Chapter 38

Great Expectations

by Charles Dickens

If that staid old house near the Green at Richmond should ever
come to be haunted when I am dead, it will be haunted, surely, by my
ghost. O the many, many nights and days through which the unquiet
spirit within me haunted that house when Estella lived there! Let my
body be where it would, my spirit was always wandering, wandering,
wandering, about that house.

The lady with whom Estella was placed, Mrs. Brandley by name,
was a widow, with one daughter several years older than Estella. The
mother looked young, and the daughter looked old; the mother's
complexion was pink, and the daughter's was yellow; the mother set up
for frivolity, and the daughter for theology. They were in what is
called a good position, and visited, and were visited by, numbers of
people. Little, if any, community of feeling subsisted between them
and Estella, but the understanding was established that they were
necessary to her, and that she was necessary to them. Mrs. Brandley
had been a friend of Miss Havisham's before the time of her
seclusion.

In Mrs. Brandley's house and out of Mrs. Brandley's house, I
suffered every kind and degree of torture that Estella could cause
me. The nature of my relations with her, which placed me on terms of
familiarity without placing me on terms of favour, conduced to my
distraction. She made use of me to tease other admirers, and she
turned the very familiarity between herself and me, to the account of
putting a constant slight on my devotion to her. If I had been her
secretary, steward, half-brother, poor relation - if I had been a
younger brother of her appointed husband - I could not have seemed to
myself, further from my hopes when I was nearest to her. The
privilege of calling her by her name and hearing her call me by mine,
became under the circumstances an aggravation of my trials; and while
I think it likely that it almost maddened her other lovers, I know
too certainly that it almost maddened me.

She had admirers without end. No doubt my jealousy made an
admirer of every one who went near her; but there were more than
enough of them without that.

I saw her often at Richmond, I heard of her often in town, and I
used often to take her and the Brandleys on the water; there were
picnics, fete days, plays, operas, concerts, parties, all sorts of
pleasures, through which I pursued her - and they were all miseries
to me. I never had one hour's happiness in her society, and yet my
mind all round the four-and-twenty hours was harping on the happiness
of having her with me unto death.

Throughout this part of our intercourse - and it lasted, as will
presently be seen, for what I then thought a long time - she
habitually reverted to that tone which expressed that our association
was forced upon us. There were other times when she would come to a
sudden check in this tone and in all her many tones, and would seem
to pity me.

"Pip, Pip," she said one evening, coming to such a check, when
we sat apart at a darkening window of the house in Richmond; "will
you never take warning?"

"Of what?"

"Of me."

"Warning not to be attracted by you, do you mean, Estella?"

"Do I mean! If you don't know what I mean, you are blind."

I should have replied that Love was commonly reputed blind, but
for the reason that I always was restrained - and this was not the
least of my miseries - by a feeling that it was ungenerous to press
myself upon her, when she knew that she could not choose but obey
Miss Havisham. My dread always was, that this knowledge on her part
laid me under a heavy disadvantage with her pride, and made me the
subject of a rebellious struggle in her bosom.

"At any rate," said I, "I have no warning given me just now, for
you wrote to me to come to you, this time."

"That's true," said Estella, with a cold careless smile that
always chilled me.

After looking at the twilight without, for a little while, she
went on to say:

"The time has come round when Miss Havisham wishes to have me
for a day at Satis. You are to take me there, and bring me back, if
you will. She would rather I did not travel alone, and objects to
receiving my maid, for she has a sensitive horror of being talked of
by such people. Can you take me?"

"Can I take you, Estella!"

"You can then? The day after to-morrow, if you please. You are
to pay all charges out of my purse, You hear the condition of your
going?"

"And must obey," said I.

This was all the preparation I received for that visit, or for
others like it: Miss Havisham never wrote to me, nor had I ever so
much as seen her handwriting. We went down on the next day but one,
and we found her in the room where I had first beheld her, and it is
needless to add that there was no change in Satis House.

She was even more dreadfully fond of Estella than she had been
when I last saw them together; I repeat the word advisedly, for there
was something positively dreadful in the energy of her looks and
embraces. She hung upon Estella's beauty, hung upon her words, hung
upon her gestures, and sat mumbling her own trembling fingers while
she looked at her, as though she were devouring the beautiful
creature she had reared.

