Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the forty-third chapter of Great Expectations.

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Today we'll be continuing great expectations by Charles Dickens chapter 43 why should I pause to ask how much of my shrinking from province might be traced to Estella?

Why should I loiter on my road to compare the state of mind in which I had tried to rid myself of the stain of the prison before meeting her at the coach office with the state of mind in which I now reflected on the abyss between Estella and her pride and beauty, and the return transport whom I harbored, the road would be none the smoother for it.

The end would be none the better for it.

He would not be helped, nor I extenuated.

A new fear had been engendered in my mind by his narrative.

Or rather, his narrative had given form and purpose to the fear that was already there.

If compison were alive and should discover his return, I could hardly doubt the consequence that compeson stood in mortal fear of him.

Neither of the two could know much better than I, and that any such man as that man had been described to be would hesitate to release himself for good from a dreaded enemy by the safe means of becoming an informer was scarcely to be imagined.

Never had I breathed and never would I breathe.

Or so I resolved a word of Estella to Provis.

But I said to Herbert that before I could go abroad, I must see both Estella and Miss Havisham.

This was when we were left alone on the night of the day when Provis told us his story.

I resolved to go out to Richmond next day, and I went on my presenting myself at Mrs.

Bradley's.

Estella's maid was called to tell that Estella had gone into the country.

Where?

To Satis'house.

As usual?

Not as usual, I said, for she had never yet gone there without me.

When was she coming back?

There was an air of reservation in the answer, which increased my perplexity, and the answer was that her maid believed she was only coming back at all.

For a little while I could make nothing of this, except that it was meant that I should make nothing of it.

And I went home again in complete discomfiture.

Another night consultation with Herbert after Provis was gone home, I always took him home, and always looked well about me led us to the conclusion that nothing should be said about going abroad until I came back from Miss Havishams.

In the meantime Herbert and I were to consider separately what it would be best to say.

Whether we should devise any pretense of being afraid that he was under suspicious observation, or whether I, who had never yet been abroad, should propose an expedition.

We both knew that I had but to propose anything, and he would consent.

We agreed that his remaining many days in his present hazard was not to be thought of next day.

I had the meanness to feign that I was under a binding promise to go down to Joe but I was capable of almost any meanness towards Joe or his name.

Provice was to be strictly careful while I was gone, and Herbert was to take the charge of him that I had taken.

I was to be absent only one night, and on my return the gratification of his impatience for my starting as a gentleman on a greater scale was to be begun.

It occurred to me then, and as I afterwards found to Herbert also, that he might be best got away across the water on that pretense as to make purchases or the like.

Having thus cleared the way from my expedition to Miss Havisham's, I set off by the early morning coach, before it was yet light, and was out on the open country road when the day came creeping on, halting and whimpering and shivering, and wrapped in patches of cloud and rags of mist like a beggar, when we drove up to the blue boar after a drizzly ride, whom should I see come out under the gateway, toothpick in hand, to look at the coach but Bentley Drummel, as he pretended not to see me, I pretended not to see him.

It was a very lame pretense on both sides, the lamer because we both went into the coffee room where he had just finished his breakfast and where I ordered mine.

It was poisonous to me to see him in the town, for I very well knew why he had come there, pretending to read a smeary newspaper long out of date, which had nothing half so legible in its local news as the foreign matter of coffee, pickles, fish sauces, gravy, melted butter, and wine, with which it was sprinkled all over as if it had taken the measles in a highly irregular form.

I sat at my table while he stood before the fire.

By degrees it became an enormous injury to me that he stood before the fire, and I got up determined to have my share of it.

I had to put my hand behind his legs for the poker when I went up to the fireplace to stir the fire, but still pretended not to know him.

Is this a cut?

Said Mr.

Drummel.

Oh, said I, poker in hand.

It's you, is it?

How do you do?

I was wondering who it was who kept the fire off.

With that I poked tremendously, and having done so, planted myself side by side with Mr.

Drummel, my shoulders squared and my back to the fire.

You have just come down, said Mr.

Drummel, edging me a little away with his shoulder.

Yes, said I, edging him a little away with my shoulder.

Beastly place, said Drummel.

You're part of the country, I think.

Yes, I scented.

I am told it's very like your Shropshire.

Not in the least like it, said Drummel.

Here.

Mr.

Drummel looked at his boots, and I looked at mine, and then Mr.

Drummel looked at my boots, and I looked at his.

Have you been here long?

I asked, determined not to yield an inch of the fire long enough to be tired of it, returned Drummel, pretending to yawn, but equally determined.

