DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Treasure "Room yPECTATIO> BY HARLES DICKER s MOBIL I S. H. GOETZEL.V TV. 4 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. CHAPTER I. My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing I< or more explicit than Pip. So I called myself Pip, ami came to be called Pip.- ! give Pirrip as my father's family name, on the authority of his tombstone and my sister — Mrs. .Toe Gargery, who married the blacksmith. As 1 never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the days of photographs); my first fancies regarding what they were like were unreasonably derived from their tombstones. The ■ of the letters on my father's gave me an odd idea that he was a square, stout, dark man. with curly black hair. From the character and turn of the inscription, " also Gem-pinna wife of /he ahor< a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled and sickly. To live little stone lozenges, each about a foot and a half long, which were arranged in a neat row beside- their grave, and were sacred to the memory of five little brothers of mine — who ■ trying to get a living exceedingly early in that universal struggle — 1 am indebted for a belief 1 religiously enter- tained thai they had all been horn on their hacks with their hands in their trowsers-pockets, and had never taken them out. in this state of existence. Ours was the marsh country, down by the river, within, as the river wound, twenty miles of the sea. My first distinct impression of the identity of things seems to me to havfc been gained on a memorable raw, damp afternoon toward evening. At such a time I found out fin- certain that this bleak place overgrown with nettles' was the church-yard ; and that . ohias Pirrip, late of this Parish, and also Georgiana, wife of the above, were dead and buried; and that Alexander, Bartholemew, Abraham, George, and Robert, infant children of the aforesaid, were also dead and buried; and that the dark, flat wilderness beyond the church-yard, intersected with dikes and mounds and jjates, witk scattered uattla ; /MI5930 4 GREAT EXPECTATI01 was the marshes :• and that the low leaden line beyond was river; and that the distant savage lair from which the wind was rushing was the sea ; and that the small bundle of shivers grow- ing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was Pip. "Hold your noise! " cried a terrible an started up among the graves at the side of the church-porch, your noise, y f ou little devil, or I'll cut your throat ! " A fearful man, all in gray, with a greal i with no bat, and broken shoes, and wil tied round his head. A man who had been soaked in water and smothered in mud, and lamed by stones, and cut by flints, and stung by nettles, and torn by briers; who limped, and shivered, and glared, growled; and whose teeth chattered in his head as he seized me bin. "Don't cut mv throat. Sir! " 1 pleaded in terror. •' Pray i . !" " ", id the man. " Quid ■■ y- ." said the Give 11 i . '• Pip. Pij), £ '■ Show • you live," said I ■ ! " where r a eel !" At the same time he hugged his shuddering body in both his arms — clasping himself as if to hold himself together — and limped lowanl the low church wall. As 1 saw him go, picking his way among the nettles, and among the brambles that bound 'the ever- green mounds, be looked in my young eyes as if he were elu hands of the dead people, stretching up cautioi sly out of their graves, to get a twist upon his atkle and pull him h When he came to the low church wall, he got over it, like a man whose legs were numbed and .stiff, and then turned round t<> look for me. When I saw him turning, I set ra; ■ the best use of my legs. But presently I l< shoulder, and saw him going on again toward the ri girig himself in both arms, and picking his way witl among the great stones dropped into the marshes here and I for stepping- places when the rains were heavy, or i: as in. The marshes were just a long black horizontal li ed to look after him ; and the river was just another horizon- tal line not nearly so broad nor yet so black ; and the sky was just a row of long angry red lines, and dense blaol lixed. ( hi the edge of the river I could faintly make out the onlj black things in all the prospect that seemed to be standing upri one of these was the beacon by which the sailors steered — like an un- booped cask upon a pole — an ugly slimy thing when you it; the other, a gibbet with some chains banging to it which had once held a pirate. The man was limping on toward this lairer, as if he were the pirate coining to life and come down, and going back to hook himself up again. It gave me a terrible turn when I thought so; and as t saw the black cattle lifting < to gaze after him, I wondered whether they thong] I looked all around for the horrible young man, and could s hint. But now I was frightened again, and ran home stoppi GREAT EXPECTATIONS CHAPTER II. My sister, Mrs. Joe Gargery, was more than twenty years older than I, and had established a great reputation with herself and the neighbors because she had brought me up " by hand." Having at that, time to find out for myself what the expression meant, and knowing her to have a hard and heavy hand, and to be much in the habit of laying it upon her husband, as well as upon me. 1 supposed that doe Gargerj and I were both brought up by hand.' She was not a good-looking woman, my sister: and 1 had a general impression that she most have made Joe Gargery marry her by hand. Joe was a fair man. with curls of flaxen hair on a&ch side of his smooth face, and eyes of Bach a very undecided blue that ihoy seemed to have somehow got mixed with their own whites. He was a mild, good-natured, sweet-tempered, easy-going, foolish, dear fellow — a sort of Hercules in strength, and also in ness. . My sister, Mrs. Joe, with black hair and eyes, had such a pre- vailing redness of skin that I sometimes used to wonder whether it was possible she washed herself with a nutmeg-grater instead of soap. She was tall and bony, and almost always wore a coarse apron, fastened over her figure behind with two loops, and having a square, impregnable bit in front thai was stuck full of pins and needles. She made it a powerful merit in herself, and a strong re- proach against, Joe, that she wore this apron so much. Though 1 really see no reason now why she should have worn it at all ; or why. if she did wear it at all, she should not have taken* it off every day of her life. .Toe's forge adjoined our hou^Te, which was a wooden house, as many of the dwellings in our country were^mosr of them, at that time. When 1 ran home from the church-yard, the forge was shut up, and Joe was sitting alone in the kitchen. Joe and I being fel- low-sufferers, and having confidence as such, Joe imparted a confi- dence to me the moment I raised the latch of the door and peeped in at him opposite to it, sitting in the chimney-corner. " Mrs. Joe has been out a dozen times looking for you. Pip ; and site's out now, making it a baker's do/< •'Is she?" •' Ves. Tip." says Joe.; "and what's worse, she's got Tickler with her." At this dismal intelligence, I twisted the only button on my waistcoat round and round, and looked in great depression at. the tire. Tickler was a waxened piece of cane, worn smooth by col- lision with my tickled frame. 8 GREAT EXPECTATION. " She sat down," said Joe, "and she got up, and she made a grab at Tickler, and she ram-paged out, That's what she did," said Joe, slowly clearing the fire between the bars willi the poker ; "she ram-paged out, Pip." " Has she been gone long, Joe 1" I always treated him as a larger species of child, and as no more than my equal. " Well," said Joe, looking up at the Dutch clock, been on the Ram-page, this last spell, about five minutes, Tip. She's p coming! Get behind the door, old chap, and have the jack-towel betwixt- yen." I took the adyiee. My sister, Mrs. dee, throwing the door wide open, and finding an obstruction behind it, immediately divined the ". and applied Ticklerto further investigation. Sbeconcluded by showing me. 1 often served her a a connubial missile at Joe, who, glad to gel hold of me on any terms, passed me on into the chimney and quietly fenced me there with his greal I " Where have you been, yon young moi * -id Mrs. Joe, stamping her foot. "Tell me directly whai you've been doij wear me away with fret and fright and worrit, or I'd bavi of that corner if you were fifty. J'ij 8 and he was five hundred I gerj I have only been to the chofch-yard," said 1. from raj - crying and rubbing myself. " Ohurch-yard ! " r pealed my Bister. "If it • ou'd have been to the ohurch-yard lo re. Who brought yon up by hand 1 " " Vnii did." said I. *And why did I do it, 1 should like to I itned my sister. I whimpered, "I don'l L.i ►" J don't 1 " said my sister. "I'd d ain ! 1 know that. 1 may truly say I've never had this apron of mine born you were. It's bad enough to be a blacksmith's him ; y), without being your mother." My thoughts strayed from that question as I lo< roso- lately at the fire. For the fugitive out on the marshes witl ironed leg, the mysterious -young man, the file, the victual . the dreadful pledge J was under to commit a larcenj sheltering premises, rose before me in the avenging coi "Hah !" said Mrs. Joe»j*storing Tickler to his ' Church- yard, indeed ! You may well say church-yard, yon us, by-the-by,had not said it at all. " You'll dri . arch- yard betwixt you one of these da;. be without me ! '" applied herself to set the tea-ihii _ eg, as if he were mental!; and calculating what kind I REA.T EXPF/TATI 9 uml r i!k' | ilrs. Jee about with his blui squally tin My sister had a trenchant way foT us, that never varied. First, fefl band lbaf, hard ; UK'tillies into i' needle, frhich mouths. '. id ii on tin.- loaf . making a plas ping dexterity, and trim ' Then si the plaster, and then sawed a very thicl i ally, he! from the loaf, hewed in1 .he other. On the present occasion, thou ' my sli li that I musl ha dreadful-acquaintance and his all; I knew and tl not hii awful. It v my .mind to lea he top i .1 of water. And it wa unconscious J< masonry i and in Ins good-natured ip with me, ii was bit to compare the way we bit thi them u] id then — which in gener invited me, l; with | and-butter on . thai ■ Of hi: his n p „ . pur- 10 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. . chase ou it, when his .eye fell oh me,- and he saw that my bread-and- butter was gone. ' The wonder and consternation with which Joe stopped on the threshold of his bite ancLsiared at me were too evident to esi my .sister's observation. ""What's the matte* now?" said she smartly, as she put down her cup. "I say, you know ! " muttered .Inc. snaking his head at me in vcty serious remonstrances, " Pip, old chap ! You'll do yourself a bjef. It'll stick somewhere! you van't bave chawed it, *P'ip." •''What's the matter note t" repeated ray sister, , more sharply than before. "If you can cough any trifle on it up, Pip, I'd recommend you to do it," said Joe all " Manners is manners, but .still ydur elth'a your elth." By this time my sister was quite di raced on Joe, and taking hnu by the two whiskers, knocked his head for a while against the wall behind him : while 1 sat in the corner looking guiltily on. " Now, perb tps you'll mention what's the matter." said m\ ter, out of breath, " you starin doe looked al h r in a I el] and looked at me again. • . " You know, Pip," lemnly, with his last bite ii k, and speaking in a c< quite alone,' '• you and me is always friends, and I'd be the last to tell you any time. But sue!) a" — he moved his chair and 1" .door between us. and then a common bolt as thai " Been bolting "You know, old chap," said Joe, looking Mrs. •doe, with his bite still in his cheek, " 1 boll it', when I your age — frequent — and as a boy 1\ been among a m ers : but I never see j our equal yet Pip, and it's choked dei My sister made a drive at me. : lair : saying nothing mon sed." Some medical b« line medicine, i doe alwa . ly of it in the cup- board; having a belief in its lent* to its horrible nastiness. At the best 9& * .min- istered to me as a choice resfi « ft about smelling like a new fence; urgency of my case dem; poured down my throat, * I GREAT EXPECTATIO 11 heW my head under her arm as a boot w held in a If ;i vim ; but was made t" take that (mach to his disturbam md mediti before the fire), " tw had had a turn." Ji 1 should rtainly hi if he had had ■ Iful thing when ii a d or hoy ; Inn when, in the a I burden cooperates withan- "i burden down fhe rowsers, II I punishment. iiy know'' e rob Mrs, Jp< — 1 never I never thought of any of tl essity of i g one hand on the > [-but- ■ I sat, or when I was ordered a!. our tJbe kitchen on a errand, almost drove me oi ofind. Then, ;is the March winds made the fire glow and flare, I thought I beard the . outside of the man with the iro on his leg who had sworn me to Beereey, d< daring that be couldn't and wouldi until mow. but must be fed now. Al other times, I thoq if the young man who was with so much difficulty restrained from im*bruing bis hands in me, should either yield to his con should mistake the lis. I ould think himself accredited to my heart and liver to-night, instead i -uw ! \ 's hair stood, on end with terror, mil done so then. ; nobody's ever did ? It was Christmas eve, and 1 bad to stir the pud the copper-stick, from seven to eighl I y tb< I J tried it with the load upon my leg (and hat made me think h of the man with the iron on his leg), and found thi <t. It .and not I had. People are put in the Hulks tnu«- sethey rob, and always begin by asking' questions.* - bed 1 .'; i was never allowed a ind, as I went airs in the dark, with my head tin om Mrs. Joe's thim- ibe tambourine upon it to accompai- ully sensible of it convenience lha 1 Hulks were handy for me. I. was clearly on my way thei • begun ing questions, and I was goin Irs. Joe. Since that, tim-, which is far enough away now, I have thought that few people :;at-seereey there is in the young, under terror. No bat it srror. i was in mortal terror of the voting man who wanted UK EAT' EXPECT ATIl>: IB my heart and liver; T was in mortal terror of my interlocntor with the ironed leg; I was in mortal tenror. of my" self, from whom an awful proi n exacted'; 1 bad no hope of deliverance ■ gh my all-powerful sister, who repulsed mo al every turn ; I am afraid to think, even now, of what 1 might have done, upon requirement, in the Becresy of my terror. If 1 slept at all that night, it. was only to imagine myself drift- ing down the i strong spring tide to the Hulks ; a ghostly pirate calling out to me through a speaking trumpet, as i passed .on, that I had better come ashore, and he han at it off. I was afraid to sleep, even if I had- been inclined, for 1 knew that at the first faint dawn of morn- ing I mm, pantry, a no gelling a light by • friction then ; to have got one 1 must have struck it out of flint and sieel, and have made a noise like the very, pirate himself rat- tling his chaii tie great black velvet pall outside my little window . 1 got. up and went down stairs.i every hoard the' way, ami i board, calling after me, "•Stop thief !" and "Get up, Mrs. Joe ! " In the pantry, which lantly supplied than usual, owing to the season, 1 was very much alarmed by a hare hanging up by the !, b was half tun ! had no time for verification, no lime for selection, no time for any thing, for I hacrno time to spare. I stole some bread, , some rind of cheese, about half a jar of mince-meat (which I. lied up in m\ indkerebief with my last night's slice), some •brandy from a stone bottle (which I decanted into a glass hot lie [ secretly'used for making that intoxicating fluid, Spanish-liquor- ater, up in my room : diluting the stone bottle from a jug in itchen cupboard), a meat hone with very little on it, and a tiful round, compact pork-pie. 1 was neatly going awaywith- e pie, bul unpted to mount upon a shelf to look. what 'A was that was pui carefully in a covered earthenware q a corner, and I found it was the pie, and i took' it in the not intended for early use, and would not mis- ne time. door in the kitchen communicating with the forge ; 1 unlocked and unbolted that door, and got a file from aim . put the fastenings as L . ad found them, opened the door aJ which 1 had entered when I ran homo last l it.it, ran tor the misty marsl U UREAT EXPECTATIONS CHAPTER III. It was a rimy morning,>and very damp. I had seen the damp lying on the outside of my little window, as if some goblin bad been crying there all night, and Being the window for a pocket- handkerchief. Now I saw the clamp lying on the bare hedges and . e grass; like a coarser sort of spider's -wens; hanging itself iroin twig to twig and blade to blade On every rail and gate wet cjaiumy; and the marsh mist was so thick that the wooden ■r on the post, directing people to our village — a direction which they never accepted, for they never came there — was invis- ible to me until I was quite close under it. Then, as I looked up at it, while it dripped, it seemed, to my oppressed conscience, like a phantom devoting me to the Hulks. The mist was heavier yet when I got out upon the marshes, so that, instead of my running at every thing, every thing seem - run at me.- This was very disagreeable to a quid mind. The gates and dikes and banks came bursting at me t hrough the mist, as if they I as plainly as could lie, •' A boy with a pork-pie ! Stop him ! " The black cattle came upon me with like suddenness, staring out eir eyes, and smoking out of their nostrils, " Halloa, young thief J " One 'black ox'/ with awhile cravat on- who had to my awakened conscience something of a clerical air — fixed me so dily with his eyes, and moved his blu»t bead round in such ' an acCusatory manner as I moved round, that I called out to him, " 1 couldn't help it ! It wasn't for myself I took it! " Upon which he put down his head, blew a, cloud of smoke out of his nose, and vanished with a'kick-up of Ins hind leg and a flourish of his tail. AH this time 1 was getting on toward the river; out how fast 1 went, I couldn't warm my feet, he which the damp seemed riveted, as the iron was riveted to the leg of the man I was ig to meet, i knew my Way to the Battery pretty straight. lor I had been down there on a Sunday with Joe, and due had, sitting on an old gun, told me that when I was 'prentice to him regularly bound, we would have such Larks (here as should recom- pense us for our restraint at home. However, in the confusion ■ of (he mist, 1 found myself at last too far to the right, and conse- quently had. to try back along the river-sjde, on the bank of loose. stones above the mud and the stakes that staked the tide out, to come at the Battery. Making my way along here with all dispatch, 1 had just crossed a ditch which 1 knew to be very near the Battery, and i 'Tiuuuled up the mound beyond the ditch, when 1 GflKEAT EXPECTATIONS. 16 * saw the man silting- before me. His back was toward me, and lie had got, his arms folded, and was nodding forward heavy with sleep. I thought ho would be more glad if I camo upon him with his breakfast in that unexpected manner, so I went forward softly and touched Him on the shoulder, lie instantly jumped up, anil it was not the man, but another man! . And yet he was dressed in coarse gray, too, and In;. I ;; great iron on his leg, and was lame, and hoarse, and cold, and was every- thing that the other man was ; except that, he had not the same face, and had a flat, broad-brimmed, low-crowned felt hat on. All this 1 saw in a moment, for I had only a moment to see it in ; he swore an oath at me, made a hit at me — it was a round weak blow that missed me and almost knocked himself down, for it. made him stumble — and then he ran into the mist, tumbling twice as he went, and I lost him. "It's the young man !" I thought. I felt my heart shoot as 1 identified him ; and I dare say I should have felt, a pain in my liver, too, if I had known where it was. I was soon at the Battery after that, and there was the man — hugging himself and limping to and fro, as if he had never all night left off hugging and limping — waiting for me. lie was awfully cold, to be sure. I half expected to see him dropdown before ray face and die of cold. His eyes looked so awfully hungry, loo. that when I handed him the file it. occurred to me he would have, tried to eat. if, if he had not seen my bundle. . He did not turn me upside down, this time, to get at what I had, but left me right side upward while I opened the bundle and emptied mj " What's in the bottle, boy ?" said he. " Brandy," said I. . He was already handing mince-meat down his throat in the most curious manner, more like a man who was putting it away some- where in a violent hurry than a man who was eating it — but he left off. to take some of the liquor, shivering all the while so vio- lently that it was quite as much as he could do to keep the neck of the bottle between bis teeth. ." 1 think you have got the ague," said T. " I'm much of your opinion, hoy," said he. " It's bad about here. You've been lying out oh the meshes, and they're dreadful aguish. Rheum:: "I'll eat my breakfast afore they're the death of me." said he. " I'd do that, if I v to be strung »up to that there gallows as there is over there directly arterward. I'd beal the shi\> far, /'ll h'et you a L r uiiM- lie was gobbling mince-meat, meat. bone, bread, cheese, and pork-pie all al once i staring distrustfully while he did so at the mint all roucd as, and ofuu stopping — even stopping b i* jaw* — 1'> 16 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. listen. Some real or fancied sound, some clink upon the river or breathing of beast's upon the marsh, now gave him a start,- and he said, suddenly : ■ • ■ " You're not -a false imp ? You brought no one with you ?" "No, sir! No!" " Nor give no one the office to follow you W "No!" " Well," said he, " I believe you. You'd be but a fierce young hound, indeed, if at your time of life you could help to hunt a wretched warminr, hunted as near death and dunghill as this poor wretched warmint is !" Something clicked in his throat, as if he had works in him like a clock, and was going to strike. And. he smeared his ragged, rough sleeve over his eyes. Pitying his desolalion, and watching him as he gradually settled down upon the pie, I made bold to say, " I am glad you enjoy it." " Did you speak ?" " I said I was glad you enjoyed it." "Thankee, my boy. I do." I had often watched a large dog of ours eating his food ; and I now noticed a decided similarity between the dog's way of eating and the man's. The man took strong, sharp, sudden bites, just like the dog. He swallowed, or rather snapped up, every mouth- ful too soon and fob fast ; and he looked sideways here and there while he ate, as if he thought there was danger, of someb dy's com- ing to take the pie away. He was altogether too unsettled in his mind over it to appreciate it. comfortably, 1 thought, or to have any body to dine with him, without making a chop with his jaws at the visitor. In all of which particulars he was very like the dog. " You won't leave any of it for him," said I, timidly, after a si- lence during which I had hesitated as to the politeness of making the remark. " There's no more to be got where that came from." It was the certainty of this fact that impelled me to offer the hint. " Leave for him ? Who's him. 1 ?" said my friend, stopping in his crunching of pie-crust. " The young man. That you spoke of. That was hid with you." "Oh, ah!" he returned, with something like a gruff laugh. " Him ? Yes, yes ! He don't want no wittles." " I thought he looked as if be did," said I. The man stopped eating, and regarded me with the closest scru- tiny and the greatest surprise. "Looked? When?" "Just now." " Where V GREAT EXPECTATIONS. . 1* -"Yonder," said 1, pointing; " over there, where I found him nodding asleep, and thought it was you." He held me hy the collar and stared at me so, that I began to think his first idea about cutting my throat had revived. " Dressed Use you, you know, only with a hat," I explained, trembling*; "and — and" — I was very anxious to put it delic. ly — "and with — the same reason for wanting to borr Didn'1 you hear the gun last nigh: " Then there was tiring!" he said to himself. " I wonder you shouldn't have been sure of that," I returned, " for we heard it up at home, and that's further away, and we were% shut in besides." " Why. see now!" said he. " When a man's alone on these flats, with a light head and a light stomach, perishin'. 0/ cold and want, lie bears nothiif all night, hut guns (irhf, and voices eajlin'. Hears ' He sees tile soldiers with their red coats, lighted ii|> by the torches carried afore, closin' in round him. Hears his number called, hears himself challenged, hears the rattle of the muslTets, bears the orders. ' Make ready ! Present ! — Cover him steady, men !' and is laid hands on, and there's nothing! Why, if 1 see one pursuing party hist night — coming up in order, damn 'em, with their tramp, tramp — 1 see a hundred. And as to firin' ! Why, I see the' mist shake with the cannon, when it, was broad day. Put this man." — he had said all the rest as if he had for- • gotten my being there — " did- you notice any thing in him ?" 'Hehad a bruised face,' said I, recallingwhat Ihardly knew I knew. "Xo^.here/" exclaimed the man, striking his left cheek with the iiat of his hand. "Yes! There!" " Where is he?" He crammed what little food was left into the breast of his gray jacket. " Show me the way he went. I'll pull him down like a bloodhound. Curse this iron on my sore leg! (iive us hold of the tile, boy." I indicated in what direction. The mist had shrouded' the other man, and he looked up at it for an instant. Put he was down on the rank wet grass, riling at his iron like a madman, and not minding me or minding his own leg, which had an old chafe upon k ■ blot ly, but which he handled as roughly as if it bad no more feeling in it than the tile. I was very much afraid of him. again, now that- he had worked himself into this tierce hurry, and 1 was likewise very much afraid of keeping away from home - '' any longer. 1 told him I must go, but be took no notice, so 1 thought the best thing I could do was to slip off. The last 1 of him, his bead was bent over his knee, and he was working I at his tetter, muttering impatient imprecations at it and at his leg. The last 1 beard of him, I stopped iu the mist to listen, and file was still going. 13 tfREAT EXPECTATIONS. CHAPTER IV. I kui.lv expected to find a constable in the kitchen, waiting to take me up. But not only was there no constable there, but no discovery had yet been made of the robbery. Mrs. Joe was pro- digiously busy in getting the house ready for the U- T the day, and Joe had been put upon the kitchen door-step 1 to Keep him out of the dust-pan — an article into which Ins destiny always led him sooner or later when my sister was vigorously reaping the floors of her establishment. " And .where the deuce ha' you been?" was Mrs. Joe's Christ- mas*salutation, when I and my conscience showed oursel 1 said I had been down to hear the Carols. " Ah ! well ! ob- served Mrs. Joe. "You might ha' done worse/' " Nol a doubt of it," I though!. " Perhaps if I warn't a blacksmith's .wife, and the same thing) a slave with her apron never off, /should have been to hear the Carols." said Mrs. Joe. "I'm rather partial to Carols w: : and that's the best of reasons for my never hearing any." Joe, who had ventured into the kitchen after me as the dust- pan retired before us, drew the back of his hand across his nose with a conciliatory air when Mrs. Joe darted a ^ook at him, . when her eyes were withdrawn, secretly crossed his two fore- fingers, and exhibited them to me, as our token that Mrsj|0oe was in a cross temper. This was so much her normal state, rhat Joe and 1 would often, for weeks together, be, as to ou like monumental Crusaders as to their legs. We were to have a superb dinner, consisting of a leg of pickled pork, and greens, and a pair of roast stuffed fowls. A \ e-pie had been, made yesterday morning (which accounted for the mince-meat not being missed), and the pudding was already ofl oil. These extensive arrangements occasioned us to be off unceremoniously in respect of breakfast. " for I a n't," said Joe, " I an'r a going to have no cramming and gorging and v ing up now, with what I've got before me, 1 promise you !** So vrt had our slices served out, as if we were two thousand troops on a forced march, instead of a man and boy at home ; . we took gulps oi milk and water, with apologetic countenani from a jug on the dresser. In the meantime Mrs. Joe put clean white curtains up, and tacked a new flowered flounce across the wide chimney to replace the old one, aud uncovered the little state parlor jacross the passage, which was never uncovered at any i her time, but parsed the rest of the year in a cool haze of silver paper, wfeieu even extended to the four little white ereekery poo- ■.'!• • % • GREAT EXPECTATIONS. " 19 dies on ilic mantle shelf, each with a black nose, and a basket of flowers in. his mouth, and each the counterpart of the other. Mrs. Joe was a very clean housekeeper, but had an exquisite art of making her cleanliness more uncomfortable and unacceptable than rlirt itself. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, and some people ( do the same by their religion. W sister having so much to do,*wae going to church vicarious-) • loe and 1 were gofrip. In bis workim.- qlotbes Joe was a well-knit. characterJfcticJooking blacksmith; in Ins holiday clothes, he was more like a scarecrow in good circum- stances than any thing else. Nothing that he wore then fitted him, or seemed to belong to him, and every thing that be, wore then grazed htm. On the pre -cut festive occasion he emerged from his room, when the blithe hells were going, the picture of misery in a full suit of Sunday nenitemials. .itento me, I think my sister must have had suim I idea that I was a young offender v. an Accoucheur Policeman had taken up (on my birthday), an livered o\i dealt .with according to the outr majesty of the law. ! was always treated as if I had insisted on Jpng horn in opposition to the dictates of reason, relitri on, and mo! -ality. and against the dissuading arguments of my best frie even \djpij 1 was taken to have a new suit of clothes, the ; had orders to make them like a kind of Reformatory, and account to let me have the use of my limbs. i and 1 going to church, therefore, must have been a moving spectacle for compassionate minds. Yet what I suffered outside was nothing to what I underwent within. The terrors that had assailed me whenever Mrs. Joe had gone near the pantry or out of the room, were only to be equaled by the remorse with' which iind dwelt, on what, my hands had done. Under the weight of my wicked secret I pondered whether the Church would be powerful e.nougb to shield me from I he vengeance of the terrible young man. if I divulged it to that establishment. I conceived the idea thai the time when the bans were read and when the \ man said, " Ye are now to declare it !" would be the time for me to rise and propose a private audience in the vestry. 1 am far from being q.uite sure that I 'might not have astonished our small congregation by resorting to this extreme measure, but for its being Christmas Day and ml Sunday. Mr. Wopsle, the clerk at church, was to dine with us ; and Mr. Hubble, the wheel-wright, and Mrs. Hubble ; and Uncle Pumble- chook (Joe's une'e, but Mrs. Joe appropriated. him), who was a well-to-do corn-chandler in .the nearest town, and drove his own chaise-cart. The dbmer hour was half-past one. When Joe and home, we found the table laid, and Mrs. Joe dressed, and the dinner dressing, and the front door >n m aO GREAT EXPECTATIONS any other time) for the company to enter hy, and every thing most I splendid. And still, not a word of the robbery. .The time came without bringing with it any relief to my feel- ings, and the company came. Mr. Wopsle, united to a Roman, nose and a large bald forehead, had a deep sonorous voice whicK he was proud of; indeed it was understood among his acquaint*^ ance that if you could only give him his head he would read the clergyman into fits; he himpefr confessed that if the Church was "thrown open," meaning to competition, he would not despair of making his mark in it. The Church not being " thrown open," he was, as I have said, our clerk. But he finished the Amens tre- mendously ; and when he gave out the psalm — always giving us the whole -verse — he looked all round the congregation first, as much as to say, " You have heard my friend overhead ; oblige Hie with your opinion of this !" I opened the door to the .company — making* believe that it was a habit of ours to open that door — and 1 opened it first to Mr. Wopsle, next to Mr. and Mrs. Hubble, and lasf of all to Uncle . Pumblechook. N. B. I was not allowed to call him uncle under the severest penalties. I "Mrs. Joe," said Uncle Pumblechook, who was a large, hard- • breathing, midde-aged, slow in n, with a mouth like ajHp, dull sfaring eyes, and sandy hair standing upright on his heaay so that he looked as if he had just been choked, and had that very mo- ment come to, "I have brought you, as the compliments of the season — I have brought you, Mum, a bottle of sherry wine, and I have brought you, Mum, a bottle of port wine." Every Christmas Day he presented himself, as a profound nov- | elty, with exactly the same words, and carrying the two bottles like dumb-bells. Every Christmas Day, Mrs. Joe replied, as sbjj now replied, " Oh, Un— cle Pum— ble— chook ! This is kindr Every Christmas Day, he retorted, as he now retorted, " D's no more than your merits. And how are you all — bobbish ? And how's Sixpennorth of half pence '?" meaning me. We dined on these occasions in the kitchen, and adjourned, for the nuts and oranges and apples, to the parlor : which was a change very like Joe's change from his working clothes to his Sunday's dress. My sister was uncommonly lively on the present occasion, and indeed was generally more gracious in the society of Mrs. Hubble than in any other company. I remember .Mrs. Hubble as a little, sharp-eared person in curly sky-blue, who held a conventionally juvenile position, because she had married Mr. Hubb.e — I don't know at what remote period — when she was much younger than he. I remember Mr. Hubble as a tough, high-shouldered, stooping old man, of a saw-dusty fragrance, with his legs extraordinarily wide apart, so that in my short and early GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 51 I days I always saw some miles of open country between them when I met him coming .up the lane. % Among this good company I should have felt myself, even if I • hadn't robbed the pantry, in a false position. Not because I was squeezed in at an acute angle of the table-cloth -with the table in my chest, and the Pumhlechookian elbow in my eye; not because I was not allowed to speak (I didn't want to speak), nor because I was regaled with the scaly tips of the drumsticks of the fowls, an'd with those corners of obscure pork of which th$.pig, when liv- ing, had the least reason to he vain. No ; I should not have mind- „ed that, if they would only have left me alone. But they wouldn't leave me alone. They seemed to think the opportunity lost, if they failed to point the conversation at me every now and then, and stick the point into me. I might have been an unfortunate little bull in a .Spanish arena: I got so smartingly touched on by these moral goads. It began the moment we sat down to dinner. Mr. Wbpsle said grace with theatrical declamation, as it now appears to me, some- • Vhing 'ike a religious cross of the Hhost in Hamlet with Richard t^e Third — and ended with the very proper aspiration that we might be truly grateful. Upon which my sister instantly fixed me with her eve, and said, in a low, reproachful voice, " Do you hear that ? Be grateful." "Especially," said Mr. Pumblochook, "be grateful, boy, to them which brought you up by hand." Mrs. Hubble shook her head, and contemplating me with a mourn- ful presentiment that 1 should come to no good, asked, " Why is it that the young are never grateful?" This mystery seemed too much for the company until Mr. Hubble tersely solved it by saying, " Naturally wicious." Everybody then murmured " Ah ! " and " True I" arid looked at me in a 'particularly unpleasant and per- sonal manner. Joe's station and influence were something feebler (if possible) when there was company than -when there was none. But he always aided and abetted when he could, in some way of his own, and he always did so at dinner-time by giving me gravy, if there were any. There being plenty of gravy to-day, Joe spooned into my plate, at this point, about half-a-pir.t. A little later on in the dinner, Mr. Wopsle reviewed the sermon , with sonic severity, and intifhated in the usual hypothetical case of the Church being "thrown open," what kind of sermon he would have given them. After favoring them with some heads of that discourse, he remarked that he considered the subject of the day's homily ill chosen ; which was the less excusable, he added, when there were so many subjects "going about." "True again," said Uncle I'umhlecho >k. "You've hit it — plenty of subjects going about, for them that know how to put oo GREAT EXPECTATIONS. salt upon their tails. That's what's wanted. . A man needn't, go far to 'find a subject if he's ready with his salt box. Why," added Mr. Puniblechook, after a short interval of deep reflection, "look at Pork alone. There's a subject! If von want a sub ect, look . at Pork ! " • '" True, Sir. Many a moral for the youngvj' returned Mr. Wopsle ; ■ and I knew he was going to bring me in before be si id it, "might be deducted from that text." ("You listen to this," said my sister to me, in a seven' parou- thesis.) Joe gave me some more gravy. ," Swine," pursued Mr. Wopsle. -in bis deepest voice, ai rng his fork at my blushes as if he were mentioning my ( 'hristian name — " Swine were the companions -of the prodigal. The glut tony of swine is set before us as an example to the young." (1 thought this pretty well in him who had bet: I the pork for being so plump anfflPfcx-y.) " What is detestable in a pig is more detestable in a Boy." "Or girl," suggested Mr. Bubble. "Of course, or girl," assented Mr. Wopsle, nil her irritably"; " but there is no girl present/' "Besides." said Mr. Pumbleohook, turning sharp on me, '^fhink what you've got to be grateful for, If een 'com a squeak- er— -1" - " He was, if ever a child was," said nay si emphatically. Joe gave me some more gravy. -■ Wj'll, but 1 mean a four-footed squeaker." said Mr. Pumbje- chook. "If you had been born such, would you have been here now '. Xot you — " nless in that form," said Mr. Wopsle, nodding toward the dish. "But I don't mean in that form, Sir," returned Mr. 1'umble- chojok, who had an objection to being interrupted : " 1 mean en- joying himself with his elders and betters, and improving himself with their conversation, and rolling in the lap of luxury. Would he have been doing that? Xo, he wouldn't. And what would have been your destination ? " turning on me again. " You would have been disposed of for so many shillings, according to the mar- ket, price of the article, and Dunstable, the butcher, would 1 come up to you as you lay in your«straw, and he would i whipped you under his left arm, and with" his right he would have tucked up his frock to get a penknife from out of his waistcoat- pocket, and he would have shed your blood and had your life. No bringing up by hand then. Not a bit of it!" Joe offered me more gravy, which I was afraid to take. "He was a world of trouble to you, ma'am," said Mrs. Hubble, commiserating my sister. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 23 " Trouble ? " echoed- h>y sister ; " trouble I " And then entered on a fearful catalogue of all the illnesses I had been guilty of, and all the acts of sleeplessness I had committed, and ail high places 1 had tumbled from, and all the low places I bid tumbled into, and all the injuries I had done myself, and all the times she had wished me in my grave, and I bad contumaciously v , refused to go there. I think the Romans must have aggravated one another very much with their noses. ' Perhaps they became the restless people were in consequence. Anyhow, Mr. Wopsle's Roman nofe so aggravated me, during the recital of my misdemeanors, that i should have liked to pull it until he howled. But all I had en- dured up to ibis time was nothing in comparison with the aw- , fnl feeling that took possession of me when the pause was broken which ensued upon my sister's recital, and in which pause every- body had looked at me (as 1 felt deeply conscious) with indignation •and abhorrence. " Yet," said Mr. Pumblechook, leading the company gently back to the theme from which hey had strayed, " Pork — regarded as hiled — is rich, too; ain't it ?" ".Have a Mule brandy, uncle," said my sister. > (), Heavens, i; had come at last ! lie would find it was weak. he would say it was weak, and I was lost! I held tight to if the table with both hands, and awaiied my fi 0&ly sister went for ihe stone bottle, came back with the stone , and poured Jiis brandy out, no'tme else taking any. The wretched man triflpd with his glass — took it up, looked at it through the light, put, it down — prolonged my misery. All this Mrs! Joe and .Joe were busily clearing the table i'ov Ihe pie and pudding. . i I couldn't keep hi ■;' him. Always holding tight by the leg of the table with my hands and feel, I saw the miserable crea- ture linger his glass playfully, take it up, smile, throw his head back, and drink the brandy off. Instantly afterward the company were seized with unspeakable consternation, owing to his spring- ing to his feet, turning round several times 'in an appalling spas- modic, hooping-cough dance, and rushing out at the door; he then became visible through the window, violently stamping and ex- pectorating, making the most, hideous faces, and apparently* out of his mind. I held on tight, wnile Mrs. Joe and Joe ran to him. I didn't, know how I had done it, but I had no doubt I had murdered him somehow. In my dreadful situation it was a relief when he was brought back, and surveying the company all round, as if they had .disagreed with him, sank down into his chair with the one significant gasp, " Tar ! " I had filled up the bottle from the tar-water jug. I kneW ha 24 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. . would be worse by-and-by. I moved tbe table, like a Medium of the present day, by the vigor of my unseen grasp upon it, " Tar !" cried my sister in amazement. "Why, how ever could it come there 1" But Uncle Pumblechook, who was omnipotent in that kitchen, wouldn't hear the word, wouldn't hear the subject mentioned, im- periously waved it all away with his hand, and asked for hot gin and water. My sister, who had begun to be alarmingly medita- tive, had to employ herself actively in getfirig the gin, the hot water, the sugar, and the lemon-peel, and mixing them. For the time, at. least, I was saved. I still held on the leg of the table, but clutched it now with the fervor of gratitude. By ^degrees I became calm enough to release my grasp and partake of pudding. Mr. Pumblechook partook of pudding. All partook of pudding. The course terminated, and Mr Pumblechook had begun to beam under the genial influence of the gin and wa- t-r. I began to think I should get over the day when my sis- ter said to Joe, "Clear plates — cold." I clutched the leg of the table again immediately, and pressed it to my bosom as if it had been the companion of my youth and- friend of my soul. I foresaw what was coming, and I felt that this time I really was gone. "You must taste," said my sister, addressing the guests with her best grace, "you must really taste, to finish with, such a de- lightful and delicious present of Uncle-Pumblechtiok's !" Must they ! Let them not hope it ! " You must know," said my sister, rising | ie — a savory pork-pie." The company murmured their compliments ; and Uncle Pum- blechook, sensible of having deserved well of his fellow-creatures, and having distinguished himself by his gift, said, vivaciously, all things considered, " Well, Mrs. Joe, we'll do our best endeavors ; let us have a cut at this same pie." My sister went out to get it. I heard her steps proceed to the pantry.. I saw Mr. Pumblechook balance his knife. I saw re- awakening appetite in the Roman nostrils of Mr. Wopsle. I heard Mr. Hubble remark that " a bit of savory pork-pie would lay a-top of any thing and do no harm," and I heard Joe say, " You shall have some Pip." I have never been absolutely certain whether I uttered a shrill cry of terror" merely in spirit, or in tha bodily hearing of the company. I felt that I could hear no more, and that I must run away. I released the leg of the table, and ran for my life. But I ran no further than the house door, for there I ran head foremost into a party of soldiers with their muskets, one of whom held out a pair of handcuffs to me, saying, " Here you are, look sharp, come on !" GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 25 CHAPTER V. Thk apparition of a file of soldiers ringing down the butt end of their loaded muskets mi our doorstep Caused the dinner-party to rise from table confused, and caused Mrs. Joe re-entering the kitchen empty-handed, to stop short and sta-e. after her first won- dering lament of ""Lord gracious, what's gone with the pie!" The sergeant and 1 were in the kitchen when Mrs. .Joe stood staring; at which crisis I partly recovered the use of my senses. It was the sergeant who had spoken to me. and he was lmwJook- , ing round at the company,, with his handcuffs invitingly exfnided toward them in his right hand, and his left on my shoulder. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen." said the sergeant, "but as I have mentioned at the door to this ymmg shaver, (which he hadn't) I am on a chase for the king, and I want the blacksmith " \nd pray wliat might you want with hint?" retorted my sis- ter, quick to resent his being wanted at all. lissus," returned the gallant sergeant, "speaking for myself. I should reply, the honor and pleasure of his wjfe's acquaintance; speaking for the King, 1 answer a little job done." This was received' as rather neat in the sergeant ; insomuch that Mr. Pumbtechook cried audibly, " Good again !" " You see. blacksmith," said the sergeant, who had by this time picked out doe with his eye', "we have had an accident with these, and find the lock of one of 'em goes wrong, and the coup- ling don't act pretty. As they are wanted for immediate service, will yon throw your eye over them .'" Joe threw his eye^ver them, and pronounced that the job would necessitate the lighting of his forge fire, and would take nearer two hours than one. " Then will yon set about it at once, black- smith," said the sergeant, "as it's on his Majes y's service; and if my men can bear a hand any where, they'll make themselves useful." With that he called to hisunen, j^ho came trooping into the kitchen one after another, and filled their arm* in a Corner. .lure they stood about as soldiers do; now. with their hands loosely clasped before them; now. resling a knee or a shoulder ; now. easing a belt or a pouch ; now, opening the door to suit stiff- ly over their high stocks out into the yard. All these things I saw without knowing that 1 saw them, for I was in mortal terror. But, beginning, to perceive that the hand- cuffs were not for me, and that the military had so far got the bel- ter of the pie as to put it in the hack ground for the moment. I collected a little more of my scattered wits. " Would you give me the time ?" said t nt, addressing 26 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. himself to Mr. Ptfmblechopk, as a man whose appreciative powers justified the inference that, lie was equal to the time. " It's just gone half-past two " "That's not so had," said the sergeant, reflecting ; "even if I were forced to halt here nigh two hours, that'll do. How far might you call yourselves from the marshes hero ? Not above a mile, I reckon ?" "Just a mile," said Mrs. Joe. "That'll do. We begin to close in upon 'em about dusk. A little before dusk, my orders are. That'll do." " Convicts, sergeunt ?" said .Mr. Wopsle? in a matter-of-course way. "Aa 7 !" returned the sergeant, "two. They're pretty well knowu to be out on the marshes still, .and they won't try to get clear of 'em before dusk. Any body here seen any thing of any such game ?" Every body, myself .excepted, said no, with confidence. No- body thought of me. "Weil!" said the sergeant, "they'll find themselves trapped' in a circle, I expect, sooner than they count on. Now, blacksmith ! If you're ready, the King is." Joe had gut his coat and waistcoat and cravat off, and his leath- er apron on, and passed into the i'cv : j;v. One of the soldiers open- ed its wooden windows, another lighted the lire, another turned to at the bellows, the rest stood round the blaze, which was soon roaring. Then Joe began to hammer and clink", hammer. and clink', and ul! looked on. erest of the impending pursuit not only absorbed the general attention, but even made my sister generous. She drew a pitcher of beer from the cask for the soldiers, and invited the sergeant to take a glass of brandy. But Mr.' Pumblechook said, sharply, "Give him wine. mum. 1'; • there's no Tar in that;" so the sergeant thanked him' and s; . s he. preferred his drink without tar, he would-fake wine, if if was equally con- venient. When it was given "him tie drank his Majesty's health and Compliments of smi, and took it all at a mouthful and smacked his lips. " Good stuff, eh, sergeant I" said Mr. Pumblechook. "I'll tell you something," returned the sergeant; " I suspect that-stuff 's of your providing." Mr. Pumblechook, with "a fat sort of laugfe, said, •' Av, ay? Why?" " 3 " Because," returned the Sergeant, clapping him on the shoulder, "you're a man that knows what's. what." "D'ye think so?" said Mr. Pumblechook, with his former laugh. " Have another glass." -"With you. Hob and nob." returned the sergeant. "The Great expectation 2? top of mine to the foot of yours, the foot, of yours to the fop of mine. Ring once, ring twice, the best tune on the Musical Glass- es ! Your liea tli. May you live a thousand years, and never he a worse judge of the right sort, than at the present moan your life !" • , The sergeant tossed off hjs glass again and seemed quite ready for mine. I poticed that Mr. Puuiblechook in Ids hospitality ap- peared to forget that he had made a present of the wine, bul took the bottle from Mrs. Joe and had .all the credit of handing it about •in a gush of jovia ity. Even I got some. And he was so very fwe of the wine that he even called for the Other bottle, and haml- - ed that about with the same liberality when the first, was gone. As \ watched them while they all stood clustered about the forge enjoying themselves so much, I thought what terrible sauce for a dinner my fugitive friend in the marshes was. They , had not enjoyed thenlsetves a quarter so much before the enter- ► tainment was brightened with the excitement he furnished. And now, when they were all in lively expectation of those two vi 'being taken, and when the bellows seemed to roar for them, the fire to flare for them, the smoke to hurry out in pursuit of them, Joje to hammer and clink for them, and all the murky shadows on the wall to stare at them in i enace as the blaze rose and sank, and the red-hot sparks dropped and died, the pale afternoon out- side almost seemed, in my pitying young fancy, to have turned on their account, poor wre.tcl At last. b was done, and til and roaring slop- ped. As Joe got on his coat, he mustered .courage to pru that some of us shoftld go down with the soldiers and .see what came of the hunt. Mr. Pmnblechook and Mr. Hubble declined, on t -a pipe and ladies' society ; btit Mr. Wopsle said he would go if .loo tfonld. .Joe said he was agreeable, and he would take me, if Mrs', doe approved. We never should have got leave 0, I am sure, but for Mrs. Joe's curiosity to know a.l about it and how it ended. "^s it was, she merely stipulated, " If you briug the boy back with his head blown off by a musket, don't say it was my doing." The sergeant took a polite leave of the ladies, and parted fi Mr. Pumhlechook as from a comrade: though 1 doubled Were qujte as fully sensible of tl 'nan's merits under arid conditions as when something to drink was going. His me sumed their muskets and fell in. Ml*. Wop and I, received strict charge to keep in the rear, and to speak no word after wo 11 out iu tiie raw air and lily moving toward our business; I treasonably whispered to Joe, " 1 hope, Joe, we shan't find them ;" ami Joe whispered tome, " I'd give a shillii and run, Pip." We were joi,: rs from our village, for 28 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. ther was cold and threatening, the way dreary, the footing bad, dusk Doming on, ami the people had good fires iu-doors and were ' keeping the day. A few faces hurried to glowing windows and looked after us, but none came out. We passed the finger-post, and held straight on to the church-yard. There we were stopped a few minutes by a signal from the sergeant's hand, while two or three of his men dispersed themselves among the. graves, and examined the porch. They came in again without finding any- thing, and then we struck out ^n the open marshes, through the gate at the side. of the church-yard. A hitter sleet came rattling against us on the east wind, and Joe took me on his back. Now that we were out upon the dismal wilderness where they little thought I had been within eight or nine hours, and had seen both men hiding, I considered, tor the first time, with great dread, if we Should come upon them, would my particular con- vict suppose that it was I who had brought the soldiers there? He had asked me if 1 was a deceiving imp, and he had said 1 should be a fierce young hound if I joined the huut against him. Would he believe that I was both imp and hound in treacherous earnest, and had betrayed him I It was of no use asking myself this question now. . There I was, on Joe's back, and there was Joe beneath me, charging out the ditches in the nimblest manner, and stimulating Mr. Wopsle not to tumble on his Roman nose, and to keep up with us. The sol- diers were in front of us extended into a pretty wide line with, an interval between man and' man. We were taking the exact course I had begun-with, and from which 1 had diverged in the Either the mist was not out again yet, or the wind had moved it. Under the low red glare of sunset the beacon* and the gibbet, and the mound of the battery, and the opposite sin. re of the river, were plain enough, though all of. a watery lead color. With my heart thumpinglike almall blacksmid^it Joe's broad shoul- der, 1 looked all about for any sign of the convicts. 