十一年间，我未曾用肉眼见过乔或毕蒂——尽管在东方时，他们常浮现在我眼前——直到十二月的一个傍晚，天黑后一两个小时，我轻轻把手搭在旧厨房门的门闩上。我碰得极轻，没人听见，便悄悄往里看。乔正坐在厨房炉火旁的老位子上抽着烟斗，依旧硬朗结实，只是头发有些灰白；乔用腿在墙角围出一块地方，那里坐着我的小凳子，正望着炉火——那竟是另一个我！
“我们为了你，给他取名叫皮普，亲爱的老伙计，”我挨着孩子边另搬了张凳子坐下时（但我没有弄乱他的头发），乔高兴地说，“我们希望他能长得有点像你，觉得还真像。”
我也这么想。第二天一早，我带他出去散步，我们聊得极多，彼此心领神会。我带他到教堂墓地，让他坐在一块墓碑上，他从那高处指给我看哪块石上刻着纪念本教区已故菲利普·皮里普，及其妻乔治亚娜。
“毕蒂，”晚饭后我和她说话时，她的小女儿正睡在她膝上，“改天你一定得把小皮普给我，或者至少借我也行。”
“不，不行，”毕蒂温柔地说，“你得成家。”
“赫伯特和克拉拉也这么说，但我想我不会了，毕蒂。我已在他们家安顿下来，绝无可能了。我早是个老光棍了。”
毕蒂低头看孩子，把小手掌贴到自己唇边，又用摸过孩子的、主妇般温厚的手握住我的手。那动作，以及毕蒂婚戒轻轻的压触，自有一种动人的无言之意。
“亲爱的皮普，”毕蒂说，“你确定不为她难过？”
“哦不——我想不，毕蒂。”
“当作老朋友，告诉我。你全忘了她么？”
“我亲爱的毕蒂，我这一生，凡曾占据心头首要位置的，我什么都没忘；连占过些微位置的，也少有忘却。但那我曾称作可怜梦的东西，早已过去了，毕蒂——全过去了！”
然而，说这些话时，我心里明白，为了她，我今夜打算独自重访老宅旧址。是的，即便如此。为了埃斯特拉。
我听说她生活极不幸福，与丈夫分居；那人对她极其残暴，且以骄傲、贪婪、粗暴、卑鄙集于一身而臭名远扬。后又听说她丈夫因虐待马匹出事而死。这解脱约在两年前降临于她；据我所知，她或许已另嫁他人。
乔家开饭早，我从容与毕蒂叙话，仍有充裕时间在天黑前走到老地方。无奈一路徘徊，看旧物、想旧事，及至抵达，日已全沉。
此刻无宅、无酒坊、无任何建筑，唯余旧园之墙。空地以粗篱围起，我望见些许老常春藤重新扎根，在静默低矮的废墟土丘上泛绿。篱门半开，我推门而入。
午后罩着冷银色的雾，月尚未升以驱散它。但星子在雾后闪，月正欲出，暮色未深。我辨得出老宅各处的所在、酒坊的所在、门与桶的所在。正沿荒芜园径望去，忽见一孤身人影。
我走近时，那身影似已察觉。它本向我移来，却立定了。再近，见是女子。更近时，她似要转身离去，却又停住，任我赶上。继而她显出惊惶，迟疑着唤出我的名字，我也叫道——
“埃斯特拉！”
“我变了许多。想不到你还认得。”
她青春鲜润之美确已消逝，然那难言的庄严与难言的魅惑犹存。这些我曾见过；从未见的，是那曾骄傲的眼如今哀婉柔和的神色；从未感的，是那曾无觉的手如今友善的触碰。
我们就近坐上长凳，我说：“隔了这么多年，竟又在此初逢之地重逢，埃斯特拉，真是奇事！你常回来么？”
“从未回来过。”
“我也未。”
月始升，我想起那望向白天花板的平静目光，早已逝去。月始升，我想起他世间最后所闻我言时，握我手的压力。
静默之后，埃斯特拉先开口。
“我常盼着、打算回来，却总为诸事所阻。可怜，可怜的老地方！”
银雾沾上初升月辉，那辉光也沾上她落下的泪。她不知我已看见，敛容欲抑，静静说道——
“你一路走来，可曾疑惑，怎任它荒废至此？”
“是的，埃斯特拉。”
“地是我的。这是我未放弃的唯一产业。其余皆一点点离我而去，唯此犹存。那苦年里，唯对此，我作过一次坚决抗拒。”
“要起屋么？”
“终是要的。我来，是变易前与它辞别。而你，”她以羁旅之人动情之音问，“仍居海外？”
“仍。”
“想来安好？”
“为温饱颇勤力，故而——安好。”
“我常想到你。”埃斯特拉说。
“是么？”
“近来，常。曾有漫长苦日，我把那无知抛却的珍重，摒于心外。但自职责容得此忆以来，我便把它安放心中。”
“你在我心中，始终有其位。”我答。
我们又默然，直至她言。
“哪想，”埃斯特拉说，“辞别此地，也是辞别你。我很欣悦如此。”
“欣悦再别，埃斯特拉？于我，别是苦事。于我，上次别离之忆，向来哀苦。”
“可你那时对我说，”埃斯特拉极恳切道，“‘愿上帝保佑你，愿上帝饶恕你！’你那时能说，此刻也不会犹豫——此刻，苦难胜一切训导，教我懂你昔日之心。我曾被折被碎，但——望已铸成较好之形。如昔般体恤待我，说我们是朋友。”
“我们是朋友。”我起身，她自凳起，我俯身道。
“且遥处亦永为友。”埃斯特拉说。
我握她手，出废墟。晨雾自我初离铁铺时已散，今暮雾正起；广阔静光中，我不见再别她之阴影。
For eleven years, I had not seen Joe nor Biddy with my bodily
eyes,—though they had both been often before my fancy in the
East,—when, upon an evening in December, an hour or two after dark, I
laid my hand softly on the latch of the old kitchen door. I touched it
so softly that I was not heard, and looked in unseen. There, smoking
his pipe in the old place by the kitchen firelight, as hale and as
strong as ever, though a little grey, sat Joe; and there, fenced into
the corner with Joe’s leg, and sitting on my own little stool looking
at the fire, was—I again!
