Chapter XLIII

Why should I pause to ask how much of my shrinking from Provis 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 in her pride and beauty, and the returned 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 Compeyson were alive and should discover his return, I could hardly doubt the consequence.

That Compeyson 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.