"Best wishes, Biddy."

"P. S. I hope you will not refuse to see him, even though you are a gentleman now. He is such a good man."

I received this letter on Monday, and realized that Joe would arrive the next day. I am sorry to confess that I did not look forward to seeing him at all. If I could have kept him away by paying money, I certainly would have paid money. I knew that his clothes, his manners and uneducated way of speaking would make me ashamed of him. Luckily Herbert would not laugh at him.

"My dear Pip, Mr Gargery asks me to tell you he will be in London soon, and could visit you at 9 o'clock on Tuesday morning, at Mr Herbert Pocket's rooms, if that is all right with you. He and I talk about you every night, and wonder what you are saying and doing."

"I'm glad to see you, Joe. Give me your hat."

"Pip, how are you, Pip?" He shook both my hands together, his good honest face shining with happiness.

At nine o'clock the next morning I heard Joe's clumsy boots on the stairs, and at last he entered Herbert's rooms.

But Joe insisted on holding it carefully in front of him. He was wearing his best suit, which did not fit him at all.

"Well! What a gentleman you are now, Pip!"

"And you look wonderfully well, Joe."

"Yes, thank God. And your poor sister is no worse. And Biddy is as hard-working as ever. But Wopsle isn't our church clerk any longer! He's become an actor! Acting in one of your London theatres, he is!" Joe's eyes rolled around the room, noticing the expensive furniture I had bought recently.

"As we are now alone, sir --" began Joe.

"Do sit down to breakfast, Mr Gargery," said Herbert politely. Joe looked round desperately for a place to put his hat, and finally laid it lovingly on a shelf. Breakfast was a painful experience for me. Joe waved his fork in the air so much, and dropped so much more than he ate, that I was glad when Herbert left to go to work. I was not sensitive enough to realize that it was all my fault, and that if I hadn't considered him common, he wouldn't have been so clumsy.

"Joe," I said crossly, "how can you call me sir?"

"Yes, I am," he said firmly. Our eyes met, and all the "sir" melted out of his honest heart as he gave me his hand. "Pip, dear old boy, life is full of so many goodbyes. I'm a blacksmith, and you're a gentleman. We must live apart. I'm not proud, it's just that I want to be in the right place. I'm wrong in these clothes, and I'm wrong in London, but I'm fine at the forge, or in the kitchen, or on the marshes. You won't find so much wrong with me if you come to see Joe, the blacksmith, at the old forge, doing the old work. I know I'm stupid, but I think I've understood this at last. And so God bless you, Pip, dear old boy, God bless you!"

I felt the blood rush to my face as I heard her name.

"And now I've given my message," said Joe, standing up and picking up his hat. "Pip, I wish you even more success."

He looked at me quietly for a moment. "Wouldn't have come, you see," he said slowly and carefully. "wouldn't have had the pleasure of breakfast with you gentlemen. But I had to come. Got a message for you, Pip. Miss Havisham says Estella's come home and would be glad to see you."

"But you aren't leaving already, Joe?" I protested.

"They sent him to Australia for life, because he tried to escape from the prison-ship."

"So Magwitch asked you to give the boy two pounds? Trusted you to do it?"

His words, spoken simply and from the heart, touched me deeply. By the time I had managed to control my tears, and looked round for him, he had gone.

I decided to visit Miss Havisham as soon as possible. Next day, when I arrived to take my seat on the coach to our town, I discovered I was sitting in front of two convicts, who were being taken to the prison-ships by their guard. The prisoners wore handcuffs, and iron chains on their legs. With horror I suddenly recognized one of them -- it was the man in our village pub who had given me the two pound notes! and strangely enough, during the journey I heard the prisoners talking about it.

I knew I looked so different that he would not recognize me, but I was afraid all the same. All the horror of my childhood experience with the escaped convict had come back to me, just when I thought it was safe to forget it.

"That's right. And I did what he asked. The boy had helped him, you see. Fed him, and kept his secret."

"What happened to Magwitch in the end?"

I was surprised to see Orlick opening the gate to me.

"So you aren't working for Joe any longer?" I asked.

"As you see, young master," he said rudely.

When I entered Miss Havisham's room, there was a well-dressed lady sitting with her. When she lifted her head and looked at me, I realized it was Estella. She had become so beautiful that I felt very distant from her. In spite of all my education, I still seemed to be the coarse, common boy she used to laugh at.

I knew he could not be trusted, and I decided to tell Mr Jaggers that Orlick was not responsible enough to work for Miss Havisham. Mr Jaggers would probably send him away.

But once we had arrived, and I was on my way to Miss Havisham's house, I thought only of my bright future. She had adopted Estella, she had more or less adopted me. She perhaps wanted me to inherit the dark old house and to marry Estella. But even though I was in love, I didn't hide from myself the fact that I would be unhappy with Estella. I loved her because I couldn't stop myself loving her.

"Everybody who sees her must admire her."

"She's changed very much, hasn't she, Pip?" asked Miss Havisham, laughing wickedly. I replied confusedly. I could see that Estella was still proud, and I knew that it was she who made me feel ashamed of home, and Joe, but I also knew that I could never stop loving her.

She and I walked in the ancient garden, talking quietly about our childhood meetings. Now that we were adults, she seemed to accept me as a friend. I could not have been happier. I felt sure Miss Havisham had chosen us for each other. What a fool I was!

"I can't believe that," I replied. As she looked straight at me, I recognized something in her face. Had I seen that expression recently, on another woman?

Suddenly she stopped and turned to me. "Miss Havisham may want us to spend more time together in future. But in that case I must warn you that I have no heart. I can never fall in love."

When we went back to the house, Miss Havisham spoke to me alone. "Do you admire her, Pip?" she asked eagerly.

She pulled my head down to hers with her bony arm and whispered, "Love her, love her, love her! If she likes you, love her! If she hurts you, love her! If she tears your heart to pieces, love her!" I could feel the muscles on her thin arm round my neck. She seemed so angry that she could have been talking about hate, or revenge, or death, rather than love.