1 could see none. I could hear none. Mr. Wopsle had great ly alarmed me more than oace > by his blowing and hard breathing; but I knew the soumi • ibis time! and could dissociate Them from the object of pursuit. I got a dreadful start, and' thought I heard the file still going; but it was only a sheep-bell. The sheep stopped in their eating and looked timidly at us ; and the cattle, their heads turned from the wind and sleet, stared angrily, as if they held us responsible for both these annoyances: but, except these things, and the shudder of the whole dying day, there was no break in the uni- form, stillness of the marshes. The soldiers were moving ion in the direction of the old bat- tery, and we were moving on a little way behind them, when, all of a sudden, we all stopped. For there had reached us, on the GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 29 wings of the wind and rain, a lung shout. It was repeated. It •was at a distance toward the east, but it was lohg and loud! — Xay, there seemed bo be two shouts raised together — it' one might judge from a confusion in the sound. To this effect the sergeant and the nearest men were speaking under their breath when Joe and J came up. After another mo- ment's listening, .Joe (who was a good judge) agreed, and Mr. Wdpsle (who was a had judge) also agreed, The seTgeant, a quick, decisive man, ordered that the sound should not be an- swered, but that the course should be changed; and that his men should make toward id "at the double." bo we slanted to the right (where the East was), and doe pounded away so wonderfully that I had to hold. on tight to keep my seat. It was a run indeed now, and what Joe called, in the only two words he spoke all the Dime, "a buster." Down banks and up banks, and over gates and splashing into dikes: no man cared where he went. As we came nearer to the shouting, it became more and more apparent that it was made by more.than one voice. .Sometimes it seemed to stop altogether, and then the soldiers stopped. When it broke out again the soldiers made tor it at a greater rate than ever, and we after them. After a while we had so run it down that we could hear one voice calling " Murder!" 'and another voice. "Convicts! Runaways! Guard! guard! — This way for the runaway convicts!" Then both •voices would seem to he stitled in a struggle, and then would break out again. And when it had come to this the soldiers ran like deer, and doe too. The sergeant ran in first, when we had run he noise quite down, and two of his men ran in close upon him. Their pi were cocked and leveled when we all ran in. "Here are lots more!" panted the sergeant, struggling with something at the bottom of adityh. ." (Surrender, you two! and confound you tor two wild beasts ! Come asunder! " Water was splashing, and mud was splashing, and oaths were being sworn, and blows were being struck, when half a dozen more men went down into the ditch to help the sergeant, and drij out, separately, my convict and the other one. Bo.th were bleed- ing and panting and execrating and struggling; but of course I knew them both directly. '■ Mind !" said my convict, wiping blood from his face, with his ed sleeves, and shaking torn hair from his lingers ; "1 took him ! /give him up to you ! Mind that !" " It's not nn ular-aiiom !'" saictythe sergeant, cooly ; " It'll do vou sinttll good/my man, being in the same plight j self, ii there!" " I don't expect ii tu do me any good. 1 don't wan't it to do wi« nittrtt good than it does now 7 ," said uiy convict with a terri 30 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Me laugh. '.' I took him. He knows it. That's enough for nip.'' The other convict was livid to look at, and, in addition to the old bruise oh the left, side of his face, seemed to he bruised and torn all over. He could not so much as get his breath to speak, until they were both separately handcuffed, but leaned upon a sol- dier to keep himself from falling. " Take notice, guard, that he tried to murder me," were his first words. " Tried to murder him '? '' said my convict, disdainfully. " Try, and not do it? I took him, and give him up ; that's what T done. I not only prevented him getting -off the marshes, but I dm him here — dragged him this far on his way back. He's a gentleman, if you please, that villain. Now the Hulks lias got its gentleman again, through me. , Murder him? Worth my while, too, to mur- der him, when I could do worse and drag him back ! " The other one still gasped, ' ; He tried — he tried — to — murder me. Bear — bear witness.' " Lookee here ! " said.my^convict to the sergeant. " I got clear of the prisonship ; I made a dash, and I .done it. I 'could ha' got clear of these dea h-cold flats likewise — look at my lug ; you won't find much inon on il — if 1 hadn't made discovery that he was there. Lot him go free ? Let him profit by the means as f found onl I 'Let him make use of me afresh and again I Oi Ce njorel. No,' no, no. If I had died at the bottom there*'— and he made an emphatic motion at the ditch with his manacled hands— " I'd have held to him with that grip that you should have been safe o find him in my hbld.'- 1 The other fugitive, who was evidently in extreme fear of his •anion* repeated, " lie tried to murder me. I "should have a dead Tu had not com." "He lies! ''said my convicWwith I He's a liar bom, and he/'ll die a liar. Look at his* '.•itteiv there ? Let him turn them ,.e — do it." The other, with a - cornful smile — which could n^L however, collect the nervous working of his mouth into and the sergeant answered. Then we went into I lie hut, where there was- a smell of tobacco and whitewash, arid a bright fire, and a lamp, and a stand of muskets, and a drum, and a low wooden bedstead, like an immense mangle without the ma- chinery, capable of holding about, a dozen soldiers all at once. — Three or four soldiers who lay upon it were not much interested in us, but just lifted their heads and took a stare, and then lay down again. The sergeant made some kind of report, and some entry in a book, and then the convict, whom I call the other convict, was drafted off with his guard to go on board first. My convict never looked at me, except that once that I have mentioned. While we stood in the hut he stood before the fire looking at it, or putting up his miserable feet by turns upon the hob and looking at them as if lie pitied them. Suddenly he turned to the sergeant, and remarked : "I wish to say something respecting this escape. If may pre- vent some persons lying under suspicion alonger me." "You can say what you like," returned the sergeant, standing looking at him with bis arms folded; " but you have no call to it here, you know. You'll have opportunity enough to say about it, and hear about it, before it's done with." 't I know that, but this is another pint, a separate pint. A man can't starve ; at least 7 can't. I took some wittles up at the wil-. iage over yonder — where the church stands a'most out on the marshes." " You mean stole ? " said the sergeant. "Ah! I'll tell you where from. From the blacksmith's." •• Halloa!" said the sergeant staring at Ji " Halloa, Pip !" said Joe, staring at me. " It was some broken wittles — that's what it was — and a dram of liquor, and a pie." " Have you happened to miss such an article a*s a pie, black- smith < " asked the sergeant, confidentially. '" ilrs. doe did, at the very moment when you came in. Don't you know, Hip'/ " . " Oh ! " said my convict to Joe, in a moody manner, and wiii the least glance at me. " So you're the blacksmith are you ? Then I'm sorry to say I've eat your pie." • "God knows you're welcome t o "it — so far as it was ever mine," returned Joe with a saving remembrance of Airs. Joe. " We i know what you have done ; but we wouldn't have you starved to death for it, miserable fellow-lreature, whatever it wis. Would us, Pip?" The something that I bad m licked in the man's throat again, and he turned bis back. The boat had returned, and GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 33 his guard were ready, so we followed him to the landing-place, made of rough stakes and stones, and saw him put into the boat, which was rowed by a crew of convicts like himself. Xo one ap- peared triad to see him, or sorry to see him, or spoke a word, ex- cept that somebody called as if to dogs, ','Give way, you !" v. was the signal for the dip of the oars. By the light of the torches we saw the black Hulk lying, out a little way from the mud of the shore, like a wicked Noah's ark ; cribbed, and barred, and anchored by massive rusty chains, the prison-ship was ironed like the [iris- oners. We saw the » alongside, and we saw him taken up ide and disappear. Then the ends of the torches were flung hissing into the water, and went out as if it were all over with him. CHAPTER VI. My state of mind regarding the pilfering from which I had been so unexpectedly exonerated, did not impel me to frank disclosure; but I hope it had some (\\\"j:* of good at the bottom of it. I do not recall. that I felt any tenderness of conscience in refer- ence to Mrs. Joe when the fear of being found out was lifted off me. But I loved Jne — perhaps for no better reason in those early days than because the dear fellow let me love him — and, as to him, my inner self was nor so easily composed. It was much upon my mind (particularly when I first saw him looking about for his file) that I ought to tell Joe the whole truth. Yet I did not, and for the reason- thai I mistrusted that if I did he would think me worse than I was. The fear of losing Joe's confidence, and of theuce- forth sitting ro the chimney corner at night staring drearily at my forever lost companion and friend, lied up my tongue. I morbidly represented to myself that if Joe knew it, I never afterward could see him at the fireside feeling his fair whisker, without thinking that he was meditating on it. That if Joe knew it, I never after- ward could see him glance, however casually, at yesterda or pudding when it came on to-day's table, without thinking that he was debating whether I had been in the pantry. That if Joe knew it, and at any subsequent period of our joint domestic life re- marked that his beer was flat or thick, the conviction thai he sus- pected Tar in it would bring a rush of blood to my face. In a- word, I was too cowardly to do what I knew to be right, as I had been too cowardly to avoid doing what I knew to be wrong. I had had no intercourse with people at that time, and 1 imitated none of the host^pf people who act in this mauuer; quite an un- 2 34 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. taught genius, I made the discovery of the line of action for my- self: As I was sleepy before we were far away from the prison-ship, Joe took me on his back again and carried me home.' He must have had a tiresome journey of it, for Mr. TVopsle, being knocked up, was in such a very bad temper, that if the Church had been thrown open he probably would have excommunicated the whole expedition, beginning with Joe and' myse'f. In his simple lay capacity he simply persisted in sitting down in the damp to such an insane extent, that, when his coat was taken off to he dried at the kitchen fire, the circumstantial evidence on his trowsers would have hanged him if it had been a capital offence. By that time I was staggering on the kitchen floor like a little drunkard, through having been newly set upon my feet, and through having been fast asleep, and through waking in the heat and lights and noise of tongues. As I came to myself, (with the aid of a heavy thump between the shoulders, and the restorative exclamation "Yah ! Was there ever such a boy as this!" from my sister) I found Joe telling them about the convict's confession, and all the visitors suggesting different ways by which he had got into the pantry. Mr. Pumblechook made out, after carefully sur- veying the premises, that he had first got upon the roof of the forge, and had then got upon the roof of the house, and had then let himself down the kitchen chimney by. a rope made of his bed- ding cut into strips; and as Mr. Pumblechook was very positive and drove his own chaise-cart — over everybody — it was agreed that 'it must be so. Mr. Wopsle, indeed, wi dly cried out " No !" wirh the feeble malice of a tired man; but as he had no theory, and no coat on, he was unanimously set at naught — not to men- tion his smoking hard behind, as he stood with his hack to the kitchen fire to draw the damp out, which was not calculated to in- spire confidence. This was all I heard that night before my sister clutched me, as a slumberous offence to the company's eyesight, and assisted me tip to bed with such a strong hand that 1 seemed to have twen- ty boots on, and to be dangling them all against the edges of the stairs. My state of mind, as I have described it, began before I was up in the morning, and lasted long after the subject had died out, and had ceased to be mentioned saving on exceptional oc- casions. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 3a CHAPTER VII. At the time when I stood in the church -yard, reading the family tomb-stones, 1 had just enough learning to be able to spell them out. My construction even of' their simple meaning was not very correct, for I read "wife of the Above." as a complimentary re- ference to my father's exaltation to a better world ; and if any one of my deceased relations had been referred to as "Below," I have no doubt. I should have formed the worst opinions of that, member of the family. Neither were my notions of the theological posi- tions to which my Catechism bound me at all accurate, for I have a lively remembrance that 1 supposed ray declaration that I was to " walk in the same all the days of my life," laid me under an obligation always to go through the village from our house in one particular direction, and never to vary it by turning down by the wheelwright's or up- by the mill. When I was old enough I was to be apprenticed to Joe, and until I could assume that dignity I was not to be what Mrs. Joe cal ed " Pompeyed," or pampered. Therefore 1 was not. only odd-boy about the forge, but if any neighbor happened to wanl an extra boy to frighten birds, or pick np stones, or do any such job, I wa3 favored with the employment; but. in order that our superior position might not be compromised thereby, a moneybox was kept on the kitchen mantle-shelf, into which it was publicly made known that all my earnings were dropped. 1 have an im- pression that they were to be contributed eventually toward the liquidation of the National Debt, but I know I had no hope of any personal participation in the treasure. Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt kept an evening school in the village : that is to say, she was an ancient woman of limited means and unlim- ited infirmity, who used to go to sleep from six to, seven every eve- ning, in the society oi youth who paid three pence per week each for the improving opportunity of seeing her doit. She rented a three-roomed cottage, and Mr. Wopsle had the room up stairs, where we students used to overhear him reading aloud in a most dignified and terrific manner, and occasionally bumping on the ceiling. There was a fiction that Mr. Wopsle "examined" the scholars once a quarter. What he did on those occasions was to turn up his cuffs, stick up his hair, and give us Mark Antony's oration over the body of C;esar. This was always followed by Collins's Ode on the Passions, wherein I particularly venerated Mr. Wopsle as Fear, whistling to keep his courage up. It was not with me lieu, as it was iu later life, when I fell into the socie- 36 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. i ty of the Passions, and compared tbem with Collins and Wopsle, rather to the disadvantage of both gentlemen. Mr. Wopsle's great aunt, besides keeping this Educational In- stitution, kept — in the same room — a little general shop. She had no idea what stock she had, or what the price of any thing in it was ; but there was a little greasy memorandum book kept in a drawer, which served as a Catalogue of Prices, and by this oracle Biddy arranged all the shop transactions. Biddy was Mr. Wop- sle's great aunt's grand-daughter; I confess myself quite unequal to the working out of the problem what relation she was to Mr. Wopsle. She was an orphan like myself ; like me, too, had been brought up by band. She was most noticeable, I thought, in re- spect of her extremities ; for her hair always wanted brushing, her hands always wanted washing, and her shoes always wanted mending and pulling up at the heel. This description must be received, however, with a week-day limitation. On Sundays, she went to church elaborated. Much of my unassisted self, and more by the help of Biddy than of Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt, I struggled through the alphabet as if it had been a bramble-bush ; getting considerably worried and scratched by every letter. After that I fell among those thieves, the nine figures, who seemed every evening to do something new to disguise themselves and baffle recognition. But at last I began, in a purblind groping way, to read, write, and cipher, on the very smallest scale. One night I was sitting in 'the chimney corner with my slate, expending great efforts on the production of a letter to Joe. I think it must have been a full year after our hunt upon the marsh- es, for it was a long time after, and it was winter and a hard frost. With an alphabet on the hearth at my feet for reference, 1 con- trived in an hour or two to print and smear this epistle: " mI deEer JO i opE U r krWitE wEll i <>pE i shAl soN B haIjklL 4 2 teeDge U JO aN theN wE shObl u sO olOdd aX wBn i M prejSgtD 2 u JO woT lakX an blEvE ME ixE xx PiP." There was no indispensable necessity for my communicating with Joe by letter, inasmuch as he sat beside me and we were alone. But I delivered this written communication (slate and all) wit.h my own hand, and Joe received it as a miracle of erudition. " I say, Pip, old chap !" cried Joe, opening his blue eyes wide, " what a scholar you are ! An't you V " I should like to be," said I, glancing at the slate as he held it, with a misgiving that the writing was rather hilly. "Why, here's a J," said Joe, "and a equal to anything ! Here's a J and 0, Pip, and a J-0, Joe." 1 had never heard Joe read aloud to any greater extent than this monosyllable, and I had observed at church last Sunday when GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 37 I accidentally held onr prayer-hook upside down, that it seemed to suit his convenience quite as well as if it had been all right. Wish- ing to embrace the present occasion of finding out whether ii> teach- ing Joe I should have to begin quite at the beginning, I said, "Ah ! But read the rest, due." "The rest, eh. Pip? "said Joe, looking at it with a slowly searching eye, " ( >ne, two, three. Why, here's three Js and three Os, and \Uwe JO Joes in it Pip ! " I leaned over Joe, and, with the aid of my forefinger, read him the whole letter. " Astonishing !" said Joe, when I had -finished. "You are a scholar." " How do you spell Gargery, doc C I asked him, with a modest patronage. " I don't spell it at all," said Joe. " But supposing you did ?" " It can't be supposed," said Joe. " But I'm oncommon fond of reading, too." " Are you, Joe?" "Oncommon. Give me," said Joe, "a good book, or a good newspaper, and sit me down afore a good fire, and I ask no better. Lord! " he continued, after robbing his knees a little, " when you do come to a d and a (), and says you, ' Here, at last, is a J-O, Joe,' how interesting reading is ! " I derived from this thai Joe's education, like steam, was yet in its infancy. Pursuing the subject, I inquired: " Didn't you ever i;o to school, Joe, when you were as little as me?" " No, Pip." " Why didn't you ever go to school, Joe, when you were as lit- tle as me. ' " Well, Pip>" said Joe, taking up the poker and settling himself to his usual occupation when he was thoughtful, of slowly raking the fire between the lower bars, " I'll tell you. My father, Pip, he were given to drink, and wheu he were overtook with drink he hammered away at my mother most onmerciful. It were a'mosf the only hammering he did, indeed, 'xcepting at myself. And -he hammered at me with a wigor only to be equaled by the wigor with which he didn't hammer at his anwil. Yoil're a listening and understanding, Pip ? " " Consequence — my mother and me we ran away from my fath- er several times; and then my mother she'd go out to work, and she'd say, 'Joe,' she'd say, ' now, please God, you shall have some schooling, child,' and she'd put me to school. But my r were that good in his hart- that he couldn't abear to without us. So he'd come with a most tremenjous crowd, 38 * GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. ' and nia':e such a row at the doors of the houses where we was, that they used to be obligated to have no more to do with us and to give us up 10 him. And then lit' took us home an. I hammered us. "Which you' see, Pip," said Joe, pausing in bis meditative raking of the fire, and looking at me, " were a drawback on my learning." " Certainly — poor Joe ! " "Though, mind you, Pip," said Joe, with a judicial touch or two of the poker on the top bar, " rendering unto all their doo, and maintaining equal justice betwixt man and man, my father were that good in his hart, don't you see? " I didn't see; but I didn't say so. "Well ! " Joe pursued, "somebody must keep the pot a Idling, Pip, or the pot won't bile, don't you know ? " 1 saw that, and said SO. " 'tLonsequence — my father didn't make objections to my going to work ; so 1 went to work at my present calling, which were his too, if he would have followed it, and I worked tolerable hard, 1 assure you, Tip. In time I were able to keep him, and 1 kep him till he went off in a purple leptic lit. And it; were my intentions to have bad put upon his tombstone that Whatsume'er the failings on his part. Remember, reader, he were that good in his hart." Joe recited this couplet with such manifest pride and careful perspicuity that \ asked him if he had made it bimsi ■' I made it," said Joe, "my own self. I made it in a tnon It was like striking out a horseshoe complete in a single blow. 1 never was so much surprised in all my life — couldn't credit my own ed — to tell you the truth, hardly believed it wat my own ed. As I was saying, Pip, it were my intentions to have had it cul over him ; but poetry costs money, cut it how you will, small or large, and it were not done. Not to mention bearers, all the money that could be spared were wanted for my mother. She '..ore in poor elth, and quite broke. She weren't long of following, poor soul, and her share of peace come round at h Joe's blue eyes turned a little watery : he rubbed* firs them and then the other, in a most uncongenial and uncomforta- ble manner, with the round knob on the top of the po " It were but lonesome then," said Joe, " liv'i, lone, and I got acquainted with your sister. Now, Pip," Joe looked firmly at me, as if he knew I was not going to agree with him, "your sister is a fine figure of a woman." I could not help looking at the fire in an obvious state of doubt. "Whatever family opinions, or whatever the world's opinii on that subject may be, Pip, your sister is " — roe tapped the top bar with the poker after every word following — " a — hue — figure — of — a — woman ! " GREAT EXPECTATIONS. . 39 I could think of nothing better to say than " I am glad you think so, Joe." " Bo am I," returned Joe, catching me up. " I am glad I think so, Pip. A little redness, or a little matter of bone, here or there, what does it signify to Me I " I sagaciously observed, if it, didn't signify to him, to whom did it signify ? " Certainly !" assented Joe. "That's it. You're right, old chap! When I got acquainted with your sister, it were the talk ]inv, she was bringing yon up by hand. Very kind of her too, all the folks .said, and 1 said, along with all the folks. As to you," Joe pursued, with a countenance expressive of seeing something very nasty indeed: "if you could have been aware how small and flabby and mean you was, dear me, you'd have formed the most contemptible opinions of yourself! " Not exactly relishing this. T said, "Xever mind me, Joe." "But I did mind you, Pip," he returned, with tender simplicity. " When I offered to your sister to keep company, and to be asked in church at such times as she was willing and ready to come to the forge, I said to her, ' And bring the poor little child. God bless the poor little child,' 1 said to your sister, 'there's room for him at the forge ! ' " I broke out crying and begging pardon, and hugged Joe round the neck ; who dropped the poker to bug me, and to say, " Ever the best of friends, ain't us, Pip? Don't cry; old chap! " "When this little interruption was over, Joe resumed : "Well, you see. Pip, and here we are ! That's about where it lights ; here we are ! Now, when you take me in hand in my learn- ing, Pip (and 1 tell you beforehand I am awful dull, most awful dull), Mrs. Joe musn't see too much of what we're up to. It must be done, as I may say, on the sly. And why on the sly ? I'll tell you why, Pip " He had taken up the poker again, without which I doubt if he could have proceeded in his demonstration. " Your sister is given to government." " Given to government, Joe ? " 1 was startled, for 1 had some shadowy idea (and I am afraid I must add, hope) that Joe had divorced her in favor of the Lords of the Admiralty, or Treasury. " Given to gbvernment,'*said Joe-, " Which I meantersay the government of you and myself." " Oh ! " " And she an't over partial to having scholars on the premises," doe continued, "and in partikeler would not be over partial to my being a scholar, for fear as 1 might rise. Like a sort, of rebel, don't you see ? " I was going to retort with an inquiry, and had got - o far as " Why — " when Joe stopped me. 40 GKEAT EXPECTATIOTS. " Stay a bit. I know what you're going to say, Pip ; stay a bit ! I don't deny tbat your sister conies the Mo-gul over us, now and again. I don't deny that she do throw us talis, and that she do drop down upon us heavy. At such times as your sister is on the ram-page, Pip," Joe sank his voice to a whisper and glanced at the door, " candor compels fur to admit that she is a*Buster." Joe pronounced this word as if it began with at least twelve cap- tal Bs. " Why don't I rise 1 That were your observation when I broke it off, Pip ? " "Yes, Joe." " Well," said Joe, passing the poker into his left hand, that he might feel his whisker ; and I had no hope for him when he took to that placid occupation ; "your sister's a master-mind. A mas- ter-mind." " What's that 1 " I asked, in some hope of bringing him to a stand But Joe was readier with his definition than I had ex eeted, and completely stopped me by arguing circularly and answering with a fixed look, " Her." "And I an't a master-mind," Joe resumed, when he had unfix- ed his look, and got back to his whisker. "And last of all, Pip — and this I want to say very serous to you, old chap — I see so much in my poor mother of a woman drudging, and slaving, and breaking her honest heart, and never getting no peace in her mor- tal days, that I'm dead afeerd of going wrong in the way of not doing what's right by a woman, and I'd fur rather of the two go wrong the t'other way, and be a little ill-con.wenienced myself. I wish it was only me that got put out, Pip ; I wish there warn'i no Tickler for you, old chap ; I wish I could take it all on myself; but this is the up-and-down-and-straight on' it, Pip, and I hope you'll overlook short-coming: Young as I was, I believe thai i dated a new admiration of Joe from that night. We were equals afterward, as we had been be- fore; but afterward at quiet times, when I sat looking at Joe and thinking about him, I had a new sensation of feeling conscious that I was looking up to Joe in my heart.. " However," said Joe, rising to replenish the fire. " here's the Dutch-clock a working himself up to being equal to striking Eight of 'em, and she's not come home yet! I hope •Uncle Pumble- chook's mare mayn't have set a forefoot on a piece q' ice, and gone down." Mrs. Joe made occasional trips with Uncle Pumblechook on market days, to assist him in buying such household stuffs and goods as required a woman's judgment ; Uncle Pumblechook being a bachelor and reposing no confidence in his domestic servant. This was market-day, aud ilrs. Joe was out on one of these - ex- peditions. 4 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. «41 Joe made the fire and swept the hearth, and then we went ont to listen for the chaise-cart. It was a dry, cold night, and the wind blew keenly, and the frost was white and hard. A man would die to-night of lying ont (in the matches, 1 thought ; and then 1 looked at t e stars, and considered how awful il would lie for a man to turn Ins face up to them as he froze to death, and see no help or pity in the whole glittering multitude. " Bere comes the mare," said Joe, •• ringing like hells!" The sound of her iron shoes upon the hard road was quite mu- sical, as she came along at a much brisker trot than usual. We got a chair out ready for Mrs. doe's alighting, and stirred up the lire that they might see a bright window, and took a final survey of the kitchen that nothing might be out of its place. When we had completed these preparations they drove up, wrapped to the eyes. Mrs. doe was soon landed, and Uncle Purnblechook was soon down covering the mare with a cloth, and we were soon all in the kitchen, carrying so much cold air in with us that it seemed to drive all the heat oul of the lire. " Now," said .Mrs. due, unwrapping herself with haste and ex- citement, and throwing her bonnet back" on her shoulders where it. hung by the strings. " if this bey an'l grateful this night, he nejrer will be !" 1 looked as grateful as any boy possibly could who was wholly uninformed why he ought to assume thai expression. "It's only to be hoped," said my sister, "that lie won't be I'om- peyed, But .1 have my fears." "She an't in that line, mum," said Mr. Purablephook. "She knows better." She.' 1 looked at due. making the motion with my lips and eyebrows, " She .'" doe looked at me, making the motion with kit lips and eyebrows, " She .'" My sister catching him in the act, he drew the back of his 'hand across his nose with his usual concilia- tory air on such occasions, and looked at- her. " WeU I" said my sister, in her snappish wav. "is the house a-f'wv — "Which some individual," Joe politely hinted, " mentioned — she." "And she is a she, I suppose .'" said my sister. " Unless you call Miss Havisham a he. And 1 doubt if even you'll go so far as th " Miss Havisham, up town ?" said Joe. " Is there any Miss Havisham down town?" returned my sister. " She wants this boy to go and play there. And of course he's going. And he had better play there." said ^uy sister, shaking her head at me as an encouragement to be extremely light and sport- ive, " or I'll work him." I had heard of Miss Havisham up town — every body for miles 42- GREAT EXPECTATIONS. round had heard of Miss Havisham up town — as an immensely rich fend grim old lady, who lived in a large and dismal house bar- ricaded against robbers, and who led a life of seclusion. " Well to be sure ! ' said Joe, astounded. " I wonder how she come to know Pip ?" " Noodle !" cried my sister. "Who said she knew him?" — "Which some individul," Joe again politely hinted, "men- tioned that she wanted him to go and play there." " And couldn't she ask Uncle Pumblechook if he knew of a boy to go and play there ? Isn't it just barely possible that Uncle Pumblechook may be a tenant of hers, and that lie may sometimes — we won't say quarteily or half yearly, for that would be requiring too much of you — but sometimes — go there to pay his rent ? And couldn't she then ask Uncle Pumblechook if he knew of a boy to go and play there ? And couldn't Uncle Pumblechook, being al- ways considerate and thoughtful for us — though you may not think it, Joseph," in a tone of the deepest reproach, as if he were the most callous of nephews, — "then mention this boy, standing pran- cing here," — which I solemnly declare I was not doing — "that I ha>e for ever been a willing slave to?" ".Good again !" cried Uncle Pumblechook. " Well put ! Pret- tily pointed ! Good indeed ! Now, Josep , you know the case." "No, Joseph," said my sister, still in a reproachful manner, while Joe apologetically drew the back of his hand across and across his nose, "you do not yet — though you may not think it — know the case. You may consider that you do, but _you do not, Joseph. For you do not know that Uncle Pumblechook, being ible that for any thing we can tell, this boy's fortune may be made by his going to Miss llavisham's, has oli'ered to take him into town to-night in his own chaise-cart, and to keep him to-night, and to take him with his own bands to Miss Havishani's to-mor- row morning. And Lor-a-mussy me !" cried my sister, casting off her bonnet in sudden desperation, " here I stand talking to mere Mooncalfs, with Uncle Pumblechook waiting, and the mare catch- ing cold at the door, and the boy grimed with crock and dirt from the hair of his head to the sole of bis foot !" With that she pounced upon me, like an eagle on a lamb, and my face was forced into wooden bowls in sinks, and my head was put under taps of water-butts, and 1 was soaped, and kneaded, and toweled, and thumped, and harrowed, and rasped, until I really was quite beside myself. (I, may here remark that I conceive my- self to be better acquainted than any living authority with the ridgy effect of a wedding-ring, passing unsympathetic-ally over the human countenan.ee.) * When my ablutions were completed, I was put into clean linen of the stifiest character, like a young penitent in sackcloth, and was trussed up in ray tightest and fearfulest suit. I was then delivered GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 43 over to Mr. Pumblechook, who formally received ide as if ho wore the Sheriff, and who let off upon me the speech which 1 knew he had been dying to make all along: *'Boy,be forever grateful to all friends, but especially to them which brought you up by hand!" " Goodrby do.'." "God Idess you, Pip, old chap." I had never parted from him before, and what .with my feelings and what with soap-suds 1 could at first see ho stars fnun the chaise-cart. Hut they twinkled out one by one, without throwing any fight on the questions why on earth I was going to pL Miss Uavisham's, and what, on earth 1 was expected to play at. CHAPTER VIII. Mi;. Pumblechook'6 premises in the High street of, the market town were of a pepper-corny and farinaceous character, as the premises of a corn-chandler and s edsman should be. It appeared to me that he must he a very happy man indeed to have so many little drawers in his shop ; and 1 wondered when I peeped into one or two on the lower tiers, and saw the tied-up brown paper pack- ages inside, whether the flower-seeds and bulbs ever wanted of a hue day to break out of those jails and bloom. It was in the early morning after my arrival that I entertained this speculation. On the .previous night I had been'sent straight to bed in an attic with a' sloping roof, which was so low in the ner where the bedstead was that I calculated the tiles as being within a foot of my eyebrows. In the same early morning i covered a singular affinity between seeds and corduroys. Mr.Pum- blcehook wore corduroys, and so did his sho, man ; and somehow there was a general air and' flavor about the corduroys, so much in the nature of ^<.>v(\, and a general air and flavor about the seeds, so much in the nature of corduroys, that I hardly kn w which was which. The same opportunity served me for noticing that Mr. Pumble-, chook appeared to conduct bis business by looking across the street e saddler, wdio appeared to transact his business by keeping his eye on the coach maker, who appeared to get on in life by put- ting his hands in his pocket and contemplating the baker, who, in his turn, folded his arms and stared at the grocer, who stood a his door and yawned ai the chemist. The watchmaker, always poring over a little p-window, Seemed to lie about the only person in the High Street, whose Ins attention. 44 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Mr. Pumblechook and I breakfasted at eight o'clock in the par- lor behind the shop, while the shopman took his mug of tea and hunch of bread-and-butter on a sack of pease in the front premises. I considered Mr. Pumblechook wretched company. Besides being possessed by my sister's idea that a mortifying and penitential character ought to be imparted to my diet — besides giving me as. much crumb as possible in combination with as little butter, and putting such a quantity of warm water into my milk that it would have been more candid to have left the milk out altogether — his conversation consisted of nothing but arithmetic. On my politely bidding him good-morning, he said, pompously, " Seven times nine, boy ! " And how should I be able to answer, dodged in that way, in a strange place, on an empty stomach ! I was hungry, but be- fore I had swallowed a morsel he began a running sum that lasted all through the breakfast. "Seven?" "And four?" "And eight ? " " And six ? " " And two ? " " And ten ? " And so on. And after each figure was disposed of, it was as much as I could do to get a bite or a sup before the next came ; while he sat at his ease guessing nothing and eating bacon and hot roll in (if I may be allowed the expression) a gorging and gormandizing manner. For such reasyns I was very glad when ten o'clock came and we started for Miss Havisham's ; though I was not at All at my case regarding' the manner in which I should acquaint myself un- der that lady's roof. Within a quarter of an hour we came to Havisham's house, which was of old brick and dismal, and had a great many iron bars to it. Some of the windows had been walled up : of Those that remained all the lower were rustily barred. There was a court-yard in front, and that was barred; so we had to wait, after ringing the bell, until some one should come to open it. While we waited at the gate I peeped in (even then Mr. Punr- blechook said, " And fourteen ? " but I pretended not to hear him), and saw that at the side of the house there was a large brewery ; no brewing was going on in it, and none seemed to have gone on for a hmg long time. A window was raised, and a clear voice demanded, "What name ?" To which my conductor replied, " Pumblechook." The voice re- turned, "Quite right," and the window was shut again, and a young lady came across the onurt-vard with kevs in her hand. " This," said Mr. Pumblechook, " Is Pip.". " This is Pip, is it ? " returned the young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud ; " Come in, Pip." Mr. Pumblechook was- coining 'in also, when she stopped him with the gate. " Oh ! " she said. " Did you wish to see Miss Havisham ?" " If Miss Havisham wishes .to see me," returned Mr. Pumble- chook, discomfit ted. " Ah ! " said the girl ; " but vou see she don't." GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 45 She said it so finally and in such an indiscnsahlc way, that Mr. Punibleohook, though in a condition of ruffled dignity, Gould not protest. But lie eyed me severely — as if 1 had done anything to him! — and departed 'with the words reproachfully delivered: "Boy ! let your behavior here be a oredil unto them which brought you up by hand ! " 1 was not free from apprehension thai he would come back to propound through the gate) "And sixteen I " But he didn't. My young conductress locked the gate, and we went jtomss the court-yard. It was puved and clean, luit grass was growing in every crevice. The brewery buildings had a little lane of com- munication with it, and the wooden gales of .that lane stood open, and all the brewery beyond stood open, away to the high enclosing wall, and all was empty and disused. The cold wind seemed to blow colder there than outside the gate, and it made a shrill noise in howling in and out at the open sides of the brewery, like the noise of wind in the, rigging of a ship at sea. She saw me looking at ii. and she said, "You could drink with- out hurt all the strong beer that's brewed there now, boy." *' I should think 1 could, miss," said I, in a shy way. "Better not try to brew beer there now, or it would turn out sour, boy ; don't you think so?'' " It looks like it, miss." "Not that anybody means to try," she added, " for that's all done with, and the place will stand as idle as it is till it fails. As to strong b er, there's enough of it in the cellars already to drown the Manor House." " Is that the name of. this house, miss ? •■' " One of its names, boy." " It has more than one, then, miss ? " "One more. tts other name was Satis; which is Greek, or Latin, or Hebrew, or all three — or all one to me — for enough." " Enough House," said 1 ; " that's a curious name, miss." " Yes," she replied ; " but it meant more than it said. It meant, when it was given, that whoever had this house could want noth- ing else. They mutt have been easily satisfied in those days 1 should think. But don't loiter, boy." Though she called me " hoy " so often, ami with' a carelessness was far from complimentary, 'she was of about my own ;i or very little older. She seemed much older than 1, of course, be- ing a girl, and beautiful and self-] ' : and she was. as scorn- ful of me as if she had been oiie-aml-twenty, and a queen. We went into tin house by a side-door — the great front entrance had two chains across it ont.-ide— and the first thing I noticed t hat the passages were ;ill dark, and t hat she had left a c mile burning there. Sbt> took it up. and wo went through more passages and 46 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. up a staircase, and still it was all dark-, and only the candle lighted us. At last we came to the door of a room, and she said, " Go in." I answered, more in shyness than politeness, "After yju, miss." To this, she returned : " Don't be ridiculous, boy ; I am not go- ing* in." And scornfully walked away, and — what was worse — took the candle with her. This was very uncomfortable, and I was half afraid. However, the oulf thing to be done being to knock at the door, I knocked, and was told from within to enter. 1 entered, therefore, and found If in a pretty large room well lighted with wax candles.; — No glimpse of daylight was to be seen in it. It was a dressing- room, as i supposed from the furniture, though much of it was of tonus and uses then quite unknown to me. But prominent in it was a .draped table With a gilded looking-glass, and that 1 made out at first sight to be a line lady's dressiug-table. Whether 1 should have made out this object so soon if there had been no fine lady sitting at it 1 cannot say. In an arm-chair, 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 si She was dressed in rich materials — satins, and lace, and silks — all of white. Her shoes were white. And she had a long white vail dependent from her hair, and she had bridal 11 wers 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. fc>he had not quite finished dressing, for she had but one shoe on — the w on the table near her baud — her vail was but half arranged, her watch and chain were not put on, and some lace for her bosom lay with I trinkets, and with her handkerchief, and gloves, and sunn- flowers, and a prayer-book, all confusedly heaped about the looking-glass. It was not in the first minute that I saw all these things, th I saw more of them in the first minute ban might he supp 13ut i saw that every thing within my view which ought to be white had been white long ago, and had lost its lustre, and was faded and yellow. 1 saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress, and like the llowers, and had' no bright- ness left but the brightness of 'her sunken eyes. 1 saw that the dress had been put upon the rounded figure of a young woman, and that the figure upon which it now bung loose had shrunk to and bone. Once, 1 had been taken to see some ghastly wax-work at the. Fair, representing 1 know not what impossible personage lying in stale. Once, I had been taken to oue of our old marsh churches to see a skeleton in the ashes vt' a rich dress that been dug out of a vault under the church pavement. 2s ow, wax- GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 47 work and skeleton seemed to have dark eyes that moved and look- ed at me. I should have cried out if 1 could. " Who is it V said the lady at the table. " Pip, ma'am." « p ip t » " Mr. Pumblechook's boy, ma'am. Come — to play." "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 chick in the room had stopped at twenty minutes to nine. "Look at me," said Miss llavisham. " Yon are not afraid of a woman who has , ever seen the sun since you were horn '." I regret to state that I was not afraid of telling the enormous lie comprehended in the answer, " No." "Do you know what 1 touch here V she said, laying her hands, one upon the other, on her lefl side*. " Yes, ma'am.". (It made me think of the voting man.) " What do 1 touch r " Your heart." •• Broken !" She uttered the word with an eager look, and with strong em- phasis, and witli a weird smile that had a kind of boast in it. Af- terward, she kept her hands there for a little while, and slowly took them away as if they were heavy. " 1 am tired," said Miss llavisham. " I waut diversion, and I have done with men and women. Play !" I think it will be conceded by my most disputatious reader that she could hardly have directed an unfortunate boy to do any thing in the wide world more difficult to be done under the circumstances. "I sometimes have sick fancies," she went on, "and 1 have a sick fancy that 1 want to see some play. There, there !" with an impatient movement of the fingers of her right hand ; " play, play, • play!" ' . For a moment, with the fear of my sister's working me before my eyes, I had a desperate idea of starting round the room in the assumed character of Mr. Pumblechook's chaise-cart. But J felt myself so unequal to the performance that I gave it up, and stood looking at Mi^s llavisham in what 1 suppose she took for a dog- ged manner, inasmuch as she said, when we had taken a good look at each other : "Are you sullen and obstinate?" " No, ma'am, 1 am very sorry for you, and very sorry I can't play just now. If you complain of me 1 shall get into trouble with my sister, so I would do it if I could ; but it's so new here, and so strange, and so fine — and melancholy — " I stopped^ fearing I 48 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. might say too much, or had already said it, and we took another look at each other. Before she spoke again she turned her eyes from- me and looked at the dress she wore, and at the dressing table, and finally at her- self in the looking-glass. " So new to him," she muttered, " so old to me ; so strange to 'him, so familiar to me; so melancholy to both of us ! Call Es- telra." As she was still looking at the reflection of herself, I thought she was still talking to herself, and kept quiet. " Call Eslella," she repeated, flashing a look at me. " You can do that. Call Estella. At the door." To stand in the dark. in a mysterious passage of an unknown house bawling Estella to a scornful young lady neither visible nor responsive, and feeling it a dreadful liberty so to roar out her name, was almost as bad as playing to order. But she answered at last, and her light came along the dark passage like a star. Miss Havisham beckoned her to come close, and took up a jewel from the table, and tried its effect upon her fair young bosom and against her pretty brown hair. "Your own, one day, my dear, and you will use it well. Let me see you play cards with this boy." " With this boy ! Why, he is a common laboring boy !" I thought I overheard .Miss Havisham answer — only it seemed so unlikely — " Well ? You can break his heart." " What do you play, boy I" asked Estella of myself, with the greatest disdain. " Nothing but beggar my neighbor, miss." "Beggar him,' said Miss- Havisham to Estella. So we sat down to cards. It was then I began to understand that every tiling in the room had stopped, like the watch and the clock, a long time ago. I no- ticed that Miss Havisham put down the jewel exactlyon the spot from which she had taken it up. As Estella dealt the cards J glance;! 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 s oe was abseut, and saw that the silk stocking on it, once white, now yellow, had been trodden ragged. Without this arrest of every thing, 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 vail so like a shroud. So she sat corpse-like, as we played at cards : the frilluags and trimmings on her bridal dress looking like earthy paper, as if they would crumble under a touch. I knew nothing then of the dis- coveries that are occasionally made of bodies buried in ancient times, which fall to powder in the moment of being distinctly seen; but I have often thought since that she must have looked as if the GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 4* admission of the natural light of day would have struck her to dust. "He calls the knaves Jacks, this hoy ?" said Estella, with dis- dain, before our game was out. " And what coarse hands he has. And what thick boots.'' I bad never thought of being ashamed of my hands before; but I began to consider. them a very indifferent pair. Her contempt was so strong that it became infectious, and I caught it. She won the game, and T dealt. I misdealt, as w is only na- tural, when I knew she was lying in wait for me to do wrong, and she denounced me for a stupid, clumsy laboring boy. " You say nothing of her," remarked Hiss Havisham to me as she looked on. " She says many hard things of you, but you say nothing other. Whal do you think of her 1" " I don't like to say," I stammered. V Tell me in my ear," said Miss Havisham, bending down. " I think she is very proud.'* I replied, in a whisper. " Any thing else " I think she is very pretty.'' " Any thing else ?" " 1 think she is very insulting." (She was looking at me, then, with a look of supreme aversion.) "Any thing else V " I think I should like to go home." " And never see her again, though she is so pretty ? " "I am not sure thai I should not like to see her again, but I should like to gb home now." "You shall go soon," said Miss Havisham, aloud. "Play the game out." Saving for the one weird smile at first, I should have felt aln sure that Miss Havisham's face could not smile. It had dropped into a watchful and brooding expression — most, likely when all the ' things about her had become transfixed — and it looked as if noth- ing could, ever lift it up any more. Her chest had dropj ed, so that she stooped : and her voice had dropped, so that she spoke low, and with a dead lull upon her; altogether she had the appearance of having dropped, body and soul, within and without, under the weight of a crushing blow. 1 played the game to an end with Estella, and she beggared me. She threw the c^rds down on the table when she had won them all, as if she despised them for having been won of me. " When shall I have you here again'? " said Miss Havisham. — " Let me think." I was. beginning to remind her that to-day was Wednesday, when she checked me with her former impatient movement of the fingers of her right hand. " There, there ! I know nothing of days of the week ; 1 know 4 50 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. nothing of weeks of the year. Come again after three days. You hear 1 " " Yes, ma'am." " Estella, take him down. Let him have something to eat, and let him roam and look about him while he eats, it. Go, Pip." I followed the candle down as I had followed the candle up, and she stood it in the place where we had found it. Until she opened the side entrance I had fancied, without thinking about it, that it must ne- cessarily be night time. The rush of the daylight quite confounded me, and made me feel as if I had been in the candle-light of the strange room many hours. " You are to wait here, you boy," said Estella, and disappeared and closed the door. I took the opportunity of being alone in the courtyard to look at my coarse hands and my common hoots. My opinion of those accessories was not favorable. They had never troubled me before, but they troubled me now, as vulgar appendages. 