Both my hands and my left arm had been badly burned in the fire at Miss Havisham's. Since my arm was in a sling, I could only wear my coat like a cloak, loose over my shoulders. Herbert devoted the day to caring for me. He was the kindest of nurses, taking off my bandages at regular intervals, steeping them in a cool liquid, and patiently putting them on again.
Neither of us spoke about how I could not row the boat now, but we both were thinking of it. We agreed—without saying anything—to make my recovery a matter of hours instead of weeks.
My first question for Herbert, of course, was whether all was well with Provis. He replied in the affirmative, and we did not return to the subject until later in the evening.
"I sat with Provis last night for two good hours," said Herbert.
"Where was Clara?"
"Tending to her father all evening. I doubt that he will live much longer."
"And then you will be married?"
"Yes. Lay your arm upon the back of the sofa, and I'll take your bandage off. Provis was very talkative and told me more about his life," said Herbert.
"Tell me every word!"
Herbert removed the bandage. "It seems he was married to a young woman who was jealous and revengeful."
"How revengeful?"
"She was put on trial for murdering another woman. Mr. Jaggers defended her and that is how Provis first heard of him."
"Was she found guilty?"
"No, she was acquitted," said Herbert. "She and Provis had a little child of whom Provis was exceedingly fond. On the night of the murder, she swore to Provis that she would destroy the child and he would never see the child again. Then she vanished."
By this point Herbert had my arm bandaged again and back in the sling. And I had more questions for him. "Did she keep her oath?" I wanted to know.
"That remains the darkest part of Provis' life. She did."
"That is, he says she did."
"Well, yes, my dear boy," said Herbert. "I have no other source of information. She had shared four or five years of the miserable life that he described to us. He felt pity for her, and fearing that he would have to testify about this destroyed child, he hid during the murder trial. Even though he grieved for his child, he didn't want his wife to be sentenced to death. And so there was only some vague talk about a man named Abel Magwitch being the cause of the jealousy that had led to murder."
"But what happened after his wife was found not guilty?"
"After the acquittal she disappeared, and thus Provis lost the child and the child's mother. That evil genius, Compeyson, knowing that Provis had remained hidden during the trial, used that information to work him harder. It became clear to me that this was the main reason that Provis hated Compeyson."
"Herbert, I need to know if Provis told you when this all happened."
"He said it took place about twenty years ago. And he said that when he met you in the churchyard, you reminded him of the little girl he so tragically lost."
After a short silence, I asked Herbert to feel my forehead. "You do not think that I have a fever or that my head is muddled by last night's accident?"
"No, my dear boy," said Herbert. "You are rather excited but you are quite yourself."
"I know I am quite myself. And the man we have been hiding down the river is Estella's father."
Herbert was as astounded as I was at this revelation, but he reacted more calmly than I did. I was seized with a frantic need to settle the matter immediately. I could scarcely be restrained from going out to Mr. Jaggers' house that night to find out the truth. But Herbert said if I did so, I would probably be completely useless at the time when Provis needed me to row the boat. That thought alone reined in my impatience. I agreed to stay at home that evening and rest my injured hands and arm.
Early the next morning, I went to Mr. Jaggers' office and found him going over the accounts with Wemmick. I had sent him a brief description of the fire as soon as I arrived in town. But now I went into more detail. When I had finished my story and answered his questions, I produced Miss Havisham's note authorizing me to receive nine hundred pounds for Herbert.
"Did you ask Miss Havisham to do anything for you?" said Mr. Jaggers.
"No, but I asked her some questions about her daughter. I believe I know more about her daughter than Miss Havisham does." I paused. "I know who Estella's mother is."
Mr. Jaggers looked at me inquiringly. "Estella's mother?"
"Yes, I've seen her within the past few days, and you've seen her even more recently."
"Really?" Mr. Jaggers continued to look at me coolly, but I thought I detected a slight uneasiness in his manner.
"Perhaps I know more of Estella's history than even you do," I said. "I know her father too. He is the man named Provis from Australia."
Even Mr. Jaggers looked startled when I said those words. I dared not look at Wemmick to see his reaction for fear that Mr. Jaggers would realize we communicated outside this office.
"On what evidence does Mr. Provis make this claim?" asked Mr. Jaggers.
"He doesn't make this claim because he has no knowledge that his daughter is alive."
Then I told Mr. Jaggers all I knew and how I knew it. His only response was to turn to Wemmick and ask, "What account were we at when Mr. Pip came in?" But I would not be put off like that. I appealed to him to tell me the truth.
"I am admitting nothing," said Mr. Jaggers. "Do you understand that?"
"I do."
"Now, Pip, imagine that a woman, under such circumstances as you have described, concealed her child and had to communicate that fact to her legal adviser as part of her defense. Imagine that at the same time, an eccentric, rich lady had asked him to find a child for her to adopt."
"I follow you, sir."
"Imagine that this legal adviser lived in an atmosphere of evil where all the children he saw ended up being neglected, whipped, imprisoned, and sometimes even hanged. What if there was one pretty little child who could be saved from that life?"
I nodded. "I understand."
"Imagine the mother and father, unknown to one another, were now living near each other. Imagine the child was now grown up and married for money. Imagine that this secret was still a secret. For whose sake would you reveal it? The father's? The mother's? The daughter's? It would hardly serve the daughter to learn about her parents and drag her back to disgrace after an escape of twenty years."
I did not have any answers for his questions.
"Now, Wemmick," said Mr. Jaggers, "where were we when Mr. Pip came in?"