u are most positively prohibited from making
any inquiry on this head. If you have a suspicion, keep it in your own
breast."

Mr. Jaggers went on to say that if I accepted the expectations on these
terms, there was already money in hand for my education and maintenance,
and that one Mr. Matthew Pocket, in London (whom I knew to be a relation
of Miss Havisham's), could be my tutor if I was willing to go to him,
say in a week's time. Of course I accepted this wonderful good fortune,
and had no doubt in my own mind that Miss Havisham was my benefactress.

When Mr. Jaggers asked Joe whether he desired any compensation, Joe laid
his hand upon my shoulder with the touch of a woman. "Pip is that hearty
welcome," said Joe, "to go free with his services, to honour and
fortun', as no words can tell him. But if you think as money can make
compensation to me for the loss of the little child--what come to the
forge--and ever the best of friends!" He scooped his eyes with his
disengaged hand, but said not another word.

_III.--I Know My Benefactor_

I went to London, and studied with Mr. Matthew Pocket, and shared rooms
with his son Herbert (who, knowing my earlier life, decided to call me
Handel), first in Barnard's Inn and later in the Temple.

On my twenty-first birthday I received L500, and this (unknown to
Herbert) I managed to make over to my friend in order to secure him a
managership in a business house.

My studies were not directed in any professional channel, but were
pursued with a view to my being equal to any emergency when my
expectations, which I had been told to look forward to, were fulfilled.

Estella was often in London, and I met her at many houses, and was
desperately in love with her. But though she treated me with friendship,
she was proud and capricious as ever, and a few years later married a
man whom I knew and detested--a Mr. Bentley Drummle, a bully and a
scoundrel.

When I was three-and-twenty I happened to be alone one night in our
chambers reading, for I had a taste for books. Herbert was away at
Marseilles on a business journey.

The clocks had struck eleven, and I closed my books. I was still
listening to the clocks, when I heard a footstep on the staircase, and
started. The staircase lights were blown out by the wind, and I took my
reading-lamp and went out to see who it was.

"There is someone there, is there not?" I called out. "What floor do you
want?"

"The top--Mr. Pip."

"T