When I came down again, I found Joe and Orlick sweeping up, without any other traces of discomposure than a slit in one of Orlick's nostrils, which was neither expressive nor ornamental. A pot of beer had appeared from the Jolly Hunter, and they were sharing it by turns in a peaceable manner. The lull had a sedative and philosophical influence on Joe, who followed me out into the road to say, as a parting observation that might do me good, "On the Ram-page, Pip, and off the Ram-page, Pip - such is Life!"
With what absurd emotions (for, we think the feelings that are very serious in a man quite comical in a boy) I found myself again going to Miss Havisham's, matters little here. Nor, how I passed and repassed the gate many times before I could make up my mind to ring. Nor, how I debated whether I should go away without ringing; nor, how I should undoubtedly have gone, if my time had been my own, to come back.
A woman, whom I recognized as Miss Sarah Pocket, came to the gate. No Estella.
"How, then? You here again?" said Miss Pocket. "What do you want?"
When I said that I only came to see how Miss Havisham was, Sarah evidently deliberated whether or no she should send me about my business. But, unwilling to hazard the responsibility, she let me in, and presently brought the sharp message that I was to "come up."
Everything was unchanged, and Miss Havisham was alone.
"Well?" said she, fixing her eyes upon me. "I hope you want nothing? You'll get nothing."
"No, indeed, Miss Havisham. I only wanted you to know that I am doing very well in my apprenticeship, and am always much obliged to you."
"There, there!" with the old restless fingers. "Come now and then; come on your birthday. - Ay!" she cried suddenly, turning herself and her chair towards me, "You are looking round for Estella? Hey?"
I had been looking round - in fact, for Estella - and I stammered that I hoped she was well.
"Abroad," said Miss Havisham; "educating with the great warriors of the East; far out of reach; prettier and stronger than ever; admired by all who see her. Do you feel that you have lost her?"
There was such a malignant enjoyment in her utterance of the last words, and she broke into such a disagreeable laugh, that I was at a loss what to say. She spared me the trouble of considering, by dismissing me. When the gate was closed upon me by Sarah of the walnut-shell countenance, I felt more than ever dissatisfied with my home and with my trade and with everything; and that was all I took by that motion.
I loitered along the High-street, looking in disconsolately at the shop windows, and thinking what I would buy if I were a gentleman. In allowing my mind to abandon my commonness for that time, I also abandoned all sense of how long that time lasted. As I wandered about, I hardly noticed that most of the shops had begun to close and the streets had begun to empty. After what seemed to me but a moment, but in actuality had proved much longer, I came out of this fugue reverie to find myself alone and in darkness. My only company: a full moon.
Home was far, and the journey would take me too near to the marshes. Even far up-town, it could be dangerous to spend such a night on the streets. I knew what I had to do, and yet I considered for a moment whether it may be preferable to risk the onslaught of Howl Beasts than to do it. Begrudgingly, I chose the prudent course: I ran several blocks, swallowed what remained of my pride, and with the heaviest of sighs, knocked at Pumblechook’s door.