1 deter- mined to ask Joe why he had ever taught me to call those picture- cards Jacks which ought to be called knaves. I wished Joe had been rather more geuteely brought up, and then 1 should have been so too. She came back with some bread and meat and a little mug of beer. She put the mug down on the stones of the yard, and gave me the bread and meat without looking at me, as insolently as if i were a dog. I was so humiliated, hurt, spurned, offended, angry, sorry — I cannot hit upon the right name for the sn^irt — God knows what its name was — that tears started to my eyes. The moment they sprang there the girl looked at me with a quick delight iu having been the cause of them. It gave me power to force them back and to look at her; so she gave a contemptuous toss — but with a sense, I thought, of having made too sure that I was so wounded — and left me. But when she was gone I looked about me for a place to hide my face in, and got behind one of the gates in the brewery lane, and leaned my sleeve against the wall there, and leaned my fore- head on it and cried. As I cried I kicked tiie wall and took a hard twist at my hair ; so bitter were my feelings, and so sharp was the smart without a name, that needed counteraction. My sister's bringing up had made me sensitive. In the little world in which children have their existence, whosoever brings them up. 1 am convinced there is nothing so finely perceived and so finely felt as injustice. It may be only small injustice that the child can be exposed to ; but the child is small, and its world is small, and iis rocking-hor.se stands as many hands high, according to scale, as a big-boned Irish hunter. Within myself I had sustained from my baby- hood a perpetual conflict with injustice. I had known from the time when I could speak that my sister, in her capricious aDd violent co- GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 51 i ercipn, was unjust to me. I had cherished a profound conviction that her bringing rue up by hand gave her no right to bring me up by jerks. Through all ray punishments, disgraces, fasts*, and vigils, and other penitential performances,! had nursed this assurance; and to my communing so much with it, in a solitary and unpro- tected way, I, in great part, refer the fact that I was morally timid and very sensitive. I got rid of my injured feelings for the time by kicking them in- to the brewery wall, and twisting them out of my hair, and then I Smoothed my face with my sleeve and came from behind the gate. The bread and meal were acceptable, and the beer was warming and tingling, and I was soon in spirits to look about me. To be sure it was a deserted place, down to the pigeon-house in the brewery-yard, which bad been blown crooked on its pole by some high wind, and would have made the pigeons think themselves at sea, if there bad beenVuiy pigeons there to be rocked by it. — But there were tip pigeons in the dove-cot, no horses in the stable, no pigs in the sty, no malt in the storehouse, no smells of grains and beer in the copper or the vat. All the uses and scents of the brewery might have evaporated with its last reek of smoke. In a by-yard there was a wilderness of empty casks, which bad a cer- tain sour remembrance of better days lingering about them ; but it was too sour to be accepted as a sample of the beer that was gOne — and in this respect I remember those recluses as being like most others. Behind the farthest end of the brewery was a rank garden with an old red wall : not so high but that I could struggle up and hold on long enough to look over it, and see that the rank garden was the garden of the house, and that it w T as overgrown with tan- gled weeds, but that there was a track upon the green and yellow paths, 'as if some one sometimes walked there, and that Estell walking away from me even then. But she seemed to bo every- where. For when 1 yielded to the temptation presented by the casks, and began to walk. on. them, I saw her walking on them at the end of the yard of casks. She had her back to me, and held her pretty brown hair spread out in her two hands, and never looked round, and passed out of my view directly. So in the brew- ery itself — by which I mean the large paved lofty place in which they used to make the beer, and where the brewing utensils still were. When 1 first went into it, and, rather oppressed by iis gloom, stood near the door looking about me, I saw her pass among the extinguished tires, and ascend some light iron stairs, and go out by an iron gallery high overhead, as if she were going out into the sky. It was in this place, and at this moment, that a strange thing happened to my fancy. I thought it a strange thing then, and I thought it stranger long afterward. I turned my eyes — a little 52 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. dimmed by looking up at £he frosty light — toward a great wooden beam in a low notfc of the building near me on my right band, and I saw a figure hanging there by the neck. A figure .all in yellow white, with but one shoe to the feet ; and it hung so that I could see that the faded trimmings of the dress were like earthy paper, and that the face was Miss Havis ':am's, with the eyes open, and with a movement going over the whole countenance as if she were trying to call to me. In the terror of seeing the figure, and in the terror of being certain that it had not been there a moment before, I at first ran from it, and then ran toward it. And my terror was greatest of all when I found no figure there. Nothing less than the frosty light of the cheerful sky, the sight of people passing beyond the bars of the court-yard gate, and The reviving influence of the rest of the bread and meat and beer, would have brought me round. Even with those aids I might not have come to my self as soon as I did, but that I saw Estella ap- proaching with the keys to let me out. She would have some fair reason for looking down upon me, I thought, if she saw me fright- ened ; and she should have no fair reason. She gave me a triumphant glance in passing me, as if she re- joiced that my hands were so coarse and my boots were so thick, and she opened the gate and stood holding it. I was passing out without looking at her, when she touched me with a taunting hand. " Why don't you cry 1 " said she. " Because I don't want to," said I. "You do," said she. "You have been crying, and you are near crying again." She laughed contemptuously, pushed me out, and locked the gate upon me. I went straight to Mr. Pumblechook's, and was immensely relieved to find him not at home. So leaving word with the shopman on what day I was wanted at Miss Havisham's again, I set off on the four-mile walk to our forge; pondering, as 1 went along, on all I had seen, and deeply revolving that I was a common laboring boy, that my hands were coarse, that my boots were thick, that 1 had fallen into a despicable habit of calling knaves Jacks, that I was much more ignorant than I had consid- ered myself last night, and, on the whole, that I was in a low- lived bad way. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 5S CHAPTER IX. WnF\ I reached home my sister was very curious to know all about Miss Havisharo's, aud asked a number of questions. And I soon found myself getting heavily bumped in the nape of the neck and the small of the hack, and having my face ignominiously shoved against the kitchen wall, because I did not answer those questions at sufficient length. If a dread of not being understood be hidden in the breas; other young people to any thing like the extent to which it used to be hidden in tniue — which I consider probable, as I have no par- ticular reason to suspect myself of having been a monstrosity — ir ia the key to many reservations. I felt convinced that if I de- scribed Miss Havisham's as my eyes had seen it, I should noi be understood. Not only that, but I felt convinced that Miss Havi- sham too would not be understood; and although she was perfect- ly incomprehensible to me, 1 entertained an impression that there wduld be something coarse and treacherous in my dragging her (to say nothing of Miss Estella) before the contemplation of Mrs. Joe. Consequently, I said as little as I could, and bad my face shoved against the kitchen wall. The worst of it was that that bullying old Pumblechook, preyed upon by a devouring curiosity to be informed of all I had seen and heard, came gaping over in his chaise-cart at tea-time to have the details divulged to him. And the mere sight of the torment, with his fishy eyes and mouth open, his sandy hair inquisitively on end. and his waistcoat heaving with windy arithmetic, made me vicious in my reticence. " Well, buy," Uncle Pumblechook began, as soon as he was ■1 in the chair of honor by the fire.- " How did you get on up town?" I answered, " Pretty well, Sir," and my sister shook her fist at me. " Pretty well?" Mr. Pumblechook repeated. "Pretty well is no answer. Tell us what you mean by pretty well, boy?" Whitewash on the forehead hardens the brain into a state of obstinacy, perhaps. Any how, with whitewash from the wall on my forehead, my obstinacy was adamantine. I reflected for some lime, and then answered, " I mean pretty well." My sister, with an exclamation of impatience, was going to fly at me — I had no shadow of detence, for Joe was busy in the forge — when Mr. Pumblechook interposed with, "No! Don't loso i 54 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. your temper. Leave this lad to me, ma'am ; leave this lad to me." Mr. Pumhlechook then turned me toward him, as if he were going to cut my hair or take out one of my teeth, or perform some such operation, and said: " First (to get our thoughts in order) : Forty-three pence?" I calculated the consequence of replying " Four Hundred Pound," and, finding them against me, went as near the answer as I could — which was somewhat about eightpence off. Mr. Pum- hlechook then put me through my pence-table from " twelve pence make one shilling," up to " forty pence make three-and-four pence," and then triumphantly demanded, as if he had done for me, " Now ! How much is forty-three pence?" To which I re- plied, after a long interval of reflection, " I don't know." And I was so aggravated that I almost doubt if I did know. Mr. Pumhlechook worked his head like a screw to screw it out of me, and said, " Is forty-thres pence .seven and sixpence three fardens, for instance?" " Yes !" said I. And although my sister instantly boxed my ears, it was highly gratifying to me to see that the answer spoilt his joke, and brought him to a dead stop. "Boy ! What like is Miss Havisham ?" Mr. Pumhlechook be- gan again when he had recovered ? folding his arms tight on his chest and applying the screw. • " Very tall and dark," I told him. " Is she, uncle?". asked my sister. Mr. Pumhlechook winked assent; from which I at once infer- red i hat he had never seen Miss Havisham, for she was nothing of the kind. "Good!" said Mr. Pumhlechook, conceitedly. "This is the way to have him ! We are beginning to hold our own, I think, Mum ?" " I am sure, uncle," returned Mrs. Joe, " I wish you had him always ; you know so well how to deal with him." " Now, boy ! What was she a doing of when you went in to- day ?" asked Mr. Pumhlechook. " She was sitting," I answered, " in a black velvet coach." Mr. Pumblechook and Mrs. Joe stared at one another — as they well might — and both repeated, " In a black velvet coach ?" "Yes," said I. "And Miss Estella — that's her niece, 1 think — handed her in cake and wine at the coach window, on a gold plate. And we all had cake and wine on gold plates. And 1 got up behind the coach to eat mine, because she told u.e to." " Was any body else there ?" asked Mr. Pumblechook. " Four dogs," said I. " Large or small ?" " Immense," said I. " And they fought for veal cutlets out of a silver basket." GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 55 Mr. Pumhlechook and Mrs. Joe stared at one another again, in utter amazement. I was perfectly frantic — a reckless witness un- der the orture — and would have told them any thing. " Where was this coach, in the name of gracious !" asked my sister. " In Miss Ilavisham's room." They stared again. " But there weren't any horses to it." I added this saving clause, in the mo- ment of rejecting four richly caparisoned coursers which I had had wild thoughts of harnessing. " Can this he possible, uncle?" asked Mrs. Joe. "What can the boy mean .'" " Fll tell you, Mum," said Mr. Pumhlechook. " My opinion is, it's a sedan-chair. She's flighty, yon know — very flighty — quite flighty enough to pass her days in a sedan-chair." •• Did you ever see her in it, uncle ?" asked Mrs. Joe. " How could I ?" he returned, forced to the admission, " when I never see her in my life ? Never clapped eyes upon her }" " Goodness, uncle ! And yet. you have spoken to her?" " Why. don't you know," said Mr. Pumhlechook, testily, " that when I have been there I have been took up to the outside of her door, and the door has stood ajar, and she has spoken to me thai way. Don't say that you don't know that, Mum. Howsoever, the boy went there to play. What did you play at, boy ?" " We played with flags," 1 said. (I beg to observe that I think of myself with amazement, when I recall the lies I told on this occasion.) "Flags!" echoed my sister. " Yes," said I. " Estella waved a blue flag, and I waved a red one, and Miss llavisham waved one sprinkled all over with little gold stars, out at the coach window. Atid then we all waved our swords and hurrahed." '• Swords !" repeated my sister. ■« Where did you get swords from ?" " Out of a cupboard," said I. " And I saw pistols in it — and jam — and pills. And there was no daylight in the room, but it was all lighted up with candles." " That's true, Mum," said Mr. Pumbleehook, with a grave nod. "That's the state of the case, for that much I've seen myself." And then they both stared at me, and I with ah obtrusive show of artlessness on my countenance stared at them, and plaited the right leg of my trowsers with my right hand. . If they had asked me any more questions I should undoubtedly have betrayed myself, for T was even then on the point of men- tioning that there was a balloon in the yard, and should have haz- arded the statement but for my mind being divided between that phenomenon"and a bear in the brewery. They were so much oc- cupied, however, in discussing the marvels I had already present- I 5G GREAT EXPECTATIONS. ed for their consideration that I escaped. The subject still held them when Joe came in from his work to have a cup of tea, to ■whom my sister, more for the relief of her own mind than for the gratification of his, related my pretended experiences.' Now when I saw Joe open his blue eyes and roll them round the kitchen in helpless astonishment, I was overtaken by peni- tence ; but only as regarded him — not in the least as regarded the other two. Toward Joe, and Joe only, I considered myself a young monster, while they sat debating what results would come to me from Miss Havisham's acquaintance and favor. They bad no doubt that Miss Havisham would "do something" for me; their doubts related to the form that something would take. My sister stood out " for property." Mr. Pumblechook was in favor of a handsome premium for binding me apprentice to some genteel trade — say, the corn and seed trade for instance. Joe fell into the deepest disgrace with both, for offering the bright suggestion that I might only be presented with one of the dogs who had fought for the veal-cutlets. "If a fool's head can't express better opin- ions than that," said my sister, " and you have got any work to do, you had better go and do it." So he went. After Mr. Pumblechook had driven off, and when my sister was washing up, I stole into the forge to Joe, and remained by him until lie had done for the night. Then I said, "Before the fire goes qtiite out, Joe, I should like to tell you something." " Should vou, Pip t" said Joe, drawing his shoeing-stool near the forge. " Then tell us. What is it, Pip ?" "Joe," said I, taking hold ot his rolled up shirt-sleeve, and twisting it between my finger and thumb, ".you remember all that about Miss Havisham's ?" " Remember?'" said Joe. " I believe you ! Wouderful !" " It's a terrible thing, Joe ; it an't true." " What are you telling of, Pip ?," cried Joe, falling back in the greatest amazement. " You don't mean to say it's — " " Yes I do ; it's lies, Joe." "But not all of it? Why sure you don't mean to say, Pip, that there was no black welwetco — eh?" Fori stood shaking my head. " But at least there was dogs, Pip. Come, Pip," said Joe, persuasively, "if there warn't.no weal-cutlets, at least there was dogs '.'" "No, Joe." • " A dog ?" said Joe. " A puppy ? Come V " Uo, Joe, there was nothing at all of the kind." As I fixed my eyes hopelessly on Joe, Joe contemplated me in dismay. "Pip, old chap! this won't do, old fellow! I say! where do you expect to go to ?" " It's terrible, Joe ; an't it ?" " Terrible?" cried Joe. " Awfu! ! What possessed you?" GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 57 " I don't know what possessed ine, Joe," I replied, letting his shirt-sleeve go, and sitting down in the ashes at his feet, banging my head ; "but I wish you hadn't taught me to call Knaves ai cards Jacks; and I wish my boots weren't so thick nor my hands so coarse." And then I told Joe that I felt very miserable, and that I hadn't been able to explain myself to Mrs. Joe and Pumble- chook, who were so rude to me, and that there had been i beauti- ful young lady at Miss Havishani's who was dreadfully proud, and that she had said I was common, and that 1 knew I was com- mon, and that 1 wished I was noi common, and that the lies had come of it, somehow, though I didn't know how. This was a case of metaphysics, a least, as difficult for Joe to deal with as for me. But Joe took the case altogether out of the region of metaphysics, and by that means got the better of it. "There's one thing you may be sure of, Tip," said Joe, after some rumination, "namely, that lies is lies. However they come, they didn't ought to come, and they come from the father^ of lies, and work round to the same. Don't you tell no more of 'em. Pip. That ain't the way to get out of being common, old chap. And as to being common, I don't make it out at all clear. Vou are oiicommoii in some things. You're oncommon small. Likewise you're an oncommon scholar." " No, 1 am ignorant and backward, Joe.' " "Why. see what a letter you wrote last, night. Wrote in print even! L've seen letters — Ah! and from gentlefolks I — that I'll swear weren't wrote in print," said .Joe. " 1 have learned next to nothing, Joe. Vou think much of me. It's only that." " Well, Pip," said Joe, "lie it so or be it son't, you must lie a common scholar afore you can be an oncommon one, 1 should hope! The king upon" his throne, with his crown upon his ed, can't sit and write his acts of Parliament in print, without having .begun, when he were a unpromoted Prince, with the alphabet — Ah !" added Joe, with a shake of the head that was full of mean- ing, "and begun at A too, and worked his way to Z. And / know What that is to do, though I can't say I've done it." There was some hope in this piece of wisdom, and it rather encouraged me. " Whether common ones as to callings and earnings," pursued JpeT reflectively, "mightn't be the better of continuing for to keep company with common ones, instead of going out. to play with on- common ones — : which reminds me to hope that there were a Hag perhaps ?" . " No. J " (I'm sorry then weren't a Hag, Pip.] Whether that might be or mightn't, be; is a thing as can't he looked into now, without put- 58 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. ting your sister on the Rampage ; and that's a thing not to be thought of as being done intentional. Lookee here, Pip, at what is said to you by a true friend. Which this to you the true friend say. If you can't get to the oncommon through going straight, you'll never do it through going crooked. So don't tell no more on 'em, Pip, and live well and die happy." " You are not angry with me, Joe 1" " No, old chap. But bearing in mind that them were which I meantersay of a stunning and thundering sort — alluding to them which bordered on weal-cutlets and dog-lighting — a sincere well- wisher would adw.ise, Pip, their being dropped into your medita- tions when you go upstairs to bed. That's all, old chap, and don't never do it no more." When I got up to my little room, and said my prayers, I did not forget Joe's recommendation", and yet my young mind was in that disturbed and unthankful state, that I thought long after I laid me down, how common Estella would consider Joe, a mere blacksmith ; how thick his boots, and how coarse his hands. I thought how Joe and my sister were then sitting in the kitchen, and how I'd come up to bed from the kitchen, and how Miss Havisbam and Estella never sat in a kitchen, but were far above the level of such common doings. 1 fell asleep recalling what I " used to do" when I was at Miss Ilavisham's ; as though I had been there weeks or mouths, instead of hours, and as though it were quite an old subject of remembrance, instead of one that had arisen only that day. That was a memorable day for me, for it made great changes in me and in my fortunes. But it is the same with any life. Im- agine one selected day str ick out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause, you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flow would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable dav. CHAPTER X. The felicitous idea occurred to me a morning or two later when ,1 awoke, that the best step I could take toward making myself uncommon, was to get out of Biddy everything she knew, and to pay the strictest attention to Mr. Wopsle when he read-aloud. In pursuance of this luminous conception, I mentioned to Biddy when 1 went to Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt's at night, that I had a particular reason for wishing to get on in lite, and that I should GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 59 feel very much obliged to her if she would impart all her learning to me. Biddy, who was the most obliging of girls, immediately said she would, and indeed began to carry out her promise with- in five minutes. The educational scheme or course established by Mr. Wt>psle's greafs-aunt may be resolved into the following synopsis. The pu- pils ate apples and pal straw up one another's backs, until Mr. Wopsle's great aunt collected her energies, and made an indiscrim- inate totter at them with a biroh-rod. After receiving the cl with every mark of derision, the pupils formed in line and buz- zingly passed a ragged book from hand to hand. The book had an alphabet in it. some figures and tallies, and a little spelling — that is to say. it had o\\n\ As soon as this volume began to cir- culate, Mr. Wopsle s great-auul fell into a state of coma; arising either from sleep or a paroxysm of rheumatics. The pupils then entered among themselves upon a competitive examination on the subject of boots, with the view of ascertaining who could tread the hardest upon whose toes. This mental exercise lasted until Biddy made a rush at them and distributed three defaced Bibles, shaped as if they had been unskilfully cut oil" the chump-eiui of something, more illegibly printed at the best than any curiosities of literature 1 have since met with, speckled all over with iron-mould, and having various specimens of the insect, world smashed between their leaves. This part of the course was usually lightened by several single combats between Biddy and refractory students. — "When the fights were over, Biddy gave out the number of a page, and then we all read aloud what we could — or what we couldn'1 — in a frightful chorus ; Biddy leading with a high shrill monotonous voice, and none of us having the least notion what we were read- ing about. When this horrible din had lasted a certain time, it mechanically awoke Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt, who staggered at a boy and fortuitously pulled his ears. This was understood to ter- minate th for the evening, and we emerged Into fhe air with shrieks of intellectual victory. It is fair to remark that there was no prohibition against any pupil's entertaining himself with a slate or even with the ink (when there was any,) but that it was to pursue that branch of study in the winter season, on account of the little general shop in which i he classes were holden — and which was also Mr. Wopsle's great aunt's sitting-room and bedchamber — being but faintly illuminated through the a| e low-spirited dip-candle and no snuffi It appeared to me that it would take time to become uncommon under these cir mustances : nevertheless, I resolved to try it, and that very evening Biddy entered on our special agreement, by im- parting some information from her little catalogue of Fsices, the head of moist sugar, and lending me, to copy at home, a Ger- man text or old English 1> which she had imitated from the head CO GREAT EXPECTATIONS. ine: of some newspaper, and which I supposed, until she told me what it was, to be a design for a buckle. Of course there was a public house in the village, and of course Joe liked sometimes to smoke his pipe there. I had received strict orders from my sister to call for him at the Three Jolly- Barge- men, that evening, on my way from school, and bring him home at my peril. To the Vhree Jolly Bargemen, therefore, 1 directed my steps. There was a bar at the Jolly Bargemen, with some alarmingly long chalk scores in it on the wall at the side of the door, which eeinetl to me to be never paid off. They had been there ever since 1 could remember, and had grown more than I had. But there was a quantity of chalk about our country, and perhaps the people neglected no opportunity of turning it to account. it being Saturday night, 1 found the landlord looking rather grimly at these records ; but as my business was with Joe and not with him, I merely wished hin* good evening, and passed into the * common room at I he end of the passage, where there was a bright large kitchen fire, and where Joe was smoking his pipe in company with Mr. Wopsle and a stranger. Joe greeted me, as usual, with " Halloa, Pip, old chap : ; ' and the moment he said that, the stian- I iirned his head and looked at me. He was a secret-looking man whom I bad never seen before. — His head was all on one side, and one of his eyes was half shut up, as if he were making aim at, something with an invisible gun. He had a pipe in his mouth, and he took it out, and, after slowly blow- ing all his smoke away and looking hard at, me all the time, nod- tied. So I nodded, and then henodded again, and made room qii the settle beside him that I might sit down there. lint as I was used to sit beside Joe whenever I entered that ol' resort. 1 said " No, thank you, .Sir,'' and fell into the space •toe made for me on the opposite settle. The strange man, after glancing at Joe, and seeing that his attention was otherwise en- gaged, nodded to me again when I had taken my seat, and then rubbed his leg in a very odd way, as it struck me. " You was saying," said the strange man, turning to Joe, " that you was a blacksmith." " "\ es, I said it, you know," said Joe. "What '11 you drink, Mr. ? You didn't mention your name, by-the-i Joe mentioned it now, and the strange man called him by it. — " What']] you drink, Mr.Gargery ? At my expense \ To top up with ? " •' Well, ".said Joe, "-to tell you The truth, 1 ain't much in the habit of drinking at anybody's expense but my " Habit 1 No," returned the stranger. " but once and away, and GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 61 on a Saturday night too. Come ? Put a name to it, Mr. Gar- gery." " I wouldn't wish to be stifl company," said Joe. " Rum." " Rum," repeated the stranger. " And will the other gentle- man originate a sentiment I " " Rum," said Mr. Wopsle. " Three rums here ! " cried the stranger, calling to the landlord. " Glasses round ! " "Tins other gentleman," observed Joe, .by way of introducing Mr. Wopsle, " is a gentleman that you would like to hear give ii out. Our clerk at church." '■ Aha ! " said the stranger quickly, and cooking hi me. "The lonely church, right out on the marshes, with the graves round it! " " That's it," said doe. The stranger, with a comfortable kind of grunt over his pipe, put his legs up on the settle that he ltad all to himself, lie wore a flapping broad-brimmed traveler's hat, and under it a handker- chief lied over his head in the manner of a cap; so that he showed no diair. As he looked at the lire, 1 thought 1 saw a cunning expression, followed by a half laugh, come into his face. " I am not acquainted with this country, gentlemen, but it seems a solitary country toward l.he river." " Most marshes is solitary*" said Joe. "Nq doubt, no doubt. Do you find any gipsies now, or tramps, or vagrants of any sort out on those lowlands '. " " No," said Joe; "none hut a runaway convict now and then. And we don't find them easy. Eh, Mr. "Wopsle i " Mr. Wopsle, with a majestic remembrance A' old discomfiture, assented ; but not warmly. " Seems you have been out after such 1 '" asked the stranger. " Once," returned >Joe. "Not that we wanted to lake them, you understand ; we went out as lookers-on; me, and Mr. Wopsle, and Rip. Didn't us, Rip .' " " Yes, Joe." The stranger looked at me again — still cocking his eye, as if he were expressly talcing aim at me with his invisible gun — and said, " He's a likely young parcel of bones that. What is it you call him ? " " Pip," said Joe. " Christened Rip ? " '• No, not christened Rip." " Surnamed Rip '? " ''No," said Joe, "it's a kind of a family -name what he gave himself when a infant, and is called by." " Son of yours I " "Weil," said Joe, meditatively — not, of oourse, that, it oould bt 62 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. in anywise necessary to consider about it, but because it was the way at the Jolly Bargemen to seem to consider deeply about every thing that was discussed over pipes ; " well no — no. No he ain't." " Nevvy % " said the strange man. " Well," said Joe, with the same appearance of profound cogita- tion, " he is not — no, not to deceive you, he is not — my nevvy." """What the Blue Blazes is he 1 " asked the stranger — which ap- peared to me to he an inquiry of unnecessary strength. Mr. Wopsle struck in upon that ; as one who knew all about re- lationships, having professional occasion to bear in mind what fe- male relations a man might not marry ; and expounded the tics between me and Joe. Having his hand in, Mr. Wopsle introduced a most terrifically snarling passage from Richard the Third, and think lie had done quite enough to account for if when he added " — as the poet says." And here I may remark that when Mr. Wopsle referred to me, he considered it a necessary part of such reference to rumple my hair and poke it into my eyes. I cannot conceive why any body of his standing who visited at our house should always have put me through the same inflammatory process under similar circumstances. Yet 1 do not call to mind that I was ever in my earlier youth the subject of remark in our social family circle, but some large handed person took these ophthalmic steps to patronize me. All this while the strange man looked at nobody but me, and looked at me as if he were determined to have a .shot at me at last, and bring me down. Hut he said nothing after offering his Blue Blazes observation until the glasses of rum-and-watcr were brought ; and then he made his shot., and a most extraordinary was. It was not a verbal remark, but a proceeding in dumb-show, and was pointedly addressed to me. He stirred his mm -and--. pointedly at me. and he tasted his rum-and-watcr pointedly at. me. he stirred it and he tasted it, not wi h a spoon tha! brought to him, but with a file. He did this so that nol i saw the tile ; and when In- had done it he wiped ihe file and put it in a breast-pocket. I knew it to he Joe's tile, and I knew that he knew my convict the mom: nt I saw the instrument. I sat gazing at him, spell-bound. But be iiow reclined on his settle, taking very little notice of me, and talk- ing principally about turnips. There was a delicious sense of cleaning-up and making a quiet pause before going on in life afresh, in our village on Saturday nights, which stimulated Joe to dare to stay out half an hour longeron Saturdays- than at other times. The half-hour and the ) um-and-water running out together, Joe got up to go, and took me by the hand. " Stop half a moment, Mr. Gargery," said the strange man. "I GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 63 think I've gol a bright new shilling somewhere in my pocket, ami if 1 have the boy shall have it." He looked it out from a handful of small change, folded it in some crumpled [taper, and gave il to me. " Yours," said he. — " Mind ! your own." 1 thanked him, staring at him far beyond the hounds of good manners, and holding li.^lit to doe. He gave Joe good-night, and he gave 31r. Wopsle good -night (who went out with us), and he gave me only a look with his aiming eye — no, not a look, for he shut it up, bul wonders may he done with an eye by hiding it. On the way home, if 1 had been in a humor for talking, the talk must have been all on my side, for .Mr. Wopsle parted from us at the door of the dolly Bargemen, and doe went all the way homo with his mouth wide open, to rinse the rum out with as much ali- as possible. But I was in a manner stupefied by this turning up of my old misdeed and old acquaintance, and could think of noth- ing else. My sister was not in a very had temper when we presented our- selves in the kitchen, and dot' was encouraged by that unusual cir- cumstance to tell her about 1 he bright shilling. "A had 'un, I'll he hound," said Mrs. Joe, triumphantly, " ot he wouldn't ave given it. to the hoy ! Let's look at it." 1 took it out of the paper, and it proved to he a good one. "But what's this I " said Mrs. Joe, throwing down the shilling and catch- ing up the paper. " Two One-round notes ! " Nothing less than two fat sweltering one-pound notes, that seemed to have been on terms of the warmest intimacy with all the cat- tle-markets in the county. 8 oe caught up his hat again, and run with them to the Jolly Bargemen, to restore them to their owner. While he was gone, 1 sat down on my usual stool and looked va- cantly at. my sister, feeling pretty sure that tiie man would not be there. ^Presently Joe came hack, saying that the man was gone, hut he, Joe, had left word at the Three Jolly Bargemen concern- ing the notes. Then my sister sealed them up in a piece of paper, iiit them under some dried rose-leaves in an ornamental tea- li it on the lop of a press in the .state parlor.' There they remained, a night-mare to me, many and many a night ami day. i had sadly broken sleep when 1 gol to bed, through thinking of the strong man taking aim at me with his invisible gun, and of the guiltily-coarse and common thing it was to lie on secret* terms of conspiracy with convicts — a feature in my low career thai i previously forgotten. 1 was haunted by the file too. A dread pos- d me that, when 1 least expected it, the tile would reappear. — axed myself to sleep by thinking of Miss Hayisham's, next Wednesday ; and in my steep 1 saw the file coming at me out of a door, without seeing who held it, and I screamed myself awake. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. CHAPTER XL At the appointed time I returned to Miss Havisham's, and my hesitating ring- at the gate brought out Estella. She locked it af- ter admitting me, as she had done before, and again preceded me into the dark passage where her candle stood. She took, no notice of me until she had the candle in her hand, when she looked over her shoulder, superciliously saying, "You are to come this way to- day," and took me to quite another part of the house. The passage was a long one, and seemed to pervade the whole re basemen! of the Manor House. We traversed hut one side of the square, however, and at the end of it she slopped and put her candle down and opened a door. Here the daylight reappear- ed, and I found myself in a small paved court-yard, the opposite side of which was formed by a detached dwelling-house, that looked as if it had once belonged to the manager or head clerk of the ex- tinct brewery. There was a clock in the outer wall of this house. Like the clock in Miss Havisham's room, and like Miss Havisham's watch, it had stopped at twenty minutes to nine. We went in at the door which stood open, and into a gloomy room with a low ceiling on the ground-floor at the back. There was some company, in the room, and Estella said to me, as she joined it, " You are to go and stand there, boy, till you are wanted." — " There " being the window, I crossed to it, and stood " there " in a very uncomfortable state of mind, looking out. It opened to the ground, and looked into a most miserable cor- ner of the neglected garden, upon a rank ruin of cabbage stalks, •and one box-tree that bad been clipped round long ago, like a pud- ding, and had a new growth at the top of it out of shape and of a different color, as if that part of the pudding had stuck to the sauce-pan and got burned. This was my homely thought, as I contemplated the box-tree. There hacfheen some light snow over night, and it lay-nowhere else to my knowledge ; but it had not quite melted from the cold shadow of this bit of garden, and the wind caught it up in lb tie eddies and threw it at the window, as i it pelted me for coming there. 1 divined that my coming had stopped conversation in the room, and that its other occupants were looking at me : I could see nothing of the room except the shining of die fire in the window- glass, but I stiffened in all my joints with the consciousness that 1 was under close inspection. There were three ladies in the room', and one gentleman. Be- fore I had been standing at the window five minutes they some- # EAT 1 EXPECTATIONS. 65 hoV-conveyed to me that they were all toadies and humbugs, that each of them pretended not to know that the others were toadies and' humbugs, because the admission that he or she did know it would have made him or her out to be a toady and hum- bug. They all had a listless and dreary air of wafting somebody's pleasure, and the most talkative of the ladies had to speak rigidly to represa.a yawn. This lady, whose name was I lamilla, very much reminded me of my sister, with the difference h; I ilder and (as I found when I caught sight of her) of a blunt- isl of features, indeed, when I knew er, I began to think it was a, mercy she had any* features at all, so 'Very blank and high wis the dead wall of her face. • " Poor dear- oul !" said this lady, with an abruptness of man- ner quite my sister's. " Nobody's enemy but his own !" "It would be much more, commendable to hi »dy else's enemy," said the gentleman ; " far more natural." " Cousfc John," observed another lady, "wean to loy< neighbor." ".Sarah Pocket," returned. Cousin John, " if a man is hot his own neighbor, who is :" Miss Packet laughed, and Camilla laughed, and said (checking a yawn), "The idea!" But I thought they seemed to ttiii rather a good idea too. The other lady, who had not sp said, gravely and emphatically " Vcnj true!" " Poor soul !" Camilla presently went on (1 knew they had all been looking at me in the mean time), " he is so very strai Would anyone believe, that when Tom's wife died, he actually could not be induced to see the importance of the children s having the deepest oftrimraings to their mourning ? ' Good Lent !' says he, ' Camilla, what can it signify so long as the p things are in black C So like Matthew! The idea!" "Good points in him ; good points in him!" said Cousin John; " Heaven forbid I should deny good points in him ! but he o had, and never will have, any sense of the proprieties." " You know I was obliged," said Camilla — " I was obliged to be firm. I said, 'It will not do for the credit of the family.' I told him that, without deep trimmings, the family was disgraced. 1 cried about it from breakfast till dinner. 1 injured my digest And at last he flung out in his violent way, and said with a D, ' Then do*as you like ! ' Thank Goodness it will always a con- solation to me to know that 1 instantly went out in a pouring rain and bought the things." " He paid for them, did he not ?" asked Estella. " It's not the question, my dear child, who paid for them," re- turned Camilla; " / bought them. And I shall often think of that with peace when L wake up in the night." 5 66 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. # The ringipg of a distant bell, combined with the echoing of smne cry or call along the passage by which I had come, interrupted the conversation, and caused Estella to say to me, " Now, boy !" On my turning round, they all looked at me with the utmost contempt,* and, as I went out, I heard Sarah Pocket say, " Well ! I am sure! What next?" and Camilla added, with indignation, "Was there ever such a fancy 1 The i — de — a!" As we were going with our candle along the dark passage, Es- tella stopped all of a sudden, and facing round said, in her taunt- ing manner, with her face quite close to mine, " Well ?" " Well, Miss?" I answered, almost falling over her, and check- ing myself. She stood looking at me, and of course, I stood looking at heiv " Am I pretty ?" " Yes ; I think you are very pretty." " Ami insulting ?" • "'Not so much as you were last time," said I. " Not so much so!" «| No," She tired when she asked the last question, and she slapped my face with such force as she had when I answered it. " Now ?" said she, " you little coarse monster, what do you think of me now?" " 1 shall not tell you." " .Because you are going'to tell up stairs. Is that.it ?" " No," said I, " that's not it " " Why don't you cry again, you little wretch ?" " Because I'll never cry for you again," said I. Which was, I suppose, as false a declaration as ever was made ; for 1 was in- wardly crying for her them and I kuow what I know of the pain she cost me afterward. We went on our way up stairs after this episode ; and, as we were going up, we met a gentleman groping his way down. " Who have we here ?" asked the gentleman, stopping and look-. ing at me. "A boy," said Estella. He was a burly man of an exceedingly dark complexion, with an exceedingly large head. and a correspondingly large hand. He took my chin in his large hand and turned up my face to have a look at me by the light of the candle. He was prematurely bald on the top of his head, and had bushy black eyebrows that wouldn't lie down, but stood up bristling. His eyes were set very deep in his head, and were disagreeably sharp and suspicious. He had a very large watch-chain, and very Strong black dots where his heard and whiskers would have been if he had let them. He was no- thing to ise, and I could have" had no foresight than that he ever GIVE AT EXPECTATION^. 67 ■would be any tiling to me, but it happened that 1 bad this oppor- tu ,ity iif observing him well: " Boy of 1 he neighborhood ? Hey V said he. "Yes, Sir," said 1. " How do you coine here V "Miss Havisham sen) for me, Sir," I explained. " Well ! Behave yourself. 1 have a pretty large experience boys, and you're a bad set of fellows. Now mind!*' said he, biting the side of his great forefinger as he frowned at me, "you behave yourself!" With these words lie released me — which J was glad of, for his hand smelled of scented soap — and went his waydown stairs. 1 wohdereg whether he could be a doctor; but no, I thought he couldn't be a doctor, or he would have a quieter and more per- suasive manner. There was not much time to consider the sub for we were soon in Miss Havisham's room, where she and every thing else were just as 1 had left them. Estella left me standing near the doOr, and 1 stood there until Miss Havisham east her eyes upon me from the dressing-table. •• So !" she said, without being startled or surprised; "the days have worn away, have t! "Yes, ma'am. To-day is — " "There, there, there!" with the impatient movement of her fingers. " 1 don't want to know. Are you ready-to play .'" 1 was obliged to answer in some confusion, " 1 don't think I am, ma'am." " Not at cards again?' 1 she demanded, with a searching look. " Yes, ma'am ; 1 could do that if I was wanted," '" Siiffee this house strikes you old and grave, boy," said Miss Havisham, impatiently, "and you are unwilling to play, are yon willing to work, .'" 1 could answer this inquiry with a better heart than. I bad been all'.' to find for the other question, and 1 said 1 was quite williug. jfTheij go into that opposite room," said she, pointing at the door behind hie with her withered hand, "and wait there till I come." I crossed the stair-case landing, and entered the room she indi- cated. From that room, too, the daylight was completely ex- cluded, and it had an airless smell that was oppressive. A fire had been lately kindled in the damp old-fashioued grate, and it was more disposed to go out than to burn up, and' the reluctant. smoke which hung in the room seemed colder than the clearer air — like our own marsh mist. Certain wintry branches of candles on the high chimney-piece faintly lighted the chamber': or it would be more expressive to say. faintly disturbed and troubled its darkness. It was spacious, and I dare say had once been hand- some, but every discernible thing in it was covered with dust and 68 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. mould and dropping to pieces. The most prominent object was a long table with a table-cloth spread on it, as if a feast had been in preparation when the house and the clocks all stopped together. An epergne or centre-piece of some kind was in the middle of this cloth ; it was so heavily overhung with cobwebs that its form was quite undistinguishable, and as I looked along the yellow expanse out of which I remember its seeming to grow like a black fungus, I saw speckled-legged spiders with blotchy bodies running home to it, and running out from it, as if some circumstance of the greatest public importance had just transpired in the spider com- munity. I heard the mice too rattling behind the panels, as if the same occurrence were important to their interests. But the black ties took no notice of the agitation, and groped about the hearth in a ponderous elderly way, as if they were short-sighted and hard of hearing and not on terms with one another. These crawling things had fascinated my attention and- 1 was watching them from a distance, when Miss liavisham laid a hand upon my shoulder. In her other hand she had a crutch headed stic' on which she leaned, and' she-looked like the Witch of the place " This," said she pointing to the long table with her stick, "is where I will he laid when I am dead. They shall come and look at me here." "With some vague misgiving that she might get upon the table then 'and these ami die ai ►once, the complete realization of the ghastly waxwork at the Fair, 1 shrank under her touch. "What do you think that is.'" she asked me, again pom; with her stick ; " that, where those cobwebs are ? " \ ", I can t guess what it is, ma'ai '• li's a greal '".lice. A bride-cake. Mine !" She looked ail round the room in a glaring manner, and then said, leaning on me while her hand twitched my shoulder, "Come, ci 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 n cordingly I started and she lean d upon my shoulder, and we went away at a race that might have been an imitation (founded on my first im- pulse under that roof) of Mr. Pumblechook's chaise-cart. She was nfct physically strong, and after a little time she said " Slower ! " Still we went at au 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 hel- ms!. After awhile she said "Call Esfejla!" so I went out on the landing and roared that name as 1 had done on the previous ©ecasion. Wbeji. her light appeared I returned t# GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 69 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 fell arufficiently discontented; but as she brought with her the three ladies and the gentleman whom T 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 shameful consciousness on my pari that they would think it was all my dojfhg. " Dear Miss Havisham," said Miss Sarah Pocket. "How well you look !" "I do not," returned Miss Havisham. " I am yellow skin and hone." Camilla brightened when Miss Pocket met with this rebuff; and she murmured, as she plaintively contemplated Miss Havisham, •■ I'oor dear soid ! Certainly not to be expected to look well, poor thing. The idea ! " •' And how are you 1 " 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 1 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 1 have habitually thought of you more in the night than I am quite equal to.' "Then don't think of me," returned 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 gillger 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 thihji with anxiety of those I love. If I could be less affectionate and sensitive 1 should have a better di- gestion and an iron set of nerves. 1 am sure 1 wish it could be so. Bui as to not thinking of you in the night — The idea!" llcv^ a burst of fears. * The Raymond referred to I understood to be the gentleman present, and him I understood to be Mr. Camilla. He came to the rescue ai this point, and said, in a consolatory and complimentary voice, " Camilla, my dear* it is well known that your family feel- ings are gradually undermining you to the extent of making one of your legs shorter than the othi " T am not aware," observed the grave lady whose voice T had 70 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. heard but once, " that to think of any person is to make a great claim upon that person, my dear." Miss Sarah Pocket, whom I now saw to be a little dry brown corrugated old woman, with a small face that might have hvm made of walnut shells, and a large mouth like a cat's without the whiskers, supported, this position by saying, "No, indeed, mv dear. Hem ! " " Thinking is easy enough,"' said the grave lady. " What is easier, you know," assented Misy Sarah Pocket. " Oh yes, yes ! " cried Camilla, whose fermenting feelings appear-' e.d to rise from her legs to her bosom. " It's all very true !• It'a a weakness to be so affectionate, but I can't help it. No doubt my health would be much better if|it was otherwise, still I wouldn't change my disposition if 1 could. It's the cause of much sufl'en but it's a cons61at|on to know I possess it when 1 wake up in the night." Here another burst of feeling. Miss Ilavisham and I had never stopped all this tim ,-, but C going round and round the room, now brushing against the skirts of the visitors, and now grVirig them the whole, length of the dismal chamber. '/There's Matthew !" said Camilla. " Never mixing with my na- tural ties, never coming here to see how Miss Ilavisham is ! 1 have taken to the sofa with my stay-lace cut, and have lain there hours. insensible, with my head over the side, and my hair all down, and my feet 1 don't know where — " (" Much, higher than your head, my love," said Mr. Camilla.) " I have gone off into that state hours and hours on account of . Matthew's strange and inexplicable conduct, and nobody has thank- ed me." "Really I must say I should think not!" interposed the grave lady. ■ " You see, my dear." added Miss Sarah Pocket (a blandly vicious personage), " the question to put to yourself is, who did you ex- pect to thank you, my love I " " Without expecting any thanks, or any thing of the sort," re- sumed Camilla, " I have remained in that state, hours and hours, and Raymond is a witness of the extent to which I have choked, and what the total ineificacy of ginger has been, and I have been heard at the pianoforte-tuner's across the street, where the poor, mistaken children have even supposed it to»be pigeons cooing at a distance — and now to be told — " Here Camilla put her hand to her throat, and began to be quite chemical as to the formation of new combinations there. When this same Matthew was mentioned Miss Ilavisham stop- ped me and herself aud stood looking at the speaker. This change had a great influence in bringing Camilla's chemistry to a sudden end. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 71 | "Matthew will come and see. me at last," said Miss Hayisham, sternly, " when I am laid on that table. That will be his place — there,'*' striking the table With her stick, "at my he,ad! And yours will be there. And your husband's there. And Sarah Pock- et's there. And Georgiapa's there. Now you all know where to tike your stations when you come to feast ugon rite. And now go!" * At the mention of each name she had struck the table with her stick in a new place. She now said, " Walk me, walk me ! " and we went on again. "I suppose there is nothing to he done." exclaimed Camilla, "but comply and depart. [t'.s^omething*to have seen the object of one's love and duty for even so short a lime. 1 shall think (if it with a melancholy satisfaction when I wake up in the night. I wish Matthew could have that comfort, hut he sets it at defiance. I am determined not to make a display of my feelirfgs, but it's very hard to be told one wauls to feast on one's relations, and to be told to go. The bare idea ! ' Mr. Camilla interposing, as Mrs. Camilla laid her hand upon her heaving bosom,' that lady assumed an unnatural fortitude of man- ner which I supposed to be expressive of an intention to drop and choke when out of view, and kissing her hand to Miss llavisham, was escorted forth. Sarah Pocket and Georgian* contended who should remain last, but Sarah was too knowing to be outdone, and ambled round Georgiana with that artful slipperiness, that the lat- ter was obliged to take precedence. Sarah Pocket then made her separate effect of departing with " Bless you. Miss llavisham dear!" and with' a. smile of forgiving pity on her wainut-shell" countenance for the weaknesses obthe rest, While Kstella was away lighting them down, Miss llavisham stilt walked with her hand on' my shoulder, but more and more slowly. At last she. stopped .before the tire, and said, after mut- tering and looking at it some seconds : " This is my birthday, Pip." I was going to wish her many happy returns, when she lifted her stick. ' " I dou't suffer it to be spoken of. I don't suffer those who were here just now, or any otic, to speak of it. They come here on the day, but they dare not refer to it." | Of course I made no further effort to refer to it. " On this day of the year, long before you were born, this heap of decay," stabbing with her crutehed stick at the pile of cobwebs mi the table, but not touching it, "was brought here. It and I have worn away together. • The mice have gnawed at it, and sharp- er teeth than teeth of mice have gnawed at me." She held the head of her slick against her heart as she stood looking at the table ; she iu her once white dress, all yellow and 72 * QBEAT EXPECTATIONS. • withered ; the once white cloth all yellow and withered ; every thing around in a state to crumble under a touch. " When the ruin is complete," said she, with a ghastly look, " and when they lay me dead in my bride's dress on the bride's ta- ble — which shall be done, and which will be the finished curse upon him — so much the better if it is on this day ! " She stood looking at the table as if she stood looking at her own figure lying there. I remained quiet. Estella returned, and she too remained quiet. . It seemed to me that we continued thus for a long time. In the heavy air of the room, and the heavy dark- ness that brooded in its remoter corners, I even had an alarming fancy that Estella and I would presently begin to decay. At length, not coming out of her distraught state by degrees, but in an instant, Miss Haviskam said, " Let me see you two play cards ; why have you not begun 1 " With that, we returned to her room, and sat down as before ; I was beggared as before ; and again, as before, Miss Havisham watched. us all the time, directed my attention to Estella's beauty, and made me notice it the more by trying her jewels on Estella's breast and hair. Estella, for her part, likewise treated me as before; except that she did not condescend to speak. When we had played some half dozen games, a day was appointed for my return, and I was taken down into the yard to be fed in the former dog-like manner. There, I was again left to wander about as L liked. It is not much- to the purpose whether a gate iu that garden wall which I had scrambled up to peep over on the last occasion was, on that last occasion, open or shut. Enough that I saw no then, and that I saw one now. As it stood open, and as I knew that Estella had let the visitors out — for she bad returned with the Ireys in her hand — I strolled into the garden and strolled all over it. It was quite a wilderness, and there were old melon- frames and cucumber-frames in it, which seemed in their decline to havje produced a spontaneous growth of feeble attempts at pieces of old hats and boots, with now and then a weedy offshoot into the likene.-s of a battered sauce-pan. When I had exhausted the garden, and a green-house with noth- ing in it but a fallen down grape vine and some bottles, I found myself in the dismal corner upon which I had lqpked out of the window. -Never^questioning for a moment that the house was now empty, J looked in at another wndow, and found myself, to my great surprise, exchanging a broad stare with a. pale young gentle- man with red eyelids and very light hair. This pale young gentleman quickly disappeared, and reappeared beside me. He had been at his books when we played at cards Miss Ila\isham wordd look on, with a»miserly rel- ish of Estella's moods, whatever they were. And sometimes, when her moods were so many and so contradictory of one another, that I was puzzled wh.at to say or do, Miss Havisham would embrace her with lavish fondness, murmuring something in her ear that GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 77 sounded like "Break their hearts, my pride and hope, break then- hearts, and have no mercy ! " There was a song Jed used to hum fragments of at the forge, of which the burden was Old Clem. This was not a very cere- monious way of rendering homage to a patron saint ; but I believe Old Clem stood in that relation toward smiths. It was a song that imitated the measure of beating upon iron, and was a mere lyrical excuse -for the introduction of Old Clem's respected name. Thus, you were to hammer buys round — Old. Clem! With a thump and a sound — Old Clem ! Beat it out. beat it out — Old Clem! With a clink for the stout Old Clem! Blow the fire, blow the fire— Old Clem! Roaring dryer, soaring higher— Old Clem! One day. soon after the appearance of the ohair, Miss Havisham suddenly saying to me, with the impatient movement of her lingers, " There, there, there ! Sing ! " 1 was surprised into crooning this ditty as 1 pushed her over the floor. It happened so to catch her fancy, that she look it up in a low brooding voice as if she were singing in her sleep. After that it became customary with us to' have it as we moved about, and Est ell a would join in ; though the whole strain was so subdued, even when there were three of us. that it made less noise .in the grim old house than the lightest breath of wind. What could 1 become with these surroundings 'I How could my character fail to be influenced by them '. Is it to be wondered at if my thoughts were dazed, as my eyes were, when I came out in- to the natural light from the misty yellow rooms ! ^ Perhaps I might have told Joe about the pale young gentleman, *f I had not previously been betrayed into those enormous inven- tions to which I have confes^d. Under the circumstances, I felt that Joe could hardly fail tcTdiscern in the pale young gentleman an appropriate passenger to be put into the black velvet coach ; lh fore, 1 said nothing of him. Besides, that shrinking-. from having Miss Havisham and Estella discussed, which had come upon me in the beginning, grew much more potent as time went on. . 