“We giv’ him the name of Pip for your sake, dear old chap,” said Joe,
delighted, when I took another stool by the child’s side (but I did
_not_ rumple his hair), “and we hoped he might grow a little bit like
you, and we think he do.”
I thought so too, and I took him out for a walk next morning, and we
talked immensely, understanding one another to perfection. And I took
him down to the churchyard, and set him on a certain tombstone there,
and he showed me from that elevation which stone was sacred to the
memory of Philip Pirrip, late of this Parish, and Also Georgiana, Wife
of the Above.
“Biddy,” said I, when I talked with her after dinner, as her little
girl lay sleeping in her lap, “you must give Pip to me one of these
days; or lend him, at all events.”
“No, no,” said Biddy, gently. “You must marry.”
“So Herbert and Clara say, but I don’t think I shall, Biddy. I have so
settled down in their home, that it’s not at all likely. I am already
quite an old bachelor.”
Biddy looked down at her child, and put its little hand to her lips,
and then put the good matronly hand with which she had touched it into
mine. There was something in the action, and in the light pressure of
Biddy’s wedding-ring, that had a very pretty eloquence in it.
“Dear Pip,” said Biddy, “you are sure you don’t fret for her?”
“O no,—I think not, Biddy.”
“Tell me as an old, old friend. Have you quite forgotten her?
“My dear Biddy, I have forgotten nothing in my life that ever had a
foremost place there, and little that ever had any place there. But
that poor dream, as I once used to call it, has all gone by, Biddy,—all
gone by!”
Nevertheless, I knew, while I said those words, that I secretly
intended to revisit the site of the old house that evening, alone, for
her sake. Yes, even so. For Estella’s sake.
I had heard of her as leading a most unhappy life, and as being
separated from her husband, who had used her with great cruelty, and
who had become quite renowned as a compound of pride, avarice,
brutality, and meanness. And I had heard of the death of her husband,
from an accident consequent on his ill-treatment of a horse. This
release had befallen her some two years before; for anything I knew,
she was married again.
The early dinner hour at Joe’s, left me abundance of time, without
hurrying my talk with Biddy, to walk over to the old spot before dark.
But, what with loitering on the way to look at old objects and to think
of old times, the day had quite declined when I came to the place.
