Чарльз Диккенс - Great Expectations / Большие надежды

Magwitch – Provis no longer – had received some very severe injury in the chest, and a deep cut in the head. The injury to his chest (which rendered his breathing extremely painful) he thought he had received against the side of the galley.

We remained at the public-house until the tide turned, and then Magwitch was carried down to the galley and put on board. Herbert and Startop were to get to London by land, as soon as they could. We had a doleful parting, and when I took my place by Magwitch’s side, I felt that that was my place while he lived.

In the hunted, wounded creature who held my hand in his, I only saw a man who had been my benefactor, and who had felt affectionately and gratefully towards me with great constancy through a series of years. I only saw in him a much better man than I had been to Joe.

His breathing became more difficult and painful, and often he could not repress a groan. That he would be leniently treated, I could not hope. [240]He who had been presented in the worst light at his trial, who had since broken prison and had been tried again, who had returned from transportation under a life sentence, and who had occasioned the death of the man who was the cause of his arrest.

“Dear boy,” he said, “I’m quite content. I’ve seen my boy, and he can be a gentleman without me.”

No. I had thought about that, while we had been there side by side. No. I understood Wemmick’s hint now. I foresaw that Magwitch’s possessions would be forfeited to the Crown. [241]

“Look here, dear boy,” said he. “Only come to see me. Sit where I can see you, and I don’t ask anymore.”

“I will never leave you,” said I, “I will be as true to you as you have been to me!”

He was taken to the Police Court next day. Mr. Jaggers told me that the case must be over in five minutes, and that no power on earth could prevent its going against us.

Mr. Jaggers was angry with me for having “let money slip through my fingers.” I understood that very well. I was not connected with Magwitch by any tie.

It was at this dark time of my life that Herbert returned home one evening and said —

“My dear Handel, I fear I shall soon have to leave you. I shall go to Cairo, and I am very much afraid I must go, Handel, when you most need me.”

“Herbert, I shall always need you, because I shall always love you; but my need is no greater now than at another time.”

“You will be so lonely.”

“My dear fellow,” said Herbert, “have you thought of your future?”

“No, for I have been afraid to think of any future.”

“My dear dear Handel, in the branch house of ours, Handel, we must have a – ”

I saw that his delicacy was avoiding the right word, so I said, “A clerk.”

“A clerk. And I hope that he may expand (as a clerk of your acquaintance has expanded) into a partner. Now, Handel – in short, my dear boy, will you come to me?”

I thanked him heartily, but said I could not yet make sure of joining him as he so kindly offered.

On the Saturday in that same week, I took my leave of Herbert. Then I went into a coffee-house; and on the stairs I encountered Wemmick, who was coming down.

“You don’t blame me, I hope, Mr. Pip?” said Wemmick, “I am sure I tried to serve you, with all my heart.”

“I am as sure of that, Wemmick, as you can be, and I thank you most earnestly for all your interest and friendship.”

“Thank you, thank you very much. It’s a bad job,” said Wemmick, scratching his head, “So much portable property! Lost! Gone!”

“What I think of, Wemmick, is the poor owner of the property.”

Magwitch lay in prison very ill. He had broken two ribs, they had wounded one of his lungs, and he breathed with great pain and difficulty. He spoke so low; therefore he spoke very little. But he was ever ready to listen to me; and it became the first duty of my life to say to him, and read to him.

I saw him every day; he wasted, and became slowly weaker and worse, day by day.

The trial was very short and very clear. The punishment for his return to the land that had cast him out, was death, so he had to prepare himself to die.

I earnestly hoped and prayed that he might die before the execution. As the days went on, I noticed more and more that he would lie looking at the white ceiling.

The number of the days had risen to ten, when I saw a greater change in him than I had seen yet. His eyes were turned towards the door, and lighted up as I entered.

“Dear boy,” he said, as I sat down by his bed: “Thank you, dear boy. God bless you! You’ve never deserted me, dear boy.”

I pressed his hand in silence, for I could not forget that I had once meant to desert him.

He lay on his back, breathing with great difficulty.

“Are you in much pain today?”

“I don’t complain, dear boy.”

“You never do complain.”

He had spoken his last words. He smiled, and I understood his touch to mean that he wished to lift my hand, and lay it on his breast. 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?”

A gentle pressure on my hand.

“You had a child once, whom you loved and lost.”

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, he raised my hand to his lips. The placid look at the white ceiling came back, and passed away, and his head dropped quietly on his breast.

I knew there were no better words that I could say beside his bed, than “O Lord, be merciful to him a sinner! [242]”

I was in debt, and had scarcely any money, and began to be seriously alarmed by the state of my affairs. My illness was coming on me now.

For a day or two, I lay on the sofa, or on the floor with a heavy head and aching limbs, and no purpose, and no power. One day I saw two men looking at me.

“What do you want?” I asked, starting; “I don’t know you.”

“Well, sir,” returned one of them, bending down and touching me on the shoulder, “I dare say, but you’re arrested.”

“What is the debt?”

“Hundred and twenty-three pound, fifteen, six. Jeweller’s account, I think.”

“You see my state,” said I. “I would come with you if I could; but indeed I am quite unable. If you take me from here, I think I shall die by the way.”

I had a fever and was avoided, I suffered greatly, I often lost my reason.

After I had turned the worst point of my illness, I opened my eyes in the night, and I saw, in the great chair at the bedside, Joe. I opened my eyes in the day, and, sitting on the window-seat, smoking his pipe in the shaded open window, still I saw Joe. I asked for cooling drink, and the dear hand that gave it me was Joe’s. I sank back on my pillow after drinking, and the face that looked so hopefully and tenderly upon me was the face of Joe.

At last, one day, I took courage, and said, “Is it Joe?”

And the dear old home-voice answered, “Yes, that’s me, old chap.”

After which, Joe withdrew to the window, and stood with his back towards me, wiping his eyes.

“How long, dear Joe?”

“You mean, Pip, how long have your illness lasted, dear old chap?”

“Yes, Joe.”

“It’s the end of May, Pip. Tomorrow is the first of June.”

“And have you been here all that time, dear Joe?”

“Yes, old chap. When the news of your illness were brought by letter, Biddy said, ‘Go to him, without loss of time.’”