1 re- posed complete enfu'ence in no one but Biddy; but. 1 told poor Biddy everything. Why il came natural to me to do so, and why dj had a deep concern in everything I told her, I did not know then, though L think I know now. Shade of poor Biddy, forgive me ! Meanwhile oouuc in the kitchen at home, fraught witli almost Insupportable aggravation to my exasperated spirit. That ass, Pumblecbook, used often to come over of a night for kh< pjurpose of discussing my prospects with my sister; and 1 real- ly do believe (to this. hour with lass peflitence than 1 ought to feel), bese hands could have taken a linch-] his chaise- cart they would have done it. The miserable man was a man of that cauiiiMid stolidity of mind thai he could nut discuss my pros- 78 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. pects without having me before him — as it were, to operate upon — and he would drag me up from my stool (usually by' the collar) where I was quiet in a corner, and, standing me before the fire as if I was going to be cooked, would begin by saying, " Now, mum, here is this boy. Here is this boy which you brought up by hand. Hold up your head, boy, and be forever grateful unto them which so did do. Now, mum, with inspections to. this boy !" And then he would ruin pie my hair the wi#ng way — which, from my earliest remembrance, as .already hinted, I have in my soul denied the right of any fellow-creature to do — and would hold me before him by the sleeve; a spectacle of imbecility only to be equaled by himself. Then he and my sister would pair off in such nonsensical specu- lations about Miss Havisham, and about what she would do with me and for me, that I used to want — quite painfully — to burst in spiteful tears, to fly at Pumbleehook, and pommel him all over. In these dialogues my sister spoke of me as if she were morally wrenching one of my teeth out at every reference ; while Pumble- chfeOK himself, sell-constituted my patron, would sit supervising me with a depreciatory eye, like the architect of my fortunes who thought himself engaged, on a very unremunerative job. In these discussions Joe bore no part. But he was often talked at, while they were in progress, by reason of Mrs. Joe's perceiving that he was not favorable to my being taken from the forge. I was fully old enough now to be apprenticed to Joe; and when Joe sat with the poker on his knees, thoughtfully raking out the ashes between the lower bars, my sister would so distinctly construe that innocent action into opposition on his part, that she would dive af him, take the poker out of his bauds, shake him and put it away. There was a most irritating end to every one of these debates. All in a moment, with nothing to lead lip to it, my sister would stop herself in a yawn, and would swoop upon me, with " Come ! There's enough of you ! You get along to bed ; you've given trouble enough for one night, I hope!" As if I had besought them as a favor to bother my life out. Well ! We went on this way for a long time, and it seemed likely that we should continue to go on in .this way for a long time, when one day Miss Havisham stopped short as she and I were walking, she leaning on my shoulder; and said, with some dis- pleasure, " You are growing tall, Pip ! " I thought it best to hint, through the medium of a meditative look, that this might be occasioned by circumstances over which I had no control. Sue said no more at the time ; but she presently stopped and looked at me again ; and presently again ; and after that looked frowning and moody. On the next day of my attendance when GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 79 our usual exercise was over, and I bad landed her at her dressing- table, sfie staid' me with a movemenl ofher impatient fingers: " "Tell me the name again of that blacksmith of yours." "Joe Gargery, ma'am." " Meaning the master you were to be apprenticed to ?" " Yes. Miss llavisham." •' You had better be apprenticed at once. Would Gargery cdtne here with you. and bring your indentures, do you think ! " 1 I signified that I had no doubt he would take it as an honor to keel. '• Then let him come." " At any particular time, Miss llavisham ?" "There, there ! f know nothing about times. Let him come soon, and come along with you." When I got home at night, and delivered this message for Joe, my sister "went on the Ram-page," as Joe expressed it, in a more alarming degree than at any previous period. She asked me and Joe whether we supposed she was door mats under our feet, and how we dared to use her so, and what company we graciously thought she was fit for? When she had exhausted a torrent of such inquiries, she threw a candlestick at Joe, burst into a loud sobbing, got oiit the dust-pan — which was always a very bad sign — put on her coarse apron, and began cleaning up to a terrible ex- tent. Not satisfied with a dry cleaning, she took to a pail and scrubbing brush, and cleaned us out of house and home, so that we stobd shivering in the back-yard. It was ten o'clock at night be- fore we ventured to creep in again, and then she asked Joe why he hadn't married a Negress Slave at once I Joe ofFered no answer, poor fellow ! but stood feeling his whisker and looking dejectedly at me, as if he thought it really might have'been a heller sp lation. CHAPTER XIII. It was a trial to my feelings on the next day but one, to see Joe arraying himself in his Sunday clothes to accompany me to 3liss Etavisham's. However, as he thought his cotm-snit necessary to the occasion, it was nol for me lo tell him that he looked far better in his working dress ; the rather, because 1 knew he made himself so 'dreadfully Uncomfortable, entirely on my account, and that it was for me he pulled up his shin-collar so verj high behind that it made the hair on the crown of his head stand up like a tuft of : feather*. 80 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. At breakfast-time my sister declared her intention of going to town with us, and being left at Uncle Pumblechook's, and called for " when we had done with our fine ladies" — a way of putting the case, from which Joe appeared inclined to auger the worst. The forge was shut up for the day, and Joe inscribed in chalk upon the door (as it was his custom- to do on the very rare occasions when he was not at work) the monosyllable hout, accompanied by a sketch of an arrow supposed to be flying in the direction he had taken. We walked to town, my sister leading the way in a very large beaver bonnet, and carrying a basket like the Great Seal of England in plaited straw, a pair of pattens, -and an umbrella, though it was a One bright day. I am not quite clear whether these articles were ca'rried penitentially or ostentatiously ; but I rather think they were displayed as articles of property — much as Cleopatra, or any other sovereign lady on the Ram-page, might exhibit her wealth in a pageant or procession. When we came to Pumblechook's my sister bounced in and left us. . x\s it was almost noon Joe and I held straight on to Miss' Havisham's house. Estella opened the gate as usual, and the mo- ment site appeared Joe took his hat off and stood weighing it by the brim in both his hands — as if he had some urgent reason in bis mind for being particular to half a quarter of an ounce. Estella took no notice of either of us, but led us the way that I knew so well. 1 followed next to her, and Joe came last. When I looked back at Joe in the long passage be was still weighiug his hat with the greatest care, and was coming after us in long strides on the tip of his toes. Estella told me we were both to go in, so I took Joe by the coat- cuff and conducted him into Miss Havisham's presence. She was id at her dressing-table, and looked round at us immediately. " Oh ! " said she to Joe. •" You are the husband of the sister of this boy?" I could hardly have imagined dear old Joe looking so unlike him- self or so like some extraordinary bird ; standmg, as he did, speech- less, with his tuft of feathers ruffled, and his mouth open, as if be • wanted a worm. " You are the husband," repeated Miss Havisham, " of the sis- ter of this boy?" It was very .aggravating, but throughout the interview Joe per- sislcd in addressing Me instead of Miss Havisham. " Which I meantersay, Pip," Joe now observed in a manner that was at oncet expressive of forcible argumentation, strict confidence, and great ''politeness, "as I hup and married your sister, and I ; were at the.time what you might call (if you was any ways inclined) a single man." GREAT EXPECTATIONS 81 "Well!" said Miss Havisham. "And you have reared bov, with the intention of taking him fur your apprentice; is that so.' Mr. Qai -cry'.'" " You know, Pip," replied Joe, "as you and me were friends, and it were look'd for'ard to betwixt us, as being eal ted to lead to larks. Not but what, Pip, if you had ever made objections to the business — such as its being open to black and sul, 'or such-like — not but what they would have been attended to ; don't you see,/'' " Has the hoy,*' said Miss Havisham, "ever made any objec- tion ? Does he like the Jra'di " Which it is well beknowh to yourself, Pip," returned J strengthening his former mixture vi' argumentation, confid and politeness, "that it were the wish of your own hart." (I saw the idea suddenly break upon him that he would adapt.his epitaph to the ocoasion, before he went on to say) " And there were no in- jection on your part, and, Pip, it were the great wish of your hart!" It was quite in vain for me tq endeavor to make him sensible thai he ought to. speak to Miss Havisham. The more I made, faces and gestures to him to do it, the more confidential, argumen tative, and polite he persisted in being to Me. "Have you brought his indentures with you V asked Havisham. " Well, Pip, you know." replied Joe, as if that were a little un- liable, "you yourself see me put 'em in my 'at, and therefore you know as they are here." Willi which he took them out. and I to Miss Havisham, but to me. I am afraid I was ashamed of the dear, good fellow — I know I was asbatied of him — when I saw that Estella stood at the back of Miss HavishahYs chair, and that her eyes laughed mischievously. I took the in- ' dentures out of his hand and gave them to Miss Havishj " You expected,'.' said Miss Plavisham.as she looked them over. •• no premium with the hoy ?" ".foe!"-: remonstrated, for he made no answer at all.' "Why don't yon — " "Pip," returned Joe, cutting me short as if he were. hurt, " which I meanterpay that were not a question requiring a answer betwixt yourself and me, and which you know the answer to be full well No, You know it to be No, Pip, and wherefore should I ay i! f Miss Havisham glanced at him as if she understood what he really was, i etter than I bad thought possible, seeing what he was there; and *ook up a Utile bag from the tahle beside her. " Pip has earned a premium here," she said, "and here There are iive-and-Lwenty guineas in this bag. Uive it to your master, Pip." 6 88 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. As if he were absolutely out of his mind with the wonder awak- ened in him by her strange figure and the strange room, Joe, even at this pass, persisted in addressing me. •" This is very liberal on your parr, Pip, " ; said Joe, "and it is as such received and grateful welcome, though never looked for, far nor near nor nowheres. And now. old chap," said Joe, con- veying to me a sensation, first of burning and I hen of freezing, for I felt as if that familiar expression were applied to Miss Havisli "and now, old chap,''may we do our duty ! May you and rri our duty, both on us by one and another, and by them which your liberal present — have — conweyed — to be — for the satisfaction of mind — of — them as never — " here Joe showed that he felt he had fallen into frightful difficulties, until be triumphantly rescued him- self with the words, "and from myself far he it!" These words had such a round and convincing sound to him that he said them twice. '•Hood by, Pip!" said Miss Havisham. "Lei them out, Estella." "Am 1 to come again, Miss Havisham V 1 asked. ">,'o Gargery is your master now. Gargery! One word !" Thus calling him back as I went out of the door, I heard bee say to Joe in a distinct emphatic voice, "The hoy has been a godd, boy here, and that is his reward. Of course, as an honest man, you will expecl no oilier and no more." How Joegol out iii' the room I have never been able to deter- mine:, but 1 know that when he did get out he was insanely pro- ceeding up stairs instead of coming down, and was deaf to all re- monstrances until I went, after him and laid hold of him. In an- other minute we were outside the gate, and it was locked, and Estella was*gone When we stood in the daylight alone again, Joe backed up against a. wall, and said to me, ••Astonishing!" And theH remained so long, saying "Astonishing!" at intervals, so often, that 1 began to think his senses were never coming back. At length he prolonged his remark into "Pip. I do assure you that this is as T,>\-ish ng !" and so, by degrees, became conversational and able to walk away. 1 have reason to think that Joe's intellects were brightened by the encounter they had passed through, and that on our waytopum- blechook's he invented a subtle and deep design. My reason is to be found in what took place in Mr. Pumblechook's parlor : where, on our presenting ourselves, my sister sat in conference with that ted seedsman. •' We'd ?" cried my sUer, add ' i at once. " And what's hv.pemd to you? I wonder you condescend to come back to such poor society as this, I am sure 1 do !" " Miss Havisham," said Joe, with a fixed look at me, like an GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 63 effort of .remembrance, •• made if wery partiblvler that we should give her — \vre it. compliments or respect's; Pip?" " Compliments," I said. " Which that ^ere my own belief,' - answered Joe — "her com- pliment- .i. Gargefy." " $luch good, they'll do me f" observed my sister ; but rather gratified, too'. \nd wishing," pursued doe, with anotffler fixed look at me, like' another e tembrance, "that the state of Miss Havi- shaui'selth were sitch as would have — alloVed, WereiJ, Pip?" '■ ( >f her having the pleasure." I added. " ( >f ladies' company," said Joe. And drew a long breath. " \\ ell ! "cried my sister, with 1 a mollified glapceatMr. Pum- bleehook. " She might have had the politeness to send that mes- sage at first, but it's better late than never. And what did she give young Kantipple here '." " She giv' him," said Joe, "nothing." .Airs, doe was going to break out, but Joe went on. " What she giv'," said Joe, '-she giv' to his friends. ' And by ids friends.' were he;- explanation, ' 1 mean into the hands of his sister. Mrs. J. Gargery.' Them were her words; « Mrs? J. Gar- gery.' She mayn't have know'd," added Joe, with an appear- ance of reflection, " whether i! were Joe, or Jorge." My sister looked at Pumblechook, who smoothed the elbows of his wooden arm-chair, and nodded at her and atihe fire, as if he had known ail about it beforehand. "And how much have you got?" asked my sister, laughing. Positively laughing! " What would present company say to ten pound?" demanded "They'd say," returned my sister, curtly, " pretty well. Not too much, but pretty well." " It's more than that, then," said Joe. That fearful Impostor, Pumblechook, immediately nodded, and said, as he rubbed the arms of his chair: "It's more than that, mum." " Why, you don't, mean to say — " began my sister. "Yes, I dp, mum," said Pumblechook; "but wait a bit. Go on, Joseph. Good in you ! Goon!" "What would present company say," proceeded Joe, "to twenty pound ?" " Handsome would be the word," returned my sister. " Well, then," said Joe, "it's more than twenty pound." That abject Hypocri:c, Pumblechook, nodded again, aud said, with a patronizing laugh, " It's more than that, mum. ( again ! Follow her up, Joseph !" 9H GREAT EXPECTATIONS. " Then, to make an end of it,'' said J oe, delightedly, banding the bag to my sister; "it's five-and-t wenty pound." " ll's five-and-twenty pound, mum," echoed the basest of swin- dlers, Pumblechook, rising to shake hands with her; "and it sim in ore than your merits (as I said when my opinion was asked), and I wish you joy of the money !" If the villain had stopped here his case would have been suffi- ciently awful, but he blackened his gujlt by proceeding to take me into custody, with a right of patronage i ; i> former crimin- ality far behind.! " Now you see, Joseph and wife," said Pumclcchook, as he took me by the arm above the elbow, " I am one of them that always go right through with what, they've begun. This boy nmst'be bound out of hand. That's my way. Bound out of hand." ■'Goodness knows. Uncle Purohlecho'ok,'? said my sister (grasp- ' ing the money),; "we're deeply beholden to ymi." "Never mind me, mum," returned that diabolical corn-chandler. "A pleasure's a pleasure all the world over. But this boy, you know ; we must have him bound. 1 said I'd see lo i1 — to tell yon the truth." The Justices were sitting in the Town Hall near at hand, and we at once went over to have me bound apprentice to Joe in the Magisterial presence. I say we went over, but 1 was pushed over by Pumblechook, exactly as if I had that moment picked a pocket or fired a rick; indeed it was the general impression in Court thai I had been taken red-handed, for, as Pumblechook shoved me be- fore him through the crowd, I heard some people say, " What's he done?" and others;*' He's a young 'un too, but looks- bad, don't he 2 " One person of mild and benevolent aspect even gave me a tract ornamented with a woodcut of a malevolent young man in a ; erfect sausage-shop of fetters, and entitled, To &k RJSAD i.\ mv Ckll. The Hall was a queer place, 1 thought, with higher pews in it than a church — and with people hanging over the pews looking on — and with mighty Justices (one with a powdered head) leaning back in chairs, with lidded arms, or taking snuff, or going to sleep, or writing, or reading the newspapers — and with some shining black port rails on, the walls, which my unartistic eye regarded as a com- position of hardbake and sticking-plaster. Here, in a corner, my indentures were duly signed and attested, and I was " bound;" Mr. Pumblechook holding me all the while as if we had looked in on our way lo the scaffold to have those little preliminaries disposed of. When we bad come out again, and had got rid of the boys who been put into great spirits by the expectation of seeing me publicly tortured, and who were much disappointed to find that my &» wins* wane nifew4y raiding sound uia, ww want back to Puoible' GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 85 (•hook's. And there my sister became so excited by the twenty- five guineas, that nothjng would serve her I nit we nuisi haVea din- ner out of that windfall al the Blue Hoar, and that Punibleejiook must go over in his ehais|-c*ar1 . the Babbles. and Mr. Wopsle. l! was agreed to he done; and a most melaifclfoly day 1 passed. For it inscrutably appeared to stand to reason, in the minds of the whole eoinpany. that 1 was an pxci'e*scence on the entertainment. And io make il worse, they' all asked me from time, to time— in short, whenever they had nothing "else to do — why I didn't enjoy mjself. And wlmi could I possibly do then but say 1 was enjoy- ing myself — when 1 was However, they were growVi up and had their own way, and they made the most of it. That swindling Pumblech'oolt, exalted into the heneliciciit contriver of the whole occasion, actually took the top of the table; and, when he addressed them on the subject of . my being hound, and fiendishly congratulated them on my being liable to imprisonment if 1 played at cards, drank strong- liquors, kept late heurs or had company, or indulged in other vagaries which form of my indentures appeared to contemplate a's next to in- evitable, he piaeed me standing on a chair beside him io illustrate his remarks.' My only other remembrances of the great festival are, that they wouldn't lei me go io sleep, hut whenever they saw me dropping off, woke me up and told me to enjoy myself. That, rather late in the evening Mr. Wopsle gave us Collin's Ode, and threw his blood- stain'd sword in thunder down with such effect that a waiter came in and said: ' umercials underneath sent tip their compli- ment^ and it wasn't the Tumbler's Arms." That they were all in excellent spirits, on the road home, and sang 0. Lady Fair! Mr. Wopsle taking the bass, and asserting with a tremendously strong voice (in reply to the inquisitive bore who leads that piece of mu- ni amosl impertinent manner, by wanting to know allabou cry body's private affairs), ihat //rwas the man with his white locks flowing, and that he was, upon the whole, the weakesl pilgrim go- ing. Finally, 1 remember that when I go1 into my little bedroom I was truly wretched, and had a strong conviction on me that 1 should never like Joe's trade. 1 had liked it bnoe, hut QHCB was not now. 86 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. CHAPTER XIV. It is a most; miserable thing to feel ashamed of home. There may be black ingratitude in the thing, and the punishineirfc ma retributive and well deserved; but that it is a miserable tiling • 1 can testify. Home had never been a very pleasant place to me, because of lister's temper. But Joe bad sanctified it, and I believed in had believed in the best parlor as the must elegant saloon; I had believed in the front door as a mysterious portal of the Tom- State whose solemn opening was attended with a sacrifice. . or roast fowls; I had believed in the kitchen as a chaste though not rifagnificeaot apartment; I bad believed in the forge as' 'the glowing read to manhood and independence. Within a single year all this was changed. Now it was all coarse and ooro'mon, and I would not have Miss Havisham and Estella see it enany account. How much of my ungracious condition of mind may have been my own fault, how much Miss Havisham's, how much my sister's, is now of no moment to me or to any one. The change was made in me; the thing was done. Well or ill done, excusably or inex- ably, it was done. Oi.ce it had seemed to me that when I should' at last roll up my shirt-sleeves and go into the fdrge, Joe's 'prentice, 1 should be guished and happy. Now the reality was in my hold, I only felt that I was dusty with the dust of small coal, and that 1 had a weight upon my daily remembrance to which the anvil was a featheri There have, been occasions in my later life (I suppose as in most lives) when I have felt for a time as if a thick curtain had fallen on all its interest and romance, to shut me out from any thing save dull endurance any more. Never has that curtain dropped so heavy and blank as when my way in life lay stretched out straight before me through the newly-entered road of appren- ticeship to Joe. I remember that at a later period of my " time " I used to stand about the church-yard on Sunday evenings when night was falling, comparing my own perspective with' the windy marsh view, and making out some likeness between them by thinking how flat and low both were, and how on both there came an unknown way and • a dark mist and then the sea. I was quite as dejected on the . first working-day of my apprenticeship as in that after-time ; but I am glad to know that I never 'breathed a murmur to Joe while GHEAT EXPECTATIONS. 87 my* indentures lasted. It is abqui (be only tiling I am glad'to know of myself in that connection. or, though it includes ■folia! 1 proceed to add, all the merit of what 1 proceed to add v nol because 1 was faith- fid, but because doe was faithful, that 1 never ion away and went tor a, soldier ov a Salter. It was not because I had a strong sense of the virtus of industry,., but because doe had a strong sense of tie virtue of industry, that 1 worked with toler against tlie grain. It is not possible to know bow far tile of any amiable honcstdicarfed duty-doing man dies oi to the world : but it is very possible to know bow it has toucfiqd one's self in going by, and I know right well thai any good that intermixed itself witb my appRentiqeship came of plain contented ijip not of restlessly aspiring discontented me. Wbat 1 wanted who can say.? How can J say when I never knew I "What I dreaded was, that in some unlucky hour I, being at my grimiest and commonest, should lift up my eyes and see Es- tella looking in at one of the wooden windows of the f >rge. 1 was haunted by the fear that 'she would, sooner or later, find mo out, wilb a black face and hands, doing the coarest part of my \ and' would cad! over me and despise me. Often after dark when I was pulling the bellow* for doe and we were singing Old Clem, and when the thought how we nsed to sing it at Miss Ilavisham's Would seem to show me Estella's face in the lire with her pretty hair fluttering in the wind and her eyes scorning me — often at such a time I would took toward those pannels, of black night in the wall which the wooden windows then were, and would fancy that 1 saw her just drawing her face away, and would believe that she had come at last. After that, when we went info Slipper, the place and the meal would have a more homely look than ever, and I would feel more ashamed of home than in my own ungraqious breast. CHAPTER XV. As I was getting too big for Mr. Wopflle's great, aunt's room, my education unaer that preposterous female terminated. Not, however, until Biddy had imparted to me everything she knew, from the little catalogue of prices to a comic song she had once BE GREAT EXPECTATIONS. bought for a half-penny. Although the only, coherent parts of the see of literature were the open lines, When I vvendto Lunuot; town sir6 ml loo nil Too nil loo rul V> ash'i I done very brown sirs Too nil lo.ini] ; oo nil loo nil — m\), in my desire ft> be wiser, I got this opmposil . cavity; nor do I recollect that ] questioned its that I thought (as J still cl«) the aniount of Too nil excess pr" [he poetry'. In my hunger for information 1 rfrade proposals' £0 Mr. Wopsle to bestow some intellectual criinibs upon me : with which lie kindly complied. As it turned out, however, thai lie only wanted me for a dramatic lay figure/ to he contra*- dvek'd i braced and Wept. Over and bullied ami clutched and ed and knocked aboul in a variety of ways, i i of instruction ; though not until .Mr. V^opsle in hil rely mauled me. latever 1 acquired I tried to*impi . This statem s no well that i cannot in my conscience let it pass Unex- plained. 1 wanted to make .lee less i'gvoran! and common, lie imgln be worthier of my society and less open t< • e old battery out on the marshes was our place i and ken slate and a short piece o( slate-pencil were durpduea : to which .Joe always added a pipe of tobacco. 1 . oe to remember anything from one Sunday to anoth- er, oi ire, under my tuition, ai: ' information what- Yet be would smoke his pipe at the battery with a far I . ious air than anywhere else — 1 would even say with a Ieai air — as if he considered himself to be advancing immensely. — fellow, I hope he did. It was pleasant and quiet out there, -with the sails on the i passing beyond the earth-work, and sometimes when the tide was looking as if they belonged to sunken ships that were still sailing on at the bottom of the water. Whenever 1 watched the vessels standing out to sea with their white sails spread, I how thought of Miss Havishaui and Estella ;' and whenever." the light struck aslant afar off, upon a cloud of sail or grceiyhill-side or water-line, it was just the same. Miss IJavisham and Estella and the strange house and the strange life appeared to nave some- thing to do with even thing that .w,as picturesqee. One Sunday when Joe, greatly enjoying his pipe, had so plumed himself on being "most awful dull," that 1 hacf given him up ior the day, I lay on the earthwork for some time with my chin on my baud descrying traces of Miss Havisham and Estella all over the GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 89 prospect, in the sky and in ihe water, until at last I resolved to mention a thought concerning them that bad been much in inv head. 'I Jop," said I; " don't you think I ought to make Miss Havisliam a visit ?" " Well, rip," returned doe, slowly considering. " What for ? " " What for, doe I What is any vis'il made for ? " " There is some wisils p'r'aps." said doe. " as for ever remains •open tQ $)£> question, Pip. B,ut in regard of wishing Miss Havi- sham. She might think you wanted something — expected some- thing of her." " Don't you think that 1 might say that I did nor, doe .'" ••You might, old chap," said doe. '-And she might credit it. Similarly she might n t." ■ doe felt, as 1 did, that he had made a point there,, and he pulled hard at his . ipe to keep himself from weakening it by repetition. " You see. J'ip." doe pursued, as soon as he was past that dan- 4 Miss Ravish am done the handsome thing l>y you. Wbefl Miss llavisham dime the handsome thing by you. she called, me back to say to me as that were all." '■ Yes, doc I heard her." , '• Am.," Joe repeated very emphatically. ■ : tell you, I heard her. ' " Which 1 nrejantersay, Tip, it might he that her meaning v Make a end on it ! — As you was ! — Me to the North and you to in sunders ! " I had thought of that too, and it was very far from comforting to me to find that he had thought of it ; tor ii seemed to render i! more probable. "Brit, Jo " Yes, old chap." "Here am I, getting on in the first year of my time, and since the ciay of my being bound 1 have never'thanked Miss llavisham. or asked after her. or shown that 1 remember her." "That's true, i'ip : and unless you was to turn her out a Be shoes ail four round — and whieh 1 meantersay as even a set of shoes all four round might not act. acceptable as a present, iu a to- tal wacaiicy of hoofs — " •• i don't mean that sort ot remembrance, .Toe; I don't mean a present." But doe had got the idea of a present in his head and must harp upon it. "Or even," said he, "if you was helped to knocking her up a new chain for the front door — or say a gross or two of shirk-Head- ed screws lor general use — or some light fancy article, such as a toasting-fork when she took her muffinst— or a gridiron when she took a sprat or such like — " 90 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. " I don't irean any present at all, Joe," I interposed. " Well," said Joe, still harping on it as though I had particu- larly pressed it, "'if I was yourself, Pip, I wouldn't; No I would not. For what's a door-chain when she's got one always up? — .And shark-headers is. open to misrepresentations. < Audit it was a toasting-fork, you'd go into brass and do yourself no credit. And the oncommouest workman can't show himself uncommon in a gridiron — for a gridiron is a gridiron," said Joe,* steadfastly im- pressing it upon me, as if he were endeavoring to rouge me. from a fixed delusion, "and you ma}- haim at what you like, but a grid- iron .it Will come out, either by your leave or again your leave, and- you can't help yourself—" " My dear Joe," I cried in desperation, taking hold of his c '"don't go on in that way. I never thought of making Miss liav- isham any present." "No, Pip," Joe assented, as if he had been contending for that all along: "and what I say to you is, you are right, Pip." "Yes, Joe; but what 1 wanted to say was, that as we are rath- er slack just now, if you could give me a half holiday to-morrow, I think I would go up town and make a call on Miss Est — Llavi- sham." " Which her name," said Joe, gravely, " ain't Estavisham, Pip, unless she have been rechrislened. ' " I know, Joe, I know. It was a slip of mine. What do you think of it, Joe?" In brief, Joe thought that if I thought well of it,-. he thought well of it. But he was particular in stipulating that if I were not received with cordiality, or if I were not encouraged to repeat- my visit as a visit which had no ulterior object but was simply one of gratitude for a favor received, then this experimental trip should have no successor. By these conditions I promised to abide. Now Joe kept a journeyman at weekly wages whose name was Orlick. He pretended that his Christian name was Dolge — a clear impossibility — but, he was a fellow of that obstinate disposi- tion that I believe him to have been the prey of no delusion in this particular, but wilfully to have imposed that name upon the vil- lage as an affront to its understanding. He was a broad-shoulder- ed, loose-limbed, swarthy fellow of great strength, never in a hurry, and always slouching.' He never even seemed to come to his work on purpose, but would slouch in as if by mere accident; and when he went, to the Jolly Bargemen to eat his dinner, or went away- at night, he would slouch out like Cain or the Wandering Jew, as if he had no idea where he was going and no intention of ever com- ing"back. He lodged at a sluice-keeper's out on the marshes, and on working days would come slouching from his hermitage, with his hands in his pocket and his dinner loosely tied in a bundle round his neck and dangling on his back. On Sundays he mostly GREAT EXFECTATJ' 9J lay all clay on sluice gates, or stood agaifist ricks or barns. He always slouched, loconiotively. with his eyes on the ground : and, when accosted or otherwise required to raise them, he looked u;> in a half resentful, half puzzled way. as though (he only thought he ever had, was, thai it was rather an odd and injurious faol lie should never be, thinking. This morose journeyman had no liking for me. "When 1 was very small and timid, he gftVe me to understand that the Devil lived in a black corner of the forge, and that be knew the fiend very well ; also that it was necessary to make up the lire once in every seven years with a live boy. and that I might consider my- self fuel. When I became Joe's 'prentice boy, he was perhaps confirmed in some suspicion that I should displace him ; howheii. He liked me still less. Nol thai he ever said any thing, or did any thing openly importing hostility; I only noticed that, he al- ways he.it bis sparks in my direction, and thai whenever] sang Old Clem he came in out of time. Dolge Orlic t was at work and present, next day, when 1 re- minded doe of my half-holiday. He said nothing at the moment, for he and doe had just got a piece of hot iron between them and 1 was at the bellows ; but by-and-by he said, leaning on his ham- mei .- '^Now, master! Sure you're not a going to favor only one of us. If Young Pip has a half-holiday, do as much lor ( ) d Orlick." I suppose be was about, !ive-aud-twcnty. but he usually spoke .of himself as an ancient person. •' Why, what'll you do with a half-holiday, if you get it I" said Joe. ' "What'll /do with it! What'll he do' with it 1 I'll do as much with it as him" said Orlick. " As to 1'ip. he's going up town," said .1, " Well, then, as to Old Orlick. //e'.v going up town," retorted , that worthy " Two can go up town. Tan't only one wot can go up town " " Don't lose your temper," said Joe. " Shall if I like," growled Orlick. .Some and their up-towuing I Xow.^master! Come. No favoring in this shop. Be a man." The master refusing to entertain the subject until the journey- man was in a better temper, Orlick plunged at. the furnace, drew out a red hot bar, made at me with it as if he were goitfg to run it, through my body, whisked it round my head, laid it. on the anvil, hammered it out — as if it were I, 1 thought", and the sparks were my spirting blood — and finally said, when lie had hammered him- self hoi ai d the iron cold, and he again leaned on his hammer : "Now, master !" " Are you all right now :" demanded • " Ah ! 1 am all.right," said gruff Old Orlick. 92 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. "Then, as in general you stick to your work as well as most men," said Joe, " let it he a half-holiday for all." My sister had been standing silent in. the jiard, within hearing- she was a most unscrupulous spy and listener — and she instantly looked in at one of the windows. "Like you, you fool!" said she to Joe, " giving holidays to great idle hulkers like that. You are a rich man, upou my life, to waste wages in that way. I wish /was his master !" ' "You'd be every body's master, if you durst," retorted Orlick, with an ill-favored grin. (" Let her alone," said ^oe.) " I'd be a match for all noodles and all rogues," returned my sister, beginning 'to work herse f into a mighty rage. " And I couldn't be a match for the noodles without being a match tor your master, who's the duuder-headed king of the noodles. And i couldn't be a match for the rogues, without being a match for you, who are the blackest-looking and the worst rogue between this and France. Now!" "You're a foul shrew, Mother Gargery," growVd the journey- man. " If that makes a judge of rogues, you ought to be a good 'im." (" Let her alone, will you V said Joe.) "What did you say f cried my sister, beginning to' scream. " What did you say ? What did that fel ow Orlick say to me, Pip '? What did he call me, with my husband standing by? ! ! 0!" Each of these exclamations was a shriek; and I must remark of my sister, what is equally true of all the violent women 1 have ever seen, tha*t passion was no excuse for her, because it is undeniable that, instead of lapsing into passion, she consciously and de iberately took extraordinary pains to force herself into it, and became blindly furious by regular stages; "what was the name he gave me before the base man who swore to defend me 1 0! Hold me! 0!" . " Ah-h-h !" growled the journeyman, between his teeth, "I'd hold you, if you was my wife. I'd hold you under the pump, and choke it out of you." (" I tell you, let her alone," said Joe.) " ! To hear him !" cried my sister, with a clap of her hands and a scream together — which was her next stage. " To hear tlie names he's giving me ! That Orlick! In my own house! Me, a married woman ! With my husband standing by ! ! !" Here my sister, after. a tit of clappings and screamings, beat her hands upon her bosom and upon her knees, and threw her cap -off and pulled her hair down— which were her last stages on her road to frenzy. Being by this time, a perfect Fury and a com- plete success, she made a dash at the door, which I had fortunate- ly locked. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 93 What could the wretched Joe do now, after his disregarded pa- renfhetical interruptions, hut stand up to his journeyman and«ask him whal he mean! by interfering benvixf himself and Mrs. Joe ; and further, whether he was man enough to come on 1 Old Or lie'/, felt that the situation admitted of nothing less. than coming on, and was on lis defence straightway : so, without so much as pull- ing off their singed and Imrned aprons, they went at one another like two giants. But if any man in that neighbourhood cou d stand up long against Joe, 1 never saw the man. Orlick,.as if he had been of no more account than the pale yoUhg gentleman, was very soon among the coal-dusl and in no hurry to come out of it! Then Joe unlocked the di or and picked up my sister, who had dropped inseiisihle at the window (nut who had seen the tight first, I think), and who was carried into l lie house and laid down, and who was recommended to revive, and would do nothing butstrugge and clench her hands in Joe's hair. Then came that singular ealm and silence which succeed all uproars; and then, with the vague sensation which 1 have always connected with that lull — namely, I hat ii was Sunday, and somebody was dead — I went up stairs to dress myself. When I came down again I found Joe and Orlicl; sweeping up, .without any other traces of discomposure than a slit in one of Or- lick's nostrils, which was neither expressive nor ornamental. A pot of beer had appeared from the Jolly Bargemen, and the)- were sharing it by turns in a peaceable manner. The lull had a seda- tive and philosophic influence on Joe, who followed me out into the read to say. as a parting observation that might do me good, " i Mi the Ram-page,, Pip, and oil' the Rampage. Tip — such is 1,. With what ab.sutd.einoiions ( or we 'think the feelings that are very serious in a man quite comical in a boy) I found myse f "gain g to Miss llavisham's mailers lirtle here. Nor how 1 pass* d and repassed the gate many times before I could make up my mind to ring; nor how 1 debated whether I should go away without ringing; nor how 1 should undoubtedly have gone, if my time had been my own to come bar!.. Miss-Sarah Pi e to the gate. No Estella. i.' You here again?" said Miss Pocket. "What U want I" When 1 said tb came to see how Miss Havisham was, baiab evidently < 'whether or no she should send me it my business. But unwilling to hazard the responsibjl let me in, and presently brought the sfl that 1 was come up." mi was alone. — , on me, " 1 hope you \ Hothing .' i ou'll gel nothii " iVu, indued. Mits iiaviiiutm. I only wanted you to know thai 94 GfREAT EXPECTATIONS. I am doing very well in my apprenticeship, and am always much obliged to you." " There, there !" with the*old restless fingers. " Come now and then ; come on your birthday. Ay ! " she cried suddenly, turning herself and her chair toward me, "you are looking round for Es- Heyl" I had been looking round, in fact, for Estella; and I stammered that 1 hoped she was well. ' " Abroad," said Miss Havisham ; " educating for a lady ; far out 'of reach ; prettier than ever; admired by all who see' her. Do you feel that you have lost her ? " There was such a malignant enjoyment in her utterance of the last words, and she broke into such a disagreeable laugh, that I was at a loss what to say. She spared me the trouble of consid- ering by dismissing me. When the gate was closed upon me by >h, of the walnut-shell countenance, I felt more than ever dis- satisfied with my home and with my trade and with everything ; and that was all I took by that motion. As I was loitering along the High Street, looking in disconso- lately at the shop-windows, and thinking what I should buy if I were a. gentleman, who should come out of the book-shop but Mr. Wopsle. Mr. Wopsle had in his hand the affecting tragedy' of George Barnwell, in which he had that moment invested sixpence, with the view of heaping every word of it on the head of Pumble- chook, with whom he was going to drink tea. No sooner did lie' see me than he appeared to consider that a special Providence had put a 'prentice in his way to be read at; and' he laid bold of me and insisted on my a<*companyinghim to the Pumbleohookian par- lor. As I knew it would be miserable at home, and as the nights were dark and the way was dreary, and almost any companionship On the road was better than none, I made no grdat resistance ; con- sequently we turned into Pumblechook's just as the streets and the shops were lighting up. As 1 never assisted at any other representation of George Barn- well, I don't know how long it may usually take ; but 1 know very well, that it took until past nine o'clock that night, and that when Mr. Wopsle got into Newgate! thought he never would go to the scaffold, he became so much slower than at any former period of his disgraceful career. I thought it a little too much that he should complain of being cut short in his flower after all, as if he had not been running to seed, leaf after leaf, ever since he was taken up. This, however, was a mere question of length and wearisoufeness. What stung me was the identification of the whole- affair with my unoffending self. When Barnwell began to go wrong, I declare that I felt positively apologetic, Pumblechook's indignant stare so taxed me with it. Wopsle, too, took pains to present me in' the worst light. At once ferocious and maudlin, I was made to niur- GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 95 der my uncle with no extenuatii astauces whatever ; Mil- wood put me down in argument on e.very occasion ; if became sheer nionumaui; 1 in niy master's daughter to care. ;i hill Inn for mil' ; and all 1 can say for my gasping and' procrastinating conducl on tbe fatal morning is, that it was worthy' of the general feeblenes: my character. Even after I was happily hanged,«and Wopslehad closed the book; Pumhlechqok sat staring at me, and shaking his head, and saying, "Take warning,. boy ! Hake warning- !" as if it were a well-known fact that, in my private I con empla ted murdering a near relation, provided 1 could induce one to have the weakness to become my benefactor. It was a very dark night when it was all ever, and when I set out will; Yir. Wopsle on the walk home. Beyond town we found a heavy misi out, and it fell we! and thick. The turnpike lamp was a blur, quite out of the lamp's usual place apparently, and its rays looked solid substance, on the fog. VVe were noticing this, and say- ing how that the mist rose with a change of wind from a certain quarter of our marshes, when we came upon a man slouching un- der the lee of the turnpike In " Halloa ! " we said stopping. " < Mick there ! " " .Mi !" he answered, slouching out. " i was standing by. a min- "ii the chance of company." ■• Ton are late," I remarked. Orlick not unnaturally answered. '• Well .' And you've, late." " We have been," said Mr. Wopsle. exalted with his late per- formance — -"we have been indulging, Mr. Ojrliek, in an intellectual evening.'' Old Orlick growled, as if he had nothing to»say about that, we all went on together. I asked him presently whether he had spending his half-holiday up and down low " Yes," said he, "all of it. 1 come in behind yourself. I didn't see you, bul 1 must have been pretty close behind you. By-the-by ig again." .1 the Hulks?" said 1. "•Ay I Tftere'ji some of thesbirds flown from the The guns have been got dark, about. You'll hear one pres- ently." In (fleet, we had not walked man rfher when thewell- tnbened I i yard us. deadened by the mist, and ly rolled away along the low grounds by the river, as it' it were | ining tic ■ ! nighl for cut i id < Hick. We'd he puz- iow to I. ring down a jail-bird on to-night." :id I thought about ill-requited uncle of th even- ing's ftragedy, fell to meditating aloud in his garden at C'amher- well. Orlick, with his hands in his pockets, slouched heavily at 96 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. my side. It was very dark, very wet, very muddy, and so we splashed along. Now and then the sound of the signal eannon broke upon us again, and again rolled sulkily along the course of the river. I kept myself to myself and my thoughts. Mr. Wop- sle died amiably a Camberwell, and exceedingly gams on Bos- . Hi-ill Field, .and in the greatest agonies at Glastonbury. Orlick somi times growled, " Bear it out, beat it out — old Clem ! "With a clink for the stout — old 'Clem ! " I thought he had been drinking, but he was not drunk. L bus we came to the village.' The way by which we approached it-took us past the Three Jolly Bargemen, which we were surprised to rind — it being eleven o'clock — in a state of commotion, with the door wide open, and unwonted lights, that had been hastily caught up and put down, scattered about. Mr. Wopsle dropped in to ask what was the matter (surmising that a convict had been taken), but came running out in a great hurry. " There's something wrong," said he, without stopping, " up at your place, Tip. Run all ! " " What is it V 1 asked, keeping up with him. So did Orlick, at my side. " 1 can't quite understand. The house seems to have been vi- olently entered when Joe was out.. Supposed by convicts. Some- body has been attacked and hurt." \W were running too fast to admit of more being said, and we made no stop until we got into our kitchen. It was full of peo- ple ; the whole village was there, or in the yard ; and there was a' surgeon, and there was Joe, and there were a group of women, all on the floor in the midst of the kitchen. The unemployed by- standers drew back when they saw me, and so I became aware of my sister — lying without sense or movement on. the bare boards where she had been knocked down by a tremendous blow on the back of the head, dealt by some unknown hand when her face was 'turned toward the lire — destined never to be on tin* ram-page again while she was wile of Joe. CHAPTER XVI. With my head full of George Barnwell, I was.at first disposed to believe that I must have had some hand in the attack upon my sister, or at all events that as her near relation, popularly known to be under. obligations to her, I was a more legitimate object of suspicion than any one else. But when, in the clearer li&ht of GEE A r EXPECTA i'l O SfS; next morning, I began to reconsider the {flatter and bo hear it dis. cussed around me on all sides, 1 took another vie 1 which was more reasonable. Joe bad been at the 5Tbree Jo] K'l), Si lit i |ii,. '. to a quarter before fen. While he was I sister bad been seen standing al the ki I bad exchanged il wit h alarm home. The man could not b'e more particular as to th # e time at which lie saw her info dense confusion who- be) than -thai; it n been before nine. When Joe went home at five minutes before ten he found her struck down on the floor, and promptly called in assistance. The fir.i burned unusually low, nor was the snuff of the candle v\*ry long; the candle, bo d been blown out. Nothing bad been taken away ; the-r, beyond the blowing out of the eandle — which stood on a 'ta- ble ll.e door and my sifter, and was behind iter win n she ruck — was there any disarrange- ment Of thekitehen, excepting such as she herself had made- in falling and bleeding. But there was one remarkable pieee 1 of evi- dence JITe had been struck with something blunl and heavy on the head and *pine; after the blowawi something heavy had been thrown down at her with considerable violence as she lay on her face. And 'on the ground besid when Joe picked her ii] leg-iron whir'' filed asunder. Now doe. examining this iron with a smith's i have been filed asunder some time ago. The hue and cry going off to the Hulks, and p i uiingthepcetoexamiiie.il Joe's opinion was corroborated. They did not und it bad left the prison-ships, to whuah it undoubi belonged ; but they claimed to ki c ittain that tba,t particu- n worn by either of two con\ > had escaped I Further, one of those two Wi \ re- taken, and hoed himself of his iron. Kqowing what I knev an inieie ■ own here. 1 belie iron to be my convict's iron — the iron 1 and heard him filing at J mind dA viiii: put it to its latest use. F. ie of two other to have become possessed of it, have turned it to this cruel account. Either Oriiok;or;the i man who had shown me, the fde. No ' i- lick, be had gone itlj told us when we picked him up at the turnpike; he hi about town all the evening, , ps in several public houses, and he yself and Mr. Wopale. There wai nothing .dw lave the quarrel ; and 98 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. my .sister bad quarreled ■with him, and with every body else about her, ten thousand times. As to the strange man, if he had come back for his two bank-notes there could have been no dispute about them,, because my sister was fuilj prepared to restore them. Besides, there had been no altercation ; the assailant bad come in so silent and suddenly that she had been felled before she could look round* • It was., horribie to think that I had provided the weapon, how- ever undesignedly, but I could hardly think otherwise. I suffer- ed unspeakable trouble while I considered and reconsidered whe- ther r'should at last dissolve that spell of my childhood, and tell Joe all the story. For months afterward I every day settled the question finally in the negative, and reopened and reargued it morning. The contention came, alter all, to this,' the seorej was such an old one now. had so grown into me and become a pa myself, that I could not tear it away. In addition to ike dread that, having led up to so much mischief, it would be now more likely than ever to alienate Joe from me if he believed ii. I had the further restraining dread that he would not be.ieve it , •but would assort it with the fabulous dogs and vea.1 cutlets a-, a mon- strous invention. However, I temporized with myself, of course — for, was I not wavering between right and Wrong, when the thing is always done 1 — and resolved to make a full (Jiscpsnre if i should see any such new occasion as a new chance of helping in the discovery of the assailant. The Constables, and ihe Bow Street men from London — for this happened in the days 'of the extinct red waistcoated police— were about. th|p house for a week or two; and did pretty much what I have heard and read of like authorities doing in other such cases. They took up several obviously wrong people, and they ran their heads very hard against wrong ideas, and persisted in trying.ro lit the circumstances to the ideas, instead of trying to extract ideas from the circumstances. Also, they stood about the door of the Jolly Bargemen, with knowing and reserved looks, that filled the whole neighborhood with admiral ion ; and they had a mysterious manner ot taking their drink, that was almost as good as taking the culprit. But not quite, for they never did it. Long after these" constitutional powers had dispersed my sister lay very ill in k-d. Her sight was disturbed, so that she saw ob- jects multiplied, and grasped at visionary tea-cups and wine-glass- es instead of realities; her hearing was greatly impaired'; her memory also ; aud her speech was unintelligible. When at hist she came round so far as 10 be helped down stairs, it was still ne- cessary to keep ray s.ate always by her, that she might indicate in writing what she could Hot indicate in speech. As she was (very bad handwriting apart) a more than indifferent speller, and as Joe was* a nior« than indifferent reader, extraordinat^ complications GREAT EXPECTATIONS. yy arose between them, which I was always called in to solve. The administration of niutton instead of iiii'dicine, fctie substitufi Tea for Joe, and the baker for bacon, were afiiong the mildest of own rtikd'al However, her temper was greatly improved and she was'patii A tremulous uncertainty of the action of all her limbs soon became a part of her regular state, and afterward, at intervals of i*. three months, she would often pat her hands to bet* head and would then remain for about a week at a time in sort! aberration of mind. Wo wore a; a loss to lind a siiitab'le attend- ant for her, until a circumstance happened convenient:^ to relieve us. .Mr. Wopsk-'s great aunt conquered a confirmed habit of liv- ing into which she had fallen, and Biddy became P our establishment. • * It may have been about, a month after my sister's *reappe#rance in the kitdhen when Bidfly game to us with a small cohtainihg-the whole of her worldly effects, and became a bless- ing to the household. Above all, she was a blessing to Jo< the dear old fellow was sadly cut up by the constant c i tion of the wreck of his wife, and had been accustomed, while at- tending on her all the evening, to turn to me every now and then, and say. with his blue eye moistened, " Such a fin woman as she once were, Pip !" Kiddy instantly takh g crest charge of her, as though she had studied her from Joe became able in some sort to appre iate the greater quiet of his life, and to gel down to the Jolly Bargemen ""W &tid 'hen. for a change that did him good. It was characterise people that they had all more or less suspe v efced poor Joe (tli ever (mew it,) and that they had to a man concurred in ing him as one of the deepest spirits'they had e*ver cue >uu'-. tered; I>iddy's first triumph in her new office was to solve a difficulty had completely vanquished me. I had tried hard al it, but hal made nothing of it. Thus it was: g lin and again and again my sister had traced upon the slate a character that looked like a curious T, and then, with the utmost, eagerness, had cal ed our attention to it as something she. particu- larly wanted. 