"Was the woman brought in guilty?"
"No; she was acquitted. - My poor Handel, I hurt you!"
"It is impossible to be gentler, Herbert. Yes? What else?"
"This acquitted young woman and Provis had a little child: a littlechild of whom
Provis was exceedingly fond. On the evening of thevery night when the object of
her jealousy was strangled as I tellyou, the young woman presented herself before
Provis for onemoment, and swore that she would destroy the child (which was inher
possession), and he should never see it again; then, shevanished. - There's the
worst arm comfortably in the sling oncemore, and now there remains but the right
hand, which is a fareasier job. I can do it better by this light than by a stronger,for
my hand is steadiest when I don't see the poor blisteredpatches too distinctly.
- You don't think your breathing isaffected, my dear boy? You seem to breathe quickly."
"Perhaps I do, Herbert. Did the woman keep her oath?"
"There comes the darkest part of Provis's life. She did."
"That is, he says she did."
"Why, of course, my dear boy," returned Herbert, in a tone ofsurprise, and again
bending forward to get a nearer look at me. "Hesays it all. I have no other information."
"No, to be sure."
"Now, whether," pursued Herbert, "he had used the child's motherill, or whether
he had used the child's mother well, Provis doesn'tsay; but, she had shared some
four or five years of the wretchedlife he described to us at this fireside, and
he seems to have feltpity for her, and forbearance towards her. Therefore, fearing
heshould be called upon to depose about this destroyed child, and sobe the cause
of her death, he hid himself (much as he grieved forthe child), kept himself dark,
as he says, out of the way and outof the trial, and was only vaguely talked of as
a certain mancalled Abel, out of whom the jealousy arose. After the acquittalshe
disappeared, and thus he lost the child and the child'smother."
"I want to ask--"
"A moment, my dear boy, and I have done. That evil genius,Compeyson, the worst
of scoundrels among many scoundrels, knowingof his keeping out of the way at that
time, and of his reasons fordoing so, of course afterwards held the knowledge over
his head asa means of keeping him poorer, and working him harder. It was clearlast
night that this barbed the point of Provis's animosity."
"I want to know," said I, "and particularly, Herbert, whether hetold you when
this happened?"
"Particularly? Let me remember, then, what he said as to that. Hisexpression
was, 'a round score o' year ago, and a'most directlyafter I took up wi' Compeyson.'
How old were you when you came uponhim in the little churchyard?"
"I think in my seventh year."
"Ay. It had happened some three or four years then, he said, andyou brought into
his mind the little girl so tragically lost, whowould have been about your age."
"Herbert," said I, after a short silence, in a hurried way, "canyou see me best
by the light of the window, or the light of thefire?"
"By the firelight," answered Herbert, coming close again.
"Look at me."
"I do look at you, my dear boy."
"Touch me."
"I do touch you, my dear boy."
"You are not afraid that I am in any fever, or that my head is muchdisordered
by the accident of last night?"
"N-no, my dear boy," said Herbert, after taking time to examine me."You are rather
excited, but you are quite yourself."
"I know I am quite myself. And the man we have in hiding down theriver, is Estella's
Father."
Chapter 51
What purpose I had in view when I was hot on tracing out andproving Estella's
parentage, I cannot say. It will presently beseen that the question was not before
me in a distinct shape, untilit was put before me by a wiser head than my own.
But, when Herbert and I had held our momentous conversation, I wasseized with
a feverish conviction that I ought to hunt the matterdown - that I ought not to
let it rest, but that I ought to see Mr.Jaggers, and come at the bare truth. I really
do not know whether Ifelt that I did this for Estella's sake, or whether I was glad
totransfer to the man in whose preservation I was so much concerned,some rays of
the romantic interest that had so long surrounded her.Perhaps the latter possibility
may be the nearer to the truth.
Any way, I could scarcely be withheld from going out toGerrard-street that night.
Herbert's representations that if I did,I should probably be laid up and stricken
useless, when ourfugitive's safety would depend upon me, alone restrained myimpatience.