From Estella she looked at me, with a searching glance that
seemed to pry into my heart and probe its wounds. "How does she use
you, Pip; how does she use you?" she asked me again, with her
witch-like eagerness, even in Estella's hearing. But, when we sat by
her flickering fire at night, she was most weird; for then, keeping
Estella's hand drawn through her arm and clutched in her own hand,
she extorted from her, by dint of referring back to what Estella had
told her in her regular letters, the names and conditions of the men
whom she had fascinated; and as Miss Havisham dwelt upon this roll,
with the intensity of a mind mortally hurt and diseased, she sat with
her other hand on her crutch stick, and her chin on that, and her wan
bright eyes glaring at me, a very spectre.

I saw in this, wretched though it made me, and bitter the sense
of dependence and even of degradation that it awakened - I saw in
this, that Estella was set to wreak Miss Havisham's revenge on men,
and that she was not to be given to me until she had gratified it for
a term. I saw in this, a reason for her being beforehand assigned to
me. Sending her out to attract and torment and do mischief, Miss
Havisham sent her with the malicious assurance that she was beyond
the reach of all admirers, and that all who staked upon that cast
were secured to lose. I saw in this, that I, too, was tormented by a
perversion of ingenuity, even while the prize was reserved for me. I
saw in this, the reason for my being staved off so long, and the
reason for my late guardian's declining to commit himself to the
formal knowledge of such a scheme. In a word, I saw in this, Miss
Havisham as I had her then and there before my eyes, and always had
had her before my eyes; and I saw in this, the distinct shadow of the
darkened and unhealthy house in which her life was hidden from the
sun.

The candles that lighted that room of hers were placed in
sconces on the wall. They were high from the ground, and they burnt
with the steady dulness of artificial light in air that is seldom
renewed. As I looked round at them, and at the pale gloom they made,
and at the stopped clock, and at the withered articles of bridal
dress upon the table and the ground, and at her own awful figure with
its ghostly reflection thrown large by the fire upon the ceiling and
the wall, I saw in everything the construction that my mind had come
to, repeated and thrown back to me. My thoughts passed into the
great room across the landing where the table was spread, and I saw
it written, as it were, in the falls of the cobwebs from the
centre-piece, in the crawlings of the spiders on the cloth, in the
tracks of the mice as they betook their little quickened hearts
behind the panels, and in the gropings and pausings of the beetles on
the floor.

It happened on the occasion of this visit that some sharp words
arose between Estella and Miss Havisham. It was the first time I had
ever seen them opposed.

We were seated by the fire, as just now described, and Miss
Havisham still had Estella's arm drawn through her own, and still
clutched Estella's hand in hers, when Estella gradually began to
detach herself. She had shown a proud impatience more than once
before, and had rather endured that fierce affection than accepted or
returned it.

"What!" said Miss Havisham, flashing her eyes upon her, "are you
tired of me?"

"Only a little tired of myself," replied Estella, disengaging
her arm, and moving to the great chimney-piece, where she stood
looking down at the fire.

"Speak the truth, you ingrate!" cried Miss Havisham,
passionately striking her stick upon the floor; "you are tired of
me."

Estella looked at her with perfect composure, and again looked
down at the fire. Her graceful figure and her beautiful face
expressed a self-possessed indifference to the wild heat of the
other, that was almost cruel.

"You stock and stone!" exclaimed Miss Havisham. "You cold, cold
heart!"

"What?" said Estella, preserving her attitude of indifference as
she leaned against the great chimney-piece and only moving her eyes;
"do you reproach me for being cold? You?"

"Are you not?" was the fierce retort.

"You should know," said Estella. "I am what you have made me.
Take all the praise, take all the blame; take all the success, take
all the failure; in short, take me."

"O, look at her, look at her!" cried Miss Havisham, bitterly;
"Look at her, so hard and thankless, on the hearth where she was
reared! Where I took her into this wretched breast when it was first
bleeding from its stabs, and where I have lavished years of
tenderness upon her!"

"At least I was no party to the compact," said Estella, "for if
I could walk and speak, when it was made, it was as much as I could
do. But what would you have? You have been very good to me, and I
owe everything to you. What would you have?"

"Love," replied the other.

"You have it."

"I have not," said Miss Havisham.

"Mother by adoption," retorted Estella, never departing from the
easy grace of her attitude, never raising her voice as the other did,
never yielding either to anger or tenderness, "Mother by adoption, I
have said that I owe everything to you. All I possess is freely
yours. All that you have given me, is at your command to have again.
Beyond that, I have nothing. And if you ask me to give you what you
never gave me, my gratitude and duty cannot do impossibilities."

"Did I never give her love!" cried Miss Havisham, turning wildly
to me. "Did I never give her a burning love, inseparable from
jealousy at all times, and from sharp pain, while she speaks thus to
me! Let her call me mad, let her call me mad!"