1 had in vain tried every thing producible' tha gan with a T, from tar to toast and tub. At length it had come into my head that the sign looked like a hammer, and on my lusti- ly calling that word in my sister's ear she had begun to hammer on the table, and expressed a qualified assent. Thereupon I had brought in all our hammers, one after another, but \ avail. Then 1 betbohghl me of a crutch, the shape being much the same, and I borrowed one of a criple iu the village, and displayed it to my bistu: with considerable oontiduuee. But ska shook her head UK) GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. to that extent, when she was shown it, that we were terrified lest, in her weak and shattered state, she should dislocate her neck.. When my sister found that Biddy was very (.j.nick to'uijderstand her, this -mysterious sign immediately reappeared on the slate. — Biddy looked thoughtfully at it, heard m nation, looked thoughtfully at my sister, looked thoughtfully at Joe, (who was al- ways represented on. the slate by his initial letter), avid ran the forge, followed by Joe and nie. " Why, of course!" cried Biddy with an exultant face. ".Don't you see ? It r s liha /" Orlick, without a doubt ! She had lost hi ooifirl only signify him by his hammer. We told hin.i why we wanted him to come into the kitchen,' and he slowly laid down his ham-- ,mer, wiped Ids brow with his arm, took another wipi aprrom and came slouching out, with a curious loose, vagabond in the knees that strongly distinguished him. 1 confess that I expected to see my sister denounce him, and that I was disappointed by the different result, .she manii' the greatest anxiety to be on good terms with him ; was evith much pleased by his being at length produced, and motioned that she would have him given something to drink. She watched hrs iteuaace as if she were particularly wishful to ho assured that he took kindly to his reception ; she showed every possible desire to conciliafe him ; and there was an air of humble propitiation in all she did, such as i have seen pervade tlie hearing of a frighten- ed child toward a hard master. After that day, a day rarely pass- ed without her drawing the hammer on her slate, and without Or- r : lick's slouching in and standing doggedly befoYe her, as if he knew re than 1 did what to make of it. CHAPTER XVII. 1 now fell into a regular routine of apprenticeship life, which was varied, beyond the limits of the village and the marshes, by no more remarkable circumstance than the arrival of my birthday, and my paying another visit to Miss Havisham. I found Miss Sarah Pocket still on duty at the gate; I found Miss Havisham just as 1 had left her ; and she spoke of Estella in the very same way. if not in the very same words. The interview lasted but a iie gave me a guinea when I was going, and told me to come again on my next birthday. I may mention at &n«e tiiatthis Iwseame an annual custom. I tried to decline taking ( i RE AT EXPECTATIONS. 101 the guinea on the first occasion, but with no better effect than caus- ing 'her to ask inc. very angrily, if I expected more? Then after that, 1 took i - • So unchanging was the :■■ i <- gain I over?" Biddy (juicily asked me. after a pause. " ] don't know," I moodily answered. •' Because, if it is to spite her,". Bide 1 should .think — but you know best — that might be better and more independent- ly Tlone by earing nothing for her words. And if il is to gain her over, I should think — but you i. it — she was not worth gaining." Exactly what I myself had thought man; ,iiat was perfectly manifest to me at the moment. But how could I, a poor dazed village lad, avoid that wonderful inconsistency into which the best and wisest men fell every day? " It may be all quite true," said I to Biddy, "but 1 admire her [fully." In short, I turned over on my face when I came to that, and ! grasp on the hair on ea< h side of my head, and wrenched it • well. All the while knowing the madness of my heart to be so very mad and misplaced,' that I was quite conscious it .'would 'have served . right if I had lifted it up by my hair and knocked it against the pebbles as a punishment for belonging to such an idiot. Bidi ;rK and she tried to reason no more with me. She put her hand, which was a comfortable hand though roughened by work, upon my hands," one after another, and gently took them out of my hair. Then she softly patted my shoulder in thfng way, while with my face upon my sleeve i cried a lit- tle — exactly as I had done in the brewery yard — and felt vaguely convinced that I was very much ill-used by somebody, or by every body ; I can't say which. . •<■ I am glad of one thing," said Biddy, "and thai is, that you have felt you could give me your confidence, Pip. And 1 am glad of another thing, and that is, that of course yod know you may de- pend upon my keeping it and always to far deserving it. If your GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 105 p.r (dear ! such a poor one, and so much in heed of being erself!) had been \ i present time, she thinks siic knows what lessen she would set-.' But it would hard one to learn, and you have got beyortfl her, and it's of rj ." So, willi a quie r me, Middy rose from the b and sakl, wiiii a fresh sant change of vcoicfe, " ShaJ walk a hiile further, or go home :'" •• i'.i.ii)/', ; cried, jumping up, putting my arm round iier neck, and giving her a kiss, " 1 shall always led you every thing" " Till you're a irentlcnian." said Biddy. •■ You' know I never shall he, so rhai's always. Xot that I have any . • to tell yod any thing-, for yon know every . lii ntr 1 know — as I told you at home Hie oilier night." ••Ah!" said Biddy, qtrite in a whii die looked awa the ships. And then repeated, with her former pleasant •• Shall we walk a little further, or go home f J s;;i ■than Estella, and that'the plain honest, working lif- to which I wa born had nothing in il to he ashamed of, but offered me sufficient means of self-respect and happiness. At those limes I would de- i onelusivel\ that my disaffeetion to, dear old doe and the forge way gone, and that 1 was growing up in a fair way to be, partners with doe and to keep company with Kiddy, when all in a moment some conftnmdilig remembrance of the llavisham days would fall upon me like a destructive missile and scatter my wits again. ! tcted wits take a long time picking up; and often, before I had nem Yudl together again, they would- be dispersed in all di- rections by <>ue stray thought that perhaps after all Miss llavi- sham was going to make my fortune when my time was out. If my time had run out, it would have left me still at the h of .my perplexities, 1 dare say. Il never did run out, howeve:. was brought to a premature end, as 1 proceed to relate. CHAPTER XVIII. It was in the fourth year of my apprenticeship to Joe, and it was a Saturday night. There was a group assembled round the lire ai the Three Jolly Bargemen, attentive to Mr. Wopsle as he he newspaper aloud. Of thai group I was A highly popular murder had been committed, and Mr. Wopsle was imbrued in blood to the eyebrows, lie gloated over every ab- horrent adjectiv in the description, and identified himself with every witness at the Impiest. He faintly moaned, " I am done at the victim, and he barbarously bellowed, "I'll serve you out," as- tin- murderer. He gave the medical testimony, in pointed imitation of OUr, local practitioner; and he piped and shook, as the aged turnpike-keeper who had heard blows, to an extent so very paralytic as to suggest a doubt regarding tie' mental compe- tency <»f that witness. The coroner, in Mr. Wopsle's bands, came Timon of Athens ; the beadle, ( 'oriolanus. He enjoyed him 108 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. self thoroughly ami we all enjoyed ourselves, and were delightfully comfortable. In this cozy stale of mind we came to the vet Willful Murder. Then, and not sooner, I bee 7 me aware of a strange gentleman leaning over the back of the set lie opposite me, looking on. There was an expression of contempt on his face, and he bit the side of a great forefinger as he watched the group of faces. " Well !'' said the stranger to Mr. Wopsle, when the reading was done, " have settled it all to your own satisfaction, I have no doubt ?" Every body started and looked up," as if it were the murderer. He looked at every bod} coldly and sarcastically. " Guilty, of course?'' said lie. " Out with it. Come-!"' ".•Sir." returned Mr. Wopsle, "without having the honor of. your acquaintance, I do say Guilty/ 1 Upon this we all took cour- age to unite in a confirmatory murmur. " 1 know you do," said the stranger; " I knew you would, I iold you so. But now I'll ask you a question. Do you know, or do you not know, that the law of England supposes every man to be innocent until he is proved — proved — to be guilty VI " Sir," Mr. Wopsle began to reply, "as an Englishman myself, I_» , " Come ! " said the stranger, biting bis forefinger at him. -" Don't evade the question. Either you know it or you don't know it. Which is it to be?" He stood with his head on one side, ap'd himself ou one side, in a bullying, interrogative manner, and he threw his forefinger at Mr. AVopsle — as it were to mark him out — before biting it again. '* Now !" said be, '"Do you know it, or don't you know it T' "Certainly! know it," replied Mr. Wopsle. " Certainly you know it. Tnen why didn't you say so at first ? Now I'll ask you another question ;" taking possession of Mr. Wopsle, as if he had a right to him. " Do you know that none of ' these witnesses have yet been cross-examined ?" Mr. Wopsle was beginning, " 1 can only say — " when the stranger slopped him. "What? 'You won't answer the question, yes or no? Now I'll try you' again." Throwing bis finger at him again. "Attend to me. Are you aware, or are you not aware, that none of these witnesses have yet been cross-examined? Come, I only want one , word from you. Yes or no ?" Mr. Wopsle hesitaled, and we all began to' conceive rather a poor opinion of him. " Come !" said the stranger; " I'll help you. Y"ou don't deserve help, but I'll help yon.. Look at that paper you hold in vour hand. What is it?" '• What is it I" repealed Mr. Wopsle, eyeing it, much at a loss. " Is itv' pursued the stranger in his most sarcastic and suspici- GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 109 mis manner, "the printed paper you have just been reading from I" " Undoubtedly." '" Undoubtedly. Nou may read the Lord's Prayer backward, ii' yon like — and. perhaps, haw done ii before to-day: Turn to the paper. No. . friend ; not to the top 6T the column ; you- know better than that : to the bottom, to the bottom." (We all 'began ink Mr. Wopsle lull of subterfuge.) Well I Have you to ii .'" •• Here ii is," said Mr. 'Wopsle. Rssage with your ej ii me whether unctly slates that the prisoner expressly said that he was iu- sirucled by ins lega*] advisers wholly to reserve his defence ! lo yoM make tbat of it '.'" Mr. Wopsle answered, " Those are not the e.xaei words." " Xoi the exact words ! " repeated the gentleman, bitterly. that tin- exact substanc i es," said Mr. Wopsle> ""Yes ! " repeated the "anger, looking round at the rest of the company, with his right hand extended toward the witness, V sic "And no\ what you say to the conscience of that man who, with thai before. his eyes, can lay his head upon his pillow after having pronounced a fellow-creature guilty unnea We all began to Suspect that Mr. Wopsle was not .the man we had thought him, and that he was beginning to be found oui. ■ \ud that same man, remember," pursued.the gentleman, throw ;it Mr. Wopsle heavily ; "that same man might 1)0 ■1 as a juryman upon tins very trial, and, having thus himself, mighl return to the bosom of his ily and lay his head upon his piHow, after deliberately swearing that he would' well and truly try th lined betw< n Lord the King and the pri i od would • according to the evidence, s " help him God ! " W( Mod that i ■ mate Wppsle had stop iii hi ''T while .villi an air of authnrity not to he dis- puted, am iy do for each indjvidu- nle, and came i . his left hand i and he biting Uit* Gmtisger of his righk 110 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. '"From information I have received," said lie looking round at us as we all quailed before him, " I have reason to believe there is a blacksmith among you, by name Joseph — or Joe — (uirgery. — Which is the man '( " " ilere is the man." said Joe. The strange gentleman beckoned him our of his place, and Joe "Ypuhrive an apprentice," pursued, the stranger, "eommonly wn as i'ip ? Is he here ? " •• 1 am here," I cried. ng$r did n'pl recognize me, but 1 recugnized him as the gentleman 1 had met on the stairs on the occasion of my second visit, to Miss HaVJsham. His appearance was too remarkable for me in liave forgotten. 1 had known him the moment 1 saw him looking over the settle, and now that, I stood confronting him his haul upon my shoulder, 1 cheeked off again in detail, his large he, id, his dark complexion, his deep-set eyes, his bushy black eye-brows, his large watch chain,-. his strong black dots of beard and whisker, and even the smell of scented soap on his t head. wish to have a private conference with you two," said he, when he had surveyed meat his leisure. " it will take a little Perhaps we had heuer go to your place of residence. 1 [refer not lo anticipate my communication- here ; you will' impart as much pr as little of it as you please lo your friends afterward; ; haVe nothing to do with that!'' Amidst a wondering silence we three walked I tlie Jolly Bargemen, and in a wandering silence walked home. While g( -' along, the strange gentleman occasionally looked at me, and '-ionally bit the side of his finger. As we near d home, doc ely acknowledging the occasion as an impressive and cere- monious one. went on ahead to open the front door. Our confer- ence was held in the state parlor, which was feebly lighted by one candle. It began with the strange gentleman's silting down at the table, drawing the candle to him, and looking over some entries in his p ickei-book. He then put up the pocket-book, and set the candle a little aside : after" peering round it into the darkness at Joe and me, to ascertain which was which, " 3.1 y name," he said, il is Jaggcrs, and I am a lawyer in Lon- don. I am pretty well known. 1 have unusual business to trans- act with you, and I commence by explaining that it is not of my originating. If my advice had been asked, I should not have le.n here. It was nor asked, and you see me here. What i have io do, as the confidential agent of another, I do. No less, no m re.'' , lauding thai ha could not see us verj well from, where he sat» GREAT EXPECTATIONS * 11] it up, and threw one r the back of a chair and leaned upon it; thus having one fool on the seat ofthe, chair, and one foot on the ground. ", aiiw, .Joseph Gargery, I am the bearer.of an offer to relieVe f this young fellow, your apprentice, you, would notfobjeel to cancel his indentures, at his request, and tor his go*od .' would not want. au\ ihittg for so doing ! " ,ord i'orliid that i should w.attt anything for hot- -standing in Pip's way !" said Job) staring. ml forbidding is pious, but not to the purpose." retur ■rs. "The question is, would you want anything I' Do yoii anything /" londy. " 1 ii I .red al doc as if he considered him a fool l'or his disinterestedness. But 1 was ioo much bewildered between bre'athle s curiosity and surp <■ sure of it. Cry well." said Mr. .luggers. M RecoMeci the admission al don't try to git from it presently!" " Who's a going to try I " reported Joe. •■ i don't say anybody is. Do you keep a' dog?" • ■• Yes. 1 do keep a dog." (ear in mind, theft, thai Brag is a good dog. but TluldfVt is abetter. Bear that, in mind, will yoYi ?"' repeated Mk'Jaggers, ing his eyes and -nodding his head at doc, as if be were tpr- giving him something. "Now, i ret urn to this young fellow. And the communication 1 have to mala' is, that he has great ex; toons, i ; ed, and looked .at one another. "1 'am Instructed U>- communicate to him," 'said Mr. daggers, throwing his lingers at me sideways. " that he will come into a •on.e properly. Further, that it. is the desire of the pn .• - bim for his mention of Mr. Matthew Pocket — '.' T. cried Mr. .Jag nd (I added) ! illy try that gentleman. "Good. You had better try him in his own house > shall.be prepared foryoufand you can see bis son first, who is in London. When will you come !■> Lou.! ; .Joe, who stood looking on 010 'hat i ! could come dire .;! should have Bonn i io come in, and they should not be working clothes. Say this day week. 1'ou'll want Shall 1 leave you t v. guine. Be . with the e id count- • ed them out on the to me. This ime he had taken his leg from the chair. He sat astride ir when he had pusLed the i .. . . winging his pursu and eyeing Joi 114 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. " Well, Joseph Gargery ! Yon look dumb-foundered ?" "I am .'" .said Joe, in a very decided manner. "It was understood that you wanted nothing for yourself, re- member ?V " It were understood/" said Joe arc understood. .And it ever will be similar according." "But what," i&id Mr. Jaggers, swinging his purse* "what if 'it was in my instructions' to make you a present, as compensation. " ' " As compensation what for ?" Joe demanded. " For the loss of his services. - ' Joe laid his hand upon- my shoulder with 1 ho touch of. a woman. I have often thought 4iim since like the ste"an\-hamnier,tha1 can crush. a man or pat an egg-shell, in his combination of strength w it h g lioness. "Pip is that hearty welcome," said Joe, "to gO'*fVi with his services to honor and fortun', as no words can tell him. Bui if you think as Money can make compensation to me for the loss of the little child — .what .come to the forge — and ever the best of friends!" Q dear, good Joe, whom I was so ready to leave, and so unthankful to, 1 see you ag .in, with yoiir muscular blacksmith's arm before your eyes, and \ our bread chest heaving, and your voice dying away. dear good faithful tender Joe, 1 feel the loving tremble of your hand upon my arm as solemnly this day as had been the rustle of an angel's wing! But I encouraged Joe at the time. I was lost in the mazes of my future fortunes, and could not retrace the by-paths we had trod- den together. I begged Joe to be comforted, tor (as he said) we had ever been the best of friends, and (as 1 said) we ever would be so.- Joe scooped his eyes with his disengaged wrist, as if he were bent (.n gouging himself, bur said not another word. Mr. Jaggers had looked on at this as bne who recognized in Joe the village idiot, and in me his keeper. . When it was over, he said, weighing in his hand the purse he had ceased tt) swing, " Now, Joseph Gargery, i warn you this is your last chance. neasu'res with me. If you mean to take a present that I it in charge to make you, speaK out, and you shall have it. If. on the contrary, you mean to say — " Here, to his great amaze- ment, he was stopped by Joe's suddenly working round him with every demonstration of a fell pugilistic purpose. "Which! me.iniersay." cried Joe, "that if you come into my place bull-baiting and badgering me, come out ! Which 1 mean-: tersay as such if you're a man, come on ! Which 1 meantersay what I say I meantersay, and stand or fall by !" i drew Joe away, and he immediately became placable; merely slating to me, in an obliging manner, and as a polite expostulatory hum it might concern, that be were not -..going to be bull-baited and badgered in his o\\ 'had. risen wh«u Joe demonstrated, and had backed to near me door. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 115 Without evincing any inclination to come in again, he there deliv- ered his valedictory remarks. They were these: " Well, Mb. Pip, I think the sooner you leave, here— as you are to be a gciit.t-inan — the better. Let it stand for this day week, and you shall receive my printed address in the mean time. You can take a liackivy-conch at the stage-coach office in London, and i straight to me. Understand thai I express no opinion, one way or other, on the trust 1 undertake. I am paid. for undertaking it, ' lll d 1 (to so. Now, understand that, finally. Understand th lie was tarowing his finger at both of us, and I think would have gone on. but for his seeming to think Joe.dangertfus in;: i nefhing came into my head which induced me io run after him,, as he was going down to the .lolly Bargemen where he had left a hired carriage. •• 1 beg year pardon. Mr. Jagge "Halloa!" said' he. facing round. " what's ; the matter !" •• I wish to be quite right, Mr. Jaggers, and to keep to your di- rections; so I thought I had belter ask. Would there be any ob- jection io til} taking leave of any one I know about here before I i away .'" •• No," said he. looking as if he hardly understood me. •• I don'i mean in .the- village'only. but up town." •• Xo." said he. " N j >n. I thanked him and ran home again, and there I found tnat Joe had already locked ilic froi and.' vacated .the state-parlor, and was ;i lire with a hand on each knee, gazing intently at the burning coals. 1 Too sat down before the fire and vd at (be coals, and nothing was said for a long time. My sister was in her cushioned chair in her corner, and Biddy at her needle-work before 'the fire, and Joe sat next Biddy, and 1 sat next Joe in the corner opposite my sister. The more 1 looked into the glowing coaft the more incapable. I became of ring at Joe • *the longer the srfence lasted the more unable i felt At length I got out, "Joe, have you told Biddy 1 " ip," returned doe, still looking at the fire, and holding Ids knees light, as if he had private information that they intend- ed to m .mewhere, " which I left it to yourself, Tip." " 1 would rather you told, Joe." " Pip's a gentleman of foitun', then," said Joe, " and God bless him in it ! " Biddy dropped her work and looked at me. Joe held his knees and looked at, me. I looked at both of them. After a pause they both heartily congratulated me; but there was a certain ■touch of sadness in their congratulations that I rather r s- I took it upon myself U impress Biddy (and through Biddy, 116 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Joe) with the grave obligation I considered my friends under, to know nothing and say nothing about the maker of my fortune. It would all come out in good time, I observed, aiuTjn 'the mean- while nothing was to.be said- save that .1 had come into great expectations from a mysterious patrbh. Biddy nodded her head thoughtfully at the lire as' she took up her work again, and said she would be very particular ; and J.oev still detaining is knees, said, "Ay, ay, I'll bei ekervally partickler, .Pip ; " and then they congratulated me again, and went on to ex ("tress so much ponder at the notion of my being a gentleman that didn't half like it. Infinite pains were then taken by Biddy to Convey to'. my sister some idea If wliat had happened. 'I\> the best. of my 'belief those effort's entirely failed. She laughed and noded her head a great . many limes, and even, repeated* after Biddy the words '• P[p • and "Property." But I doubt if they had more meaning in them than an election cry, and ! cannot 'suggest a darker picture of her state of mind. 1 never could have believed it without experience but as Joe and Biddy became more at their cheerful ease again i became quite gloomy. Dissatisfied with my fortune of course i oulu not. be; but it is possible that I may have been, without quilt* knowing it, dissatisfied with myself. Anyhow, 1 sat with my elbow on my knew and my face upon m\ band, looking into the- tire, as those two talked about my go- ing, away, and about what they should do with me, and all li And whenever I caught one of them looking at me, though > !; ' so pleasantly (and they often looked at me-^particularly Biddy),! fell in a manner offeude : as if they were expressing seme mis- trust of me. Though Heaven knows they never did by word on Sl "11 At those times I would get up and look out at the door ; for our kitchen door opened at once upon the night, and stood open on summer evenings to air the room. The very stars to which I then raised my eyes, I am afraitl i took to be but poor and hum- ble stars for glittering on the rustic objects among which i had passed my life. "Saturday night," said I, when we sat at our. supper of bread and cheese and beer, "five more days, and then the day before the day ! They'll soon go." " Yes, Pip," observed Joe, whose voice sounded hollow in his beer mug. "They'll soon go." . " Soon, soon go," said Biddy. " I have been thinking, Joe. that when I go down town on Mon- day, and order my new clothes, I shall tell the tailor that I'll come and put tkem on there, or that I'll 'have them sent to Mr. Puuibiechook s. It would be very disagreeable to be stared at by ' all th« $6HJtp)<* hero." GREAT EXPECTATIONS. J 17 ill', and TNTi-s. Hubble might like to see. you in your new fig- ure " --aii! Jotv industriously cutting his bread;. Villi his cliec-'e'on it, in thy unci glancing al my un- tastod supper as if he thought of the rime w.liynvwfi used to com- pare slices. " So niigh'i Wopsle. And the Jolly Bargemen rilight lake if as a compliment.*' "Thai's just what 1 don't want, Joe. They would make - a business of il — such a coarse and Common business — thai 1 eouldn'l bear myself." Ah. that indeed. Pip ! '" said doe. " If you couldn't ahear yourself — " Biddy asked me here, as she sat holding my sister's plate, " Have you thought about when you 11 show yourself to Mr. Gar- gejy, and your sister, and me ! You will show yourself to us, won"l you .' "' •■ Biddy." I refurned. with SQine resentment, " you are so ex- ceedingly quick that it's difficult to keep up with you." (" She always were quick,' 1 '' observed Joe.) "If you Had waited another m'oment, iBiddy, you would have heard me say that 1 shall bring my clothes here in a bundle one evening — most likely on the evening before I go away." Biddy said no more. Handsomely forgiving her, i soon exchang- ed an affectionate" good night with her and Joe, and went up to lied. When I gol into my little i'bora I sat down and took a long look .at il as a mean little room t hat 1 should soon he parted from aud raised above forever. It was •furnished with fresh young re- membrances too, and even at the same moment I fell into much the same coiifused'uivisioii of mind between it and the better rooms to which I was. going, as I had been in so often between the and Miss llavishanfs, and Biddy and Estella. The sun had been shining brightly all day on the roof of my attic, and the room was warm. As I put the window opeirV\nd stood looking out, I saw doe come -slowly forth at the dark door below, ami take a turn or two in the air; and then I aw Biddy come and bring him a pipe and light it for him. He nev- er smoked so late, and it seemed to hint to me that he wanted comforting, for some reason or other." He presently stood at the door immediately beneath me, smok- ing his pipe, and Biddy stood there too, quietly talking to him, aud 1 knew that they talked of me. for I heard my name men- tioned in a loving tone by both of them more than once. 1 would not have listened for more, if I could have heard more ; so I drew away from the window and s;i down in my one chair by the bedside, feeling it very sorrowful and strange that this first, night of my bright fortunes should be the loneliest I had ever known. Looking toward the window, I saw light wreaths from Joe's 118 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. pipe floating there, and I fancied that it wa? like a Messing fnom jo,. — no t obtruded on me or paraded before me, but pervading the e s,ha'red together. I put my light out and crept into lied; and it was an uneasy bed now, and I never 'slept the old sound sleep m it any more. CHAPTER XIX. Morxiag made a considerable difference in my general jfrospect of Life, and brightened it so much fhat.it scarcely seemed .the same. What lay heaviest on my mind was the consideration that .six 'days intervened between me and the day of- departure: for I. could riot divest myself of a misgiving that something might Rap- pen to London in the meanwhile, and that, when 1 .got there, it id be greatly deteriorated or clean gone. Joe and Biddy were very sympathetic and pleasant when T spoke of our approaching separation ; but they only referred ,to it when 1. did. After breakfast Joe brought out my indentures from tbejiressin the best parlor, and we put them in the fire, and 1 felt that 1 was free. With all the novelty of my emancipation on me, I went to church with Joe, and thought perhaps 'The clergy- man wouldn't have read that about the rich man and the kingdom of heaven if he had known all. iWer an early dinner I- strolled out alone; purposing to finish off the marshes at once, and get them done with. As I passed the church, I felt (as I had felt during service in the morning)' a sub- •■Knmassion for the poor creatures who were destined to go there, Sunday after Sunday, all their lives through, and to lie ob- scurely at last among the low green mounds. I promised myself that I "would do something for them one of these days, and formed a plan in outline for bestowing a dinner of roast beef and pi una - pudding, a pint of ale, and a gallon of condescension, upon every body in the village. If I had often thought before, with something allied to shame, of my companionship with the fugitive whom 1 had once seen limping among those graves, what were my thoughts on this Sun- day, when the place recalled the wretch, ragged and shivering, with his felon iron and badge.! My comfort was that it happened a loug time ago, and that he had doubtless been transported a long GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 119 way (Jff, and that he was dead to me. and might ably dead into the hargaihj. >.'o more low, we! grounfls, no more dykes and sluices, no more of these grazing cattle — though they seemed, in their dull manner, to wear a more respectful air now, and to fare round, in order that they might stare as long as possible at the possessor of such great expectations — farewell, monotonous acquaintances of my childhood, henceforth 1 was for London and greatness: not for smith's work in general and for you ! I made my exultant way to the old bat- tery, and, lying down there to consider the question whether Miss Uavishani intended me. for Lstella. fell asleep. When I awoke 1 was much surprised to lind Joe sfftirig beside me smoking his pipe. He greeted me with a cheerful smile on my opening my eyes, and said : ,? As being the last time. Pip, 1 ihought I'd. toller." " And, Joe, 1 am very glad you did - "Thankee, Pip," said doe. ' •' You may be sure, dear doe." 1 went on, after we had shaken hands, •• that 1 shall never forget you." " No, no. Lip ! 'said doe, in a comfortable tone, '■/'/;/ .sure of that. Ay,- ay.'ol 1 cha ! I'd ess you, ii were only necessary to get ii well round in a man's mind to be certain on it. But it took a bit of time to get it well round; the change come so oncommon plump ; didn't ii i ' Somehow 1 was not best pleased with .Toe's being so mightily secure of me. I should have liked him to have betrayed emotion, or to have said, " It does you credit, Lip," or something of that sort. Therefore I made no remark on doe's tirst head : merely saying, as to his second, that the tidings had indeed come sudden- ly, but thai 1 had always wanted to be a gentleman, and had often and often speculated on what I would do if I were one. " Have you though !" said Joe. " Astonishing ! " •' It's a pity now, due." said I. "that you did not gel on a little more, when we had our lessons here ; isn t it ?" " Well, I don't know," returned Joe. " I'm so awful dull. I'm only master of my own trade. It were always a pity as I was so awful dull ; but it's no more of a pity now than it was — say this day twelvemonth — don't you sejB ! " What I had meant was, that when I came into my property and was able to do something for doe, it would have been much more • sable if he had been better qualified for a rise, in station, He was so perfectly. innocent of my meaning, however, that I thought I would mention it to Biddy in preference. So, when we had walked home and had had tea, I took Biddy into our little garden by the aide of the lane, and, after throwing out in a general way for the elevation of her spirits, that I should never forget her. said I had a favor to ask of her. 120 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. "And it is, Biddy," said I. "that you will Dot omit any tippor- tunit\ ing Joe on a -little." "How helping him on ?" asked Biddy with a stead)- sort of glance. "Well ! Joe is a dear good fellow — in fact, I think he is the dearest, fellow that ever lived — but he is rather backward in some things. For instance,' Biddy, in his learning and his maimers." Although I was looking at Biddy as I spoke, and although she opened her eyes very wide when had I spoken, she djd not look at me. ' " Oh. his manners ! 'Won't his manners. do then 1 " asked Bid- dy, plucfting a black currant leaf. "My dear Biddy, they do very well here — " " Oh, they do very well here \ " interposed Biddy, looking cjose- ly at -the leaf in her hand. " Hear .me out — but if I were to remove Joe into a higher sphere, as I shall hope ro'remove him when I come into my property, they would hardlydo" him justice.'' "And cfbn't you think he knows that? " asked Biddy. It was such a very provoking question (for it had never in the most distant maimer, occurred to me), that I sank snappishly* " Bi sou mean '( " Biddy having rubbed the leaf to pieces between her hands — and tiie smeil of a black current bush has ever since recalled to. me that evening in the little garden by the side of the lane — said, "'Have you ever considered that he may be proud .'"' "Proud !" 1 repeated with disdainful 'emphasis. - I >h ! there are many kinds of pride," said Biddy, looking lull at me and shaking her head ; " pride is not all of one kind — " " Well ! What are you stopping for]" said I. " Not all of one kind," resumed Pdddy. " ^ e mav ' te 1 "° proud to let any one take him out of a place that he is competent to till, and fills welKmd with respect. To tell you the truth, 1 think he is ; though it sounds bold in me to say so, for you must know him far better than I do." " Now, Biddy r said I, " I am very sorry to see this in you. I did not expect to see this in you. You are envious* Biddy, and grudging. You are dissatisfied on account of my rise in fortune, and you can't help showing it." "If you have the heart to think so," returned Biddy, "say so. Say so oyer and over again, if you have the heart, to think so. ' "If you have the heart to be so, you mean, Biddy," said I, in a virtuous and superior tone ; " don't put it off upon me. . I am very sorry to see it, and it's a — it's a bad side of -human nature. I did intend to ask you to use any liule opportunities you might have after I was gone of improving dear Joe. But after this I GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 121 ask you nqtlii extremely sorry to see this in you. Bid- dy," ! repeated. "It's & — it's a bad side of human natiiri ." •• Whether you scold me or api Bid- t]yV"you Lily depend upon my trying ig do all that lies in in) pi at all limes. And whatever 'opinion you away of mei shall make no difference in my wmeinbrance of you. Yri a -I iih'inan should jmi be unjust neither," said Biddy, turn- ing away her head. 1 again warmly repealed that il was a had side of human na- tur ■ (ie which sentiment, waiving its application, 1 have since seen reason to tjiink I was right), and T walked down the fitrte away from Biddy, and Biddy weni into the house, and 1 went on! al the garden* gate and took a dejected str#U until siipper-T .; feeling ii very sorrowful and strange thai this, the second night of my brrghl fortunes, should be as lonely and unsatisfacio- ry as the first. i morning mice more brightened my view, and 1 extended my clemency t,0 Biddy, and we dropped the subject. Putting on hest .(dollies 1 had, L went into town as early as ] could hope to rind the shops open, and presented myself before Mr. Trabh, the tailor, who' was having his breakfas.1 in the parlor behind Ins shop, and who did n4 think il worth his while to come out to me, hut called me in to him. " Well ! " said Mr. Trabb, in a hail-follow-well-met kind of May. i\v are you, and what can I do for you 1 " Mr. Trabh had sliced his hot roll into three Feather beds, arid was slipping buttef in between the blankets, and covering il up. — lie was a prosperous old bachelor, and his open window looked into a prosperous little garden and orchard, and there was a pros- perous iron safe lor into tiie wall at tha side of his fire-placy, and I did not doubt that heaps of his prosperity were put away in it In bags. " Mr. Trabh,'' saidT, " it's an unpleasant thing (o have to men- tion, because it looks like boasting; but 1 have come into a hand- some property/' A change passed over Mr. Trahk lie forgot the butter in bed, got up from the bedside and wiped- his fingers on the tab.c-elolh, exclaiming, "Lord bless my soul ! " an; going up io my guardian in London," said I. casually drawing some guineas out of my pocket, and looking at them ; 1 want, a- fashionable suit of clothes io go in. I wish to for them.' - I added — otherwise 1 thought he might only pretend to make them, " with ready mom " My. dear Sir," f .' as he respectfully bent his body, opened his arms, and took the liberty of touching me m outside of each eibow* "don't bur; me by mentioning May 122 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. I venture to ppngratulate you ? Would you.do me ihe favor of striping irtr'o ,t,hc si,- Now Mr. Trubb'h I o.v was the most, audacious hey in country-side, Whefi 1 had entered lie was sweeping llic shop, and he had sweetened his labors by sweeping uv'er inc. He was still sweeping when 1 came out into the shop with Mr. Trahh, and. he knocked the broom against all possible corners and obstacles, to express (as I understood it) equality" with any black mith, alive or dead. "Hold that noise," said Mr. Trabb. wilh ii r stern- ness, "'or I'll knock your head off,! Do me the faVbr to be seat- ed. Sir. Now this," said Mr. Trabb, taking down a roll of cloth, and lidmg it out in j#fb>wing manner over the counter, preparatory to getting his hand under it to show the gloss, " is a very sweet article. I can recommend it for your purpose, Sir, because it really is extra super. lint' you shall see some others. Give me Number Four, you !'' ( To the boy, and with dreadful severity, foreseeing the danger of that miscreant's brushing me with it, or making some otiier sign of familiarity.) Mr. .Trabb never removed his stern eye from the boy until he had deposited number four on the counter and was at a safe dis- tance again. Then he commanded him to bring number live and number eight. " And lei me have none of your tricks here," sa d L'rabfo, "or you shall repent it. you young scoundrel, the longest day you have to live." Mr. Trabb then bent over number four, and in a sort of defer- entj'al confidence recommended it to me as a light article for sum- mer wear, an article much in vogue among t be nobiliiy and gen : try, an article that it would ever be an honor to him to reflect upon a distinguished fe low-townsman's (if he might claim me for a fel- low-townsman) having worn. "Are you bringing numbers five and eight, yon vagabond." said Mr. Trabb to the boy after that; '• or shall I Kick you out of the sine,) and bring them myself?" I selected the materials f >r a sub. with the assistance of Mr. Trabb's judgment, and re-entered the parlor to be measured. For, although Mr. Trabb had my measure already, and had previously been qui '-contented with it.hesafd apologetical y that it "wouldn't do under existing circumstances, Sir — wouldn't do at all.' So Air. Trabb measured and calculated me, in the parlor, as if I were an estate and he the finest species of surveyor, and gave him- self such a worid of trouble that I felt that no suit of clothes con d possib y remunerate him for his pains. When he had at last done, and had appointed to send the articles to Mr. Pumblechook's on the Thursday evening, he said, with bis hand upon the parlor lock, " I know, Sir, that London gentlemen can not be expected to patronize local work, as a rule, but if you.wou.d give me a turn GREAT EXPECTATIONS. LS3 now and then in.the quality of a townsman, 1 should greatly es- teem it. (iii d-i 'ning.SIr; much .obliged. Door!" ing al (In* boy, who had nol tl.eleasi no- tion what it meant. Bui I saw him col apse as his'master rubbed hie out with his. hands, and my first decided experience of ti." Stupendous power of money was, that it bad morally laid upon his hack Trahb's hoy! After this memorable event. J went to the hatter's, and the bootmaker's, and the hosier's,, and felt rat lifer like .Mot her Hub- bard's flog, whose out tit required the services of so many (trades. 1 also went to the cnach-ollicc, and look my place for seven o'clock mi Saturday morning. It was not to explain every where that 1 had coma into a handsome proper!) ; but whenever 1 said any thin.tr to thai etlecl.it billowed that the officiutilig tradesman ceased to have his attention diverted through the win- dow liy the liigh Street, aiul concentrated his mind upon hie. When 1 had' ordered every thing 1 wanted 1 directed my steps toward I'umhlcchook's, and as I approached that gentleman's place of business 1 saw"hini standing at his door. lie was' waii ing for me with great impatience He had been early with his chaise carl, and had called at the forge and heard the mws. lie had prepared a collation forme in the Barnwell lor, and he too ordered his sjinpnian to " come out of the gang- way' as my sacred person passed. •' My d ar iriebd." said Mr. Pifmblechook, taking me by both hands, when l.e and I and the collation were alone, " [-give you joy of. your good fortune; Well deserved, well deserved !" This was coming to the point, and I thought it a sensible way of expressing bin- " To think," said Mr. Pumbleenook, after. snorting admiration at me f.rsonie moments, " that I should have been the humble instrument of leading up to this, is a proud reward.'' 1 begged Mr. Pnmhlechook to remember that nothing was to be ever said or hinted on that point " My dear young friend," said Mr. Pumblccimok, " if you will allow me to call you so—" I murmured "Certainly;" and Mr. Fumblechook took me by both bands again, and communicated a movement to his waist- ooa< thai had an emotional appearance, though it was rather low down — " My dear young friend, rely upon my doing my Utile a 1 in your absence, by keeping- the fact before the mind of Joseph. Joseph !" said Mr. Puuiblechook, in the v compassionate adjuration. "Joseph! Joseph!" Thereupon he shook his head and tapped it, expressing his sense of deficiency in Joseph. "But my dear young friend." said Mr. l'umblechook, "you must be hungry, you must be exhaused. Be seated. Here is a chicken had round from the Boar, here is a tongue had round from 124 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. the Boar, here's one or two little things that I hope you may not despise.' But /do I," said Mr. PumMcehopk, getting up again niomeril after he had sat down " see afore me, him as I eve*r sjjur.t,- ed with in Ids limes of happy infancy '. And may Y—om'y 1 — ?" This May- 1 meant, might he. shake hands? I consented,. and he was fervent, and .then sat' down agiia "Here is wine,'' said Mr. Putnb echook. ' '" Let us drink. Thanks to Fortune, and may she ever piek out her favorites with equal judgment! A'nfl yet I can nut,' said Mr. Pumblechook, getti|ig»up again, "see ai'ore me One — and likeways drink, to One — without agitin expressing — May I — may I — V I said he might, and he shook hands with me again, and emp- tied his glass and turned it upside down. I did the same; and if I had turned myself upside down before drinking,' the wine would not have gone more direct to my head. Mr. Pomblechoob helped me to th# liver wing, and to the best slice of tongue (none of those out-of-the-way JSio Thoroughfares of Pork now), and look, comparatively, speaking, no care of him- self at all. '-Ah! poultry, poultry ! Yrtii little thought," said Mr. Pumhlechook. apostrophizing the fowl in the dish*, " whenyou was a young fledgeling, what was in store for you. You li thought you was to be refreshment beneath this humble rool one as — Ball it a weakness, if you. will," said Mr. Punrbleck getting up again, "bat may I ? may 1 '" .L It began to he unnecessary to repeal the form of saying he- might, so he did it, at once. How he ever did it so often without mortally wounding himself with my knife, { don't know. "And your sister," he resumed. after a little steady eating, "which had the honor of bringing you up by hand! It's a sad . pictcr, to reflect that, she's no longer equal to fully understanding the honor. May — " I saw he was about to come at me again, and T stopped him. " We'll drink her health," said " Ah I" cried Mr. Pumblechook. leaning back in his chair, quite flaccid with admiration, "that's the way von know 'em, .Sir !" (I don't know who Sir was, but he certainly was not I, and there was no third person present) ; " that's the way you know the no- ble minded. Sir ! Ever forgiving and ever affable. , It might," said the servile Pumblechook, putting down his untested glass in a hurry and getting up again, "to a common person, have the peararice of repealing — but may I — ?" When he bad done it he resumed his seat and drank to my sis-' ter. "Let us never be blind," said Mr. Pumblechook, "to faults of temper, but it is to be hoped she meant well." At about this time I began to observe that he was getting flush- ed in the face: as to myself, I felt all face, .steeped in wine and smarting. ■ GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 125 I mentioned tn Mr. Fumblec-hook that T wished to have rriy clollies sen.1 to his house, and lit- was ecstatic on my so distinguish- ing him. J mentioned my reason for desiring Ui avo'i^ybservaj [ion in the village, at (flic lauded it to the skies. There was no- body hut himself, lie intimated, worthy of my confidence, and — in Short, might lie? Then he asked me tenderly if 1 rememl" our b'oyish games at sums, and how we had gone t: gel her to have mejiouud apprentice, and, in effect-, how he had ever been my fa- vorite fancy and my chosen friend I If 1 had taken ten times as many glasses of wine as I had. I should have known that In- never had stood in. that relation toward me,. and shou d in my heat hearts ha\e repudiated Hie i,dea. Yet for all that,] remember leeling'coiiviiiced t hat' 1 had been much mistaken in him, and that he was a sensible, practical*, good-hearted, prime fellow. i'.\ decrees he fell to reposing such great confidence in me. as to ask my ad»vice in referenee to his own affairs. He mentioned rha m opportunity for a great amalgamation and monopoly ol'ilc coin and seed trade on those premises, if enlarg- ed' occurred before in thai, or any other m iioi'hood. What a one was wanting to the realization of a vast t'.iie he considered to he More, Capital. Those were the two little words, more capital. Now it appeared to hi.u (Punible- chojik) that if tlrt capital were gut into the business through a sleeping partner, Sir: which sleeping partner would have-jio to i\o but wa,k 'in, by sell' or deputy, whenever he ph ejainine the books — and walk - in twice a year and rake his profits uv. ay in his pocket, lo the tune of fifty per ceffl — il.appeaied to him that -that ■ might tie. an opening for aiyoifng gent lemaii of spirit combined with* property, which would be-worihy of attention. what did I think? lie. had great confidence in my opinion, and what did 1 think ? J gavejt as my opinion, " Wait a bit y The united vastness and distinctness ol .this view so struck him ■ked if he, might shak$ hands with me, but said he really must — and did. We, drank all the wine, and Mr. Pumbleehook pledged bin owrand over again to keep Joseph up' to the mark (i don't know what mark), and to render me efficient and constant servh don't know what ser\ ice), lie 1 also made known tome for the ■ in my life, and certain. y alter having kept his' secret wonderfully well, thai he had always said of me, "That boy is no common boy, and mark me, his fortun' will be 'no common for- tun'." I If said with a tearful smile that it was a singular thing to think of now, and ! said so too. finally, 1 went out into the air with a dim perception that there was something unwonted in the conduct of the Nunahine d that I had sl'umherously got to I he turnpike Viilhoiit ken any account of the road. Tliery 1 was rou*cU by Air. i/uuibiecbuuk's hailing uie. JbU 1-26 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. was a long way down the sunny-street, and was making expressive gestures for me In stop. I stopped, and he came up breath ess. '• No, iny'dear friend," said he, when lie 'had recovered wind for speech. " Not if I can help it. This occasion shall not en- |y pass without that, affability on your part. — May 1, as an 'old friend and well-wisher / May, I ?" Wfe slmok hands for the hundredth time at least, and lie order- a young carter out of myway willi the greatest indignation. blessed me, and sto; d waving his hand to me nut il rhad -<-d the crook in the road ; and then I turned into a field and had a long nap under a hedge before I pursued my way home. I Had .scant iugga^e to take with me to London, for little of the little I possessed was adapted to my new station, .lint I heg*an packing that same afternoon, and wildly packed up things that I knew 1 should want next morning, in a-fntinn that there was nut a moment fo be lost. So Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday passed, and on Friday morning I went to Mr. Pumblechook's to put on my new 'clothes and j>a\ my visit to. Miss Iiavisham. Mr. Pumblechook's own :■ mm was given tip to me to dress in, and was decorated with clean towels expressly for the event. My clothes we're rather a disap- pointment, 'of course. Probably every new and eagerly expected garment ever put on since clothes came in fell a trifle shVrt of the Wearers expeciaihm. But after I had bad hiy new suit on : half an hour, and had 'gone •through an i inensity -of posturing with Mr. Pumblechook's very limited dressing glass, in the futile* endeavor t" " f start lor London, .Miss Havisham, to-morrow "— 1 was ex- ceedingly careful what 1 said — "and 1 thought you would kindly rvol mind my falling leave of you." " This is a -ay figure, Pip;,'.' said she, maMng her enitehed stick- play round me, as il siie, the fairy, godmother' Who had chat me. were bestowing the finishing gift, '• 1 have coineiuio such g*>od fortune since l saw yon last, Miss iJavisham," I murmured. " And I am so thankful lor it .Miss ishainr' y !'" said she looking at the discomfitted and envious nil maniicst. deii«h!. " I have seen Mr. daggers, /have heard about it, Pip. So you go to-morrov. " Yes, Miss li'avisrtuun." '■• And yoii are adopted by a rich person V. " Yes, iss Havisham." " Not. named I ' " No._Mi.ss liavisham." '.nd Mr. Jagsers is, made your guardian?" " Yes, Miss liavisham." •■ quite gloated on these questions and answers, so keen' her enjoyment of Sarah Pocket's' jealous dismay'. " Well ! ' she went on; " ;e a |U'oniising career before you. . He : — deserve Lt-i-and al ■ide by Mr. Jaggers's instructions.'! She looked at me, and looked at Sarah, and Sarah's coahtei'iance g out of her watchful lace a cr el smile. " Oood-hy, Pip ! — you will always keep the name of Pip ?'' " Yes, Miss liavisham." '{Good by, Pip!" She stretched out her hand, and I went down-on my knee and pul ii to my lips. 1 had not considered how. J sjmuld ivdce leave e naturally to.mt* a: tht monies! to do this. She looked at Sarah I'm' el with, triumph hi her* v weir'd eyes, and so L le/J ufiy Fairy gftdmoth t. with both her hands* orf iier erutched . siandmg in the midst of the. dimly ighted room. beside the rolien hride-c as hidden in cobwebs. ,vn as if I were a gh mist en out. She could not gel over my appearance, land was in the lasl dPgree confounded. I said, " (Jood-Uy, Miss Pocket ;"' hut, red 1 ! and did not seem colleclcd cm. ugh to know that 1 had spoken. Clear of the house, 1 made the hesl of my back to Pumbl • ■ i lothes, made them into a bundle, uud went back home iu my older drest^ carrying it — to 12^ GREAT EXPECTATIONS. speak the truth, much more, at my ease too, "though I had the bun- dle to, carry. And now .those six days which were to have run out so slowly, hat! ast and were gone: and to-morrow looked ine in the face mure steadily than I could look at it. As the six evenings dwindled away to five, to four, to -three, to two, I had become e'and more appreciative of the society of Joe aiftl Biddy. On last evening I dressed myself out in my new clothes for their :hf. and sat iri my •splendor until bed-time. W'e'hada hot sup- on the occasion, graced by the inevitable roast, fowl, 'and . with. We were all very low, ami none the higher for fjlding to be in spirils. I was to leave our village at iive in the morning, carrying my little liand-portmanteau, and I had 'told .Toe that I wished to walk- away all alone. 