelves,byhundreds!Andyouread‘em;don’tyou?
Iseeyou’dbeenareadingof‘emwhenIcomein.Ha,ha,ha!Youshallread‘emtome,dearboy!
Andifthey’reinforeignlanguageswotIdon’tunderstand,IshallbejustasproudasifIdid.”
Againhetookbothmyhandsandputthemtohislips,whilemybloodrancoldwithinme.
“Don’tyoumindtalking,Pip,”saidhe,afteragaindrawinghissleeveoverhiseyesandforehead,astheclickcameinhisthroatwhichIwellremembered—andhewasallthemorehorribletomethathewassomuchinearnest;“youcan’tdobetternorkeepquiet,dearboy.
Youain’tlookedslowlyforwardtothisasIhave;youwosn’tpreparedforthis,asIwos.
Butdidn’tyouneverthinkitmightbeme?”
“Ono,no,no,”Ireturned,“Never,never!”
“Well,youseeitwosme,andsingle-handed.NeverasoulinitbutmyownselfandMr.Jaggers.”
“Wastherenooneelse?”Iasked.
“No,”saidhe,withaglanceofsurprise:“whoelseshouldtherebe?
And,dearboy,howgoodlookingyouhavegrowed!There’sbrighteyessomewheres—eh?
Isn’ttherebrighteyessomewheres,wotyoulovethethoughtson?”
OEstella,Estella!
“Theyshallbeyourn,dearboy,ifmoneycanbuy‘em.
Notthatagentlemanlikeyou,sowellsetupasyou,can’twin‘emoffofhisowngame;butmoneyshallbackyou!
LetmefinishwotIwasa-tellingyou,dearboy.
Fromthattherehutandthattherehiring-out,Igotmoneyleftmebymymaster(whichdied,andhadbeenthesameasme),andgotmylibertyandwentformyself.
IneverysinglethingIwentfor,Iwentforyou.
‘Lordstrikeablightuponit,’Isays,woteveritwasIwentfor,‘ifitain’tforhim!’Itallprosperedwonderful.
AsIgiv’youtounderstandjustnow,I’mfamousforit.
Itwasthemoneyleftme,andthegainsofthefirstfewyearwotIsenthometoMr.Jaggers—allforyou—whenhefirstcomearteryou,agreeabletomyletter.”
O,thathehadnevercome!Thathehadleftmeattheforge—farfromcontented,yet,bycomparisonhappy!
“Andthen,dearboy,itwasarecompensetome,look’eehere,toknowinsecretthatIwasmakingagentleman.
ThebloodhorsesofthemcolonistsmightflingupthedustovermeasIwaswalking;whatdoIsay?
Isaystomyself,‘I’mmakingabettergentlemannoreveryou’llbe!’
Whenoneof‘emsaystoanother,‘Hewasaconvict,afewyearago,andisaignorantcommonfellownow,forallhe’slucky,’whatdoIsay?
Isaystomyself,‘IfIain’tagentleman,noryetain’tgotnolearning,I’mtheownerofsuch.
Allonyouownsstockandland;whichonyouownsabrought-upLondongentleman?’ThiswayIkepmyselfa-going.
AndthiswayIheldsteadyaforemymindthatIwouldforcertaincomeonedayandseemyboy,andmakemyselfknowntohim,onhisownground.”
Helaidhishandonmyshoulder.IshudderedatthethoughtthatforanythingIknew,hishandmightbestainedwithblood.
“Itwarn’teasy,Pip,formetoleavethemparts,noryetitwarn’tsafe.
ButIheldtoit,andtheharderitwas,thestrongerIheld,forIwasdetermined,andmymindfirmmadeup.AtlastIdoneit.Dearboy,Idoneit!”
Itriedtocollectmythoughts,butIwasstunned.
Throughout,Ihadseemedtomyselftoattendmoretothewindandtherainthantohim;evennow,Icouldnotseparatehisvoicefromthosevoices,thoughthosewereloudandhiswassilent.
“Wherewillyouputme?”heasked,presently.“Imustbeputsomewheres,dearboy.”
“Tosleep?”saidI.
“Yes.Andtosleeplongandsound,”heanswered;“forI’vebeensea-tossedandsea-washed,monthsandmonths.”
“Myfriendandcompanion,”saidI,risingfromthesofa,“isabsent;youmusthavehisroom.”
“Hewon’tcomebackto-morrow;willhe?”
“No,”saidI,answeringalmostmechanically,inspiteofmyutmostefforts;“notto-morrow.”
“Because,look’eehere,dearboy,”hesaid,droppinghisvoice,andlayingalongfingeronmybreastinanimpressivemanner,“cautionisnecessary.”
“Howdoyoumean?Caution?”
“ByG—,it’sDeath!”
“What’sdeath?”
