"Hear me, Pip! I adopted her to be loved. I bred her and educated

her, to be loved. I developed her into what she is, that she might

be loved. Love her!"

She said the word often enough, and there could be no doubt that

she meant to say it; but if the often repeated word had been hate

instead of love - despair - revenge - dire death - it could not

have sounded from her lips more like a curse.

"I'll tell you," said she, in the same hurried passionate whisper,

"what real love is. It is blind devotion, unquestioning

self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against

yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart

and soul to the smiter - as I did!"

When she came to that, and to a wild cry that followed that, I

caught her round the waist. For she rose up in the chair, in her

shroud of a dress, and struck at the air as if she would as soon

have struck herself against the wall and fallen dead.

All this passed in a few seconds. As I drew her down into her

chair, I was conscious of a scent that I knew, and turning, saw my

guardian in the room.

He always carried (I have not yet mentioned it, I think) a

pocket-handkerchief of rich silk and of imposing proportions, which

was of great value to him in his profession. I have seen him so

terrify a client or a witness by ceremoniously unfolding this

pocket-handkerchief as if he were immediately going to blow his

nose, and then pausing, as if he knew he should not have time to do

it before such client or witness committed himself, that the

self-committal has followed directly, quite as a matter of course.

When I saw him in the room, he had this expressive

pockethandkerchief in both hands, and was looking at us. On meeting

my eye, he said plainly, by a momentary and silent pause in that

attitude, "Indeed? Singular!" and then put the handkerchief to its

right use with wonderful effect.

Miss Havisham had seen him as soon as I, and was (like everybody

else) afraid of him. She made a strong attempt to compose herself,

and stammered that he was as punctual as ever.

"As punctual as ever," he repeated, coming up to us. "(How do you

do, Pip? Shall I give you a ride, Miss Havisham? Once round?)

And so you are here, Pip?"

I told him when I had arrived, and how Miss Havisham had wished me

to come and see Estella. To which he replied, "Ah! Very fine young

lady!" Then he pushed Miss Havisham in her chair before him, with

one of his large hands, and put the other in his trousers-pocket as

if the pocket were full of secrets.

"Well, Pip! How often have you seen Miss Estella before?" said he,

when he came to a stop.

"How often?"

"Ah! How many times? Ten thousand times?"

"Oh! Certainly not so many."

"Twice?"

"Jaggers," interposed Miss Havisham, much to my relief; "leave my

Pip alone, and go with him to your dinner."

He complied, and we groped our way down the dark stairs together.

While we were still on our way to those detached apartments across

the paved yard at the back, he asked me how often I had seen Miss

Havisham eat and drink; offering me a breadth of choice, as usual,

between a hundred times and once.

I considered, and said, "Never."

"And never will, Pip," he retorted, with a frowning smile. "She has

never allowed herself to be seen doing either, since she lived this

present life of hers. She wanders about in the night, and then lays

hands on such food as she takes."

"Pray, sir," said I, "may I ask you a question?"

"You may," said he, "and I may decline to answer it. Put your

question."

"Estella's name. Is it Havisham or - ?" I had nothing to add.

"Or what?" said he.

"Is it Havisham?"

"It is Havisham."

This brought us to the dinner-table, where she and Sarah Pocket

awaited us. Mr. Jaggers presided, Estella sat opposite to him, I

faced my green and yellow friend.