1 am afraid— I am sore afraid — that this purpose mated in my sense of the Contrast there would be between me doe if we went to the coach together. I had pretended with myjself thai there was nothing of this taint in the arrangement?; bal when i went up to my little room on this last, night i felt com- i (J to admit that it might be so, ami had .an iihpufse npon me i down again and entreat Joe with me in the :• all. I did not. All night there v, ■ en sleep, going to wr places instead of to London, and having in the traces, rfow tiog$, cats, now pigs, now men — never horses. Fantastic fa;. iirmws occupied me until the day dawned and the bi siugidg. I*hen, i got up and pari -d, am! sat at the win- •:. ■ a last look out, and in taking it fell asleep, ddy was astir so early to get my breakfast that, although 1 • an hour, 1 swelled the smoke of the kitchen tire when , terrible idea that, it hiust be late. in the after- ■ noon. But long after that, and long ai'ter I had heard - and wits (juite ready, I wanted the . lirs. After all, 1 remained up there, tiding to cl repcaU'dlv'uuloekiiig and. unstrapping my &miall , *port- rappiiig#tVp again, until Biddy called ! I wasj; '■■. Jv : breakfast with in it. I got up from the meal, saying with a sort of JjriSkuess, as if it had only just oc- curred to me, "Well! I suppose' I must be off! ' and then I kis;- ; e ter, who was laugh trig ami nodding and shaking in her i ir, and kissed' Biddy, and threw my arms around Joe's neck. Then 1" took up my little portmanteau Snd walked out. Tim w of them was when 1 presently heard- a scuffle behind me. ami looking back, saw Joe. throwing an old shoe after me and Biddy throwing another old s?me. I stopped then to wave my hat, and dear uld Jee waved his strong right arm above GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 1» his head, crying huskily. " Hooroar !" and Biddy put her apron to her face! ■ I walked .-'.way at a good pace, thinking it was easier fo go than I had supposed it would be, and reflecting that it would neVCr have done to have an old shoe thrown after the coach, in sighl all the High Street. 1 whistled and made nothing of it. But, the village was very peaceful and quiet, and the light mists were sol- emnly rising, as it' to show me the world, and I had been so in- nocent and little there, and all "beyond was so unknown and -real, that all in a moment with a strong heave and sob ] broke into tears. It was by the finger-post at the end of the village, and 1 laid my band upon it. and said, "Cood-hy, my dear, dear friend !" Heaven fcifows we need never be ashamed of shedding tears, for they arc ram upon the blinding dust of earth, owrlyi.ig our hard hearts. I was better after- 1 had cried than before— mure sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle altogether. [f I had crijed pfifpre, l should have had Joe with me 11 Sq subdued 1 was by those tears, and by their breaking again nao pee in the course of the quiet walk, that when. 1 was on the eoach, and it was clear of the town, I deliberated with an aching h.-art whether 1 would not get down when we changed horses, and walk back, and have another evening at home, and a better parting. We changed, and I had not made up my mind, and still i ■■ for my comfort that it would be quite practi- cable for me to get down and walk back, when we changed again. And while 1 was occupied with these deliberations, I would fancy act resemblance to Joe in some man coming along the road toward us, and my heart would beat high. As if he- could pos- sibly be there ! We changed again, and yet again, and it was now loo late and too far to go back, and i fcrent on. And the mists had all solemn- and the world was before me. Tins ;s THK END OF ') HB KIKsT s'l'AOK OF PlP'S KXl'F.l TATIONS. CHAPTER XX. The journey from our town to the metropolis was ajoun about five hours. It was a little past mid-day when the four horse stage-coach by which I was a passenger got into the ravel of iiv.f- fie frayed out about the Cross-Keys, Wood Street, Cheapside. Lon- don. We Britons had at that time particularly settled that it was trea- 9 L30 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. Konableto doubt cur having and our being the best of everything.; otherwise, while T was scared by the immensity of London, I think I might have, had some faint doubts whether it was hot-rather ugly, crooked, narrow, and smoky. Mr. Jaggers had duly sent me his address; it was Little Britain, and he had written after it on his card, "just out of Smithfield, and close by the coach office." Nevertheless,. a hackney-coachman, who seemed to have as many capes to his greasy great-coat as he was years old, packed .me up in his coach and hemmed me in with a folding and jingling barrier of steps, as if he were going to take ' me fifty miles. His getting on his box, which I remember to have been decorated with an old weather-stained pea-green hammer- cloth, moth-eaten into rags, was quite a work of time. Altogether, it was a wonderful equipage, with six great coronets outside, and ragged things behind for I don't know how many footmen to hold on by, and a harrow below them, to prevent amateur footmen from yieldingito the temptation. I had scarcely had time to enjoy the coach and to think how like a damp straw-yard it was, and yet how like a rag-shop, and to -wonder why- the horses' nose-bags were kept inside, when I ob- served the coachman beginning to get down, as if he were going to stop presently. And stop we presently did, in a gloomy street, al certain offices with an open door, whereon was painted Mr. Ja(;- UERS. " How much V I asked the coachman. The coachman answered, "A shilling — unless you wish to make itjnoiv.' 1 naturally said I had no wish to make it, more. " Then it must be a. shilling," observed the coachman. " 1 don't want 'to get into, trouble. I. know ki?n ! " He darkly closed an ey.e at Mr. dagger's name, and shook hi*s head. When he had got his shilling, and hacl in course of time com- pleted the ascent to his box, and had got away (which appeared to relieve Ins mind), 1 went into the front office with my port- manteau in my hand, and asked, .Was Mr. Jaggers at home % " He is not, ' returned the clerk. He is in Court at present. Am 1 addressing Mr. Pip '?" ■ I signified that he was addressing Mr. Pip. " Mr. Jaggers left word would you wait in his room. He could't say how long he might be, having a case on. But it stands to reason, his. time being valuable, that he won; be longer than he can help." With those words the clerk opened a door, and ushered me into an inner chamber at the back.. Here we found a gentleman with one eye, in a velveteen suit and knee-breeches, who wiped his nose with his sleeve on being interrupted in the perusal of the news- paper. tfREAT EXPECTItIONS. 131 ro and wait outside. .Mike," said the cjerk. I/began to say. thai I hoped I was not interrupting — when the clerk slipved th^s gentleman nut with as lit tie. ceremony .is 1 ever saw used, and tossing his l'ur cap out after him, left me alone. Mr.. Jaggers's room was lighted by a skylight only, and was a most dismal placej the skylight eccentrically patched, like a bro- ken head, and the distorted adjoining houses looking as if hey had twisted themselves to peep down at me throui iere were 10 many papers about as I shotdd have expected to see ; and there were some odd objects about that ! should hot i 1 n \ - ed to see — such as an old rusty pistol, a sword in a scabbard, sev- eral strange- looking boxes and packages, and two dreadful casts on a shelf o: faces peculiarly swollen, and twitchy ab'ditl the nose. Mi;. Jaggers's own high-backed chair was of, deadly black horse- hair, with rows of brass nails round it like a coffin ; and I could see how he leaned back in -it, and bit his forefin^ clients. The room was but small, and the clients seemed io ! had a habit of backing up against the wall : for the wall, especial- ly opposite to Mr. Jaggery's chair, was greasy with shouhlors. i recalled, too, that the one-eyed gentleman had shuffled forth agi the wall when I was the innocent cause of his being turned our. * I sat down in the cliental chair placed over against Mr. .Jag- gers's chair, and became fascinated by the dismal atmosphere of the place, i called to mind that the clerk had the same air i^( knowing something to every body else's disadvantage as his mas- ler had. I wondered how many other clerks there were up stairs, and whether tfley all Claimed to have the same detrimental mas- tery of their H'Mow-crcaiures. I wondered what was thehisto all the odd litter about the room, and how it came there. I won- dered whether (he two -wo lien faces were of Mr, Jaggers's family, ami, if he were so unfi as io have had a pai b ill- looking relations, why he siuc.lc them on that dusty, pu eh I'm - the blacks and flies to settle on. instead of giving them a place at home. - i had no experience of a London summer day, and my spirits may have been oppressed by the hot exhausted air, and. by • list and grit thai lay thick on every thing. Bot I sat . deling and waiting in Mr. Jaggers's close room. untiM really could not bear the two casts on the' shell' above Mr. Jaggers's chair, and got up and went out. When 1 told the clerk that I would take a turn in the air .while 1 waited, be advised me to go round the corner and I shoulci eon e into Smithrield. So I came into Smithfield, and the shameful p being all asmear with filth and fat and blood and foam, seemed to stick, t0 me ' ^° I ru bbed it off with all possible speed 1 y turning into a street where I saw the great black dome of Saint Paul's bulging at me from behind a grim stone building which a by-stander ±u±d was Jvewgato Prison. Following the wall of tlm jail, 1 found 139 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. the roadway covered with straw to deaden the noise of passing vehicles; and from this, and from 1 he quantity of people standing about, smelling strongly of spirits and beer, I inferred that the tri- als were on. While I looked about me here, an exceedingly dirty and partial- ly drunk .minister of justice alsked me if I would |like to step in and hear a trial or so : informing me that he could give me a front place for half a crown, whence I should command a full view of the Lord Chief Justice in his wig and robes — mentioning that awful personage like wax-work, and presently offering him at the red price of eighteen pence. As. I declined the proposal on the plea of an appointment, he was so good as to take me into a yard and show me where the gallows was kept, and also where people, were' pub- licly whippe'd,' and then he showed me _lhe Debtors' Door, 01 which culprits came to be hanged: heightening the inieresi of that dreadful porial by giving me to understand that "four on -em" would 'come o-.t at that door the day after to-morrow at eight in the morning, to be killed in a row. This was horrible, and gave me rather a sickening idea of London : tin* more so as the Lord Chief Justice's proprietor wore (from his hat down to his boots, and up again to his pocket-handkerchief inclusive) mildewed clothes, which had evidently not belonged to him originally, and which,. I took . it into my head, he had bought cheap of the executioner. Under these circumstances I thought myself well rid of him tor a shilling. i dropped into the office to ask if Mr. daggers had come in yet, and I found he had not. and i strolled out again. This time 1 e the tour of Little Britain, and turned into Bartholomew Close; and now I became aware that other people were waiting about for Mr. Jaggers as well as I. There were two men of secret appear- ance biunging in Ba w Close, and thoughtfully fitting their feet into the cracks of the pavement 'as they talked together, one of whom said to the other when they firM passed me, that ".Mr. Jag- gers could do it" if it was to be do e." There was a knot of three men and two women standing at a- corner, and one of the w- was crying on her dirty shawl, and the other comforted her by saying, as she pulled her own shawl over her shoulders, "Jaggers is for him, "> , and\dj i more coyhl you have?" There was a • lew who came into the Close while I was loitering it:i re, iii company with a second little Jew whom he sent upon an errand: and while the messenger was gone, I remarked this Jew, who highly excitable temperament, performing a jig of anxiety under a lamp-pOst, and accompanying himself, in a kind tf frenzy, with the words, " ( )h Jaggerth, Jaggerth, Jaggerth ! „ all otherth it h Cag-Maggertbi, give me Jaggerth!" These testimonies to the popularity of my guardian made a deep impression on me, ana" I admired and wondered more than ever. A* length/ as I was looking out at the iron gate of Bartholo- GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 133 mew Close info- Little Britain, I saw Mr. Jaggers coming across tire road toward me. All the others who were waiting saw him at tlic same time", and ihere was quite 3 r;ish at ram. Mr. Jaggers, putting a hand on my shoulder and walking me on at his side without saying any thing to me. addressed himself to his followers. First, he took the two secret men. " Now, I have nothing to say to you," said Mr. Jaggers, throw- ing his linger at them. " I want'to know no more than I know. As to the result, it's a toss-up. 1 told you from the first it was a toss-up. Have you paid Wemriucli '.' " We made the money up this morning, Sir," said oue of the men, suhmissively, while the other perused Mr. Jaggers's fare. '• I don't ask ton when you made it up, or where,, or whether ypu made it up at all. Has Wemiuick got it f" " Yes, Sir," said both the men together. ";' Very well; then you may go. Now, I won't, have it!" said Mr. daggers, waving his hand at them to put them behind him. " If you say a word to me I'll throw up the case." • " We thought, Mr. Jaggers — " one of the men began, pulling off his hat. " That's what I told you not to do," said Mr. Jaggers. ( " You thought ! I think fir you ; that's enough for you. It I want, you, 1 know whe,re to find you; I don't want you to find me. Now, I won't have it. ' I won't hear a word." The two men looked at one another as Mr. Jaggers waved them behind again, and humbly fell back and were heard no more. "And now you!" said Mr. Jaggers, suddenly stopping, and turning on the two women with the shawls, from whom the three men had meekly separated. "Oh! Amelia, is it ?" " Yes. Mr. daggers." •' And do you remember," retorted Mr. Jaggers, "that but for >u wouldn't be here and couldn't be here ?" " < )u yes, Sir \" exclaimed both women together. "Lord bless you. Sir, well we knows that," " Then why," said Mr. Jaggers, " do you come here .'" " My Bill, Sir.!" the eryirfg woman pleaded. , " Now, 1 tell you' what, !" said Mr. Jaggers. " Once for all. If you don't know that, your Bill's in good hands, I know it. And if you come here, bothering about your Hill. I'll make an example of boih your Bill and ymi. and let him slip through my fingers. Have you paid Wemiuick' ?" " Oh yes, Sir ! Every farden." " Very well. Then you have dime all you have got to do. Say another word — one single word — and Weinmick shall give you your money 'hack." This terrible threat caused the two women to fall off immedi- ately. No one remained now but the excitable Jew, who had 134 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. already raised the skirts of Mr. Jaggers's coat to bis lips several limes. " I don't know this man ! " said Mr. Jaggers, in the same de- vastating Strain. " What dues this fellow want ? " " Ma thear "Mithter Jauirertb. Hown brother to Habraham Latharuth ! "' " Who's he ? " said Mr. Jaggers. " Let go of my coat*' The suitor, kissing the hem of the garisent again before relin- quishing it, replied, "Habraham Latharuth j on thuthpithibn of plate." "You're ioo'late," said Mr. Jaggers " I am over the way." . " Holy father, Mithter Jaggerth," cried my ■ acquain- tance, turning white, "don't thav vou'iv again Habraham Latha- ruth ! " " I am," said Mr. Jaggers, " and there's an end of it. Gel of the w a '.I it liter Jaggerth ! Haifa moment! My hown cuthen'th gqpe to Mithter Wemmick at thith prethent minute, to -li offer him hany termth. Mithter Jaggerth ! Half a quarter of a' moment ! If you'd have the coridethenth'nn to be bought off from the t'other thide — a r . hany thuperior prithe ! — money no object 1 — Mithter -lib— Mithter— !" My guardian threw his supplicant off • with supreme indifference, and left him dancing on the pavement as if it were 1 red-hot. With- out further interruption we reached the front office,' where we found the clerk and the man in velveteen- with the fur cap. '• Here's Mike,'.' said the clerk, getting down from his stool, and approaching Mr. Jaggers confidential]}. "Oh ! " said Mr. Jaggers. turning to the maii, who was pulling a lock of hair in the middle of his forehead, like the Bull in Cock Robin pullintr at the bell-rope; " vour man comes on this after- ' noon. Well?'; " Well, Mas'r Jaggers," returned Mike, in the voice of a suffer- er from a constitutional cold; " arter a deal o' trouble I've found one, Sir, as might do." " What is he prepared to swear I " • " Well, Mas'r Jaggers," said Mike, wiping his nose on his fur cap this time, " in a general way, any think." Mr. Jaggers suddenly became most irrate. "Now I warned you before," said he, throwing his forefingerat tire terrified client, "that if you ever presumed to talk in that way tiere I'd make an exam- ple of you. You infernal scoundrel, how dare you tell me that ( " The client looked scared, but bewildered too, as if be were un- conscious what he had done. " Spooney ! " said the clerk, in a low voice, giving him a stir with his elbow. " Soft bead ! Need you say it face to face i " " Now, I ask you, you blundering booby," said my guardian, very GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 135 sternly, "once more, and for the last time, what the man you have brought here is prepare. 1 to swear ? " Mike looked bard at my guardian! as if lie were trying to learn a less. in from liis face, and 'slowly repjiecj, " Ayther to ch'aYacter, or to having been in his company and never left him all the night in question. ow, he careful. In what station qf life is this man I" Mike looked at his cap, and looked at the floor, and iobked at the ceiling, and looked at the elerk, and even looked at, m i before beginning to reply, in a nervous manner. " We've dressed him up like — " when my guardian blustered i •• What I Vott wii.t,, will you ?" i" Spooney ! " added the elerk* again, with another stir.) After some helpless casting about, Mfke brightened and began again : " lie is dressed like a 'spectable pie-man. A son of pastry- cook:" " Is tie here I" asked my guardian. " I left hiiii," said M£ke, "a settiri' on some door-steps round the, corner." •• Take him past that window, and let me see him." • •' The window indicated was The office window. We all three went to. it behind the wire blind, and presently saw the' client gb by in an accidental manner, with a murderous-looking tall indi- vidual, in a short suit of white limicn and a paper cap. This guile- less confectioner was not by any means sober, and had a black eye in the green stage 61 recovery, which was painted over. "Tell him to take his witness away directly," said my guar- dian to the elvrk, in extreme disgust, '" and ask him what he means by bringing such a fellow as that," My guardian then took me into his own room, and while he lunched, standing, from a sandwich box and a pocket-flask of sher- ry (he seemed to bully his very sandwich as he ate it), informed me what 'arrangements he had made for me. I was to v:o to " Bar- nard's Inn," to young Mr. Pocket's room, where, a bed had been sen! in i\n- my accommodation.; 1 was to remain with young Mr. Pocket until Monday: on Monday I was to go with him to bis fatheWs house on a visit, that I might try how I liked it. Also I was told what my allowance was to be — it was a very liberal one — ami had handed to me from one of my guardian's drawers the cards of certain tradesmen with whom I was to deal for all kinds of clothes, and such other things as L could in reason want. — " Tou will find your credil good, Mr. Tip,'" said my guardian, whose iiask of sherry smcllcd like a whole caskl'ul, as he hastily refreshed himself; "but I shall by this means be able to check your bills, and to pull you up if I find you outrunning tho con- 136 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. stable. Of course you'll go wrong somehow, but that's no fault of mine." ■ After L had pondered a little over this jbncouraging, sentiment, I asked Mr. daggers if I could send for a coach I He said it was -not worth while, I was so near my destination : Wemmiek should walk round with me if I pleased. I then found that Weuuniek was the clerk in the next room. Another clerk was rung down frcm up stairs to take his place while, he was out, and I accompanied him into the street, after shaking hands with my guardian.- We found a new set of people lingering outside, but Wemmiek made a way among them by say- decisively, " t tell you it's no use ; he won't ha\ word to say to one of you;" and. we soon got clear of them, and' went on side bv side. CHAPTER XXI. >sTi\r, my eyes on Mr. Wemmiek as we went along, to see what he was like in the light of day. 1 found him to he a dry man, rather short in stature, with a square wooden \pres- sion seemed to have been imperfectly chipped out with a dull-edg- ed chisel. There were some marks Hi ii that might have been dimples, if the material had been softej* and the instrument finer, but which', as it was. were only dim-. The chisel had made three or four of these attempts at embellishment over his nose, hut had given them up without an effort to smooth them off. I judged him to be a baclv-lor from the frayed condition of his linen, and he appeared to have sustained a good many bereavements ; for he wore at least four mourning rings, besides a brooch represent- ing a lady and a weeping willow at a tomb with an urn on it. I noticed, too, that seyeral'riflgs and seals hung at his watch-chain, as it he were quite laden with remembrances of departed} friends. He had glittering eyes — small, keen, and black — and thin white mottled lips. He had had them, to the best of my belief, from forty to tiny years. " So you were never in London before I " said Mr. Wemmiek to me. | lo," said I. "i was new here once," said Mr. Wemmiek. "Rum to think of now ! "' " You are well acquainted with it now ? " GREAT EXPECTATIONS'. 137 • " Why, yes," said Mr. Wemmiek, " I know the moves of it." • " Is ii a very wicked place .' " 1 asked, mure for the sake or say- ing something than for information. " You may get Cheated, robbed, and murdered in London. Bui there are plenty of people anywhere who'll do Unit for you." " If there -is bad blood between you and theui," said 1. to soft- en it off a little. "Oh ! 1 don't know about bad blood." returned Mr. Wemmiek ; '•'there's not much bad blood about. If therms anything tci be go1 by if." " That makes it Worse " Vim think- so :'" returned Mr. Weiiuniek. ''Much about. the same, i should say." lie wore his hat on the back of his head and looked straight before him : walking in a self-contained way as if there, were no- thing iii'the streets fo claim his attention. His mouth was such a post-office of a mouth that he had a mechanical appearance of smiling. We had got to the top of Holborn Hill before I knew thai it was merely a mechanical appearance, and that he was not smiling at all. •• Do you know where Mr. Matthew Pocket lives?' 1 I asked Mr. Wemmiek. " Yes," said he, nodding in the direction. " AtHornsey, north Of London." •■ Is that far?" " Well ! Say five miles," •' Do you know him !" " Why, you are a regular examiner !" sajd Mr: Wemmiek, look- ing at me with an approving air. " Yes, I know him. 1 know him!" ' - There was an air of toleration or depreciation about his utter- ance of these words that, rather depressed me"; and I was still looking sideways at his bloc!; of a face in searcji of any encour- aging note to the text, when he said here we w<*h- at Barnaid's Inn. My depression was not alleviated by the announcement, for I had supposed that establishment to be" a ho. el kept by one Bar- nard, to which the Blue Boar in our town was a mere public-house. Whereas 1 now found Barnard to be a ghost, and his inn the dingiest collection of shabby buildings ever squeezed together in a rank corner as a "club for Tom-cat's. We entered this haven through a wicket-gate, and we rfl firs- gorged by an introductory passage into a melancholy little square thai looked to me like a very confined buryii.g-grou'nd. I thought it had the most dismaftrees in it, and the m'ostrdismal sparrows, and the most dismal cats, and the most dismal houses (in number half a dozen or so), that 1 had ever seen. 1 thought the windows of the sets of chambers into which these houses were divided were • 138 great expectations. in every stage of dilapidated blind and curtain, crippled flower- pot, cracked g'ass, dus'y decay and miserable make-shift; while" To Let To Let To Let glared at me frortli empty rooms, as if no new Wretches ever came there, and the vengeance of the soul of Barnard were being slowly appeased by the gradual suicide of the present occupants and their unholy interment under the gravel. A frouzy mourning of soot and smoke (I thought) attired this forlorn creation .of Laniard, and it had strewn ashes on its head and on all its members, and was undergoing penance and humiliation as a mere dust-hole. Thus far the sense of sight; w'hi'e dry-rot and wet-rot and all the silent rots that rot in neglected roof and cel- lar, jot ot rat and mouse and bug and coaching-stables near at hand besides, addressed themselves faintly to my sense of smell, and moaned, "Try Barnard's Mixture." So imperfect was this realization of the first, of my great expec- tations, that I looked in dismay at Mr. Wemmiek. "Ah"!" said he, mistaking me; " the retirement reminds you of the country. So it does me." He led me into' a corner and conducted me up a flight of stairs — which appeared to me to be slowly collapsing into saw-dust, so that one of these days the upper lodgers would look out. at their doors and. find themselves without t lie means of coming down — to a set of chambers on the top floor. Mr. Pocket, Jutv., was painted on the door, and there was a label on the letter-box, " lit- turn shortly." " He hardly thought .you'd come so soon," Mr. Wemmiek ex- plained! "You don't want me any more I" " No, thank you," said I. "As .1 keep the cash." Mr. Wemmiek observed, "we shall most likely, meet pretty often. Good-day." "Good day." I put out my band, and Mr. Wemmiek at first looked at it as if he thought 1 waited something. Then lie looked at me, and said, correcting himself, " To be sure ! Yes-. You're in the habit of shaking hands?" ■ I was rather confused, thinking it. must be out of the London fashion, but said yes. " I have got so out of it !" said Mr. Wemmiek — "except at last. Very glad, I'm sure, to make your acquaintance. Good-day !" When we had shaken hands and he was gone, I opened the staircase window, and had pearly beheaded myself, for the lines had rotted away, and it came down like the guillotine. Happily it was so quick that I had not. put my head out. After this escape I was content 1o take a fuggy view of the Inn through the. win- dow's incrusting dirt, and to stand dolefully looking out, saying to myself that London was decidedly overrated. Mr. Pocket, Junior's, idea of Shortly was not mine, far I had GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 1 39 nearly maddened myself with loofsing out for half an hour, and had written my name with my finger several limes in the dirj of every pane in the window, before I heard! footsteps mi tfle stairs. (gradually there arose before me the bat, betid, Jrieckcloth', waist- coat, trowsers, hoots, of a member of society of about my own sraftdi.flg. lie bad a paper-hag under each arm, ami a pottle of strawberries in one band, and was but of breath. "Mr. Pip?" said he. "Mr.ipocke! I" said I. "Dear me!" he exclaimed. "I am extremely sorry : but 1 knew there was a coach from your part of the country at mid-day, and 1 thought you would come by that one. The fact is. I haw been put (in your account — not. that it is any excuse — for I thot coming from the country, you might like a little fruit after din- ner, ami 1 went tq Overt Garden Market to get. it good." t a reason that 1 had 1 felt as if my eyes would start out of my head. I acknowledged his attention .incoherently, and began to think this was a dream. •' Dear me !" said Mr. Pocket. Junior. " This door sticks so." As he was fast making jam of his fruit by wrestling with the l" while the paper-bags were tinder his arm, 1 begged him to allow me to hold them. He relinquished them with an agreeable smile, and combattetl with the door as if it were a wild beast. It yielded so suddenly at last that he staggered back upon me, and I s aggered bad! upon the opposite door, and we both laughed. But still 1 felt as if my eyes must start out of my head, and as if this must be a dream. " Pray come in." said Mr. Pocket, Junior. " Aliow me to lead the way. I am rather bare here, but 1 hope you'll be able to make out tolerably well till Monday. My father thought you would get on- more agreeably through to-morrow with me than with him, and might like to take a walk about London. I am sure 1 shall be very happy to show London to you. As to- our table, you won't find that bad! 1 hope, for it will he supplied from our coffee-house here, and (it is only right,] sho.U.'d add) at ;■ • expense, such, being Mr. Jaggery's directions. As to our lodging, ii's not by any means splendid,' because 1 have my own bread to earn, and my father hasn't any (hi e me, and I shouldn't be willing to take it if.be pad. This is our siiting-room — just such chairs and tables and carpet and so forih. yon see, as' they .1 spare from home. You mustn't give me credit for the table- cloth, spoons and casiors. they come, for you from the coffee-house. This is my littlq bedroom — rather musty ; but Laniard's is musty. This is your bedroom ; the furniture's hired for .the occasion, but 1 trust it will answer the purpose; if \ou should want any thing, I'll go and letch it. The chambers are retired, and we shall be alone together: but we sha'n't tight, I dare say. But, dear me. ! 140 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. beg your pardon, you're holding the fruit all this time. Pray let me take these bags from you;. 1 am quite ashamed." ' As 1 si odd opposite .to Mr. Pocket, Junior, de rYering him the bags, One, Two,. I saw the starting appearance come into ins own eyes that I knew to be in mine, and he said, falling back : . " Lord bless^ me. you're the prowling boy !" " And you," said I, " are the pale young gentleman !" CHAPTER XXII. The pale young gentleman and I stood contemplating one ano- ther in Barnard's Inn until we both burst out laughing. "The idea of its being you!" said he. "The idea of its' being you/" said I. And then we contemplated one another afresh, and laugh- ed again. " Well ! " said the pale young gentleman, reaching out his hand good-humoredly, "it's all over now, I hope, and it will be magnanimous in you if you'll forgive me for having knocked you about so." 1 derived from this speech that Mr. Herbert Pocket (for Her- bert was the pale young gentleman's' name) still rather confound- ed bis .intention with his execution. Put I made a modest reply, and we shook hands warmly. You hadn't come into your good fortune at that time ? " said Herbert l'ocket. <• No," said I. " No," he acquiesced ; " I heard it had happened very lately. — 1 was rather on the look-out for goofi %tune then." •"Indeed?" " Yes. Miss Havishatn had sent for me, to see if she could take a fancy to me. But she couldn't — at all events she didn t." I thought it polite to remark iliat I was surprised to hear that. "Bad taste." said Herbert, laughing, " but a fact. Yes, she had sent for me on a trial visit, and if I had come out of it suc- cessfully, I suppose I should .have been provided for ; perhaps I should have been what-you-may-called it to Estella." " What's that?'' 1 asked, with sudden gravity. He was arranging his fruit in plates while we talked, which divided his attention, and was the cause of his making this lapse, of a word. " Affianced," he explained, still busy with the fruit. — GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 141 " Betrothed. Engaged. YVhat's-his-uamed. Any word of that sort." ' low did you hoar your disappointment 1 " I asked. •• [Voh !"' said he. "1 didn't care much for it. She's a Tar- Miss Ilavisliani ?" I suggested. "I don't say no to that, but I •mean Estella. Thai girl's hard and haughty and capricious t(t fhe'last degree, and has been brought up by Miss Ilavisliani to wreak vengeance on all the male se " What rclalionjs she to Miss Ilavisliani 1 " " None," said lie. ••< Inly adopted." " Why should she wreak revenge on all the male sex I What pge .' ' •• Lord. Mr. Pip ! " said he. "J know? " >." said I. "Dear me! It's.q'uite a story, and shall be saved till dinner nine. And now lei me take the liberty of asking you a ques- ow did you come there that (U.\ I" I told him, and he was attentive until I had finished, and then hurst out laughing again, anil asked life if 1 was sore afterward? L didn't ask him fOe was, for my eonvietion on that point, was perfectly established. , •• Mr. Jaggers is .your guardian. I understand ? " he went on. '• Yes." " You know he 'is Miss llavisham's man of business and solic- . and has her confidence when nobjqdy 'else has !" This was bringing me (I iell) toward dangerous ground. I an- swered with a constraint I made no attempt To disguise, I had seen Mr. uagge.rs in Miss Havisham's bouse on the very day b'f our combat other time, and thai I beli he had no recollection of haying ever seen me there. •■ He was S0 ( obliging as to suggest my father for your tutor, and he called on my father to propose it. Of course he knew about my father from his, connection with Miss Havishai father iss llavisham's nephew; not' that that implies -familiar in- tercourse between them, for he is a had courtier and will nol piliatc her." Herbert J'ocket had a frank and easy way wilh him that was very taking. J had never seen anyone then, and I have h seen i.ny one since, who so strongly expressed to me, in every look and tone, a natural incapacity to do anything secet or mean. There was something wonderfully hopeful ahout his general air, .and something that at jhe same lime whispered to me that he Would never he very successful or rich. I don't know how this was. 1 became imbued wilh ihe notion on that first occasion be- fore we sat down to dinner, hut 1 cannot define by what means. H* was still a palo young gentleman, and had a certain con- 148 GREAT KXPKCTATIONS. i languor atyqijt him in the midst ofTiis spirits and hrisk- iiiai did not seem indicative of natural strength., [$.e had nol a'handsome face, bul it was better than handsome: being ex- v amiable and clie*ef?ul. J lis figure was a Mttie ungainly, when my knuckles had taken such liberties with always be light and yoi i-j. — ■ Mr. Trabb's local work would :efullj of) niiu rtiun on n it I am conscious thai he his rathi i I carried y ne\ .1 commit <: be a had return. - I to our years. 1 therefore tqld him my small-story, and laid struts on my being forbid nuiro was. 1 f] blacksmith in i ve"ry li;- I he would - •- W you'll I lh •• 1 tads like ■ lit of the ) thai be fell into a puiid. or • ! the mil 1 .ul have be< -- ■■ 1 . • smith."' •• i should Ml " Then, my • he, turn. door opened, "hen I must beg of you to take top of the table, L»i ' your providing." This I would nol — - top. and I faced him. , nice little dinner — seemed to me then a very Lord May- or's Feast — and it acquired additional relish from being eaten under ihose independent circumstances, with no old pe and with Loudon all axuuiiii u&. XLi* again, was heightened by GREAT EXPECTATION 143 a certain gipsy character thai set the banquet off; for while the table was, as Mr. Ptfhibleeliook might have said, tl luxu- ry — hein.ir entirely furnished forth from the coffee-house — th( cunriacenl region of fitting-room wa> parafjvelj pasture- and shift j r: imposing on the Waiter the wandering habits of putting ihc covers on the floor (where he fell over them), the melted butter in the arm-chair, the bread on the bookshelves, the cheese in the coal-scuttle, arfd the boiled fowl into my bed in the r.i ! found nine, of, its parsely and batter in a si '.'lion when I retired for the night. All this made the lig^/ul, and when the waiter was not there to i me m\ pleasure was without alloy. AY hi in the dinner, 1 reminded Herbert of bis prblmise to tell me about Miss Havisham. " T replied. " I'll e. Let me ihtro- dflee the topic, Handel, by mentioning i hat in London ii is notthe custom to put the Inure in the mo enti — and thai while ;he fori; is re i' thai use, ii is not* pu,1 further in than Is necessary. Ii i ly worth* mehtioning, only ii well to do as oilier rally over-ba^nd otir mouth better (whirb after aii . and you save a gbod deal of the attitude of opening . on the pari of the elbow." lie Offered these friendly suggestions in sin li a li'vely way i hat 10th laughed, and 1 scarcely hlu> •■ Now," he pursue.!, ■ Havisham. Miss Havi- sham, you must know, was a spoiled child. Her mother died when she was a baby, and her father denied»her nothing. Her father was 'a country gentleman down in your part of the world, and a brewer. 1 don't know why il should be'a cfacfe thing to brewer; but U is indisputable that wflile. you cannot* possibly be eel and bake, you may be a.s»genteel ,as never was and brew, see it even da; "Yet a cenileman may not keep a public-house; may he.' - ' Not on any account/' returned Herbert • " but a public-house maj keep a gentleman.. Well ! Mr. Havisham was very rich ami very proud. So was his daughter." , " Miss Havisham was an only child P 1 hazard" "Stop a moment, I am coming to that. No, she -Was not an child : ■ she had a half-brother. Her laihcr privately married in — his cook', I ra't her. think." "1 thought he was proud," said I. " My good Handel, so he was. He married his second wif pri- vately, because he was proud/and in co'urs6*of time she died. When she was dead, I apprehend he hut told his daughter what he had 144 GEE AT EXPECTATIONS. done, and then the son became a part of the family, residing in the house you are acquainted with. As the son grew a young man he turned out riotous, extravagant, undutiful — altogether had. At last his father disinherifedTnm'; but he softened when he was dy- ing, and left him well off, though not nearly so well off as Miss Havisham., Take another glass of wine, and excuse my mention- ing that, society' as a body does not expect one to be so strictly conscientious in- emptying one's glass as to turn it bottom- upward with the rim on one's nose:" I had been doing this, in an excess of attention to his recital. I thanked him and apologized! He said, •'Not at all," and re-' sumed. " Miss Havisham was now an .heiress, and you may suppose was looked after as a great match. Her half-brother had now ample means again, but what with debts and what with new madness wasted them most fearfully again. There were stronger differ- s between him and her than there had been between him and his father, audit is suspected that he cherished a deep and mortal grudge against her, as. haying influenced the father's anger. Now cruel part of the story — merely breaking off, my dear Handel, to remark that a dinner-napkin will not go into a tumbler." Why I was trying to pack mine into my tumbler I am wholly unable to say. 1 only know that I found myself, with a persever- ance worthy of a much better cause, making the most strenuous exertions to compress it within those limits. Again I thanked hini and apologized, and again he said, in the cheerfulest manner, " IS'ot at, all, 1 am sure!" and resumed. '■' There appeared upon the scene — say at the races, or th pub- lic balls, or any where else you like — a certain man, who made A iss Havisham. I never saw. him, for this happened five- and-lwenty years ago, bVfore you and I were, Handel, but I have heard my father mention that he was a showy man,' and the kind of man for the purpose. But that he was not to be, without ignor- . ance or prejudice, mistaken for a gentleman', my father im severates ; because it. is a principle of his that no man who was not a true gentleman- at heart ever was, since the world began, a true gentleman in manner. He says no varnish can hide the grain of the wood ; and the more varnish you put on the more the grain will express itself. Well ! This man pursued Miss Havi- sham closely, and professed to-be devoted to her. I believe she* had not shown much susceptibility up to that time ; but all she possessed certainly came out then, and she passionately loved him. There is no doubt that she perfectly idolized him. He practiced oh her affection in that systematic way, that he got great sums of money from her, and he induced her to buy her brother out of a share in the brewery (which had been weakly left him by his father) at an immense price, on the plea that when no was her husband he GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 145 must hold and manage it all. Your guardian was not at that time in Miss Havisham's councils, and she was too haughty and -too much in love to be advised by any one. Her relations were poor and scheming, with the exception of my father; he was poor enough, but not time-serving or jealous. The only independent ,me among them, lie warned her that she was doing too much for this man, and was placing herself too unreservedly in his pow took the first opportunity of angrily ordering my father out of the house, in his presence, and my father has never seen her since." 1 thought of her having said, "Matthew will come and see me at last when I am laid dead upon that table ;" and I asked Ber- ber! whether his father was so inveterate against her] " It's not that, - ' said he, "hut she charged him hi fore tier in- tended husband with being disappointed in' the hope of fawning upon her for his own advancement, and, if he were to go to her now. it would look true — even to him — and even to her after all. To return to the man, and make an end of him. The marriage day was fixed, the wedding dresses were bought, the wedding tour was planned out, the wedding guests were invited. The day came, but not the bridegijpom. lie wrote her a letter — " " Which she received/' I struck in, " when she was dressing for her marriage I At twenty biiimtes to nine I" "At the hour and minute," said Herbert, nodding. " at which she afterward stopped all the clocks. What was in if, further than that ii most, heartlessly broke the marriage off, I can't tell you, be- cause I don't know. When she recovered from a bad illness that she had, she laid the whole place waste, as you have seen it, and she has 1,1 w r since looked upon the light of day."' " Is that all the story I" I asked, after considering it. •• All 1 know of it; and indeed I only know so much through piecing it out for myself; for my father always avoids it, and, < when Miss Havisham invited me to go there, told me no more of it than it was absolutely requisite I should understand. Bui I have itten one thing. If has been supposed that, the man to whom ave her misplaced confidence acted throughout in concert with her half-brother; that it was a conspiracy between them ; and that, they shared the profits." ". I wonder he didn't marry her and get all the property," said I. " He may have been married already, and her cruel mortification- may have been a part of her half-brother's scheme," said Herbert. " Mind ! I don't know that." " What became of the two men 1 ?" I asked, after again consider- ing the subject. " They fell into deeper shame and degradation — if there can be deeper — and ruin." " Are they alive now ?" " I don't know." 10 146 GREAT EXPECT ATI0N6. " Yon said just, now that Estella was not related to Miss Havi- sham, but adopted. "When adopted V Herbert stfrugged his Shoulders. " There has always been an Estella since I have heard of a Miss Ilavisham. i know no more. And now Handel,*' said he, finally throwing off the story, as it were, "there is a perfectly open understanding between us. All that 1 know about Miss Havishaui you know." "And all that I know," I returned, "you kno " I fully believe it. So there can be ho competition or perplex- ity between you and me. And as to the condition on which you hold your advancement in life — namely, that you are not to inquire or discuss in whom you owe it — you may be very sure that it will never be encroached upon, or even approached by me, or by any one belonging to me.* In truth, lie said this with so much delicacy, that I fell the sub- ject done with, even (hough I should be under his father's roof for years and years to come. Yet lie said it with so much meaning, too, that I felt he as perfectly understood Miss Havishaui to be my benefi i I understood the fact myself. It had not oocurred to me before that he had led up to the th for the purpose of clearing it out of our way ; but we were so much the lighter and easier for having broached it, that I now perceived this to be the case. We were very gay and sociable, and I asked hitn, in the course of conversation, what he was I lie replied, "A capitalist an insurer of Ships." I suppose he saw,me glancing obout the room in search of some tokens of Shipping, or capital, for he added, " In the City." I had grand ideas of the wealth and importance of Insurers of Ships in the City, and I began lo think with awe of having laid a young Insurer on hfs back, hlackened his enterprising eye, and cut his responsible head open. But, again, there came upon me, for my relief, that odtrtrnpression that Herbert Pocket would never be very successful or rich. " I shall not rest satisfied with merely employing my capital in insuring ships. I shall buy up some good Life Assurance shares, and cut into the Direction. 1 shall also do a little in the mining way. None of these things will interfere with my chartering a few thousand tons on my own account. I think I shall trade," said •he, leaning back in his chair, " to the East Indies, for silks, shawls, spices, dves. drugs, land precious woods. It's an interesting trade." " And the profits -are large ? " said I. " Tremendous ! " said he. I wavered again, and began to think here were greater expecta- tions than my own. " I think I shall trade, also," said he, putting his thumbs in his GREAT EXPECTATION*. 147 waistcoat pockets, " to the West Indies, for sugar, tobacco, and rum. Also to Ceylon, specially 1 for elephants' tusks." " You will want a good many ships," said I. " A perfect flee!," said he. Quite overpowered by the magnificence of these transactions, I asked him where the ships lie insured mostly traded to at pres- ent ? " 1 haven't begun insuring yet," he replied. "I am looking about tne." Somehow, that pursuit seemed more in keeping with Barnard's Tun. 1 said (in a tone of conviction), " Ahdi ! " " Yes. 1 am in a counting-house, and looking about me." " Is a counting-house profitable ?" I asked. " To — do you mean to the young fellow who's in it ? " he asked, in reply. " Yes ; to you." " Why, n-no : not to M6." He said this with the air of one carefully reckoning up and striking a balance. "Not directly prof- itable. That is, it doesn't pay me anything, and I have to — keep myself." This certainly had not a profitable appearance, and T shook ray head as if 1 would imply that it would be difficult to lay by much aocunlalative capital from such a«soorce of income. " But the tiling is,'' said Herbert Pocket, "that you look about you. "Ekafa the grand thing. You are in a counting-house, > on know, and y,ou look about you." it struck me as a singular implication that you couldn't lie out of a odunting-bouse, you know, and look about you ; but 1 silently deterred to iiis experience. " Then the time comes," said Herbert, " when you see your open- ing. And you go in and you swoop upon it, and you make your capital, afld then there you are ! When you have once made your capital, you have nothing to do but em, loy it ! " This was very like his way of conducting that encounter in the leri; very "like. His manner of bearing his poverty, too, ex- actly corresponded to his manner of bearing that defeat. It seem- ed to me that, he took all blows and buffets now, with just the same air as he had taken mine then. It was evident that he had nothing around him but the simplest necessaries, for everything that I remarked upon turned out to have been sent in on my ac- count from the coffee-house or somewhere else. Yet, having already made his fortune in his own mind, he was so unassuming with it that I felt quite grateful to him for net being puffed up. It was a pleasant addition to his naturally pleasant ways, and we got on famously. In the evening we went, out for a walk in the streets, and went half-price to the theatre; and next day we went to church at Westminister Abbey, and in the after- 148 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. noon we walked in the parks ; and I wondered who shod all the the horses there, and wished Joe. did. On a moderate computation, it was many months, that Sunday, since 1 had left Joe and Biddy. The- space interposed between myself and them partook of that expansion, and our marshes were any distance off. That I could have been at our old church in my old church-going clothes, on the very last Sunday that ever was, seemed a combination of impossihilii \ raph'ical and social, solar and lunar, Yet in 1 lie London streets, so crowded with peo- ple and so brilliantly lighted in the dusk of evening, there were de- pressing hints of reproaches for that I had put the poor old kitch- en at home so far away ; and in the dead of night the footsteps of some incapable imposter of a porter mooning about Barnard's Inn, under pretense of watching it, fell hollow dri Bay heart. On the Monday morning at a quarter before nine, Herbert went be counting-house to report himself — to look about him, too, 1 suppose — and i bore him company. He was to come away in an hour o%two to attend me to Hammersmith, and I was to wait about for i.im. It appeared to me that the eggs from which young in- surers were hatched were incubated in dust and heat, like the v^^ of ostriches, judging from the places to which those incipient giants repaired on a Mdnday morning. Nor did the counting-house where Herbert assisted show in my eyes as at all a good Observatory ; being a back : -or up a yard, of a grimy presence in all particulars, and with a look into another back seconq door rather .• look out. 1 wailed about until it was noon, and I went upon 'Change, Ind 1 saw flue)' men sitting- there under the bills about shipping, whom I tool. al merchants, though I couldn't understand why they should all lie out of spirits. When Herbert came, we went and had lunch at a celebrated house which I then quite Generated, but now believe to have been the most abject superstition in Europe, and where 1 could not help noticing* 'even then, that there much more gravy on the table-cloths and knives and waiters' clothes than in the steaks. This collation disposed of at a moderate price (considering the grease, which was not charged fur), we went back rnard's Inn and got my little portmanteau, and then took coach fur Hammersmith. We arrived there at two or three o'clock in the afternoon, and had very little way to walk to Mr. Pocket's house. Lifting the latch of a gate, we- passed direct into a little garden overlooking the river, where Mr. Tucket's children were play- ing about. Ami unless 1 deceive myself on a point where my in- terests or possessions are certainly not concerned, I saw at once that Mr. and Mrs. Pocket's children were nut growing up or being brought up, but were tumbling up. Mrs. Pocket was sitting on a garden chair under a tree, reading, with her legs upon another garden chair ; and Mrs. Pocket's two GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 149 nursemaids were looking about them while the children played. — '• Mamma." said' Herbert, "this is young Mr. Pip." Upon which Mrs. Pocket; received me wiih an appearance of amiable dignity, and I thought her a swmU woman. •• Master Aliek and Miss Jane," cried one of the nurses to two of the children, " if yon go a bouncing up against them bushes you'll fall over into the river and be drownded. and what'll your pa say then ! " At the same time this nurse picked up Mrs. Pocket's handker- chief, and said, "If that don't make six times you've dropped it, Mum ! " Upon which Mrs. Pocket laughed, and said, "Thank you, Flopson ; " and settling herself in one chair only, resumed her book. Her countenance immediately assumed a knitted and intent, expression, as if she had been reading for a week ; but before -she could have read half a dozen lines she fixed her eyes upon me and said, "I hope your mamma is quite well ?" This unexpected in- quiry pul me into such a difficulty that 1 began saying in the ab- surdest way that if there had been any such person 1 had no doubt she would have been quite well, and would have been very much obliged, and would have sent her compliments, when the nurse came to my rescue. " Well ! " she cried, picking up the pocket-handkerchief, "if that don't make seven times ! What ARE you a doing of this after- noon, Mum > " Mrs. Pocket received her property at first with a look of unutterable surprise, as if she had n verseen it before, and then with a laugh of recognition, and said, "Thank you, Flopson," and forgot me. ami reading. I found, now I bad leisure to count them, that, there, were now fewer than six little Pockets present in various stages of tumbling up. 1 had scarcely arrived at the total when a seventh was heard, as in the region of air, wailing dolefully. If there ain't gaby !" said Flopson, appearing to think it most surprising. " Make basic up. Millers ! " Millers, who was the other nurse, retired into the house, and by degrees the child's wailing was hushed and stopped, as if it were a young ventriloquist with something in its mouth. Mrs. Pocket read all the time, and I was curious to know what the book could be. We were waiting, I supposed, for Mr. Pocket to come out to us ; at any rate, we waited there, and so I had an opportunity of ob- serving the remarkable family phenomenon that whenever any of the children strayed near Mrs. Pocket in their play, they always tripped themselves up and tumbled over her — always very much to her momentary astonishment and their own more enduring la- mentation. I was at a loss' to account for this surprising circum- stance, and could not help giving my mind to speculations about it, until by-and-by Millers came down with the baby, which baby 150 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. was handed to Flopson, which Flopson was handing to Mrs. Pock- et, when she too went fairly headforemost over Mrs. Pocket, baby and all, and was caught by Herbert and myself. " Gracious me, Flopson," said Mrs. Pocket, " every body's tum- bling ! " " Gracious you, indeed, Mum ! " returned Flopson, very red in the face ; " what have you got there 1 " "7 got here Flopson 'I " asked Mrs. Pocket. " Why, if it ain't your footstool ! " cried Flopson. "And if you keep it under your skirts like that, who's to help tumbling,! Here ! Take the baby, mum, and give me your book." Mrs. Pocket acted on the advice, and danced the infant a little in her lap, while the other children played about it prettily. This haddasted but a very short time, when Mrs. Pocket issued sum- mary orders that they were all to be taken into the house for a nap. Thus I made the second discovery on that first occasion, that the nurture of the little Pockets consisted of alternately tumbling up and lying down. Under these circumstances, when Flopson and Millers had got the children into the house like a little flock of sheep, and Mr. Pock- et came out of it to make my acquaintance, I was not much sur- prised to find that Mr. Pocket was a gentleman with a rather per- plexed expression of face, and with his hair disordered on his head, as if he didn't quite see his way to putting anything straight. CHAPTER XXIII. Mr. Pocket said he was: v glad to see me, and he hoped 1 was not sorry to see him. " For 1 really am not," he added, with his sun's smile, " an alarming personage." Pie was a young-looking man, in spite of his perplexities, and his manner seemed quite natural. I use the word natural in the sense of its being unaffect- ed ; there was something comic in his distraught way, as though it would have been downright ludicrous but for his own perception that it was very near being so. When he had talked with me a little, he said to Mrs. Pocket, rather anxiously, "Belinda, I hope you have welcomed Mr. Pip h" And she looked up frum her book, and said, "Yes." She then smiled upon me in an absent state of mind, and asked me if I liked the taste of orange-flower wafer I As the question had no bearing, near or remote, on any foregone or subsequent transaction, I consider it to. have been thrown out, lilt her previous approaches, in general conversational hospitality. