I could not doubt that there were still people living who could identify Magwitch. I could not hope that he would be treated leniently. I could foresee, however, that once he was convicted, the government of England would take everything he owned. But there was no need to tell him that the money he hoped to give me was gone forever. It would have crushed him to know that.
Magwitch was taken to court the next day to await the arrival of an old officer from the prison ship who could identify him. Upon returning to London, I immediately went to see Mr. Jaggers with the idea of hiring him to defend Magwitch. But Mr. Jaggers said there would be no way to defend Magwitch once he was identified. The officer arrived three days later and identified Magwitch. His trial was scheduled for a month later.
It was at this dark time in my life that Herbert returned home one evening in low spirits.
"I fear I will soon have to leave you," he said.
I was less surprised by this news than he would ever know.
"Clarriker's will lose a fine opportunity if I delay going to Cairo," he said. "But I must ask you a question: have you thought about your future?"
"I've been afraid to think about it."
"In this branch office, we must have a clerk . . . a clerk who would one day become a partner just as I have done. Clara and I have talked about this, and she begs me to say you must live with us in Egypt once we are married. Will you consider it?"
I thanked him. "Do you think, Herbert, that you could leave the question unanswered for a while without doing any harm to your business?"
"For a while!" cried Herbert. He seemed delighted that I was even considering the question. "Six months, a year!"
"Not so long as that," I reassured him. "Two or three months at most."
We shook hands on this agreement, and Herbert now had the courage to tell me that he must leave at the end of the week. And so on Saturday, I took my leave of Herbert, who was full of bright hope but sad and sorry to go without me.
Magwitch had broken two ribs, which had damaged his lungs, so he breathed with great pain and difficulty. As a result he spoke very softly and he spoke very little. Being far too ill to remain in the common prison, he was moved to the infirmary. This gave me opportunities to be with him that otherwise I would not have had. I sometimes derived an impression from his manner or a whispered word that he might have been a better man under better circumstances.
When his trial began, no one objected to my getting close to Magwitch and holding the hand that he stretched out to me. The trial was very short. Some good things about him were said. He had taken up industrious habits and had prospered lawfully and reputably in Australia. But nothing could change the fact that he had returned to England. He was found guilty and sentenced to death.
I began that night to write petitions to men in authority who might be merciful toward him. I set forth my knowledge of him and told how he had come back for my sake. For several days and nights after he was sentenced, I was totally absorbed in these appeals and hardly slept. After I had sent them in, I roamed the streets at night, wandering past the offices and houses of the men to whom I was appealing.
I earnestly hoped that Magwitch might die before his death sentence was carried out. My daily visits to his bedside were shortened now and he was more strictly watched. Every day he seemed to grow weaker. After about ten days, I saw a greater change in him than I had yet seen. His face was turned toward the door, and his eyes lighted up when I entered.
"Dear boy," he said as I sat down by his bed. "I thought you were late but I knew you couldn't be. You always wait at the gate, don't you?"
"Yes, so I don't lose a moment of visiting time."
"Thank you, dear boy. God bless you! You've never deserted me."
I pressed his hand in silence because I could not forget that I had once meant to desert him.
"And what's best of all is you've been more comfortable alongside me since I was under a dark cloud than when the sun shone." He lay on his back breathing with great difficulty.
"Are you in much pain today?" I asked.
"I don't complain, dear boy."
He had spoken his last words. He smiled and I understood that he wished to lift my hand and lay it on his chest. I laid it there and he smiled again and put both his hands upon it.
"Dear Magwitch, I must tell you now at last. You understand what I say?"
There was a gentle pressure on my hand.
"You had a child once whom you loved and lost."
There was a stronger pressure on my hand.
"She lived and found powerful friends. She is living now. She is a lady and very beautiful and I love her!"
With a last, faint effort that required my assistance, he raised my hand to his lips. Then he gently let it sink onto his chest again, and he was gone.
For a few days, I lay on the sofa or on the floor—anywhere that I happened to sink down—with a heavy head and aching limbs. I had no purpose and no power. I had scarcely any money and should have been alarmed by the state of my affairs. But I knew nothing beyond the fact that I was falling very ill. Visions of boats in a courtyard and Miss Havisham in a furnace came over me. I heard voices talking, laughing, and groaning, and did not know if they were my own. At last I saw two men looking at me.
"I don't know you. What do you want?" I was startled that they were standing over me.
"Well, sir," said one of them, bending down and touching me on the shoulder. "You're under arrest for debt."
"How much?" I said weakly.
"One hundred and twenty-three pounds owed to the jeweler. You'd better come with us."
I made some attempt to get up and dress myself. When I next noticed the men, they were standing farther away but still looking at me. I just lay there.
"I would come with you if I could, but if you take me from here, I will probably die."
Perhaps they replied. I don't know what they said or did except they left me alone. That I had a fever and often lost my reason cannot be denied. Someone took care of me. I did not know who until one day I opened my eyes and saw Joe sitting on the window seat, smoking his pipe.