I got into the carriage to be taken back to Hammersmith,
and I got in with a bad heart-ache, and I got out
with a worse heart-ache. At our own door, I
found little Jane Pocket coming home from a little
party escorted by her little lover; and I envied her
little lover, in spite of his being subject to Flopson.
Mr. Pocket was out lecturing; for, he was a most delightful
lecturer on domestic economy, and his treatises on
the management of children and servants were considered
the very best text-books on those themes. But,
Mrs. Pocket was at home, and was in a little difficulty,
on account of the baby’s having been accommodated
with a needle-case to keep him quiet during the unaccountable
absence (with a relative in the Foot Guards) of Millers.
And more needles were missing, than it could be regarded
as quite wholesome for a patient of such tender years
either to apply externally or to take as a tonic.
Mr. Pocket being justly celebrated for giving most
excellent practical advice, and for having a clear
and sound perception of things and a highly judicious
mind, I had some notion in my heartache of begging
him to accept my confidence. But, happening to
look up at Mrs. Pocket as she sat reading her book
of dignities after prescribing Bed as a sovereign
remedy for baby, I thought — Well — No,
I wouldn’t.
As I had grown accustomed to my expectations, I had
insensibly begun to notice their effect upon myself
and those around me. Their influence on my own
character, I disguised from my recognition as much
as possible, but I knew very well that it was not all
good. I lived in a state of chronic uneasiness
respecting my behaviour to Joe. My conscience
was not by any means comfortable about Biddy.
When I woke up in the night — like Camilla —
I used to think, with a weariness on my spirits, that
I should have been happier and better if I had never
seen Miss Havisham’s face, and had risen to
manhood content to be partners with Joe in the honest
old forge. Many a time of an evening, when I
sat alone looking at the fire, I thought, after all,
there was no fire like the forge fire and the kitchen
fire at home.
Yet Estella was so inseparable from all my restlessness
and disquiet of mind, that I really fell into confusion
as to the limits of my own part in its production.
That is to say, supposing I had had no expectations,
and yet had had Estella to think of, I could not make
out to my satisfaction that I should have done much
better. Now, concerning the influence of my position
on others, I was in no such difficulty, and so I perceived
— though dimly enough perhaps — that it
was not beneficial to anybody, and, above all, that
it was not beneficial to Herbert. My lavish habits
led his easy nature into expenses that he could not
afford, corrupted the simplicity of his life, and
disturbed his peace with anxieties and regrets.