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 151 I found out within a few hours, and may mention it at once, that * Mrs. Pocket- was the only daughter of a certain quite accidental deceased Knight, who ha 1 invented for himself a conviction that his deceased lather would have been made a Paronet but for some- body's determined opposition, arising out of entirely personal mo- tives — 1 forget whose, if I ever knew — the Sovereign's, the Prime Minister's, the Lord Chancellor's, the Archbishop of Canterbury's, any body's — and hail tacked himself on the nobles of the earth in right of this quite supposition fact. I believe he had been knighted himself for storming the Knglish grammar at the point of a pen in a desperate address engrossed on vellum, on the occa- sion of the laving of the first stone of some building or other, and handing some Royal Personage eii er the trowel or the mortar. — Be that as it may, he had directed Mrs. Pocket to be brought up from her cradle as one who in the nature of things must marry a title, and who was to lie guarded from the acquisition of plehian domestic knowledge. So successful a watch and ward had been established over the young lady by this judicious parent that she tiad grown up highly ornamental, hut perfectly helpless and use- less. With her character thus happily formed, in the first bloom of her youth she had encountered Mr. Pocket, who was. also in the first bloom of youth, and not (pule decided whether to moual 4 he Woolsack, or to roof himself with a Mitre. As his doing the one or the other was a mere question of lime, be and Mr*. Pocket had taken Time by the forelock (at a season when, to judge from its length, it would seem to have wanted cutting), and had married without the knowledge of the judicious parent. The judicious pa- rent having- nothing to bestow or wbhhold but his blessing, bad handsomely settled that dower upon them after a short struggle, and bad informed Mr. Pocket that his wife was " a treasure for a Prince." Mf. 'Pocket had invested the Prince's treasure in the ways of the world ewer since, and it was supposed to have brought in hut indifferent interest. Still Mrs. Pocket was in general the • of a queer sort id' respectful pity, because she had not mar- ried a title; while Mr. Pocket was the object of a queer sort of forgiving reproach because he had never got one. Mr. Pocket took me into the house and showed me my room, which was a pleasant one. and so furnished as that I could use it with comfort for my own private sitting-room. He then knocked doors of two other similar rooms, ami introduced me to their occupants, by name Drumnde and Startop. Drummle, an old- looking young man, of a heavy order of architecture, was whist- ling. Startup, younger in years and appearance, was reading and holding his head, as if he thought himself in danger of exploding it with too strong a charge of knowledj Both Mr. and Mrs. Pocket had such a noticeable air of being in somebody else's hands, that I wondered who really was in posses- 152 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. sicm of the house and let them live there, until I found this un- known power to be the servants. It was a smooth way of going on. perhaps, in respect of saving trouble ; but it had the appear- ance of being expensive, for the servants felt it a duty they owed to themselves to lie nice in their eating and drinking, and to keep a deal of company down stairs. They allowed a very liberal table to Mr. and Mrs. Pocket; yet it always appeared to me that by far the best part of the house to have boarded in would have been the kitchen — always supposing the boarder capable of self-defense, for, before I had been there a week, a neighboring lady, with whom the family were personally unacquainted, wrote in to say that she had seen Millers slapping the baby. This greatly distressed Mrs. Pocket, who burst into tears on receiving the note, and said it was an extraordinary thing that the neighbors couldn't mind their own business. By degrees I learned, and chiefly from Herbert, that Mr. Pocket had been educated at Harrow and at Cambridge, where he had distinguished himself; but that when he had had the happiness of marrying Mrs. Pocket, very early in life, he had impaired his pros- pects and taken up the calling of a Grinder. After grinding a number of dull blades — of whom it was remarkable ti.it their fath- ers, when influential, were always going to help him to preferment, but always forgot to do it when the blades had left the Grindstone — he had wearied of that poor work and come, to London. ' Here, after gradually failing in loftier hopes, he had "read' with divers who had lacked opportunities or neglected them, and had refur- bished divers others for special occasions, and had tinned his ac- quirements to the account of literary compilation and correction, and on such means, added to some very moderate private resour- ces, srill maintained the house 1 saw. Mr. and Mrs. Pocket' had a toady neighbor — a widow lady of that highly sympathetic nature that she agreed with everybody. blessed everybody, and shed smiles and tears on pvery body ac- pording lo circumstances. This lady's name was Mrs. Coder, and I had the honor of taking her down to dinner on the day of my installation. She gave me to understand on the stairs that it was a blow to dear Mrs: Pocket that dear Mr. Pocket should be under the necessity of receiving gentlemen to read with him. That did not extend to me, she told me in a gush of love and confidence (at that time I had known her something less than five minutes) ; if they were all like me, it would be quite another thing. "But dear Mrs. Pocket," said Mrs. Coder, "after his early dis- appointment (not that dear Mr. Pocket was to blame in that), re- quires- so much luxury and elegance — " "Yes, ma'am," said I, to stop her", for I was afraid she was go- ing to cry. " And she is of so aristocratic a disposition — " * GREAT EXPECTATION. io3 "Yes, ma'am," I said again with the same object as before.. " — that it is hard," said Mrs. Coile/, "to have dear Mr. Pocket's time and attention diverted from dear-Mrs Pocket." I could not help thinking that il might be harder if the batcher's time and attention were diverted from dear Mrs. Pocket; but I said nothing, and indeed had enough to do in keeping a bashful watch upon my company maimers. It came to my knowledge through what passed between Mrs. Pocket and Drummle while I Wrf£s attentive to my knife and fork, spoons, glasses, ;md other instruments of self-destruction, that Drummle, whose christian name was Pent ley, was actually next heir but two to a baronetcy. It further appeared thai tim book L had seen J\Irs. Pocke; reading in I lie garden was all about titles, and that she knew the dale at which her grandpapa would have come into the book, if he ever had come at all. Drummle didn't say much but in his limited way (he struck me as a sulky kind of a fel- low) he spoke as one of the elect, and recognized Mrs, Pocke! as a. wo- nianunda sister. No one but themselves and Mrs. ('oiler, the toady neighbor, showed any interest in this part of the conversation, and it appeared to me that it was painful to Herbert ; but it promised to last a long time, when the page came in With the announcement of a domestic affliction. It was, in ctfect, that the cook had "mislaid" the beef. To my unutterable amazement, 1 now. for the first time, saw Mr. Pockel relieve his mind by going through a performance that struck me as very extraordinary, but winch made no effect on any body else, and with which I soon is familiar as the rest, lie laid down the carving knife and fork — being engaged in carving at the moment — put his two hands into his disturbed hair, and appeared to make an extraordinary effort to raise himself up by it. When he had done this, and had not lifted himself up at all, he quietly went on with w as about. Mrs. (Joiler then changed the subject, and began to liaiierme. — 1 liked it for a few moments, but she flattered me so very grossly that the pleasure was soon over. She had a serpentine way of coming close at me when she pretended to be vitally interested in the friends and localities I had left, which was altogether snaky and fork-tongned ; and when she made an occasional bounce upon Startop (who said very little), or upon Drummle (who said less), I rather envied them for being on the opposite side of the table. . After dinner the children were introduced, and Mrs. Coder made admiring comments on their eyes, noses, and legs — a sagacious way of improving their minds. There were lour lit lie girls and two little boys, besides the baby, who might have been either, and the baby's next successor who was yet neither. They were brought. in by Flopson and Millers, much as though (hose two non-com mis- sioned officers had been recruiting somewhere for children and had enlisted these; while Mrs. Pocke) looked at. the young Nobleathai 154 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. ought to have been, as if she rather thought she-had had the pleas- ure of inspecting them before, but didn't quite know what to make of them. " Here ! Give me your fork, mum, and take the baby," said Flopson. "Don't take it that way, or you'll get it's head under the table." Thus advised, Mrs. Pocket took it the other way, and got its head upon the table ; which was announced to all present by a prodigious concussion. " Dear, dear ! Give it me back, mum," said Flopson ; " and Miss Jane come and dance to baby, do ! " One of the little girls — a mere mite, who seemed to have pre- maturely taken upon herself some charge of the others — stepped out of her pla e by me, and danced to and from the baby until it left off crying and laughed. Then all the children laughed, and Mr. Pocket (who in the meantime had twice endeavored to lift himself up by the hair) laughed, and we all laughed and were glad. Flopson, by dint of doubling the baby at the joints like a Dutch doll, thea got it safely into Mrs. Pocket's lap, and gave it the nut- crackers to play with ; at the same time recommending Mrs. Pocket to take notice that the handles of that instrument were not likely to agree with its eyes, and sharply charging Miss Jane to look' after the same. Then the two nurses left the room,, and had a lively scuffle on the staircase with a dissipated page who had' waited at dinner, and who had clearly lost half his buttons at the gaming-table. I was made very uneasy in my mind by Mrs. Pocket's* falling into a discussion with Drummle respecting the dates of two baro- uetcies while she ate a sliced orange steeped in sugar and wine and forgetting all about the baby on her lap, who did most appalling things- with the nut-crackers. At length little Jane, perceiving its young brains to be imperiled, softly left her place, and with many small artifices coaxed the dangerous weapon away. Mrs. Pocket finishing her orange at about the same time, and not approving of this, said to Jane : "You. naughty child, how dare you I Go and sit down this in- stant. ! " " Mamma dear," lisped the little girl, " baby ood have put hith eyeth out." " How dare you tell me "so ! " retorted Mrs. Pocket, " Go and sit down in your chair this 'moment." Mrs. Pocket's dignity was so crushed that I felt quite abashed, as if I 'myself had done something to rouse it. " Belinda," remonstrated Mr. Pocket from the other end of the table, " how can you be so unreasonable. Jane only interfered for the protection of baby." GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 155 " I will not allow any body to interfere," said Mrs. Pocket. " I am surprised, Matthew, thai you should expose me to the affront of interference.'" "Good God !" cried Mr. Pocket in an outbreak of desperation. " Are infants to be liul-crackered into their tombs, and is nobody to save them V "I will not be interfered with by Jane," said Mrs. Pocket, with a majestic glance at that innocent little offender. " 1 hope 1 know my poor grandpapa's position. Jane, rhdeed ! " Mr. Pocket got his hands into his hail again, and Ibis time really did lift himself some inches out of his chair. "Hear this! helplessly exclaimed to the elements. " Babies are to be niitcrack- ered dead, for people's poor grandpapa's positions! " Then be let himself down again, and became silent. We all looked awkwardly at the table-cloth while this was go- ing on. A pause succeeded, during which the honest and irrepres- sible baby made a series of leaps and crows at little .lane, who ap- peared to me to be the only member of the family (irrespective of servants) with whom it had any decided acquaintance. "Mr. Drummle," said Mrs. Pocket, "will you ring for Flopsnn I Jane, you undutiful little thing, go and lie down. Now. baby- darling, come with ma ! " The baby was the soul of honor, mid protested with all its might. It doubled itself up the wrong way over Mrs. Pocket's arm, ex- hibited a pair of knitted shoes and dimpled ankles to the company in lieu of its soft face, ami was carried out in the highest state of mutiny. And it gained its point after all, for I saw it through the window within a few minutes, being nursed by little Jane. It happened that the other live children were left behind at the dinner-table, through Flopson's having some private engagement and their not being any body else's business, i thus became aware of the mutual relations between them and Mr. Pocket,* which were exemplified in the following manner. .Mr. Pocket, with the normal perplexity of his face heightened and his hair rumpled, looked at them for some minutes as if he couldn't make out how they came to be boarding and lodging in that establishment, and why they hadn't been billeted by Nature on somebody else. Then, in a distant missionary way, he asked th< HI e. rlain questions — as why little Jot had that hole in hi- frill: who said. Pa, Flopson was going to mend it when she had lime — and 'how little Fanny came by that- whitlow : who said, Pa, Millers was going to poul- tice it when she didn't forget. Then he melted into parental ten- derness, and gave them a shillin and (old them to go ami play ; and men as they went out ie very strong effort to lift himself up by the hair, he dismissed the hopeless subject. In the evening there was rowing on the river. As Drummle and Startop had each a, boat 1 resolved to set up mine, and to out them 1 56 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. both out. I was pretty good at most exercises in which country boys are adepts, but as I was conscious of wanting elegance of style for the Thames — not to say for other waters — I at once en- gaged to place myself under the tuiiion of the winner of a prize- wherry who plied at our stairs, and to whom I was introduced by my new allies. This practical authority confused me very much by saying I had the arm of a blacksmith. If he could have known how nearly the compliment lost him his pupil I doubt if he would have paid it. There was a supper-tray after we- got home at night, and I think we should all have enjoyed ourselves but for a rather dis- agreeable domestic occurrence. Mrs. Pocket was extremely sweet, and Mr. Pocket was iu good spirits, when a housemaid came in, and said, " If you please, Sir, I should wish to speak to you." " Speak to your master ? ' said Mrs. Pocket, whose dignity was roused again. " How can you think of such a thing! Go and speak to Flopson. Or speak to me at some other time.'' "Begging your pardon, ma'am," returned the housemaid, " I should wish to speak at once, and to speak to master." Hereupon Mr. Pocket went out of. the room, and we made the best of ourselves until he came back. "This is a pretty thing, Belinda !" said Mr. Pocket, returning with a countenance expressive of grief and despair. " Here's the cook lying insensibly drunk on the kitchen floor, with a large bundle of fresh butter made up in the cupboard ready to sell for grease !" Mrs. Pocket instantly showed much amiable emotion, and said, " This is that odious Mary Anne's doing ! " " What do you mean, Belinda?" demanded Mr. Pocket. '•Mary Anne has told you," said Mrs. Pocket. "Did I not see her with my own eyes and hear her with my own ears, come into the room just now and ask to speak to you 1 " " But has she not taken me down stairs, Belinda," returned Mr. Pocket, "and shown me the woman, am! the bundle too? " " And do you defend her, Matthew," said Mrs. Pocket, " for making mischief? " Mr. Pocket uttered a dismAj groan. " Am I, grand-papa's grand-daughter, to be nothing in the house ?" said Mrs. Pocket, " Besides, the cook has always been a very nice respectful woman, and said, in the most natural manner, when she came to look after the situation, she felt I was born to be a Duchess." There was a sofa where Mr. Pocket stood, and he dropped upon it in the attitude of the Dying Gladiator. Still in that attitude, he said, with a hollow voice, " Good-night, Mr-. Pip," when 1 deemed it advisable to go to bed and leave him. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 157 oiiArTEirxxiv. After two or three (lays, when I had established myself in my room, and had gfOjne backward .and forward Id London several times, and had ordered all 1 wauled of my tradesmen, Mr. Pock- et and 1 had a long talk together'. He knew more of my hit, Tid- ed career than 1 knew myself, for he referred to Ins having been rtild by IVIiv Baggers that I was not. designed fur any profession, and that 1 mould he well enpugb educate ! for my destiny if L could " hold my own " with the average of young men in pros- perous circumstances. I acquiesced, of course, knowing nothing lo the contrary. He advised my attending certain places in London, for t lie ac- quisition of Mich mere rudiments as ! wanted, and my investing him witli the functions, of explainer and director of all my studies. He hoped thai with intelligent assistance 1 should meet with little tit discourage me, and should soon he able to dispense with any aid hut his. Through Ins way of saying this, and much mot similar purpose, he placed himself ofi confidential terms with me in an admirable manner; and I may stale at once that he was al- ways so zealous and honorable in fulfilling his compact with me, that he made me zealous and honoraMe in fulfilling mine with him. If lie had shown indifference as a master, 1 have no doubt 1 should have returned ihe compliment as a pupil; he gave me no such excuse, and each of us did the other justice. Nor did I ever regard him as Inning anything ludicrous about him — or any- thing hut what was serious, honest, and good — in his 'tutor commu- nication with me. When these points were settled, and so far carried out as that 1 hud begun to work in earnest, il occurred to me th.il it' 1 could retain my bedroom in Barnard's Inn, my life would he agreeably varied, while my manners would be none the worse for Herbert's society. My. Pockel did not object lo this arrangement, but urged that before any step could possibly be taken in it, it must be submitted to my guardian. 1 felt that his delicacy arose out of the considerate n that the plan would save Herbert some expense; so Invent off to kittle I'.iitain, and imparted my wish to .Mr. Jag- gerd "If I could buy the furniture now hired for me," said I, " and one or two other little tb.il Id be quite at home there." •• &0 il ! " said Mr. Jaegers, with a short laugh. " I told you you'd get on. Wall ! How much do you want V 158 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. I said I didn't know how much. " Come ! " retorted Mr. Jaggers. " How much 1 Fifty pounds 1" " Oh, not nearly so much." " Five pound-' ( " said Mr. Jaggers. This was such a great fall, that I said in discomfiture, "Oh ! e than that." ioijB than that, eh ?" retorted Mr. Jaggers, lying in wait for iih his hands in his pockets, his head on one side, and his eyes nil the wall behind me ; " how much more 1 " " It is so difficult to fix a sum," said I, hesitating. " Clinic !" said Mr. Jaggers. "Let's get at it. Twice-five ; will that do ? Three times five ; will that do ? Four times BVe ; will that do ? " I said I thought that would do handsomely. "Four limes five will do handsomely, will it?" said Mr. Jag- gers, knitting his brows. " Now what do you make of feur times five?" " What do I make of it ? " " Ah ! " said Jaggers ; " how much 1 " "I suppose you male it twenty pounds." said I, smiling. '^fcu'ver mind what I make it, my friend," observed Mr. Jag- . with a knowing and coiTtradictory toss of his head. " I want to know what you make Lfcitt- " Twenty pounds, of course!." " Wemmiek !" said Mr. daggers, opening his office-door. "Take Mr. Pip's written order, and pay him twenty pounds." This 'strongly marked way of doing business made a strongly marked impression on me, and that not of an agreeable kind. — Mr. daggers never laughed; but he wore great bright creaking boots, and in poising himself on these boots, with his large head bent down, and his eyebrows joined together, awaiting an answer, he sometimes caused the boot's to creak, as if they laughed in a dry and suspicious way. As he happened to go out now, and as Wemmiek was brisk and talkative, I said to Wemmiek that I hardly knew what Jo make of Mr. Jaggers's manner. "Tell him that, and he'll take it as a compliment," answered Wemmiek : " lie don't mean that you should know what to make of it. Oh ! " for. I looked surprised, " it's not personal ; it's pro- fessional : only professional."' Wemmiek was at his desk, lunching — and crunching — on a dry, hard biscuit ; pieces of which he threw from time to time into his slit of a mouth, as if he were posting them. "Always seems to me," said Wemmiek, "as if he had set a man-trap and was watching it, Suddenly — click — you're caught !" Without remarking that man-traps were not among the ameni- ties of life, I said 1 supposed he was very skillful I "Deep," said Wemmiek, "as Australia." Pointing with his GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 159 pen at the office floor, to express that Australia was understood fur the purposes of the ligure to he diametrically on the opposite spot of the g obe, •' U' there was any thing deeper," added Wem- mick, bringing his pen to paper, " he'd he Then 1 said I supposed thai he had a tine business, and Wem- mick said " Ca-pi-tal !'' Then 1 asked if there were many clerks? To which he replied : " We don't ran much into clerks, because there' i%nly one.Jag- gers, and [iconic won't have him at second-hand. There arc only four of us Would you like to see 'em I You are one of us. as I may say." 1 accepted the office. When Mr. Wemmick had put all his biscuit into the post, and had paid me my money from a cash-he* in a safe, the key of which safe he kept somewhere down his hack, and produce.; from his coat-collar like an iron pigtail, we went up stairs The house was dark and shabby, and the greasy shoul- ders that had left their mark in Mr. Jaggcrs's room seemed to have been shuflling up and down the staircase for years. In the front first floor, a el looked something between a publican and a rat-catcher — a large, pale, puffed-, swollen man — was atten- tively engaged with three or four people of shabby appearance. whom he treated as 'unceremoniously as every body seemed to be treated who contributed to Mr. Jaggcrs's coffers. "Getting evi- dence together," said Mr. Wemmick. as we came out. "for the l'.ailey." In the room over that, a lit! e flabby terrier of a clerk with dangling hair (his crop: ing seemed to have been forgotten when he was a puppy) was similarly engaged with a man with Weak eyes, whom Mr. Wemmick presented to me as a smelter v\i:o kept his pot always boiling, and would melt me any thing I sed — ami who was in an excessive white-perspiration, as if he been trying his art on himself. In a back room, a high-shoul- dere'd nan, with a face-ache tied up in dirty flannel, who was dressed in old black clothes that bore the appe ranee ol having been waxed, was stooping over his work of making fair copies of 'he noies of the other two gentlemen, for Mr. Jaggers's own use. This was all the establishment. When we went down stairs again- Wemmick led me into my guardian's room, and said. "This you've seen already." " Pray," said 1, as the two odious casts with the twitchy leer upon them caught my sight again, "whose likenesses are those (" ••These?" said Wemmick. getting niton a chair, and blowing- the dus'1 otl'the horrible heaiKbefore bringing 1 them down. "These are two celebrated ones. Famous c .ieiits of ours that go! us a world of credit. This chap (win yon must have come down in the night and been peeping into the inksland. to gel this hot upon your eyebrow, you old rascal !) murdered his master, and, consid- ering that h« wasn't; brought up to evidence, didn't plan it badly," •160 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. " Is if like him V I asked, recoiling from the brute, as Wem- mick spat upon ^is eyebrow and gave it a rub with his sleeve. " Like him ?. It's himself, you know. The cast was made in Newgate, directly afrer he was takeu down. You had a particu- lar fancy for me, hadn't you, Old Artful V said Wemmick. He then explained this affectionate apostrophe, by touching his brooch representing the lady and the weeping willow at the tomb with the urn upon it, and saying, " Had it made for me, express !" •• Is the lady anybody V said I. "No," returned Wemmiek. "Only his game. (You liked 3 our bit of game, didn't you ?) No ; deuce a bit of a lady in the case, Mr. Pip. except one — and she wasn't of this slender, lady- like sort, and you wouldn't have caught her looking after this urn — unless there was something to drink in it." Wemniick's atten- tion being thus directed to his brooch, he put down the cast and polished the brooch with his pocket-handkerchief. "Did that other creature come Wine same end?" I asked. '■ He has the same look." " You're right," said Wemmick, "it's. the genuine look. Much as if one noslril was caught up with a 1; rse-hair and a little fish- hook. Yes. he came to the same end ; quite the natural end here, I assure you. He forged wills, this blade did, if he didn't also put the supposed testators to sleep — and it looked previous like it. You were a gentlemanly Cove. too. "'(Mr. Wemmick w T as again apoBtrophieing), "and you said yon could write Greek. Yah, Bpunceable ! What a liar you were ! 1 never met such a liar as you!" efore putting his late friend on his shelf again, Wem- mick touched the largest of bis mourning rings, and said, " Sent out to buy it forme only the day before." ,,• While he was putting up the other cast and coming down from the chair, the thought crossed my mind that all his personal jew- elry was derived from like sources. As he had shown no diffi- dence m; the subject,! ventured on the liberty of asking him the question, when he stood before me, dusting his hands. "Oh yes," he returned, " these are all gifts of that kind. One brings another, you see; that's the way of it. 1 always lake 'em. They're curiosities. And they're property. They may not be worth much, but, after all, they're property and portable. It don't Signify to you with your bri liant look-out, but as to myself, my guiding-star always is, ' Get hold of portable property.' " When I had rendered homage to this light, he went on to say, in a friendly manner: '• Jf at any odd time, when you have nothing better to do, you wouldn't mind coming over to see me at Walworth, I could offer you a bed, and I should consider it an honor. I have not much to show you ; but guch two or three curiosities as I have got you GREAT EXPECTATIONS. * 161 might like to look over ; and I am fond of a bit of garden and a summer-house." I said I should be delighted to accept his hospitality. " Thank'ee," said he ; "then we'll consider that it's to come off, when convenient to you. Have you diued with Mr. Jasrgers yet ?" " Not yet." " Well," said Wemmick, " he'll give you wine, and £Ood wine. I'll give you punch, and not bad punch. And now I'll tell you something. When you go to dine with Mr. Jaggers, look at his housekeeper." " Shall I see something very uncommon V " Well," said Wemmick, " You'll see a wild beast tamed. Not so very uncommon, you'll tell me. 1 reply, that depends on the original wildness of the beast, and the amount of taming. It won't lower your opinion of Mr. Jaggers's powers. Keep your eye on it." 1 told him 1 would do so with all the interest and cuiiosiiv that his preparation awakened. As I was taking my- departure, he asked me if I would like to devote five minutes to seeing Mr. Jaggers " at it," For several reasons, and not least because I didn't clearly know what Mt, Jaggers would be found to be "at," I replied in the affirmative. We div^d into the City, and came up in a crowded police-court, where a blood-relation (in the murderous sense) of the deceased with the fanciful taste in brooches was standing at. the bar, uncomfortably- chewing something; while my guardian had a woman under examination or cross-examination — I don't know which — and was striking her, and the bench, and every body present with awe. If any body, of whatsoever degree, said a word thai lie didn't approve of, he instantly required to have it " taken down." If any body wouldn't make an admission, he said, " I'll have ii out of you!" and if any body made an admission, he said, "Now I have got you !" The magistrates shivered under a single bite of his finger. Thieves and thief-takers bung in dread rapture on iiis words, and shrank when a hair of his eyebrows turned in their direction. Which side he was on I couldn't make out, for he seemed to me to be grinding the whole place in a mill ; I only know that when I stole out on tip-toe he was not. on the side of the b;mch, for he was making the legs of the old gentleman who presided quite convulsive under the table, by his denuncia- tions of his conduct as the representative of British law and jus- tice in that chair that dav. U l&£ GREAT EXPECTATIONS. CHAPTER XXV. Bentley Drhmmle, who was so sulky a fellow that he even took np a book as if its writer had done him an injury, did not take up an acquaintance in a more agreeable spirit Heavy in figure, movement, and comprehension — in the sluggish complex- inn of his face, and in the large, awkward tongue that seemed to loll about in his mouth as he himself lolled about in a room — he was idle, proud, niggardly, reserved, and suspicious. lie came of rich 'people down in Somersetshire who had nursed this combina- tion of qualities until they made the discovery that it was just of age and a blockhead. Thus Bentley Drummle had come to Mr. Pocket when he was a head taller than that gentleman, and half a dozen heads thicker than most gentlemen. Startop had been spoiled by a weak mother and kept at home when he ought to have been at school ; but he was devotedly at- tached to her, and admired her beyond measure. He had a wo- man's delicacy of feature, and was — ";is you may see, though you never saw her," said Herbert to me — exactly like his mother. It was but natural that I should take to him much more kindly than to Drummle, and that even in the earliest evening of our boating he and I should pu'l homeward abreast of one another, conversing from boat to boat; while Bentley Drummle came up in our wake alone, under the overhanging hanks and among rushes. lie would always creep in shore like some uncomfortable amphibious crea- ture, even when the tide would have sent him fast upon his way, and I always think of him as coming after us in the dark or by the hack-water, when our own two boats were breaking the sunset or the moonlight in mid-stream. Herbert was my most intimate companion and friend. I pre- sented him with a half-share in my boat, which was the occasion of his often coming down to Hammersmith; and my possession of a half-share in his chambers often took me up to London. We used to walk between the two places at all hours, and 1 have an affection for the road yet (though it is not so pleasant a road as it was then), formed in the impressibility of untried youth and hope. When 1 had been in Mr. Pocket's family a month or two .Air. and Mrs. Camilla turned up. Camilla was Mr. Pocket's sister. Georgiana, whom I had seen at Miss Havisham's on the same oc- casion, also turned up. She was a cousin — an indigestive single woman, who called her rigidity religion, and her liver love. These people hated me with the hatred of cupidity and disappointment. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 1G3 As a matter of course, they fawned upon me in my prosperity with the basest meanness. Toward Mr. Pocket, as a sort of grown-up infant with no notion of his own interests, they showed the com- placent forbaarsthce I had heard them express. Mrs. Pocket they Beld in contempt; but they allowed the poor dear soul to have been heavily disappointed in life, because that shed a full reflect- ed light upon themselves. These were the surroundings among which I settled down, and applied myself to education. I soon contracted expensive habits, and began to spend an amount of money that within a few short months I should have thought almost fabulous ; but, through good and evil, I stuck to my books. There was no other merit in this than my having sense enough to feel my deficiencies. Between Mr. Pui-ket and Herbert I got on fast, and with one or the other always at my elbow to give me the directions I wanted, and clear obstructions out of my road, I must have been as great a dolt as Drummle if I had done less. I had not seen Mr. Weromick for some weeks, when T thought T would write him a note and propose to go home with him on a certain evening, lie replied that it would give bin. much plea- sure, and that he would expect me at the office at six o'clock. Thither 1 went, and there I found him putting the key of las safe down his back as the dock struck. " Did you think of walking down to Walworth?" said he. "•Certainly," said I, "if you approve." "Very much," was Wcmmiek's reply, "for I have had my legs under the desk- all day, and shall be glad to stretch 'em. Now I'll tell you what I have got. for supper, Mr. Pip. I have got a stewed stake — which is of home preparation — and a cold I fowl— which is from the cook-shop. I think it's tender, because the master of the shop was a juryman in some cases of ours the other day, and we let him down easy. I reminded him of that when 1 bought the fowl, and 1 said, ' Pick us out a good one, old fellow, because if we had chosen to keep you in the box another day or two we could easily have done it,' He said to that, ' Let me make you a present of the best fowl in the shop.' 1 let him, of course. As far as it goes, it's property and portable. You don't object to an aged parent, I hope ?" r I really though $ he was still speaking of the fowl, until he ad- ded, " Because I have got an aged parent at my place." I then eaid what politeness required. " So you haven't dined with Mr. Jaggers yet?" ho pursued, as he walked along. "Not, yet." " He told me so this afternoon when he heard you were coming to see me. I expect you'll have an invitation to-morrow. He's going to ask your pals, too. Three of 'em, ain't there ?" 164 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Although I was not in the habit of counting Drummle as one of niy intimate associates, I said, " Yes." "Well, he's going to ask the whole gang'' — I hardly felt com- plimented by the word. — "and whatever he gives you, he'll give, good. Don't look forward to variety, but you'll have excellence. And there's another rum thing in his bouse," proceeded Wem- niick, after a moment's pause, as if the remark bestowed on the housekeeper was understood; "he never lets a door or window be fastened at night." " Is he never robbed ?", " That's it," returned Wemmick. " He says, and gives it out publicly, " I want to see the man who'll rob me.' Lord bless you, I ba^e beard him a hundred times if 1 have heard him once, say to regular cracksmen in our front office. ' You know where I live; now no bolt is ever drawn there; why don't you do a stroke of business with rn 1 Come, can't I 'tempt you?' Not a man of 'em, .sir, would be bold enough to try it on for love or money." " They dread him so much," said I. "Tread him:" said Wemmick. "Ah! I believe you, they dread him. Not but what he's artful, even in his defiance -of 'em; silver, Sir. Britannia metal every spoon." " Si, they wouldn't have much," I observed, "even if they — " "Ah! but he would have much," said Wemmick, cutting me, short, " and they know it. He'd have their lives, and the lives of scnr.es of 'cm. He'd have all he could get. And it's impossible to say what be couldn't get, if he gave his mind to it." 1 was falling into meditation on my guardian's greatness, when Wemmick remarked : " As to rhe absence of plate, that's only his natural depth. A river's its natural depth, and he's his natural depth. Look at his watch-chain. That's real enough." " "lis very massive,'' said 1. " Massive ." repeated Wemmick. '' 1 think so. And his watch is a gold repeater, and worth a hundred pounds if it's worth a pen- ny. Mr. Pip ! There are about five hundred thieves in this town who know all about thai watch : there's not a man, a woman, or a child among 'em who wouldn't identify the smallest link in that ls if it was red-hot if inveigled into touching it," Al first with such discourse, and afterward with conversation of a more general nature, did Mr. Wemmick and I beguile the time and the road until he gave me to understand that we had arrived in the district of Walworth. It appeared to be a collection of back lanes, ditches, and little g&rdens, and to present the aspect of a mighty and dull retirement. Weimiiick's house was a little wooden cottage in the midst of plots of garden, and the top of it was cut out and painted like a battery mounted with guns. GREAT EXPECTATIONS 165 " 3Iy own doing," said Wemmick. "Looks pretty, don't it." I highly commended it. I think it was the smallest house I ever saw ; with the queerest Gi)thic windows (by far the greater pari of them sham), and a Gothic dobf, almost top small to get in at. "There's a real flag-staff, you see," said WemAick, " aud on Sundays I run up a real (lag. Then look here. After I have crossed this bridge I hoist it up — so — and cut off the communica- tion." The bridge was a plank, and it crossed a chasm about four feet wide and two deep. But it was very pleasant to see the pride with which he hoisted it up and made it fast; smiling as hi' did so with a relish, and not merely mechanically. "At nine o'clock every night. Greenwich time," said Wemmick, " the gun tires. There he is, you see ; and when you hear him go, 1 think you'll say he's a StingeV The piece of ordnance referred to- was mounted into a separate fortress, lightly constructed of lattoe-work. It was protected from the weather by an ingenious little tarpaulin contrivance in the na- ture of an umbrella. " Then, at the back," said Wemmick, "out oi' sight, so as not to impede the idea of fortifications — for it's a principle with me, if yon have an idea, carry it out and keep it up. I don't know wheth- er that's your opinion — " 1 said, decidedly. " At the back, there's a pig, and there are fowls and rabbits ; then I knock together my own little farm, you see. and grow cu- cumbers ; and you'll judge at supper what sort of a salad 1 can raise. So, Sir," said Wemmick, smiling again, but rather serious- ly too, "if you can suppose the little place besieged, i: would hold out a devil of a time in -point of provisions. Then he conducted me to a. bower about a dozen yards off, but which was approached by such ingenious twists of path that it took quite a long time to get at; and in this re real our "glasses were already set forth. Our punch was cooling in an ornamental lake, on whose margin the bower was raised. This piece of water (with an island in the middle which might have been the salad for supper) was of a circular form, and he had constructed a foun- tain in it, which, when you set a little mill going and took a cork out of a pipe, played to that powerful extent that if made the back of your hand quite wet. " 1 am my own engineer, and my own carpenter, and my own plumber, and my own gardener, and my own Jack of all Trades," said Wcmmick, in acknowledging my compliments. " Well it's a good thing, you know. It brushes the Newgate cobwebs away, and pleases the Aged. You wouldn't mind being at once intro- duced to the Aged, would you ? It wouldn't put you out ?" 16ft GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. I expressed -the readiness I felt, and we went into the Castle. — There we found, sitting by a fire, a very old man in a flannel coat : •.•lean, cheerful, comfortable, and well cared for, but intensely deaf. ■ Well, aged parent," said Wernmick, shaking hands with him ., . cordial and jocose way, " how are you ? " " All light, John ; all right; " replied the old man. Here's Mr. Pip, aged parent," said Wernmick, "and I wish coukl hear his name. Nod away at him, Mr. Pip : that's what ne likes. Nod away at him like winking ! " " This is a fine place of my son's, sir," piped the old man, while i nodded as hard as I possibly could. " This is a pretty pleas- ground, sir. This spot and these beautiful works upon it ought e kept together by the Nation after my son's time, for the peo- ple's, enjoyment." •' You're as proud of it as Punch ; ain't you, aged parent V said Wi mmick, contemplating the old man with his hard face really softened ; "there's a nod for you," giving him a tremendous one ; " / hire's another for you," giving him a still more tremendous one ; "yon 'ike that, don't you? If you're not tired, Mr. Pip — though i know it's tiring to strangers — tip him one more. You can't think how it pleases him." 1 ripped him several more, and he was in great spirits. W T e ; bestirring himself to feed the fowls, and sat down to our h in the arbor; where Wernmick told me as he smoked a that it had taken him a good many years to bring the prOp- {) to its present point of perfection. it your own, Mr. Wernmick ?" •' »h, yes,'' said Wernmick, "I have got hold of it, a bit at a it's a freehold, by George! " it, indeed? I hope Mr. J aggers admires it? " '"5\'ever seen it," said Wernmick. " Never heard of it. Never Mrn the Aged. Never heard of him. No; the office is one thing private life another. When I go into the office I leave the Castle behind me, and when I come into the Castle I leave the office behind me. If it's not in any way disagreeable to you, you'll oblige me by doing the same. I don t wish it professionally spo- ken about." Of course I felt my good faith to be involved in the observance of this request. s The punch being very nice, we sat there drinking it and talking until it was most nine o'clock. " Getting near gun- fire," said Wernmick then, as he laid down his pipe ; " it's the Aged's treat." Proceeding into the Castle again, we found the Aged heating the poker, with expectant eyes, as a preliminary to the performance of this great nightly ceremony. Wernmick stood with his watch in his hand, until the moment was come for him to take the red-hot poker from the Aged, and repair to the outworks. He took it GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 167 and went out, and presently the Stinger went off with n, bang shook the crazy little box of a cottage as if it must fall to pieces, and made every glass and tea-cup in it ring. Upon which the Aged — who I believe would have been Mown out of Ids arm-chair but for holding on by the elbows — cried out, exultingly, " He's fired! 1 heerd him !" and I nodded at the old gentleman until it is no, figure of speech to declare that I absolutely could not Bee him. The interval between that time and supper- "Wenfjpick devoted to showing meJiis collection of curiosities. They were mostly of a felonious character; comprising the pen with which a celebrated forgery had been committed, a distinguished razor or two, some locks of hair, and several manuscript confessions written under condemnation — upon which Mr. Wemmick set a particular value as being, to use his own words, "every one of 'em lies, sir." — These were agreeably dispersed among small specimens of china and glass, various neat trifles made by th^ proprietor of the mu- seum, and some tobacco-stoppers carved by the Aged. They were all displayed in that chamber of the Castle into which I bad been first inducted, and which served not only as the general sitting- room, but as the kitchen too, if I might judgeirom a sauce-pan on the hob, and a brazen bijou over the fire-pla ted for th« suspension of a roasting-jack. There was a neat little girl in attendance, who looked after the Aired in the day. When she had laid the supper-cloth the bridge was lowered to give her means of egress, and she withdrew for the night. The supper was excellent; and though the Castle was rat I km- subject to dry-rot, insomuch that it tasted like a bad nut," and though the pig might have been farther off, 1 was heartily pleased wi h my whole entertainment. Nor was there any draw- back on my Hi tie turret bedroom beyond, there being such a thin ceiling between me and the flag-staff that when I lay down on my back in bed it seemed as il 1 had lo balance tnat pole on my forehead all night. Wemmick was up betimes in the morning, and I am afraid 1 1 him cleaning my boots. After that he fell to gardening, and T saw him from ray gothic window pretending to employ the Aged, and nodding at him in a most devoted manner. Our break- vas as good as the supper, and at half-past eight precisely we started for Little Britain*. By degrees Wemmick got dryer and harder as we went along, and his mouth tightened into a Dost-ofnce again. When we got to his place of business, and he pulled out his key from his coat collar, he looked as unconscious of his Walworth property as if the Castle and the drawbridge and the arbor and the lake and the fountain and the Aged had all been blown into space together by the last discharge of the Stinger. 168 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. CHAPTER XXVI. It fell out, as Wemmick had told me it would, that I had an early opportunity of comparing my guardian's establishment with that of his cashier and clerk. My guardian was in his room wash- ing his hands with his scented soap when I went into the office from "Walworth, and he called me to him, and gave me the invi- tation for myself and friends which Wemmick had prepared me to receive. " No ceremony," he stipulated, "and no dinner dress, and say to-morrow." I asked him where we should come to (for I had no idea where he lived, and I believe it was in his general objection to make an* thing like an objection), and he replied, " Come here, and I'll Take you home with me." I embraced this opportunity of remarking that he washed his clients off as if he were a surgeon or a dentist. He had a closet in his room, fitted up for the purpose, which smelled of the scented soap like a per- finmer's shop. It had an unusually large jack-towel on a roller inside the door, and he would wash his hands, and wipe th'em and dry them all over this towel, whenever he came in from a police- court or dismissed a client from his room. When I and my friends repaired to him at six o'clock nt j xt day, he seemed to have been engaged on a case of a darker complexion than usual, for we found him with his head butted into this closet, not only washing his hands, but laving his face and gurgling his throat. And even when he had done all that, and had gone all round the jack-towel, he took out his penknife and scraped the case out of his nails be- fore he put on his coat. There were, some people slinking about as usual when we pass- ed out into the street, who were evidently very anxious to S] ta ! . with him ; but. there was something conclusive in the halo of scented soap that encircled his presence%and they gave it up for that day. As we walked along westward he was recognized ever and again by some face in the crowd of the streets, and whenever that happened he talked louder ; but he never otherwise recog- nized any body, or took notice that any body recognized him. He conducted us to Gerrard Street, Soho, to a house on the south side of that street, Rather a stirtely house of its kind, but doleful for want of painting, and with dirty windows. He took out his key and opened the door, and we all went into a stone hall, bare, gloomy, and little used. So, up a dark brown staircase into a series of three dark brown rooms ou the first floor. There were carved garlands on the paneled walls, and as he stood among GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 169 them giving us welcome, I know what kind of loops I thought, they looked like. Dinner way laid in the besf of these rooms; the second was his dressing-room; the third his bedroom*. He iold us-that.be held the whole house, hut rarely used more of it than we saw. The table was comfortably laid — no silver in the service, of course — and at the side of his chair was a capacious dumb-waiter, with a variety of bottles on it, and four dishes of fruit for desert. I no- ticed then, and throughout, that he kept every thing under his own band, distributed every thing himself. There was a book-case in the room, and I saw, from the hacks of the book?, that they were about' evidence, criminal law, crimi- nal biography, trials, acts of parliament, and such things. The furniture was all very solid and good lilte his watch chain. It bad an official look, however, and there was nothing merely orna- mental to be se In a corner was a little table of papers with a shaded lamp, that be seemed to bring the office home with him in that respec ; too, and to wheel it out of an evening and fall to work. As he had scarcely seen my three companions until now — for lie and 1 had walked together — he stood on the hearth-rug, after ringing the bell, and took a searching look at them. To my sur- prise, he seemed at once to be principally if not solely interested in Urummle. " Pip," said he, putting his large hand on my shoulder and mo- ving me to the window, "I don't, know one from the other. Who's the spider '." '•The spider?" said I. "The blotchy, spanky, sulky fellow." •' That's limit ley Drummle." I replied; "the one with the deli- cate face is Startup. " Not making the least, account of "the one with the delicate face,'" be returned : •• Bent^gy Drummle is his name, is it.? Ah ! I like tlie look of that fellow." He immediately began to talk to Drummle ; not at all deterred by his replying in his heavy reticent way. but apparently led on by it to screw discourse forcibly out of him. I was lookjjDj the, two when there came between me and them the houseke with the first dish for the table. She was a woman of about, forty, I supposed — but I may have thought her older than she was, as if is the maimer of youth to do. Rather tall, of a lithe, nimble figure, extremely pale, with large blue eyes, and a quantity of streaming light, hair. Lean no! say whether any diseased affection of the heart caused her lips to be parted as it she were paining, and her face, to bear a curious ex- pression of suddenness and flutter; but I know that I had been to see Macbeth at the theatre a night, or two before, aid that her 170 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. face looked to me as if it were all disturbed by fiery air, like the faces I had seen rise out of the caldron She set the dish on, touched me quietly on the arm with a finger to notify t hat dinner was ready, and vanished. We took our seats at the round table, and my guardian kept Drummle on one side of him, while Startop sat on the other. It was a noble dish of fish that the housekeeper had put on the table, and we bad a joint of equally choice mutton afterward, and then some equally choice birds. Sauces, wines, all the accessories we wanted, and all of the best, were given out by our host from his dumb-waiter, and when they- had made the circuit of the table he always put them back again. Similarly, he dealt us clean plates, and knives and forks, for each course, and dropped those just disused into two baskets, on the gnwiid, by bis chair. No other attendant than the housekeeper appeared. She set on every dish, and I a, ways saw ,in her face a face rising out of the caldron. Years afterward 1 made a dreadful likeness of that woman by causing a face that had no other natural resemblance to it than it derived from flowing light air, to pass behind a bowl of flaming spirits in a dark room. Induced to take particular notice of the housekeeper, both by her own striking appearance and by Wemmick's preparation, t observed that whenever she was in the room, she kept her eyes attentively on my guardian, and that she would quite remove her hands from any dish she put before him, watching as if she dread- ed his calling her hack, and wanted him to speak when she was nigh, as if he had any thing to say. 1 fancied that I could detect, in his manner a consciousness of this, and a purpose of holding her in suspense. Dinner went off gayly, and although my guardian seemed to follow rather than originate subjects. 