I went into the room where the wax candles were burning on the walls. I found Miss Havisham and Estella there. Miss Havisham was sitting near the fire, and Estella was sitting on a cushion at her feet, knitting. They both looked up as I entered. They could see a change in me; I knew it from the way they looked at each other.
“What brings you here, Pip?” Miss Havisham asked.
She looked at me steadily, but she seemed a little confused. Estella stopped knitting for a moment to look at me, then continued. I felt certain she already knew that I had discovered the truth about my secret patron.
“Miss Havisham,” I said, “I went to see Estella yesterday, but I found out she was here. So, I followed her.”
Miss Havisham told me to sit down. I took a chair near her dressing table. Surrounded by the old, decaying things in the room, I felt that this was the right place for me to be on such a difficult day.
“I have something to say to Estella,” I continued. “I will say it in front of you. It will not surprise you. I am as unhappy as you wanted me to be.”
Miss Havisham kept watching me. Estella continued to knit. She was listening, but she did not look up.
“I have found out who my patron is,” I said. “It is not a happy discovery. I cannot say more about it because it is someone else’s secret.”
Miss Havisham repeated my words. “Someone else’s secret. Well?”
“When I first came here as a boy,” I said, “I was just a servant from the village. I came here to do what you wanted, and I was paid for it.”
“Yes, Pip,” Miss Havisham said, nodding her head. “That is true.”
“And Mr. Jaggers—”
“Mr. Jaggers,” she interrupted firmly, “had nothing to do with it. He is my lawyer, and he is also the lawyer for your patron. That is only a coincidence.”
I looked at her tired, old face. I could tell she was telling the truth.
“But when I made the mistake of thinking you were my patron,” I said, “you led me on. You let me believe it.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I let you go on believing it.”
“Was that kind?” I asked.
Suddenly, Miss Havisham hit the floor with her walking stick. She looked very angry. “Who am I,” she cried, “that I should be kind?”
She sat there quietly after that outburst. “Well,” she said eventually. “What else?”
“I want to ask for your help,” I said, trying to stay calm. “I have been living in London with your relatives, the Pockets. They are good, honest people. I know you think they only want your money, but Herbert and his father, Matthew, are different. They are truly generous and kind.”
Miss Havisham looked at me. “What do you want for them?”
“I want you to help Herbert,” I said. “I began to help him with his career two years ago, but I did it in secret. Now, I cannot finish what I started because I have no more money. If you could provide the money to help him, it would change his life. But he must never know the money came from me or from you.”
Miss Havisham looked at the fire for a long time. Finally, she looked back at me. “What else?”
I turned to Estella. My voice was shaking. “Estella, you know I love you. I have loved you for a long time.”
She raised her eyes and looked at me, but her face showed no emotion. She didn't stop knitting.
“I should have told you sooner,” I said. “But I thought Miss Havisham wanted us to be together. Even though I have no hope now, and I don't know what will happen to me, I still love you. I have loved you since the first day I saw you in this house.”
Estella shook her head.
“I don't understand what you mean,” she said calmly. “When you say you love me, they are just words to me. I feel nothing in my heart. I warned you about this, didn't I?”
“Yes,” I said sadly.
“But you wouldn't listen,” she said. “I am telling you the truth about my nature. I am not like other people.”
“Is it true that Bentley Drummle is visiting you?” I asked.
“It is true,” she said with a look of disgust, as if she didn't care about him at all.
“And you are encouraging him?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“You cannot love him, Estella!”
She stopped knitting and looked at me angrily. “What did I just tell you? I do not love anyone. Why don't you believe me?”
“You would never marry him, Estella?”
She looked at Miss Havisham for a moment. Then she looked at me. “I am going to marry him, Pip.”
I put my face in my hands. It was incredibly painful to hear those words. When I looked up again, I saw that Miss Havisham looked horrified.
“Estella, please!” I cried. “Don’t do this. Forget about me, but marry someone better than Drummle. He is a cruel, stupid man.”
“I am going to marry him,” she said in a softer voice. “It is my own choice. I am tired of my life here, and I want to change it. We will never understand each other, Pip. Now, give me your hand. Let’s say goodbye.”
I took her hand and cried. “You are part of my life, Estella. You are in every book I read, every scene I see, and every thought I have. You have changed me forever. Even if we are apart, I will always think of the good you brought into my life. God bless you.”
I kissed her hand and left the room. As I walked away, I saw Miss Havisham watching me with a look of deep pity and regret.
I left the house and walked all the way back to London. I was too upset to sit on a coach or talk to anyone. I wanted to exhaust myself.
It was past midnight when I finally reached London. I walked through the dark, narrow streets toward my home. I was tired and covered in mud. When I reached the gate, the night porter looked at me with surprise.
“I have a note for you, sir,” he said, holding up a lantern. “A man brought it earlier. He said you should read it immediately.”
I took the small piece of paper. It was from my friend Wemmick. It said only three words:
“DON’T GO HOME.”