On the understanding, again and again reiterated, thatcome what would, I was to
go to Mr. Jaggers to-morrow, I at lengthsubmitted to keep quiet, and to have my
hurts looked after, and tostay at home. Early next morning we went out together,
and at thecorner of Giltspur-street by Smithfield, I left Herbert to go hisway into
the City, and took my way to Little Britain.
There were periodical occasions when Mr. Jaggers and Wemmick wentover the office
accounts, and checked off the vouchers, and put allthings straight. On these occasions
Wemmick took his books andpapers into Mr. Jaggers's room, and one of the up-stairs
clerks camedown into the outer office. Finding such clerk on Wemmick's postthat
morning, I knew what was going on; but, I was not sorry tohave Mr. Jaggers and Wemmick
together, as Wemmick would then hearfor himself that I said nothing to compromise
him.
My appearance with my arm bandaged and my coat loose over myshoulders, favoured
my object. Although I had sent Mr. Jaggers abrief account of the accident as soon
as I had arrived in town, yetI had to give him all the details now; and the speciality
of theoccasion caused our talk to be less dry and hard, and less strictlyregulated
by the rules of evidence, than it had been before. WhileI described the disaster,
Mr. Jaggers stood, according to his wont,before the fire. Wemmick leaned back in
his chair, staring at me,with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, and his
pen puthorizontally into the post. The two brutal casts, alwaysinseparable in my
mind from the official proceedings, seemed to becongestively considering whether
they didn't smell fire at thepresent moment.
My narrative finished, and their questions exhausted, I thenproduced Miss Havisham's
authority to receive the nine hundredpounds for Herbert. Mr. Jaggers's eyes retired
a little deeper intohis head when I handed him the tablets, but he presently handedthem
over to Wemmick, with instructions to draw the cheque for hissignature. While that
was in course of being done, I looked on atWemmick as he wrote, and Mr. Jaggers,
poising and swaying himself onhis well-polished boots, looked on at me. "I am sorry,
Pip," saidhe, as I put the cheque in my pocket, when he had signed it, "thatwe do
nothing for you."
"Miss Havisham was good enough to ask me," I returned, "whether shecould do nothing
for me, and I told her No."
"Everybody should know his own business," said Mr. Jaggers. And Isaw Wemmick's
lips form the words "portable property."
"I should not have told her No, if I had been you," said MrJaggers; "but every
man ought to know his own business best."
"Every man's business," said Wemmick, rather reproachfully towardsme, "is portable
property."
As I thought the time was now come for pursuing the theme I had atheart, I said,
turning on Mr. Jaggers:
"I did ask something of Miss Havisham, however, sir. I asked her togive me some
information relative to her adopted daughter, and shegave me all she possessed."
"Did she?" said Mr. Jaggers, bending forward to look at his bootsand then straightening
himself. "Hah! I don't think I should havedone so, if I had been Miss Havisham.
But she ought to know her ownbusiness best."
"I know more of the history of Miss Havisham's adopted child, thanMiss Havisham
herself does, sir. I know her mother."
Mr. Jaggers looked at me inquiringly, and repeated "Mother?"
"I have seen her mother within these three days."
"Yes?" said Mr. Jaggers.
"And so have you, sir. And you have seen her still more recently."
"Yes?" said Mr. Jaggers.
"Perhaps I know more of Estella's history than even you do," saidI. "I know her
father too."
A certain stop that Mr. Jaggers came to in his manner - he was tooself-possessed
to change his manner, but he could not help itsbeing brought to an indefinably attentive
stop - assured me that hedid not know who her father was. This I had strongly suspected
fromProvis's account (as Herbert had repeated it) of his having kepthimself dark;
which I pieced on to the fact that he himself was notMr. Jaggers's client until
some four years later, and when he couldhave no reason for claiming his identity.
But, I could not be sureof this unconsciousness on Mr. Jaggers's part before, though
I wasquite sure of it now.
"So! You know the young lady's father, Pip?" said Mr. Jaggers.
"Yes," I replied, "and his name is Provis - from New South Wales."
