It is a miserable feeling to be ashamed of your home. Perhaps it was ungrateful of me, and perhaps I deserved to be unhappy, but I can tell you that it was a very sad time in my life.
Home had never been a very peaceful place because of my sister’s temper. However, Joe had always made it feel like a special place. I used to think our best room was elegant and beautiful. I used to think the forge was a proud road to becoming a man. But in just one year, everything changed. Now, the house looked small and common. I was terrified that Miss Havisham or Estella might see how I lived.
I don’t know if this change was my fault, Miss Havisham’s fault, or my sister’s fault. It didn't really matter. The change had happened, and I could not go back. I used to think I would be happy when I finally started working at the forge. But now that I was actually Joe’s apprentice, I just felt dirty and covered in coal dust. It felt as if a heavy curtain had fallen over my life, hiding everything that was interesting or romantic. My future looked like a long, boring road.
Sometimes on Sunday evenings, I looked out at the dark, flat marshes. I thought my life was just like them—flat, low, and full of grey mist. I was very unhappy during those first days as an apprentice, but I am glad about one thing: I never complained to Joe. I stayed at the forge because Joe was such a good, honest man. It wasn't because I liked the work; it was because Joe worked so hard and was so kind. His goodness was the only thing that kept me there.
What did I want? I didn’t really know. But I knew what I feared. I was afraid that one day, when I was at my dirtiest, I would look up and see Estella watching me. I was haunted by the idea that she would find out what I was: a common boy with a black face and dirty hands. I imagined her laughing at me and despising me.
Often, after dark, when I was working the bellows for Joe, we would sing our old work songs together. When I looked into the bright heat of the forge, I thought I saw Estella’s face in the fire. I would look at the dark windows and imagine she was standing there, looking at me with scorn in her eyes. When we went inside for our simple supper, the house looked even poorer to me, and I felt more ashamed of my home than ever before.