"Why should I call you mad," returned Estella, "I, of all
people? Does any one live, who knows what set purposes you have, half
as well as I do? Does any one live, who knows what a steady memory
you have, half as well as I do? I who have sat on this same hearth
on the little stool that is even now beside you there, learning your
lessons and looking up into your face, when your face was strange and
frightened me!"

"Soon forgotten!" moaned Miss Havisham. "Times soon
forgotten!"

"No, not forgotten," retorted Estella. "Not forgotten, but
treasured up in my memory. When have you found me false to your
teaching? When have you found me unmindful of your lessons? When
have you found me giving admission here," she touched her bosom with
her hand, "to anything that you excluded? Be just to me."

"So proud, so proud!" moaned Miss Havisham, pushing away her
grey hair with both her hands.

"Who taught me to be proud?" returned Estella. "Who praised me
when I learnt my lesson?"

"So hard, so hard!" moaned Miss Havisham, with her former
action.

"Who taught me to be hard?" returned Estella. "Who praised me
when I learnt my lesson?"

"But to be proud and hard to me!" Miss Havisham quite shrieked,
as she stretched out her arms. "Estella, Estella, Estella, to be
proud and hard to me!"

Estella looked at her for a moment with a kind of calm wonder,
but was not otherwise disturbed; when the moment was past, she looked
down at the fire again.

"I cannot think," said Estella, raising her eyes after a silence
"why you should be so unreasonable when I come to see you after a
separation. I have never forgotten your wrongs and their causes. I
have never been unfaithful to you or your schooling. I have never
shown any weakness that I can charge myself with."

"Would it be weakness to return my love?" exclaimed Miss
Havisham. "But yes, yes, she would call it so!"

"I begin to think," said Estella, in a musing way, after another
moment of calm wonder, "that I almost understand how this comes
about. If you had brought up your adopted daughter wholly in the
dark confinement of these rooms, and had never let her know that
there was such a thing as the daylight by which she had never once
seen your face - if you had done that, and then, for a purpose had
wanted her to understand the daylight and know all about it, you
would have been disappointed and angry?"

Miss Havisham, with her head in her hands, sat making a low
moaning, and swaying herself on her chair, but gave no answer.

"Or," said Estella, " - which is a nearer case - if you had
taught her, from the dawn of her intelligence, with your utmost
energy and might, that there was such a thing as daylight, but that
it was made to be her enemy and destroyer, and she must always turn
against it, for it had blighted you and would else blight her; - if
you had done this, and then, for a purpose, had wanted her to take
naturally to the daylight and she could not do it, you would have
been disappointed and angry?"

Miss Havisham sat listening (or it seemed so, for I could not
see her face), but still made no answer.

"So," said Estella, "I must be taken as I have been made. The
success is not mine, the failure is not mine, but the two together
make me."

Miss Havisham had settled down, I hardly knew how, upon the
floor, among the faded bridal relics with which it was strewn. I
took advantage of the moment - I had sought one from the first - to
leave the room, after beseeching Estella's attention to her, with a
movement of my hand. When I left, Estella was yet standing by the
great chimney-piece, just as she had stood throughout. Miss
Havisham's grey hair was all adrift upon the ground, among the other
bridal wrecks, and was a miserable sight to see.

It was with a depressed heart that I walked in the starlight for
an hour and more, about the court-yard, and about the brewery, and
about the ruined garden. When I at last took courage to return to
the room, I found Estella sitting at Miss Havisham's knee, taking up
some stitches in one of those old articles of dress that were
dropping to pieces, and of which I have often been reminded since by
the faded tatters of old banners that I have seen hanging up in
cathedrals. Afterwards, Estella and I played at cards, as of yore -
only we were skilful now, and played French games - and so the
evening wore away, and I went to bed.

