a part of the wrecked fortunes of that house, her eyes rested on
me. She stared, and said in a low voice, 'Is it real?'

'It is I, Pip. Mr. Jaggers gave me your note yesterday, and I
have lost no time.'

'Thank you. Thank you.'

As I brought another of the ragged chairs to the hearth and sat
down, I remarked a new expression on her face, as if she were
afraid of me.

'I want,' she said, 'to pursue that subject you mentioned to me
when you were last here, and to show you that I am not all stone.
But perhaps you can never believe, now, that there is anything
human in my heart?'

When I said some reassuring words, she stretched out her trem-
ulous right hand, as though she was going to touch me; but she
recalled it again before I understood the action, or knew how to
receive it.

'You said, speaking for your friend, that you could tell me how
to do something useful and good. Something that you would like
done, is it not?'

'Something that I would like done very very much.'

'What is it?'

I began explaining to her that secret history of the partnership.
I had not got far into it, when I judged from her looks that she
was thinking in a discursive way of me, rather than of what I said.
It seemed to be so, for, when I stopped speaking, many moments
passed before she showed that she was conscious of the fact.

'Do you break off,' she asked then, with her former air of being
afraid of me, 'because you hate me too much to bear to speak to
me?'

'No, no,' I answered, 'how can you think so, Miss Havisham!
I stopped because I thought you were not following what I said.'

'Perhaps I was not,' she answered, putting a hand to her head.
'Begin again, and let me look at something else. Stay! Now tell
me.'

She set her hand upon her stick, in the resolute way that some-
times was habitual to her, and looked at the fire with a strong ex-
pression of forcing herself to attend. I went on with my explana-

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