In an armchair, with an elbow resting on the table and her head leaning
on that hand, sat the strangest lady I have ever seen, or shall ever
She was dressed in rich materials—satins, and lace, and silks—all
of white. Her shoes were white. And she had a long white veil dependent
from her hair, and she had bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair
was white. Some bright jewels sparkled on her neck and on her hands,
and some other jewels lay sparkling on the table. Dresses, less splendid
than the dress she wore, and half-packed trunks, were scattered about.
She had not quite finished dressing for she had but one shoe on—the
other was on the table near her hand—her veil was but half arranged,
her watch and chain were not put on, and some lace for her bosom lay
with those trinkets, and with her handkerchief, and gloves, and some
flowers, and a prayer-book, all confusedly heaped about the looking-glass.
It was not in the first few moments that I saw all these things, though
I saw more of them in the first moments than might be supposed. But,
I saw that everything within my view which ought to be white, had been
white long ago, and had lost its lustre, and was faded and yellow.
I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress,
and like the flowers, and had no brightness left but the brightness of
her sunken eyes. I saw that the dress had been put upon the rounded figure
of a young woman, and that the figure upon which it now hung loose,
had shrunk to skin and bone. Once, I had been taken to see some ghastly
waxwork at the Fair, representing I know not what impossible personage
lying in state. Once, I had been taken to one of our old marsh churches
to see a skeleton in the ashes of a rich dress, that had been dug out
of a vault under the church pavement. Now, waxwork and skeleton seemed
to have dark eyes that moved and looked at me. I should have cried out,
if I could.
"Who is it?" said the lady at the table.
"Mr Pumblechook's boy, ma'am. Come—to read."
"Come nearer; let me look at you. Come close."
It was when I stood before her, avoiding her eyes, that I took note
of the surrounding objects in detail, and saw that her watch had stopped
at twenty minutes to nine, and that a clock in the room had stopped at
twenty minutes to nine.
"Look at me," said Miss Havisham. "You are not afraid
of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?"
I regret to state that I was not afraid of telling the enormous lie
comprehended in the answer "No."
"Do you know what I touch here?" she said, laying her hands,
one upon the other, on her left side.
"Yes, ma'am." (It made me think of the young man.)
"What do I touch?"
She uttered the word with an eager look, and with strong emphasis,
and with a weird smile that had a kind of boast in it. Afterwards,
she kept her hands there for a little while, and slowly took them away
as if they were heavy.
"I am tired," said Miss Havisham. "I want diversion,
and I have done with men and women. Read."
I think it will be conceded by my most disputatious reader, that she
could hardly have directed an unfortunate boy to do anything in the wide
world more difficult to be done under the circumstances.
"I sometimes have sick fancies," she went on, "and I
have a sick fancy that I want to hear a child read. There, there!" with
an impatient movement of the fingers of her right hand; "read,
I picked up a worn book, which readily opened to a dog-eared passage,
and began reading:
Our place was taken at the communion rails. Hearing a
cautious step behind me, I glanced over my shoulder: one
of the strangers—a
gentleman, evidently—was advancing up the chancel. The
service began. The explanation of the intent of matrimony
was gone through; and then the clergyman came a step further forward,
and, bending slightly towards Mr. Rochester, went on.
"I require and charge you both (as ye will answer at the dreadful day of
judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed), that if either
of you know any impediment why ye may not lawfully be joined together in
matrimony, ye do now confess it; for be ye well assured that so many as are coupled
together otherwise than God's Word doth allow, are not joined together by God,
neither is their matrimony lawful."
He paused, as the custom is. When is the pause after that sentence
ever broken by reply? Not, perhaps, once in a hundred years. And
the clergyman, who had not lifted his eyes from his book, and had held
his breath but for a moment, was proceeding: his hand was already
stretched towards Mr. Rochester, as his lips unclosed to ask, "Wilt
thou have this woman for thy wedded wife?"—when a distinct and
near voice said—"The marriage cannot go on: I declare
the existence of an impediment."
It was then I began to understand that everything in the room had stopped,
like the watch and the clock, a long time ago. I noticed that Miss
Havisham put down the jewel exactly on the spot from which she had taken
it up. As Estella dealt the cards, I glanced at the dressing-table again,
and saw that the shoe upon it, once white, now yellow, had never been
worn. I glanced down at the foot from which the shoe was absent, and
saw that the silk stocking on it, once white, now yellow, had been trodden
ragged. Without this arrest of everything, this standing still of all
the pale decayed objects, not even the withered bridal dress on the collapsed
form could have looked so like grave-clothes, or the long veil so like