I lay in that separate building across the court-yard. It was
the first time I had ever lain down to rest in Satis House, and sleep
refused to come near me. A thousand Miss Havishams haunted me. She
was on this side of my pillow, on that, at the head of the bed, at
the foot, behind the half-opened door of the dressing-room, in the
dressing-room, in the room overhead, in the room beneath -
everywhere. At last, when the night was slow to creep on towards two
o'clock, I felt that I absolutely could no longer bear the place as a
place to lie down in, and that I must get up. I therefore got up and
put on my clothes, and went out across the yard into the long stone
passage, designing to gain the outer court-yard and walk there for
the relief of my mind. But, I was no sooner in the passage than I
extinguished my candle; for, I saw Miss Havisham going along it in a
ghostly manner, making a low cry. I followed her at a distance, and
saw her go up the staircase. She carried a bare candle in her hand,
which she had probably taken from one of the sconces in her own room,
and was a most unearthly object by its light. Standing at the bottom
of the staircase, I felt the mildewed air of the feast-chamber,
without seeing her open the door, and I heard her walking there, and
so across into her own room, and so across again into that, never
ceasing the low cry. After a time, I tried in the dark both to get
out, and to go back, but I could do neither until some streaks of day
strayed in and showed me where to lay my hands. During the whole
interval, whenever I went to the bottom of the staircase, I heard her
footstep, saw her light pass above, and heard her ceaseless low
cry.

Before we left next day, there was no revival of the difference
between her and Estella, nor was it ever revived on any similar
occasion; and there were four similar occasions, to the best of my
remembrance. Nor, did Miss Havisham's manner towards Estella in
anywise change, except that I believed it to have something like fear
infused among its former characteristics.

It is impossible to turn this leaf of my life, without putting
Bentley Drummle's name upon it; or I would, very gladly.

On a certain occasion when the Finches were assembled in force,
and when good feeling was being promoted in the usual manner by
nobody's agreeing with anybody else, the presiding Finch called the
Grove to order, forasmuch as Mr. Drummle had not yet toasted a lady;
which, according to the solemn constitution of the society, it was
the brute's turn to do that day. I thought I saw him leer in an ugly
way at me while the decanters were going round, but as there was no
love lost between us, that might easily be. What was my indignant
surprise when he called upon the company to pledge him to
"Estella!"

"Estella who?" said I.

"Never you mind," retorted Drummle.

"Estella of where?" said I. "You are bound to say of where."
Which he was, as a Finch.

"Of Richmond, gentlemen," said Drummle, putting me out of the
question, "and a peerless beauty."

Much he knew about peerless beauties, a mean miserable idiot! I
whispered Herbert.

"I know that lady," said Herbert, across the table, when the
toast had been honoured.

"Do you?" said Drummle.

"And so do I," I added, with a scarlet face.

"Do you?" said Drummle. "Oh, Lord!"

This was the only retort - except glass or crockery - that the
heavy creature was capable of making; but, I became as highly
incensed by it as if it had been barbed with wit, and I immediately
rose in my place and said that I could not but regard it as being
like the honourable Finch's impudence to come down to that Grove - we
always talked about coming down to that Grove, as a neat
Parliamentary turn of expression - down to that Grove, proposing a
lady of whom he knew nothing. Mr. Drummle upon this, starting up,
demanded what I meant by that? Whereupon, I made him the extreme
reply that I believed he knew where I was to be found.

Whether it was possible in a Christian country to get on without
blood, after this, was a question on which the Finches were divided.
The debate upon it grew so lively, indeed, that at least six more
honourable members told six more, during the discussion, that they
believed they knew where they were to be found. However, it was
decided at last (the Grove being a Court of Honour) that if Mr.
Drummle would bring never so slight a certificate from the lady,
importing that he had the honour of her acquaintance, Mr. Pip must
express his regret, as a gentleman and a Finch, for "having been
betrayed into a warmth which." Next day was appointed for the
production (lest our honour should take cold from delay), and next
day Drummle appeared with a polite little avowal in Estella's hand,
that she had had the honour of dancing with him several times. This
left me no course but to regret that I had been "betrayed into a
warmth which," and on the whole to repudiate, as untenable, the idea
that I was to be found anywhere. Drummle and I then sat snorting at
one another for an hour, while the Grove engaged in indiscriminate
contradiction, and finally the promotion of good feeling was declared
to have gone ahead at an amazing rate.

I tell this lightly, but it was no light thing to me. For, I
cannot adequately express what pain it gave me to think that Estella
should show any favour to a contemptible, clumsy, sulky booby, so
very far below the average. To the present moment, I believe it to
have been referable to some pure fire of generosity and
disinterestedness in my love for her, that I could not endure the
thought of her stooping to that hound. No doubt I should have been
miserable whomsoever she had favoured; but a worthier object would
have caused me a different kind and degree of distress.

It was easy for me to find out, and I did soon find out, that
Drummle had begun to follow her closely, and that she allowed him to
do it. A little while, and he was always in pursuit of her, and he
and I crossed one another every day. He held on, in a dull
persistent way, and Estella held him on; now with encouragement, now
with discouragement, now almost flattering him, now openly despising
him, now knowing him very well, now scarcely remembering who he
was.

