Though every vestige of her dress was burnt, as they
told me, she still had something of her old ghastly
bridal appearance; for, they had covered her to the
throat with white cotton-wool, and as she lay with
a white sheet loosely overlying that, the phantom air
of something that had been and was changed, was still
upon her.
I found, on questioning the servants, that Estella
was in Paris, and I got a promise from the surgeon
that he would write to her by the next post.
Miss Havisham’s family I took upon myself; intending
to communicate with Mr. Matthew Pocket only, and leave
him to do as he liked about informing the rest.
This I did next day, through Herbert, as soon as
I returned to town.
There was a stage, that evening, when she spoke collectedly
of what had happened, though with a certain terrible
vivacity. Towards midnight she began to wander
in her speech, and after that it gradually set in
that she said innumerable times in a low solemn voice,
“What have I done!” And then, “When
she first came, I meant to save her from misery like
mine.” And then, “Take the pencil
and write under my name, ‘I forgive her!’”
She never changed the order of these three sentences,
but she sometimes left out a word in one or other
of them; never putting in another word, but always
leaving a blank and going on to the next word.
As I could do no service there, and as I had, nearer
home, that pressing reason for anxiety and fear which
even her wanderings could not drive out of my mind,
I decided in the course of the night that I would
return by the early morning coach: walking on
a mile or so, and being taken up clear of the town.
At about six o’clock of the morning, therefore,
I leaned over her and touched her lips with mine,
just as they said, not stopping for being touched,
“Take the pencil and write under my name, ’I
forgive her.’”
My hands had been dressed twice or thrice in the night,
and again in the morning. My left arm was a
good deal burned to the elbow, and, less severely,
as high as the shoulder; it was very painful, but
the flames had set in that direction, and I felt thankful
it was no worse. My right hand was not so badly
burnt but that I could move the fingers. It
was bandaged, of course, but much less inconveniently
than my left hand and arm; those I carried in a sling;
and I could only wear my coat like a cloak, loose over
my shoulders and fastened at the neck. My hair
had been caught by the fire, but not my head or face.
When Herbert had been down to Hammersmith and seen
his father, he came back to me at our chambers, and
devoted the day to attending on me. He was the
kindest of nurses, and at stated times took off the
bandages, and steeped them in the cooling liquid that
was kept ready, and put them on again, with a patient
tenderness that I was deeply grateful for.