Even Mr. Jaggers started when I said those words. It was theslightest start that
could escape a man, the most carefullyrepressed and the soonest checked, but he
did start, though he madeit a part of the action of taking out his pocket-handkerchief.
HowWemmick received the announcement I am unable to say, for I wasafraid to look
at him just then, lest Mr. Jaggers's sharpness shoulddetect that there had been
some communication unknown to himbetween us.
"And on what evidence, Pip," asked Mr. Jaggers, very coolly, as hepaused with
his handkerchief half way to his nose, "does Provismake this claim?"
"He does not make it," said I, "and has never made it, and has noknowledge or
belief that his daughter is in existence."
For once, the powerful pocket-handkerchief failed. My reply was sounexpected
that Mr. Jaggers put the handkerchief back into hispocket without completing the
usual performance, folded his arms,and looked with stern attention at me, though
with an immovableface.
Then I told him all I knew, and how I knew it; with the onereservation that I
left him to infer that I knew from Miss Havishamwhat I in fact knew from Wemmick.
I was very careful indeed as tothat. Nor, did I look towards Wemmick until I had
finished all Ihad to tell, and had been for some time silently meeting Mr.Jaggers's
look. When I did at last turn my eyes in Wemmick'sdirection, I found that he had
unposted his pen, and was intentupon the table before him.
"Hah!" said Mr. Jaggers at last, as he moved towards the papers onthe table,
" - What item was it you were at, Wemmick, when Mr. Pipcame in?"
But I could not submit to be thrown off in that way, and I made apassionate,
almost an indignant, appeal to him to be more frank andmanly with me. I reminded
him of the false hopes into which I hadlapsed, the length of time they had lasted,
and the discovery I hadmade: and I hinted at the danger that weighed upon my spirits.
Irepresented myself as being surely worthy of some little confidencefrom him, in
return for the confidence I had just now imparted. Isaid that I did not blame him,
or suspect him, or mistrust him, butI wanted assurance of the truth from him. And
if he asked me why Iwanted it and why I thought I had any right to it, I would tellhim,
little as he cared for such poor dreams, that I had lovedEstella dearly and long,
and that, although I had lost her and mustlive a bereaved life, whatever concerned
her was still nearer anddearer to me than anything else in the world. And seeing
that Mr.Jaggers stood quite still and silent, and apparently quiteobdurate, under
this appeal, I turned to Wemmick, and said,"Wemmick, I know you to be a man with
a gentle heart. I have seenyour pleasant home, and your old father, and all the
innocentcheerful playful ways with which you refresh your business life.And I entreat
you to say a word for me to Mr. Jaggers, and torepresent to him that, all circumstances
considered, he ought to bemore open with me!"
I have never seen two men look more oddly at one another than Mr.Jaggers and
Wemmick did after this apostrophe. At first, amisgiving crossed me that Wemmick
would be instantly dismissed fromhis employment; but, it melted as I saw Mr. Jaggers
relax intosomething like a smile, and Wemmick become bolder.
"What's all this?" said Mr. Jaggers. "You with an old father, andyou with pleasant
and playful ways?"
"Well!" returned Wemmick. "If I don't bring 'em here, what does itmatter?"
"Pip," said Mr. Jaggers, laying his hand upon my arm, and smilingopenly, "this
man must be the most cunning impostor in all London."
"Not a bit of it," returned Wemmick, growing bolder and bolder. "Ithink you're
another."
Again they exchanged their former odd looks, each apparently stilldistrustful
that the other was taking him in.
"You with a pleasant home?" said Mr. Jaggers.
"Since it don't interfere with business," returned Wemmick, "let itbe so. Now,
I look at you, sir, I shouldn't wonder if you might beplanning and contriving to
have a pleasant home of your own, one ofthese days, when you're tired of all this
work."
Mr. Jaggers nodded his head retrospectively two or three times, andactually drew
a sigh. "Pip," said he, "we won't talk about 'poordreams;' you know more about such
things than I, having muchfresher experience of that kind. But now, about this other
matter.I'll put a case to you. Mind! I admit nothing."
He waited for me to declare that I quite understood that heexpressly said that
he admitted nothing.