Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the fiftieth chapter of Great Expectations.

Come with us as we release one bite a day of one of your favorite classic novels, plays & short stories. Bree reads these classics like she reads to her daughter, one chapter a day. If you love books or audiobooks and want something to listen to as you're getting ready, driving to work, or as you're getting ready for bed, check out Bite at a Time Books!

Follow, rate, and review Bite at a Time Books where we read you your favorite classics, one bite at a time. Available wherever you listen to podcasts.

Check out our website, or join our Facebook Group!

Get exclusive Behind the Scenes content on our YouTube!

We are now part of the Bite at a Time Books Productions network!

If you ever wondered what inspired your favorite classic novelist to write their stories, what was happening in their lives or the world at the time, check out Bite at a Time Books Behind the Story wherever you listen to podcasts.

Follow us on all the socials: Instagram - Twitter - Facebook - TikTok

Follow Bree at: Instagram - Twitter - Facebook

San the book and let's see what we can find.

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

One bite at a time.

My name is Brie Carlyle and I love to read and wanted to share my passion with listeners like you.

If you want to know what's coming next and vote on upcoming books, sign up for our newsletter@byetatimebooks.com you'll also find our new t shirts in the shop, including podcast shirts and quote shirts from your favorite classic novels.

Be sure to follow my show on your favorite podcast platform so you get all the new episodes.

You can find most of our links in the show notes, but also our website, bytetimebooks.com includes all of the links for our show, including to our Patreon to support the show and YouTube, where we have special behind the narration of the episodes.

We're part of the Bite at a Time Books productions network.

If you'd also like to hear what inspired your favorite classic authors to write their novels and what was going on in the world at the time, check out the bite at a Time books behind the story podcast.

Wherever you listen to podcasts, please note while we try to keep the text as close to the original as possible, some words have been changed to honor the marginalized communities who've identified the words as harmful and to stay in alignment with bite at a time book's brand values.

Today we'll be continuing great expectations by Charles Dickens chapter 50 my hands had been dressed twice or thrice in the night and again in the morning.

My left arm was a good deal burned to the elbow and less severely as high as the shoulder.

It was very painful, but the flames had set in that direction and I felt thankful it was no worse.

My right hand was not so badly burnt, but that I could move the fingers.

It was bandaged, of course, but much less inconveniently than my left hand and arm, those I carried in a sling, and I could only wear my coat like a cloak, loose over my shoulders and fastened at the neck.

My hair had been caught by the fire, but not by my head or face.

When Herbert had been down to Hammersmith and seen his father, he came back to me at our chambers and devoted the day to attending on me.

He was the kindest of nurses and at stated times took off the bandages and steeped them in the cooling liquid that was kept ready and put them on again with a patient tenderness that I was deeply grateful for.

At first, as I lay quiet on the sofa.

I found it painfully difficult, I might say impossible.

To get rid of the impression of the glare of the flames, their hurry and noise, and the fierce burning smell.

If I dozed for a minute, I was awakened by Miss Havisham's cries.

And by her running at me with all that height of fire above her head.

The pain of the mind was much harder to strive against than any bodily pain I suffered.

And Herbert, seeing that did his utmost to hold my attention, engaged.

Neither of us spoke of the boat, but we both thought of it.

That was made apparent by our avoidance of the subject.

And by our agreeing without agreement.

To make my recovery of the use of my hands.

A question of so many hours, not of so many weeks.

My first question when I saw Herbert.

Had been, of course, whether all was well down the river.

As he replied in the affirmative with perfect confidence and cheerfulness.

We did not resume the subject until the day was wearing away.

But then, as Herbert changed the bandages more by the light of the fire than by the outer light.

He went back to it spontaneously.

I sat with Provis last night.

Handled two good hours.

Where was Clara?

Dear little thing, said Herbert.

She was up and down with gruff and Grimm all the evening.

He was perpetually pegging at the floor the moment she left his sight.

I doubt if he can hold out long, though.

But with rum and pepper and pepper and rum.

I should think his pegging must be nearly over.

And then you'll be married, Herbert.

How can I take care of the dear child otherwise?

Lay your arm out upon the back of the sofa, my dear boy, and I'll sit down here and get the bandage off so gradually that you shall not know when it comes.

I was speaking of Provis.

Do you know handle he improves, I said to you.

I thought he was softened when I last saw him.

So you did, and so he is.

He was very communicative last night and told me more of his life.

You remember his breaking off here about some woman that he had had great trouble with?

