She looked all round the room in a glaring manner, and then said, leaning on me while her hand twitched my shoulder, “Come, come, come!  Walk me, walk me!”

I made out from this, that the work I had to do, was to walk Miss Havisham round and round the room.  Accordingly, I started at once, and she leaned upon my shoulder, and we went away at a pace that might have been an imitation (founded on my first impulse under that roof) of Mr. Pumblechook’s chaise-cart.

She was not physically strong, and after a little time said, “Slower!” Still, we went at an impatient fitful speed, and as we went, she twitched the hand upon my shoulder, and worked her mouth, and led me to believe that we were going fast because her thoughts went fast.  After a while she said, “Call Estella!” so I went out on the landing and roared that name as I had done on the previous occasion.  When her light appeared, I returned to Miss Havisham, and we started away again round and round the room.

If only Estella had come to be a spectator of our proceedings, I should have felt sufficiently discontented; but, as she brought with her the three ladies and the gentleman whom I had seen below, I didn’t know what to do.  In my politeness, I would have stopped; but, Miss Havisham twitched my shoulder, and we posted on — with a shame-faced consciousness on my part that they would think it was all my doing.

“Dear Miss Havisham,” said Miss Sarah Pocket.  “How well you look!”

“I do not,” returned Miss Havisham.  “I am yellow skin and bone.”

Camilla brightened when Miss Pocket met with this rebuff; and she murmured, as she plaintively contemplated Miss Havisham, “Poor dear soul!  Certainly not to be expected to look well, poor thing.  The idea!”

“And how are you?” said Miss Havisham to Camilla.  As we were close to Camilla then, I would have stopped as a matter of course, only Miss Havisham wouldn’t stop.  We swept on, and I felt that I was highly obnoxious to Camilla.

“Thank you, Miss Havisham,” she returned, “I am as well as can be expected.”

“Why, what’s the matter with you?” asked Miss Havisham, with exceeding sharpness.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” replied Camilla.  “I don’t wish to make a display of my feelings, but I have habitually thought of you more in the night than I am quite equal to.”

“Then don’t think of me,” retorted Miss Havisham.

“Very easily said!” remarked Camilla, amiably repressing a sob, while a hitch came into her upper lip, and her tears overflowed.  “Raymond is a witness what ginger and sal volatile I am obliged to take in the night.  Raymond is a witness what nervous jerkings I have in my legs.  Chokings and nervous jerkings, however, are nothing new to me when I think with anxiety of those I love.  If I could be less affectionate and sensitive, I should have a better digestion and an iron set of nerves.  I am sure I wish it could be so.  But as to not thinking of you in the night — The idea!” Here, a burst of tears.