“Iwassentforlife.It’sdeathtocomeback.There’sbeenovermuchcomingbackoflateyears,andIshouldofacertaintybehangediftook.”
Nothingwasneededbutthis;thewretchedman,afterloadingwretchedmewithhisgoldandsilverchainsforyears,hadriskedhislifetocometome,andIhelditthereinmykeeping!
IfIhadlovedhiminsteadofabhorringhim;ifIhadbeenattractedtohimbythestrongestadmirationandaffection,insteadofshrinkingfromhimwiththestrongestrepugnance;itcouldhavebeennoworse.
Onthecontrary,itwouldhavebeenbetter,forhispreservationwouldthenhavenaturallyandtenderlyaddressedmyheart.
Myfirstcarewastoclosetheshutters,sothatnolightmightbeseenfromwithout,andthentocloseandmakefastthedoors.
WhileIdidso,hestoodatthetabledrinkingrumandeatingbiscuit;andwhenIsawhimthusengaged,Isawmyconvictonthemarshesathismealagain.
Italmostseemedtomeasifhemuststoopdownpresently,tofileathisleg.
WhenIhadgoneintoHerbert’sroom,andhadshutoffanyothercommunicationbetweenitandthestaircasethanthroughtheroominwhichourconversationhadbeenheld,Iaskedhimifhewouldgotobed?
Hesaidyes,butaskedmeforsomeofmy“gentleman’slinen”toputoninthemorning.
Ibroughtitout,andlaiditreadyforhim,andmybloodagainrancoldwhenheagaintookmebybothhandstogivemegoodnight.
Igotawayfromhim,withoutknowinghowIdidit,andmendedthefireintheroomwherewehadbeentogether,andsatdownbyit,afraidtogotobed.
Foranhourormore,Iremainedtoostunnedtothink;anditwasnotuntilIbegantothink,thatIbeganfullytoknowhowwreckedIwas,andhowtheshipinwhichIhadsailedwasgonetopieces.
MissHavisham’sintentionstowardsme,allameredream;Estellanotdesignedforme;IonlysufferedinSatisHouseasaconvenience,astingforthegreedyrelations,amodelwithamechanicalhearttopractiseonwhennootherpracticewasathand;thosewerethefirstsmartsIhad.
But,sharpestanddeepestpainofall—itwasfortheconvict,guiltyofIknewnotwhatcrimes,andliabletobetakenoutofthoseroomswhereIsatthinking,andhangedattheOldBaileydoor,thatIhaddesertedJoe.
IwouldnothavegonebacktoJoenow,IwouldnothavegonebacktoBiddynow,foranyconsideration:simply,Isuppose,becausemysenseofmyownworthlessconducttothemwasgreaterthaneveryconsideration.
NowisdomonearthcouldhavegivenmethecomfortthatIshouldhavederivedfromtheirsimplicityandfidelity;butIcouldnever,never,undowhatIhaddone.
Ineveryrageofwindandrushofrain,Iheardpursuers.
Twice,Icouldhavesworntherewasaknockingandwhisperingattheouterdoor.
Withthesefearsuponme,IbeganeithertoimagineorrecallthatIhadhadmysteriouswarningsofthisman’sapproach.
That,forweeksgoneby,IhadpassedfacesinthestreetswhichIhadthoughtlikehis.
That,theselikenesseshadgrownmorenumerous,ashe,comingoverthesea,haddrawnnearer.
That,hiswickedspirithadsomehowsentthesemessengerstomine,andthatnowonthisstormynighthewasasgoodashisword,andwithme.
CrowdingupwiththesereflectionscamethereflectionthatIhadseenhimwithmychildisheyestobeadesperatelyviolentman;thatIhadheardthatotherconvictreiteratethathehadtriedtomurderhim;thatIhadseenhimdownintheditchtearingandfightinglikeawildbeast.
OutofsuchremembrancesIbroughtintothelightofthefire,ahalf-formedterrorthatitmightnotbesafetobeshutuptherewithhiminthedeadofthewildsolitarynight.
Thisdilateduntilitfilledtheroom,andimpelledmetotakeacandleandgoinandlookatmydreadfulburden.
Hehadrolledahandkerchiefroundhishead,andhisfacewassetandloweringinhissleep.
Buthewasasleep,andquietlytoo,thoughhehadapistollyingonthepillow.
Assuredofthis,Isoftlyremovedthekeytotheoutsideofhisdoor,andturneditonhimbeforeIagainsatdownbythefire.
GraduallyIslippedfromthechairandlayonthefloor.
WhenIawoke,withouthavingpartedinmysleepwiththeperceptionofmywretchedness,theclocksoftheEastwardchurcheswerestrikingfive,thecandleswerewastedout,thefirewasdead,andthewindandrainintensifiedthethickblackdarkness.
THISISTHEENDOFTHESECONDSTAGEOFPIP’SEXPECTATIONS.
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