Трек 15_03

“Was the child a boy or a girl?” I asked.

“A girl.”

Yet again I gave Wemmick my thanks, and went home with new matter for my thoughts, though with no relief from the old.

My first question, when Herbert came home that evening, was whether all was well down the river. He answered yes, and we sat down by the fire to talk over the events of the past few days.

“I sat with Provis for two hours last night,” Herbert told me, “and for some reason he talked a lot more about his early life. Do you remember that he mentioned some woman that he had had great trouble with? It seems that she was young and wild, and very jealous—so jealous that she went to the length of murder.”

I started, but Herbert was looking into the fire and did not notice.

“She was tried for it,” he went on, “and defended by Mr. Jaggers. It was another woman who was the victim, and there had been a struggle—in a barn. Provis and his wife had a little child—a girl of whom Provis was very fond. On the evening of the murder, his wife came to him and swore that she would destroy the child to spite him. Then she vanished.”

“Did the woman keep her word?”

“He says she did. He never saw the child again, and after the trial the woman vanished.”

“Did he tell you when this happened?” I asked, listening to the heavy beating of my own heart.

“Yes—three or four years before you found him in the churchyard. He said you reminded him of the little girl he had lost, who would have been about your own age.”

“I know her,” I said. “She’s not dead. Herbert, the man we have in hiding down the river is Estella’s father!”

Трек 16_01

_{Chapter Sixteen}

^{Down River}

Next day I went and brought the boat round to the Temple stairs so that she lay where I could reach her in a minute or two. Then I began to go out as if for training and practice, sometimes alone, and sometimes with Herbert. We had no word from Wemmick, and saw nothing that in any way alarmed us. Still, I knew that there was cause for alarm, and I could not get rid of the idea of being watched.

Some weeks passed. It was an unhappy life that I led, and one that was filled with anxiety. I rowed about in my boat, and waited, waited, waited, as best I could.

I had a new anxiety when Herbert told me that his business affairs were doing so well that he and his partner were planning to open a branch-house in the East, and that he would have to go out to it himself, and that he must do so very soon. What, I wondered, should I do if Herbert left me to deal with Provis alone?

We got into the month of March, and the burns on my hands were quite healed. Then, on a Monday morning, when we were at breakfast, I received the following note from Wemmick:

“Burn this as soon as read. Early in the week, or say Wednesday, you might do what you know of. Now burn.”

Herbert and I considered what to do. I did not care what port Provis and I made for, as long as I got him out of England. We knew what steamers would leave London on the same tide, and we knew the build and colour of each. We decided that we would get him well down the river, and lie by in some quiet spot until we could pull off to a steamer. Passengers had been picked up in this way before, and I saw no reason why it should not happen again.

We then separated for a few hours: I to get at once such papers and passports as were necessary; Herbert to visit Provis and warn him that the time had come, and that he must come down to some stairs close by the house on Wednesday, when he saw us, and not sooner.

I slept little between that time and the coming of Wednesday morning. It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold. We had several thick coats with us, and a supply of food.

We went down to the Temple stairs and stood there for some minutes, as if we were not quite decided to go upon the water or not. Then we went on board and took up the oars. It was high-water—half-past eight.