Do you stay here long?

Can't say, answered Mr.

Drummel.

Do you?

Can't say, said I.

I felt here, through a tingling in my blood, that if Mr.

Drummel's shoulder had claimed another hair's breadth of room, I should have jerked him into the window.

Equally that if my own shoulder had urged a similar claim, Mr.

Drummel would have jerked me into the nearest box.

He whistled a little.

So did I.

Large tract of marshes about here, I believe, said Drummel.

Yes, what of that?

Said I.

Mr.

Drummel looked at me and then at my boots, and then.

Said, oh, and laughed.

Are you amused, Mr.

Drummel?

No, said he, not particularly.

I'm going out for a ride in the saddle.

I mean to explore those marshes for amusement.

Out of the way villages there, they tell me, curious little public houses and smithies and that.

Waiter.

Yes, sir?

Is that horse of mine ready?

Brought round to the door, sir.

I say, look you here, sir, the lady won't ride today.

The weather won't do.

Very good, sir.

And I don't dine because I'm going to dine at the ladies.

Very good, sir.

Then Drummel glanced at me with an insolent triumph on his great jowed face that cut me to the heart, dull as he was, and so exasperated me that I felt inclined to take him in my arms as the robber in the storybook is said to have taken the old lady and seat him on the fire.

One thing was manifest to both of us, and that was that until relief came, neither of us could relinquish the fire.

There we stood, well squared up before it, shoulder to shoulder and foot to foot with our hands behind us, not budging an inch.

The horse was visible outside in the drizzle.

At the door my breakfast was put on the table.

Drummels was cleared away.

The waiter invited me to begin.

I nodded.

We both stood our ground.

Have you been to the grove since?

Said Drummel.

No, said I.

I had quite enough of the finches the last time I was there.

Was that when we had a difference of opinion?

Yes, I replied very shortly.

Come, come.

They let you off easily enough, sneered Drummel.

You shouldn't have lost your temper, Mr.

Drummel, said I.

You are not competent to give advice on that subject when I lose my temper.

Not that I admit having done so on that occasion.

I don't throw glasses.

I do, said Drummel.

After glancing at him once or twice in an increased state of smoldering ferocity.

I, said, Mr.

Drummel, I did not seek this conversation, and I don't think it an agreeable one.

I'm sure it's not, said he, superciliously over his shoulder.

I don't think anything about it, and.

Therefore I went on with your leave.

I will suggest that we hold no kind of communication in future.

Quite my opinion, said Drummel, and what I should have suggested myself, or done, more likely without suggesting.

Don't lose your temper.

Haven't you lost enough without that?

What do you mean, sir?

Waiter, said Drummel, by way of answering me.

The waiter reappeared.

Look here, you, sir.

You quite understand that the young lady don't ride today, and that I dine at the young lady's.

Quite so, sir.

When the waiter had felt my fast cooling teapot with the palm of his hand and had looked imploringly at me and had gone out, Drummel, careful not to move the shoulder next to me, took a cigar from his pocket and bit the end off, but showed no sign of stirring, choking, and boiling as.

I was, I felt that we could.

Not go a word further without introducing Estella's name, which I could not endure to hear him utter, and therefore I looked stonily at the opposite wall, as if there were no one present, and forced myself to silence.

How long we might have remained in this ridiculous position it is impossible to say but for the incursion of three thriving farmers laid on by the waiter, I think, who came into the coffee room unbuttoning their great coats and rubbing their hands, and before whom, as they charged the fire, we were obliged to give way assam through the window, seizing its horse's mane and mounting in his blundering, brutal manner, and siddling and backing away, I thought he was gone when he came back, calling for a light for the cigar in his mouth, which he had forgotten, a man in a dust colored dress appeared with what was wanted, I could not have said from where, whether from the inyard or the street, or where not, and his drummel leaned down from the saddle and lighted his cigar and laughed with a jerk of his head towards the coffee room windows.

The slouching shoulders and ragged hair of this man, whose back was towards me, reminded me of orlich, too heavily out of sorts to care much at the time, whether it were he or no, or, after all, to touch the breakfast I washed the weather in the journey from my face and hands and went out to the memorable old house that it would have been so much the better for me never to have entered, never to have seen.

Thank you for joining bite at a time books today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

Again, my name is Brie Carlyle, and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of great expectations.

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Sakin chapter by chapter, one at a time so many adventures and mountains we can climb take it word for word line by line one bite at a time close.