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Updated: May 26, 2025
Pumblechook had driven off, and my sister was busy, I stole into the forge and confessed my guilt. "You remember all that about Miss Havisham's?" I said. "Remember!" said Joe. "I believe you! Wonderful!" "It's a terrible thing, Joe. It ain't true." "What are you a-telling of, Pip?" cried Joe. "You don't mean to say it!" "Yes, I do; it's lies, Joe." "But not all of it?
For such reasons, I was very glad when ten o'clock came and we started for Miss Havisham's; though I was not at all at my ease regarding the manner in which I should acquit myself under that lady's roof. Within a quarter of an hour we came to Miss Havisham's house, which was of old brick, and dismal, and had a great many iron bars to it.
She led me to Miss Havisham's room, and there, in an armchair, with her elbow resting on the table, sat the strangest lady I have ever seen, or shall ever see. She was dressed in rich materials satins and lace and silks all of white or rather, which had been white, but, like all else in the room, were now faded yellow.
"Immense," said I. "And they fought for veal cutlets out of a silver basket." My hearers stared at one another again in utter amazement. I was perfectly frantic and would have told them anything. "Where was this coach, in the name of gracious?" asked my sister. "In Miss Havisham's room." They stared again. "But there weren't any horses to it."
"Joe," said I, taking hold of his rolled-up shirt sleeve, and twisting it between my finger and thumb, "you remember all that about Miss Havisham's?" "Remember?" said Joe. "I believe you! Wonderful!" "It's a terrible thing, Joe; it ain't true." "What are you telling of, Pip?" cried Joe, falling back in the greatest amazement. "You don't mean to say it's " "Yes I do; it's lies, Joe."
"Apparently very healthy, and quite well-grown," replied the lawyer. "Straight-limbed and well enough to look at?" demanded the Earl. A very slight smile touched Mr. Havisham's thin lips.
"Play the game out." Saving for the one weird smile at first, I should have felt almost sure that Miss Havisham's face could not smile. It had dropped into a watchful and brooding expression, most likely when all the things about her had become transfixed, and it looked as if nothing could ever lift it up again.
So, leaving word with the shopman on what day I was wanted at Miss Havisham's again, I set off on the four-mile walk to our forge; pondering, as I went along, on all I had seen, and deeply revolving that I was a common laboring-boy; that my hands were coarse; that my boots were thick; that I had fallen into a despicable habit of calling knaves Jacks; that I was much more ignorant than I had considered myself last night, and generally that I was in a low-lived bad way.
I dropped my face into my hands, but was able to control myself better than I could have expected, considering what agony it gave me to hear her say those words. When I raised my face again, there was such a ghastly look upon Miss Havisham's, that it impressed me, even in my passionate hurry and grief. "Estella, dearest Estella, do not let Miss Havisham lead you into this fatal step.
Had Godolphin profited by his knowledge of Miss Havisham's creation, and had he imparted to Miss Pettrell, who never saw it, hints of it which she used in her own creation of the part? If he had, just what was the measure and the nature of his sin? Louise tormented herself with this question, while a sense of the fact went as often as it came, and left her in a final doubt of it.
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