Many a year went round, before I was a partner in the House; but,I lived happily with Herbert and his wife, and lived frugally, andpaid my debts, and maintained a constant correspondence with Biddyand Joe. It was not until I became third in the Firm, thatClarriker betrayed me to Herbert; but, he then declared that thesecret of Herbert's partnership had been long enough upon hisconscience, and he must tell it. So, he told it, and Herbert was asmuch moved as amazed, and the dear fellow and I were not the worsefriends for the long concealment. I must not leave it to besupposed that we were ever a great house, or that we made mints ofmoney. We were not in a grand way of business, but we had a goodname, and worked for our profits, and did very well. We owed somuch to Herbert's ever cheerful industry and readiness, that Ioften wondered how I had conceived that old idea of his inaptitude,until I was one day enlightened by the reflection, that perhaps theinaptitude had never been in him at all, but had been in me.

Chapter 59

For eleven years, I had not seen Joe nor Biddy with my bodilyeyes-though they had both been often before my fancy in theEast-when, upon an evening in December, an hour or two after dark,I laid my hand softly on the latch of the old kitchen door. Itouched it so softly that I was not heard, and looked in unseen.There, smoking his pipe in the old place by the kitchen firelight,as hale and as strong as ever though a little grey, sat Joe; andthere, fenced into the corner with Joe's leg, and sitting on my ownlittle stool looking at the fire, was - I again!

"We giv' him the name of Pip for your sake, dear old chap," saidJoe, delighted when I took another stool by the child's side (but Idid not rumple his hair), "and we hoped he might grow a little bitlike you, and we think he do."

I thought so too, and I took him out for a walk next morning, andwe talked immensely, understanding one another to perfection. And Itook him down to the churchyard, and set him on a certain tombstonethere, and he showed me from that elevation which stone was sacredto the memory of Philip Pirrip, late of this Parish, and AlsoGeorgiana, Wife of the Above.

"Biddy," said I, when I talked with her after dinner, as her littlegirl lay sleeping in her lap, "you must give Pip to me, one ofthese days; or lend him, at all events."

"No, no," said Biddy, gently. "You must marry."

"So Herbert and Clara say, but I don't think I shall, Biddy. I haveso settled down in their home, that it's not at all likely. I amalready quite an old bachelor."

Biddy looked down at her child, and put its little hand to herlips, and then put the good matronly hand with which she hadtouched it, into mine. There was something in the action and in thelight pressure of Biddy's wedding-ring, that had a very prettyeloquence in it.

"Dear Pip," said Biddy, "you are sure you don't fret for her?"

"O no - I think not, Biddy."

"Tell me as an old, old friend. Have you quite forgotten her?

"My dear Biddy, I have forgotten nothing in my life that ever had aforemost place there, and little that ever had any place there. Butthat poor dream, as I once used to call it, has all gone by, Biddy,all gone by!"

Nevertheless, I knew while I said those words, that I secretlyintended to revisit the site of the old house that evening, alone,for her sake. Yes even so. For Estella's sake.

I had heard of her as leading a most unhappy life, and as beingseparated from her husband, who had used her with great cruelty,and who had become quite renowned as a compound of pride, avarice,brutality, and meanness. And I had heard of the death of herhusband, from an accident consequent on his ill-treatment of ahorse. This release had befallen her some two years before; foranything I knew, she was married again.

The early dinner-hour at Joe's, left me abundance of time, withouthurrying my talk with Biddy, to walk over to the old spot beforedark. But, what with loitering on the way, to look at old objectsand to think of old times, the day had quite declined when I cameto the place.

There was no house now, no brewery, no building whatever left, butthe wall of the old garden. The cleared space had been enclosedwith a rough fence, and, looking over it, I saw that some of theold ivy had struck root anew, and was growing green on low quietmounds of ruin. A gate in the fence standing ajar, I pushed itopen, and went in.

A cold silvery mist had veiled the afternoon, and the moon was notyet up to scatter it. But, the stars were shining beyond the mist,and the moon was coming, and the evening was not dark. I couldtrace out where every part of the old house had been, and where thebrewery had been, and where the gate, and where the casks. I haddone so, and was looking along the desolate gardenwalk, when Ibeheld a solitary figure in it.

The figure showed itself aware of me, as I advanced. It had beenmoving towards me, but it stood still. As I drew nearer, I saw itto be the figure of a woman. As I drew nearer yet, it was about toturn away, when it stopped, and let me come up with it. Then, itfaltered as if much surprised, and uttered my name, and I criedout:

"Estella!"

"I am greatly changed. I wonder you know me."

The freshness of her beauty was indeed gone, but its indescribablemajesty and its indescribable charm remained. Those attractions init, I had seen before; what I had never seen before, was thesaddened softened light of the once proud eyes; what I had neverfelt before, was the friendly touch of the once insensible hand.

We sat down on a bench that was near, and I said, "After so manyyears, it is strange that we should thus meet again, Estella, herewhere our first meeting was! Do you often come back?"

"I have never been here since."

"Nor I."

The moon began to rise, and I thought of the placid look at thewhite ceiling, which had passed away. The moon began to rise, and Ithought of the pressure on my hand when I had spoken the last wordshe had heard on earth.

Estella was the next to break the silence that ensued between us.

"I have very often hoped and intended to come back, but have beenprevented by many circumstances. Poor, poor old place!"

The silvery mist was touched with the first rays of the moonlight,and the same rays touched the tears that dropped from her eyes. Notknowing that I saw them, and setting herself to get the better ofthem, she said quietly:

"Were you wondering, as you walked along, how it came to be left inthis condition?"

"Yes, Estella."

"The ground belongs to me. It is the only possession I have notrelinquished. Everything else has gone from me, little by little,but I have kept this. It was the subject of the only determinedresistance I made in all the wretched years."

"Is it to be built on?"

"At last it is. I came here to take leave of it before its change.And you," she said, in a voice of touching interest to a wanderer,"you live abroad still?"

"Still."

"And do well, I am sure?"

"I work pretty hard for a sufficient living, and therefore - Yes, Ido well."

"I have often thought of you," said Estella.

"Have you?"

"Of late, very often. There was a long hard time when I kept farfrom me, the remembrance, of what I had thrown away when I wasquite ignorant of its worth. But, since my duty has not beenincompatible with the admission of that remembrance, I have givenit a place in my heart."

"You have always held your place in my heart," I answered.

And we were silent again, until she spoke.

"I little thought," said Estella, "that I should take leave of youin taking leave of this spot. I am very glad to do so."

"Glad to part again, Estella? To me, parting is a painful thing. Tome, the remembrance of our last parting has been ever mournful andpainful."

"But you said to me," returned Estella, very earnestly, 'God blessyou, God forgive you!' And if you could say that to me then, youwill not hesitate to say that to me now - now, when suffering hasbeen stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me tounderstand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken,but - I hope - into a better shape. Be as considerate and good tome as you were, and tell me we are friends."

"We are friends," said I, rising and bending over her, as she rosefrom the bench.

"And will continue friends apart," said Estella.

I took her hand in mine, and we went out of the ruined place; and,as the morning mists had risen long ago when I first left theforge, so, the evening mists were rising now, and in all the broadexpanse of tranquil light they showed to me, I saw no shadow ofanother parting from her.

Title: Great Expectations
Author: Charles Dickens
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