The Spider, as Mr. Jaggers had called him, was used to lying in
wait, however, and had the patience of his tribe. Added to that, he
had a blockhead confidence in his money and in his family greatness,
which sometimes did him good service - almost taking the place of
concentration and determined purpose. So, the Spider, doggedly
watching Estella, outwatched many brighter insects, and would often
uncoil himself and drop at the right nick of time.

At a certain Assembly Ball at Richmond (there used to be
Assembly Balls at most places then), where Estella had outshone all
other beauties, this blundering Drummle so hung about her, and with
so much toleration on her part, that I resolved to speak to her
concerning him. I took the next opportunity: which was when she was
waiting for Mrs. Brandley to take her home, and was sitting apart
among some flowers, ready to go. I was with her, for I almost always
accompanied them to and from such places.

"Are you tired, Estella?"

"Rather, Pip."

"You should be."

"Say rather, I should not be; for I have my letter to Satis
House to write, before I go to sleep."

"Recounting to-night's triumph?" said I. "Surely a very poor
one, Estella."

"What do you mean? I didn't know there had been any."

"Estella," said I, "do look at that fellow in the corner yonder,
who is looking over here at us."

"Why should I look at him?" returned Estella, with her eyes on
me instead. "What is there in that fellow in the corner yonder - to
use your words - that I need look at?"

"Indeed, that is the very question I want to ask you," said I.
"For he has been hovering about you all night."

"Moths, and all sorts of ugly creatures," replied Estella, with
a glance towards him, "hover about a lighted candle. Can the candle
help it?"

"No," I returned; "but cannot the Estella help it?"

"Well!" said she, laughing, after a moment, "perhaps. Yes.
Anything you like."

"But, Estella, do hear me speak. It makes me wretched that you
should encourage a man so generally despised as Drummle. You know he
is despised."

"Well?" said she.

"You know he is as ungainly within, as without. A deficient,
illtempered, lowering, stupid fellow."

"Well?" said she.

"You know he has nothing to recommend him but money, and a
ridiculous roll of addle-headed predecessors; now, don't you?"

"Well?" said she again; and each time she said it, she opened
her lovely eyes the wider.

To overcome the difficulty of getting past that monosyllable, I
took it from her, and said, repeating it with emphasis, "Well! Then,
that is why it makes me wretched."

Now, if I could have believed that she favoured Drummle with any
idea of making me - me - wretched, I should have been in better heart
about it; but in that habitual way of hers, she put me so entirely
out of the question, that I could believe nothing of the kind.

"Pip," said Estella, casting her glance over the room, "don't be
foolish about its effect on you. It may have its effect on others,
and may be meant to have. It's not worth discussing."

"Yes it is," said I, "because I cannot bear that people should
say, 'she throws away her graces and attractions on a mere boor, the
lowest in the crowd.'"

"I can bear it," said Estella.

"Oh! don't be so proud, Estella, and so inflexible."

"Calls me proud and inflexible in this breath!" said Estella,
opening her hands. "And in his last breath reproached me for
stooping to a boor!"

"There is no doubt you do," said I, something hurriedly, "for I
have seen you give him looks and smiles this very night, such as you
never give to - me."

"Do you want me then," said Estella, turning suddenly with a
fixed and serious, if not angry, look, "to deceive and entrap
you?"

"Do you deceive and entrap him, Estella?"

"Yes, and many others - all of them but you. Here is Mrs.
Brandley. I'll say no more."

And now that I have given the one chapter to the theme that so
filled my heart, and so often made it ache and ache again, I pass on,
unhindered, to the event that had impended over me longer yet; the
event that had begun to be prepared for, before I knew that the world
held Estella, and in the days when her baby intelligence was
receiving its first distortions from Miss Havisham's wasting
hands.

In the Eastern story, the heavy slab that was to fall on the bed
of state in the flush of conquest was slowly wrought out of the
quarry, the tunnel for the rope to hold it in its place was slowly
carried through the leagues of rock, the slab was slowly raised and
fitted in the roof, the rope was rove to it and slowly taken through
the miles of hollow to the great iron ring. All being made ready
with much labour, and the hour come, the sultan was aroused in the
dead of the night, and the sharpened axe that was to sever the rope
from the great iron ring was put into his hand, and he struck with
it, and the rope parted and rushed away, and the ceiling fell. So,
in my case; all the work, near and afar, that tended to the end, had
been accomplished; and in an instant the blow was struck, and the
roof of my stronghold dropped upon me.