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!”
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“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.