Did I hurt you?

I had started, but not under his touch.

His words had given me a start.

I had forgotten that, Herbert.

But I remember it now.

You speak of it well.

He went into that part of his life.

And a dark, wild part it is.

Shall I tell you, or would it worry you just now?

Tell me by all means, every word.

Herbert bent forward to look at me more nearly as if my reply had been rather more hurried or more eager than he could quite account for.

Your head is cool, he said, touching it.

Quite said, I tell me what Provis said, my dear Herbert.

It seems, said Herbert, there's a bandage off most charmingly.

And now comes the cool one.

Makes you shrink at first, my poor dear fellow, don't it?

But it will be comfortable presently.

It seems that the woman was a young woman, and a jealous woman, and a revengeful woman.

Revengeful handle to the last degree.

To what last degree?

Murder.

Does it strike too cold on that sensitive place?

I don't feel it.

How did she murder?

Whom did she murder?

Why, the deed may not have merited quite so terrible a name, said Herbert.

But she was tried for it, and Mr.

Jaggers defended her.

And the reputation of that defense first made his name known to Provis.

It was another and a stronger woman who was the victim.

And there had been a struggle in a barn.

Who began it?

Or how fair it was, or how unfair may be doubtful.

But how it ended is certainly not doubtful.

For the victim was found throttled.

Was the woman brought in guilty?

No, she was acquitted.

My poor handle, I hurt you.

It is impossible to be gentler, Herbert.

Yes, what else?

This acquitted young woman in Provis had a little child.

A little child of whom Provis was exceedingly fond.

On the evening of the very night when the object of her jealousy was strangled, as I tell you, the young woman presented herself before Provis for one moment.

And swore that she would destroy the child which was in her possession, and he should never see it again.

Then she vanished.

There's the worst arm comfortably in the sling once more.

And now there remains but the right hand, which is a far easier job.

I can do it better by this light than by a stronger.

For my hand is steadiest when I don't see the poor blistered patches too distinctly.

You don't think your breathing is affected, my dear boy?

You seem to breathe quickly.

Perhaps I do.

Herbert, did the woman keep her oath?

There comes the darkest part of Provis's life.

She did.

That is, he says she did.

Why, of course, my dear boy, returned Herbert in a tone of surprise.

And again bending forward to get a nearer look at me.

He says it all.

I have no other information.

No, to be sure now, whether pursued Herbert, he had used the child's mother ill.

Or whether he had used the child's mother well, Provis doesn't say.

But she had shared some four or five years of the wretched life he described to us at this fireside.

And he seems to have felt pity for her and forbearance towards her.

Therefore, fearing he should be called upon to depose about this destroyed child and so be the cause of her death.

He hid himself much as he grieved for the child, kept himself dark, as he says, out of the way and out of the trial, and was only vaguely talked of as a certain man called Abel, out of whom the jealousy arose.

After the acquittal she disappeared, and thus he lost the child and the child's mother.

I want to ask a moment, my dear boy, and I have done that evil genius compisson, the worst of scoundrels among many scoundrels, knowing of his keeping out of the way at that time and of his reasons for doing so, of course afterwards held the knowledge over his head as a means of keeping him poorer and working him harder.

It was clear last night that this barbed to the point of Provis's animosity.

I want to know, said I, and particularly Herbert, whether he told you when this happened.

Particularly let me remember then, what he said is to that his expression was around score a year ago, and most directly after I took up with compison.

How old were you when you came upon him in the little churchyard?

I think in my 7th year.

Aye, it had happened some three or four years then, he said.

And you brought into his mind the little girl so tragically lost, who would have been about your age.

Herbert, said I, after a short silence, in a hurried way.

Can you see me best by the light of the window or the light of the fire?

By the firelight, answered Herbert, coming close again.

Look at me.

I do look at you, my dear boy.

Touch me.

I do touch you, my dear boy.

You're not afraid that I'm in any fever or that my head is much disordered by the accident of last night?

No, my dear boy, said Herbert, after taking time to examine me.

You're rather excited, but you are quite yourself.

I know I am quite myself.

And the man we have in hiding down the river is Estella's father.

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.

Don't forget to sign up for our newsletter@bytitimebooks.com, and check out the shop.

You can check out the show notes or our website, bytitimebooks.com.

For the rest of the links for our show, we'd love to hear from you on social media as well.

You don't.

Take a look and a book and let's see what we can find taking chapter by chapter one at a time so many adventures and mountains we can climb take it word forward line by line one bite at a time.