1 knew that he somehow wrenched the weakest part of our dispositions out of 'us. For myself, I found that 1 was expressing my tendency to lavish ex- penditure, 'and to patronize Herbert, and to boast of my great prospects, before I quite knew that I had opened my eyes. It was so with ail Of us. but with no one more than Drummle: the development of whose inclination to gird in a grudging and sus- picious way at the rest, was screwed out of him before the fish was tax en off. it was not then, but when we had got to the cheese, that our conversation turned upon our rowing feats, and that Drummle was rallied for coming up behind of a night in that slow amphibi- ous way of his. Drummle upon this informed our host that he much preferred our loom to our company, and that as to skill he was more than our master, and that as to strength he could scat- ter us like chaff. By some invisible agency my guardian — it could have been no one else — wound him up to a pitch little short GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 171 of ferocity about this trifle; and he fell to baring and spanning his arm tit show how muscular it was, and we ail fell lo baring and spanning our arms in a ridiculous manner. Now the housekeeper was ai thai time clearing the table, and my guardian, taking no heed of her, but with the side of his (ace tamed from her, was leaning batik in his chair biting the side of his forefinger, and showing an interest in Drummle thai, to me, was quite inexplicable. Suddenly he clapped his large hand on the housekeeper's as she stretched it across the table, like a trap. So suddenly and smartly, that wo all stopped in our foolish con- tention. " If you talk of strength," said Mr. .Taggers. " I'\\ show you a wrist. Molly, let them see your wrist." Her entrapped hand was on the tahle, but. she had already put her other hand behind her waist. "Master," she said, in a low voice, with her eye's attentively and timidly fixed upon him, •'Don't !" " r\\ show you a wrist," repeated Mr. daggers, with an immov- able determination to show it. " Molly, let them see your wrist.". "Master," she again murmured, s* Please!" "Molly," said Mr. Jaggers, not looking at her, but obstinately compressing his lips, and looking at the opposite side of the ro " let them see both tour wrists. Show them. Come ! " lie roughly look his hands from hers, and turned that wrist up on the tabic. She brought her oilier hand from behind her, and held the two out side by side, ihe last wrist, was much di ufed — deeply scarred, *nd scarred across and across. When she held her hands out she took her eyes from Mv. daggers, and turned them watchfully on every one of the rest of US in succession. "There's power here," said Mr. daggers, tracing out the sin- ews with his forefinger ^ithoul touching them. "Very few men have the power of wrist thai this woman has. It's remarkable what mere force of grip there is in these ham's. I have had oc- casion to notice ninny hands, but I never saw stronger in thai specfe; man's or woman's, than these." While he said these words in a leisure, critical way, she contin- ued to look at every one .if us in regular succession as we sat. — The moment he ceased she looked at him again. "That'll do, Mol- ly," said Mr. Jaggers, giving her a slight nod; "you have been admired and can go." She withdrew her hands and went quietly out of the room, and Mr. daggers, putting the decanters on from his dum- waiter, tilled his glass, and passed round the wine. "A; half-past nine, gentlemen," said he, "we must break up. — Pray make the best use of your time. 1 am glad to see you all. Mr. Drummle, 1 drink to you." if his objeel in singling out Drummle were \o bring him out still more.it perfectly succeeded. In a sulky triumph, Drummle 172 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. showed his morose depreciation of the rest of us in a more and more offensive degree, until he became downright intolerable. — Through all his stages Mr. Jaggery followed him with the same inexplicable interest. He actually seemed to serve as a zest to Mr. daggers'* wine. In our boyish want of discretion I dare say we took too much to drink, ami 1 know we talked too uiuch and too noisily. We became particularly hot upon some boyish sneer of Drummle's. to the effect that we were too free with our money. It led to my remarking, with more zeal than politeness, that it came with a bad grace from him, to whom Startup had lent money in my pres- ence bill a week' or so before. " Well," retorted Drummle. "he'll be paid." "I don't mean to imply that he won't," said I; "but it n make vou hold vour tongue about us and our money, I should think.-' •' You should think !'' retorted Drummle. "0 Lord!" "1 dare say," I went on, meaning to be very severe, "that you wouldn't lend money to any of us if we wanted it," "You do me justice," said Drummle. "1 wouldn't lend one of you a sixpence. 1 wouldn't, lend anybody a sixpence" ".Rather mean to burrow under tbosd circumstances, 1 should % " You should say ! " repeated Drummle. "Oh Lord ! " This was so very aggravating^-t he more especially as I found i if making no way against bis surly obtuseness — that I said, arding Herbert's efforts to check me: " Coi >, Mr. Drummle. since we are oiribo subject, I'll tell you what passed between Herbert here ami me, when you borrowed that money." '•/ don'1 want to know what passed between Herbert there and you," growled Drummle. And 1 think he added, in a lower growl, that we might go to the devil and shake ourselves. "I'll tell ym;. however," said I, " whether you want to ki or not. We said that as you put it in your pocket, you seemed to be immensely anmsed'at his being ass as to lend it." Drummle laughed out^jghr, and sat laughing in our faces, with bis hands in his pockets and his round sbooh I d, plainly signifying that it was quite true, and that he despised us as asses all. Hereupon Startop took him in hand, though with a much better grace than 1 bad shown, and exhorted him to be a little more able. Startop being a lively, bright young fellow, and Drummle leii,g the exact opp< site, the latter was always disposed to n him as a direct personal affront He now retorted in a coarse, lumpish way, and Startop tried to turn the discussion aside with some small pleasantry that made us all laugh. Resenting this GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 173 little success more than anything, Drummle, without any threat or warning, pulled bis bands out of his pockets, dropped his round shoulders, swore an oath, took up a large glass, and would infalli- bly have ffung it at his adversary's head, hut for our entertainer's dexterously seizing it at the instant when it was raised for that purpose. "Gentlemen," said Mr. daggers, very deliberately putting down the glass', and hauling out his gold repeater by its massive chain, "1 am sorry to announce that it i half-past nine." On this hint we all rose to depart. Before we got to the street- door Startop was cheerily calling Prumnde " old fellow," as if noth- ing had happened. But the old fellow was so far from respond- ing that he would not even walk to Hammersmith on the same of the way; so Ilerhert and I, who remained in town, saw them going down the street on opposite sides; Startop leading, and Prumnde lagging on behind in the shadow of the houses, much as he was wont to follow in his boat. As the door was not yet shut, 1 thought I would leave Herbert there for a moment, and run up stairs again to say a word of apol- ogy to my guardian. I found him in his dressing-room, surrounded by his boots, already hard at it, Washing his hands of us. 1 told hhn that I had come up again to say how sorry I was that any thing disagreeable should have occurred, and that I hop- ed he would not blame me very much. " 1'ooh !" said he, sluicing his face, and speaking through the water-drops; " it's nothing. Tip. I like thai spider though." He had turned toward me now, and was shaking his head, and blowing, and toweling himself. '• 1 am glad you like him. sir," said 1 ; " but I don't." " No, no," my guardian assented ; " don't have too much to do with him. Keep as clear of him as may be. hut I like the fel- low, 1'ip; he is one of the true sort ; 1 have not been disappointed in him. Why, if 1 were a fortune-teller — *' 'king out of the towel he caught my eye. •• Bui 1 am not a fortune-teller," he said, letting his head drop into a festoon of towel, and toweling away at his two ears. "You know what 1 am. Good-rlight, Pip." '■ I Miod-night, sir." In about a month after that the Spider's time with Mr. Pocket was up for good, and, to the great relief of all the house but Mr*. Pocket', he went home to the family hole. He called me Black- smith when he went away, qualified to be an indifferent hostler or a bad game-keeper. J 74 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. CHAPTER XXVII. "My Dear Mr. Pip. — T write this by request of Mr. Gargery, fur to let you know that he is going to London in company with Mr. Wopsle, and would be glad if agreeable to be allowed to see you. lie would call at Barnard's Hotel Tuesday morning 9 o'clock, when if not agreeable please leave word. Your poor sister is much the same as when you left. We talk of you in the kitchen every night, and wonder what you are saying and doing. If not considered in the light of a liberty, excuse it for the love of poor old days. — No more, dear Mr. Pip, from your ever obliged and affectionate Servant, Biddy. " P. S. — He wishes me most particularly to write what larks. — He says you will understand. I hope and do not doubt it will be agreeabje to see him even though a gentleman, for you had ever a good heart and he is a worthy .worthy man. I have read him all, excepting only the last little sentence, and he wishes me most par- ticular to write again tohat larks." I received this letter by the post on Monday morning, and there- fore ils appointment was for next day. Let me confess exactly with what feelings I looked forward to Joe's coming. Not with pleasure, though I was bound to him by so many ties; no ; with considerable disturbance, some mortification, and a keen sense of incoi gruity. If I could have kept him away by paying money, I ceitainly would have paid money. My greatest reassurance was that he was coming to Barnard's Inn, not to Hammersmith, and consequently would not fall in Bentley Drummie's way. I had little objection to his being seen by Her- bert or his father, for both of whom I had respect; but I had the sharpest sensitiveness as to his being seen by Drummle, whom I held in contempt. So, throughout lite, our worst weaknesses and meannesses are usually committed for the sake of the people whom we most despise. , I had begun to be always decorating the chambers in some quite unnecessary and inappropriate way or other, and very ex- pensive those wrest'es with Barnard proved to be. By this time the rooms were vastly different from what 1 had found them, and 1 enjoyed 1he honor of occupying a few prominent pages in the books of a neighboring upholsterer. 1 got on so fast of late that I had even started a boy in boots — top boots — in bondage and slavery to whom I might have been said to pass my days. For GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 176 after I had made my monster (out of the refuse of my washer- woman's family), and had clothed him with a blue coat, canary waistcoat, while cravat, creamy breeches, and the hunts already mentioned, I had to find him a little to do arid a gteal deal to eat ; and with both of those lmrrihle retirements he haunted my ex- istence. This avenging phantom was ordered to be on duty at eight on Tuesday morning in the hall (it was two feet square, as charged for floor-cloth), and Herbert suggested certain things for break- fast that, he thought; Joe would lie. While I felt sincerely oh igcd to him for being so interested and considerate, I had an odd, half-provoked sense of suspicion upon me thai if due had been coming to see him he wouldn't have been quUe so brisk; However, I came into town on the Monday night to be readj for Joe, and I got up early in the morning, and caused the sit- ting-room and breakfast- table to assume their most splendid ap- pearance. Unfortunately the morning was foggy, and an at could not have concealed the fact that Barnard was shedding Booty tears outside the window, like some weak giant of a Sv, As the time approached I should have liked to run away, bul the Avenger, pursuant to orders, was in the hall, and presently I heard Joe oil the staircase. 1 knew ir was Joe by his clumsy ner of coming up stairs — his state boots being always too big for him — and by the time it took htm to read the nam< other floors in the course of his ascent. When at last he stopped outsi.de our door, I could hear his linger tracing over the painted letters of my name, and I afterward heard him breathing in at the key-hole. Finally he gave a faint single rap, and Pepper — i was the name of the avenging boy — announced "Mr. Gar- gery ! "• 1 thought he never would have done wiping his feet, and 1 must have gone out to lift him off the mat, but at la,sl be e in. " .Ice. how are yon, Joe .''' • o. how \RE you. Pip (" With his good honest face all glowing and shining, and his hat put down on the floor .between us, he i ioth my hands and ed them straight up and down, as if 1 had been the last pa- tented rump. -hied to see you, doe. i >• hat." : up with both hands like a hirdnest with < in it, wo parting with that piece of property, in standi! ; over it. in a most Uncomfortable way. " Wl ion v :,,,,! th a | ,< NV el ed efolked :" Joe considered a litl e before he din- red this . if to your king and country." " And yuu, Joe, look wonderfully well." mu ■ .. <*.* ** *. mm 176 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. " Thank God," said Joe, " I'm ekerval to most. And your sister, she's no worse than she were. And Biddy, she's ever right and ready. And all friends is no backerder, if not no forard- er. 'Optin' Wopsle; he's had a drop." All this time (still with both hands taking great care of the birdsnest) Joe was rol'ing his eyes round and routtd the room, and round and round the flowered pattern of my dressing-gown. " Had a drop, Joe?" "Why, ves," said Joe, lowering his voice, " he's left the Church, and went into the play-acting. Which the play-acting have likeways brought him to London along with me. And his wish were," said Joe, getting'the birdsnest under his left arm for the moment and groping in it for an egg with his right; " if no offence', as I would 'and you that." I took what Joe gave me, and found it to be the crumpled play-bil of a small metropolitan; theatre, announcing the first ap- pearance on the ensuing Monday of " the celebrated Provincial Amateur of Roscian renown, whose unique performance in the highest tragic walk of our National Bard has lately occasioned s© great a sensation in local dramatic circles." " Were you at his performance, Joe?" I inquired. " I were," said Joe, with great solemnity. " W*as there a great sensation ?" " Why," said Joe, "yes, there certainly were a peck of orange- peel. Partickler, where he see the ghost, Though I put it to Yourself, Sir, whether it were calc'lated to keep a man up to his work with a good hart, to be continiwally cutting in betwixt him and i he Ghost with 'Amen!' A man may have had a misfortun' and been in the Church," said Joe, lowering his Voice to an ar- gumentative and feeling tone, "but that is no reason why you should put him out at such a time. Which I meantersay, if the ghost of a man's own father can not be allowed to bckipy his at- tention, what can, Sir ? Still more, when his mourning 'at is un- fortunately made so small as that the weight of the black feathers brings it off, try to keep it on how you may." A ghost-seeing effect in Joe"s own countenance informed me that, Herbert had entered the room. So I presented Joe to Her- bert, who held out bis hand ; but Joe backed from it, and held on by the birdsnest, " Your servant, Sir," sa'd Joe "which I hope as you and Pip" — here his eye fell on the Avenger, who was putting some eggs on the table, and so plainly denoted an intention to make that young gentleman one of the family; that I frowned it down and confused him — " 1 meantersay, you two gentlemen — which I hope as you get your elths in this close spot 1 For the present may be a werry good inn, according to London opinions," said Joe, persuasively, " and I believe its character do stand i,* bait I wouldn't keep a ' GREAT EXPECTATIONS ~ 177 pig in it myself — not in the case that I wished him to fatten wholesome and to eat short with a me.ller flavor on him." Having borne this flattering testimony to the merits of our dwelling-place, and having incidentally shown this tendency to call me "Sir," Joe, being invited to sit down to table, looked all round the room for a suitable spot, on which to deposit his hat — as if it were only ou some very few rare substances in nature that it could find a resting-place — and ultimately stood it on an extreme corner of the chimney-piece, from which it ever afterward fell oil' at intervals. "Do you lake tea. or coffee. Mr. fiargeryf" asked Herbert, who always presided of a morning. " Thankee. Sir," said doe, stiff from head to foot, " I'll take whichever is most agreeable to yourself." " What do you say to coffee .'" "Thankee, Sir,*' returned Joe. evidently dispirited by die pro- posal, "since you are so kind as to put. that name to it, I will not run contrairy to your own opinions. But don't you never find it a little 'eat in;: ? " Say tea. then,"' said. Herbert, pouring it out. Here Joe"s hat tumbled off the mantle-piece, and he started and picked it up, aud fitted it to the same exact spot. As if it were an absolute point of good-breeding that it should tumble off again soon. " When did you come to town, Mr. Gargery V " Were it yesterday afternoon ?" said Joe, after ooughing as if he had caught the whooping-cough' since he came. " No i! were not. Yes it were. Yes. It were yesterday afternoon," (with an appearance of mingled wisdom, relief, and strict impartiality). •' Have you seen any thing of London yet?" "Why, yes, Sir," said Joe, "me aud Wopsle went off to look at the Bjacking Ware'us. But we didn't find that it come up to its likeness in the red picters at the shop-doors ; which. 1 meanter- say," added Joe, in explanatory manner, " as it's drawd too archi- tect oortttooral." 1 really believe Joe would have prolonged this word (mightily expceaelve to my mind of some architeclure* that I know) into a perfecl Chorus, but for his attention being providentially at trad- ed by his hat, which was toppling. Indeed it demanded from him a constant attention and a quickness of eye and hand very like that exacted by wicket-gate keeping. He made the most extraor- dinary play with it, and showed the greatest skill ; now, rushing at it and catching it neatly as it dropped; now, merely stopping it midway, beating it up, and humoring it in various pans of the room and against a good deal of the pattern of the paper on the wall, before he felt it safe to close with it; finally splashing it into the slop-basin, where I took the liberty of laying hands upon it. IS 17* GREAT EXPECTATIONS. As to Ins shirt-collar and his coat-collar, they were perplexing to reflect upon — insoluble mysteries. Why should a man scrape himself to 111 at extent before lie could consider himself full dress- ed 1 Why should he suppose it necessary to be purified by suf- fering for his holiday clothes 1 Then he fell into such maccuunt- able fits of meditation, with his fork midway between his plate and his mouth ; had lis eyes attracted in such strange directions ; was Afflicted with such remarkable coughs', sat, so far from the table, and dropped so much more than he ate, and pretended that he hadn't dropped it; that I was heartily glad when Herbert left us for the City. I had neither the good sense nor the good feeling to know that this was all my fault, and that if I had been' easier with Joe, Joe would have been easier with me. I felt impatient of him and out of temper with him ; in which condition he heaped coals of lire on my head. •' Us two being now alone, Sir," — began Joe. " Joe," 1 interrupted, pettishly, " how can' you call me Sir ?" Joe looked at me for a single instant with something faintly like reproach. Utterly preposterous as his cravat was, and as his col- lars were, I was conscious of a sort of dignity iii the look too. " Us two being now alone,' resumed Joe, " and me having the intentions and abilities to stay not many minutes more, I will now conclude — leastways begin — to mention what have led to my hav- ing had the present honor. For was it not," said Joe, with his old air of lucid exposition, " that my only wish were to be useful to you, I should not have had the honor of breaking 'wittles in the company and abode of gentlemen." .1 was so unwilling to see the look again that I made no remon- strance against this tone. " Well, Sir," pursued Joe, " this is how it were. I were at the Bargemen t'other night, Pip ;" whenever he subsided into affection, lied me Pip, and whenever he relapsed into politeness he eall- e Sir ; " when there come up in his shay-cart Pumblechook. Which that same identical," said Joe, going down a new track, " do com'o my 'air the wrong way sometimes, by giving out tip and down town as it were him which ever had your infant companiona- tion and were looked upon as a play -feller by yourself." " Nonsense. It was you, Joe." " Which I fully believed it were, Pip," said -Joe, slightly toss- ing his head, "though it signify little now, Sir. Well, Pip; this same identical, which his manners is given to blusterous, come to me at the Bargemen (wot a pipe and a pint of beer do give re- freshment to the working man. Sir, and do not over stimulate), and his word were, « Joseph, Miss Havisham sue wish to speak to you.' " " Miss Havisham, Jo© f" GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 179 " ' She wish,' Were Pumblechqqkis word, 'to speak to you."' Joe sat and rolled his exes at the ceiling. " Yes, Jo6 .' (Jo on, please/' " Next day, Sir," said doe, looking al me as if I were a long way off, •• having cleaned myself, 1 go and I see Miss " Miss A.. Jo'el Miss Havisham I" " YYhich 1 say. Sir," replied due. " -Miss A., or Havisham. Her expression air then as follering : ' Mr/ Gargery. You air in cor- respondence with Mr. Tip V Having had a letter from, you, 1 were aide to say • J am.' (When 1 married your sister, Sir, 1 said ' I will;' and when 1 answered your friend. Tip, I said 'lam.) * Would you tell him, then,' said she, 'that which Estella has come home and would he glad to see him :' " I felt my face lire upas 1 looked at due. I hope one remote cause of its tiring may have been my consciousness that if J had known his errand 1 should have given him mure enouragemcni. ".Biddy," pursued doe. "when 1 got home and asked her fur tc write the message to you, a little hung hack'. Biddy says, ' I know he will he very glad to have it by word of mouth, it is holi- day-time, you want to see him, go !' 1 have now concluded, Sir," said doe, rising from his chair, " and, Tip. I wish y well and ever prospering to a greater and greater heighth.'" '• But you are not going now, Jo " Yes I am," said doe. "But you are coming hack to dinner, Joe 1" " Xo, 1 am not" said J6e. Our eyes met, and all the " Sir" melted out of that honest open heart as he gave me his hand. " Pip, dear old chap, life is made of ever so many partings weld- ed together, as I may say, and one man's a blacksmith, and one's a whitesmith, and one's a goldsmith, and one's a coppersmith. Diwisions among such must come, and must be met as they come. If there's 1 een any fault at all to-day, it's mine. You and me is not two figures to be together in London ; nor yet any wheres else but what is private, and beknown, and understood among friends. It ain't that 1 am proud, but that I want to be right, as you shall never see me no more in these clothes. I'm wrong in these clothes. I'm wrong but of the forge, the kitchen, or off th* meshes. You won't find half so much fault in me if you think of me in my.forge- dress, with my hammer in my hand, or even my pipe. You won't find half so much fault in me if, supposing as you should ever wish to see me. you come and put your head in at the forge-win low and see Joe the blacksmith there at the old anvil, in the old burned apron, at the old work, as he used to be when he first carried you about. I'm awful dull, but 1 hope I've beat out something nigh the rights of this at last. And so God bless you, dear old Pip; old ohap, Quo bless you !" 180 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. I had not been mistaken in my fancy that there was a simple dignity in him. The fashion of his dress could no more come in its way when he spoke these words than it could come in its way in heaven. He touched me gently on the forehead and went out. As soon as I could recover myself sufficiently I ran out after him and looked for him in the neigh boring streets ; but he was gone. CHAPTER XXVIII. It was clear that I must repair to our town next day, and in the first flow of my repentance it was equally clear that I must slay at Joe's. But when I had secured my box-place by to-mor- row's coach and had been down to Mr. Pocket's and back, I was not by any means convinced on the last point, and began to Invent reasons and make excuses for putting up at the Blue Boar. I should be an inconvenience at Joe's ; I was not expected, and my bed would not be ready ; I should be too far from Miss Havi- sham'o, and she was xacting and mightn't like it. All other swindlers upon earth are nothing to the self-swindlers, and with such pretences did 1 cheat myself. Surely a curious thing, That I should innocently take a bad half-crown of somebody else's man- ufacture is reasonable enough ; but that I should knowingly reck- on the spurious coin of my»own make as good money! An oblig- ing stranger, under pretence of compactly folding up my bank-notes for security's sake, abstracts the notes and gives me nut-shells; but what is his sleight of hand to mine, when I fold up my own nut-shells and pass them on myself as notes ! Having settled that I must go to the Blue Boar, my mind was much disturbed by indecision whether or no to take the Avenger. It was tempting to think of that expensive Mercenary airing his boots in the arch-way of the Blue Boar's posting-yard ; it was al- most solemn to imagine him casually produced in the tailor's shop and confounding the disrespectful senses of Trabb's boy. On the other hand, Trabb's boy might worm himself into his intimacy and tell him things ; or, reckless and desperate wretch as I knew he could be, might hoot him in the High Street, My patroness, too, mighi hear of him, and not approve. On the whole, I resolved to leave the Avenger behind. It was the afternoon coach by which I had taken my place, and, as winter had now come round, I should not arrive at my desti- nation until two or three hours after dark. Our time of starting from the Gross Keys wa§ two o'clock. I arrived on the ground GREAT EXPECTATION?. 181 with a quarter of an hour to spare, attended hy the Avenger — if 1 may connect that expression with one who never attended on me if he could possibly help ii. At that time it was customary to carry convicts down to the dock-yard by stagQ-coach. As I had often heard of them in the capacity of outside passengers, and had more than once seen them on the liigh-road dangling their ironed legs over the coach roof, I had no cause to he surprised when Herbert, meeting me in the yard, came up ami told me there were two convicts going down with me. But 1 had a reason that was an old reason now, for constitutionally faltering Whenever 1 heard the word convict. "You don't mind them, Handel .' " said Herbert. " Oh no ! " " I thought you seemed as if you didn't like them ? " "I can't; pretend that I do like them, and I suppose you don't particularly. But T don't mind them." " See ! There they are, ' said Herbert. " coming out of the Tap. What a degraded arid vile sight it is ! " They had been treating; their guard, t suppose, for they had a jailer with them, and all three .came out wiping their mouths on their hands. The two convicts were handcuffed together, and had irons on their legs — irons of a pattern that I knew very well. They wore the dress that I likewise knew very well. Their keeper had a brace of pistols, and carried a thick-knobbed bludgeon under his arm ; but lie was on terms of good understanding with them, and stood, with them besid . him, looking on at the puttiug-to of the- horses, rather with an air as if they were an interesting exhibition not formally open at the moment, and he the curator. One was a taller and stouter man than the other, and appeared, as a matter of course, according to the mysterious ways of the world, both convict am! free, to have bad allotted to him the smallest suit of (dot lies. His arms and legs were like great pin-cushions of those shapes, and his attire disguised him absurdly; but I' knew his half-closed eye at. one glance. There stood the man whom I had seen on the settle at t lie Three Jolly Bargemen on a Saturday night, and who had brought me down with ids invisible gun ! It was easy to make sure that as yet he knew me no more than if he had never seen me in his life. He looked across at me and his eye appraised my watch-chain, and then he incidentally spat and said something to the other convict, and they laughed and slued themselves round with a clink of their coupling manacle, aud looked at something else. The great numbers on their backs, as if they were street doors ; their coarse, mangy, ungainly outer sur- face, as if they were lower animals; their ironed legs, apologeti- cally garlanded with pocket -handkerchiefs ; and the way in which all present looked at then) and kept from them, made them (as Herbert had said) a most disagreeable and degraded spectacle. 182 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. But this was not the worst of it. It came out that the whole of the back of the coach had been taken by a family removing from London, and that there were no places for the two prisoners but on the seat in front behind the coachman. Hereupon a chol- eric gentleman, who had taken the fourth place on that seat, flew into a most violent passion', and said that it was a breach of con- tract, to mix him up with such villainous company, and that it was poisonous and pernicious, and infamous, and shameful, and I don't know what else. At this time the coach was ready and the coach- man impatient, and we were all preparing to get up, and the pris- oners had come over with their keeper — bringing with them that curious flavor of bread-poultice, baize, rope-yarn, and hearth-stone which attends the convict presence. " Don't take it so much amiss, sir," said the keeper to the angry passenger ; " I'll sit next to you myself. I'll put 'cm on the out- side of the row. They won't interfere with you, sir. You needn't know they're there." "And don't blame me, r growled the convict 1 had recognized. " / don't want to go. i~ am quite ready to stay behind. As far as I am concerned, any one's welcome to my place." " Or mine," said the other, gruffly. "I wouldn't have incom- moded none of you, if I'd a had my way." Then they both laugh- ed, and began cracking nuts, and spitting the shells about: As I really think I should have liked 1o do myself, if I had been in their place and so dispised. At length it was voted that there was no help for the angry gen- tleman, and. that he must either go in his 'chance company or re- main behind. So he got into his place, still making complaints, and the keeper got iuto the place next to him, and the convicts hauled themselves up as well as they could, and the convict I had recognized sat behind me with his breath on the hair of my head. " Good-by, Handel ! " Herbert called out, as we started. I thought what a blessed fortune it was that he had found another name for me than Pip. It is impossible to express with what acutencss I felt the con- vict's breathing, not only on the back of my head, but all along my spine. The sensation was like being touched with some pun- gent and searching acid, and it set my very teeth on edge. He seemed to have more breathing to do than another man, and to make more noise in doing it ; and I was conscious of growing high-shouldered on one side in my shrinking endeavors to fend him on. The weather was miserably raw, and the two cursed the cold. It made us all lethargic before we had gone far, and when we had left the Half-way House behind, we habitually dozed and shivered and were silent. I dozed oft' myself in considering the question whether 1 ought to restore a couple of pounds to this creature GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 183 before losing sight ot him, and how it could best be done. In tne act of dipping forward, as if I were going to bathe among the horses, 1 awoke in a frighl and look the question up again. But I must have lost it- linger than I had thought for. since, although I could recognize nothing in the darkness and the fitful lights and shadows of our lamps, 1 traced marsh country in the cold damp wind that blew at us. Cowering forward for warmth, and to make me a scree* against the wind, the convicts were closer to me than before The very first words 1 heard them in- terchange as 1 became conscious were the words of my own thoughts, " T.wo Qne-Poinra notes." "How did he get 'em .' " said the convict I had never seen. " Hbw should I know.'" returned the other, "lie had 'em stowed away somehows. Giy him by friends, 1 expect.'' "I wish." said the other, with a bitter curse upon the cold, "that I had 'em here." " Two one-pound notes or friends ?"' "Two one-pound notes. I'd sell all the friends I ever had for one. Well.' So he says— T' "So he says," resumed the convict I had recognized — " it was all said and done in half a minute behind the pile of timber in the yar ' — 'you're going to be discharged'.'' Yes, I was. Would 1 find om that boy that had fed him and kep' his secret, and give him them two one-pound notes/ Yes, I would. And I did." " .More fool you," growled the other. " I'd have spent 'em on a Man in wit ties and drink. He' must have been a green one. — Mean to say he knOwed nothing of you ?■" "Not a ha'porth. Different gangs and different ships, lie was tried again lit" prison breaking, and got made a Lifer. That's what he took by his motion, and that's all I know of him." " And was that— Honor ! — the only time you worked out in this part of the country 1 " " The only time." " What might have been your opinion of The place ?" " A most infernal place. Mudbank, mist, swamp, and work ; work, swamp, mist, and mudbank." 'ihev both execrated the place in very strong language, and gradually growled themselves out and had nothing left to say. After overhearing this dialogue, I should assuredly have got down and been left in the solitude and darkness of the highway, but for feeling certain that the man had no suspicion of my identi- ty. Indeed, I was not only so changed in the course of nature, but so ditl'ercnlly dressed and so differently circumstanced, that it was not al all likely he could have known me without accidental help! Still, the coincidence of our being together on the coach was sufficiently strange to fill me with a dread that some other coincidence might at any moment connect me, in his hearing, with 184 GREAT EXPE CTATIONS. my name. For this reason I resolved to alight as soon as we touched the town, and put myself beyond his hearing. This device I executed successfully. My little portmanteau was in the boot under my feet ; I had but to turn a hinge to get it out ; I threw it down before me, got down after it, and was left at Ihe first lamp on the first stones of the town pavement. As to the convicts, they went their way with the coach, and I knew at what point they would be spirited off to the river. In my fancy I saw the boat with its convict crew waiting for them at the slime-washed stairs — again heard the gruff " Give way, you !" like an order to dogs — again saw the wicked Noah's Ark lying out in the black water. I could not have said what I was afraid of, for my fear was alto- gether undefined and vague, -but there was fear upon rriel As I walked on to the hotel, I felt that a dread, exceeding the mere ap- prehension of a painful or disagreeable recognition, made me trem- ble 1 . I am confident that it took no distinctness of shapo, and that- it was the revival for a lew minutes of the terror of childhood. The coffee-room at the Blue Boar was empty, and I had nol only ordered my dinner there, but had sat down to it. before the waiter knew me. As soon as ever he had apologized tor the re- missness of his memory, he asked me if he should send Boots for Mr. Pumblechook ! " No, : ' paid I, " certainly not." The waiter (it was he who had brought up the Great Remon- strance from the Commercials on when I.was hound) ap- peared surprised, and took the earliest opportunity pf putting a dirty old copy of a local newspaper so directly in my way, that ] took it up and read this paragraph : "Our readers will learn, not altogether without interest, in re- ference to the recent romantic rise in fortune of a yoiibg artificer in iron of this neighborhood (what a theme, 1 by-the-way, for the magic pen of our as yet nut universally acknowledged townsman Tooby, the poet of our columns !), that the youth's earliest patron, companion, and friend, was a highly-respected individual not en- tirely unconnected with the corn and seed trade, and whose emi- nently eunvenient and commodious business premises are situate within a bundled miles of the High Street. It is no; wholly irre- spective of our personal feelings that we record Hi.m as the Mentor of our young Telemachus, for it is good to know that our town produced the founder of the latter's fortunes. Does the thought- contracted brow of the local Sage or the lustrous eye of local Beauty inquire whose fortunes? We believe that Quentin Matsys was the Blacksmith of Antwerp. Verb. Sap." I entertain a conviction, based upon large experience, that if in the days of my prosperity I had gone to the North Pole, I should have met somebody there, either wandering Esquimaux or civil- ized man, who would have told me that Pumblechook was my ear- liest patron and the founder of my fortunes. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 185 CHAPTER XXIX. Betimes in t lie morning I was up and out. It was too earl) yet to go to Miss Havisham's, so 1 loitered into the Country on Miss Havisham's side of town — which was not Joe's side; I could gel there to-morrow — thinking about my patroness, and painting" brilliant pictures of her plans for me. She had adopted Estella, she had as goftd as adoptgd me, and it could not fail ta*be her mtention to bringus .together. She re served it for me to restore the desolate house, admit the sunshine into the dark rooms, set the clocks a going and the cold hearths a blazing, tear down the cobwebs," destroy the vermin — in short, do all the shining Ciwds of the young Kriight of romance, and marry llie Princess. .1 had stopped to look at the house as 1 passed ; and its seared red brick walls, blocked windows, and strong green ivy clasping even the stacks of chimneys with its twin's and ten. as if with sinewy old arms, had made up a rich attractive mystery, of which I was the hero. Estella was the inspiration of it, and the heart of it, ot § « ourse. But. though she had taken such strong possession of me, though my fancy and my hope were so set upon her', though her influence on my boyish life and character had been all-powerful, 1 did not, even that romantic morning, iiiveSl her with any attributes save those she possessed. I mention this in this pthoe, of a. fixed purpose, because it is the clew by whrcfo I am to he followed into my poor labyrinth, such as it is. According to njy experience* the conventional notion of a lover can not be al- ways true. The unqualified truth is, that when I loved Estella with the love of a man, 1 loved her because I found her irresistible. Once for all ; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, it not always, that 1 loved her against reason, against promise, against pe against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could He. Once for all : J loved her none the less because I knew it, and it had no more influence in restraining me than if I had devoutly and conventionally believed her to be human perfection. 1 so shaped out my walk as to arrive at the gate at my old time. When I had rung at the bell with an unsteady band 1 turned my back upon the i_ r ate, while I tried to get my breath and keep the beating of cay heart moderately quiet, I heard the side-door open and steps come across the court-yard ; but I pretended not to hear. even when the gate swrJflg on its rusty hinges. ing at last touched on the shoulder, 1 started and turned. I started much mote naturally ihen to find myself confronted by a 186 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. man in a sober gray dress. The last man I should have expected to see in that place of porter at Miss Havisham's door. « Orlick !" "All, young master, there's more changes than yours. But come in, conic in. Its opposed to my orders to bold the gate open." I entered ami he swung it, and locked it, and took the key out. "Yes!" said lie, facing round, after doggedly preceding me a few steps towards the house. "Here I am !" " How did yon come here ?•" " I come here," he retorted, " on my legs. I had my box 'brought alongside me in a barrow." • " Are \ on here for good V ' " 1 ain t here for harm, young master, I suppose ?" I was not so sure of that. 1 bad leisure to mitertaiu the retort in my mind, while he slowly lifted his heavy glance from the pave- ment, up my legs and arms, to my face. " Then yon have left the forge !" I said. "Do this look like a forge?" replied Orlick, sending his glance all around him witli an air of injury. " Now, do it look like it P 1 asked him how long he had left Gargery's forge? "One day is so like another here,' be replied, " that I don't know without casting it up. However, I come here some time since you left." '" 1 could have told you that, Orlick." . " Ah !" said he, dryly. " But then you've got to lie a scholar." By this time we bad come to the house, where I found bis room to be one just within the side-door, with a little window in it look- ing on the court-yard, in its small proportions it was not unlike the kind of place usually assigned to a gate-porter in Paris. Otr- tain keys were hanging on the wall, to which he now added the gate key, and his patch-work covered bed was in a little inner divi- sion or recess. The whole had a slovenly, confined, ami sleepy look, like a cage for a human dormouse : while he looming dark and heavy in the shadow of a comer by the window, looked like the human dormouse for whom it was fitted up — as indded be was. " I never saw this room before," I remarked ; " but there used to be no porter here." "No," said he ; " not till it got about that there was no protec- tion on the premises, and it come to he considered dangerous, with convicts and Tag and Rag and Bobtail going up and down. And then 1 was recommended to the place as a man who could give another man as good as be brought, and I took it. It's easier than bellowsing and hammering. That's loaded, that is." My eye had been caught by a gun with a brass-bound stock over the chimney-piece, and his eye had followed mine. " Well," said I. not desirous of more conversation, "shall I go up to Miss Havisbam ? " GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 187 "Burn me if I know!" he retorted, first stretching himself and then shaking himself; "myoiders ends here, young pfiasteh I give this hen-' bell a rap with this here hammer, and you go on along the passage till you meet somebody." ' " I am expected, 1 believe ! " " Burn me twice over if 1 can say ! " said he. Upon that I turned down the long passage which 1 had first trodden in my thick hoots, and lie made his hell sound. At the end of the passage, while the hell was still reverberating, I found Sarah Poekei. who appeared to have now ; onstitutionally green and vellow by reason • "Oh !" said she. * " You, is it. .Mr. Tip V " It is, Miss Pocket. I am glad to tell you that Mr. Pootel and family are all well." "Are they any wiser?" said Sarah, with a dismal shake of the head; "they had better he wiser than well. Ah, Matthew, Mat- thew ! You know your way, sir > " Tolerably, for 1 had gone up the staircase in the dark many a time. I ascended it now, in lighter boots than of yore, and t;;- in my old way at the door uf Miss llavisham's room. " I rap," 1 heard her say, immediately ; •• come in, Pip." She was in her chair near the old table, in the old dress, with her two hands crossed on her stick', her chin resting on them, and her eyes on the tire. Sitting near her, with the white shoe that had never been worn in her hand, and her head bent as she looked at it, was an elegant lady whom I had never seen. "Come in. Pip," Miss Havisham continued to mutter, without looking round or up : " come in. Pip : how do you do, Pip ! so you kiss my hand as if I were a queen, eh .' — "Well I " She looked up at me suddenly, Only moving her eyes, and re- peated, in a grimly playful manner, " Well V ."1 heard, Miss Ilavisham," said I, rather at a loss, "that you were so kind as to wish me to come and see you, and I came di- rectly." " Well ? " The lady whom I had never seen before lifted up her eyes and looked archly at me, and then I saw that the eyes were Estella's eyes. But she was so much changed, was so much more beautiful, so much more womanly, in all things winning admiration had made SiVh wonderful advance that 1 seemed to have made none. I fan- cied, as 1 looked at her, that I bad slipped hopelessly back into the coarse and common boy again. < >h the sense of distance and disparity that came upon me. and the inaccessibility that came about her! She gave me her han i. T stammered something about the pleas- 188 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. ure T felt in seeing her again, and my having looked forward to it for a long/tong time. "Do you find her much changed, Pip?" asked Miss Havisham with her greedy look, and striking her stick upon a chair that stood between them, as a sign to me to sit down there. " When I came in, Miss Havisham, I thought there was nothing of Estella in the face or figure; but now it all settles down so cu- riously into the old — " " What ? You are not going to say into the old Estella?" Miss Havisham interrupted. " She was proud and insulting, and you wanted to go away from her. Don't you remember ?" I said, confusedly, that that was long ago, and that I knew no better then, and the like. Estella smiled with perfect composure, and said she had no doubt of my having been quite right, and of her having been very disagreeable. "Is he changed ?" Miss Havisham asked her. "Very much."' said Estella, looking at me. , ." Less coarse and common ? " said Miss Havisham, playing with Estella's hair. Estella laughed, and looked at the shoe in her hand, and laughed again, and looked at me, and put the shoe down. She treated me as a boy still, but she lured me on. We sat in the dreamy room among the old strange influences which had so wrought upon me, and I learned that she' had but just come home from France, and that she was going to London. — , Proud and willful as of old, she had brought those qualities into such subjection to her beauty that it was impossible and out of na- ture — or I thought so — to seperate them from her beauty. Truly it was impossible to dissociate her presence from all those wretched hankerings after money and gentility that had disturbed my boy- hood — from all those ill-r gulated aspirations that had first made me ashamed of home and Joe — from all those visions that had rais- ed her face in the glowing fire, struck if out of the iron on the an- vil, extracted it from the darkness of night to look in at the wooden window of the forge and flit away. In a word, it was impossible for me to separate her, in the past or in the present, from the in- nermost life of my life. It was settled that I should stay there all the rest of the day, and return to the hotel at night, and to London to-morrow. When we had" conversed for a while, Miss Havisham sent us two out to walk in the neglected garden ; on our coming in by-and-by, she said I should wheel her about a little as in times of yore. So Estella and I went out into the garden by the gate through which I had strayed to my encounter with the pale young gentle- man, now Herbert ; I, trembling in spirit and worshiping the very hem of her dress; she, quite composed and most decidedly not wor- GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 189 shiping the hem of mine. As we drew near the place of encoun- ter she slopped and said : , " I must have been a singular little creature to hide ami see that fight that day ; but I did, and I enjoyed it. very much." " You rewarded me very much;" "Did 11 " she replied, in an incidental and forgetful way. " I remember I entertained a great objection to your adversary, be- cause I took it ill that he should be brought here to pester me with his company." ■ "We are great friends now," said I. "Are you? I think I recollect though, that you read with his father?" "Yes." I made the admission with reluctance, for it seemed to have a bovL-di look, and she already treated me more than enough like a boy. " Since your change of fortune and pics cots you have changed your companions," said Ks.clia. " Naturally, ' said 1. ■• And necessarily," she added, in a haughty tone; "what was fit company for you once wouid be (pule until company for yob now." In my conscience I doubt very much whether I had any linger- ing intention left, of going to see Joe; but if I hud, this observa- tion put it to flight. " You had no idea of your impending good fortune in those times ?" said Estella, with a slight wave of her hand, signifying in the fight- ing times. "'• Not. the least,"' The air of completeness and superiority with which she walked at my side, and the air of youlhfiilness and'deiVrence with which I walked at hers, made a contrast that 1 strongly felt, It would have rankled in me more than it did, if I had not regarded my- self as eliciting it by being so set apart for her and assigned to her. The garden was too overgrown and rank for walking in with case, and after we had made the round of it twice or thrice we • out again into the brewery -yard. 1 showed her to a nicety where I had seen her walking on the casks, thai first old day, and she said, with a cold and careless look in that direction, "Did 1 ?" 1 reminded her where she had come out of the house, and given me my meat and drink, and she said, " 1 don't remember." " Not remember that you made rue cry .'" said I. "No," said she, and k her head and looked about her. I verily believe that her not remembering, and not minding it in the least, made me cry again inwardh — and that is the sharpest crying of all. " You miu»t know," said EeteLla, condescending to ms as a brfl- 19U GREAT EXPECTATIONS. liant and beautiful woman might, '(that I have no heart — if that lias any thing to do with my memory." I got through some jargon to the effect that I took the liberty of ^loubting that. That I knew better. That there could be no such beauty without it. Hi ! I have a heart to be stabbed in or shot in, I have no doubt," said Estella, " and, of course, if it ceased to beat I should reasc to be. But you know what I mean. I have no softness ( here, no — sympathy — sentiment — nonsense." What 7vas it that was borne in upon my mind when she stood still and looked attentively at me ? Any thing that 1 had seen in Havisham? No. In some of her looks and gestures there was that ting*e of resemblance to Miss Havisham which may often be noticed to have been acquired by children from grown persons with whom they have been much associated and secluded, and which, when childhood is past, will produce a remarkable occasion- al lik ness of expression between faces that are otherwise quite dif- ferent. And yet I could not trace this to Miss Havisham. I look- ed again, and though she was still looking at me, the suggestion was gone. AVh at was it ? " 1 am serious," said Estella, not so much with a frown (for her brow was smooth) as with a darkening of her face ; " if we are to lie thrown much .together, you had better believe it at once. No !" imperiously stopping me as 1 opened my lips. " I have not be- stowed my tenderness any where. 1 have never bad any such thing." In another moment we were in the brewery so long disused, and she pointed to the high gallery where I had seen her going out on that same first day, and told me she remembered to have been up there, and to have seen* me standing scared below. As my eyes followed, her white hand, again the same dim suggestion that I could not possibly grasp crossed me. My involuntary start occa- sioned her to lay her hand upon my arm. Instantly the ghost passed once more, for the last time, and was gone. What was it ? " What is the matter V said Estella: "are you scared again V "I should be, if I believed what you said just now," 1 replied, to turn it off. " Then you don't 1 Very well. It is said, at any rate. Miss Havisham will soon be expecting you at your old post, though I think that might be laid aside now, with other old belongings. Let us make one more round of the garden, and then go in. Come ! You shall not shed tears for my cruelty to-day ; you shall be my Page, and give me your shoulder." Her handsome dress had trailed upon the ground. She held it fa one hand now, and with the other lightly touched my shoulder GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 191 as we walked. We walked round the ruined garden twice or thrice more, and it was ;ill in bloom for hoe. If the green and yellow growth of weed in the chinks of the old wall had been ihe most precious flowers that ever blew, it could not have been more cherished in my remembrance. There was no discrepancy of years between us to remove her far from me ; we 'wore of nearly the same ;igc, though of course the age told far more in her case than in mine; but the air of in- accessibility which her beauty and her manner gave her, torment- ed me in the midst of my delight, and at the height of the assur- ance I felt that our patroness had chosen us for one another. "Wretched boy ! At last we went back into the house, and there I heard, with surprise, that my guardian had come down to see Miss Ilavisham on business and would come back to dinner. The old wintry branches of chandeliers in the room where the mouldering table was spread, bad been lighted while we weie out, and Miss Ilavi- sham was in her chair wailing for me. It, was like pushing the chair itself back into the past, when we began the slow circuit round about the ashes of the .bridal feast. Bui in the funereal room, with that figure of the gr ve fallen back in tlie chair fixing its eyes upon" her. Kstella looked more bright and beautiful than before. I was under stronger enchantment. The time so melted away that our early dinner-hour drew close land, and Estella left us to prepare herself. We had slopped near the centre of the long table, and Miss Ilavisham, with one of her withered arms stretched out of the chair, rested that clenched hand upon the yellow cloth. As Estella looked back over her shoulder before going out at the door, Miss Ilavisham kissed that hand to her, with a ravenous intensity that was. of its kind, quite dreadful. Then. Estella being gone and we two left alone, she turned to me, and said, in a whisper, "Is she beautiful', graceful, well-grown I Do you admire her '/"' ■' Every body must who sees her. Miss Hayisham." She drew an arm round my neck, and drew my head close down tb hefs'aa she sat in the chair. " Love her, iove her, love her! How does she use you V Before I could answer (if I could have answered such a difficult question at all) she repeated, "Loye her, love her. love her! If she favor* you, love her. It she wounds yo'u, love her. If she tears your heart to pieces — and as it gets older and stronger it wiil tear deeper — !ove her. love her) love'ir N( ver had I seen such passionate eagerness as was joined to her utterance of these words. I could feel the muscles of the thin arm round my neck swell with the vehemence that possessed her. 192 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. " Hear me, Pip! I adopted her, to be loved. I bred her and educated her, to be loved. I developed her into what she is, that she might be loved. Love her!" She said the word often enough, and there could be no doubt that she meant to say it ; but if the often repeated word had been bafe instead of love — despair — revenge — dire death — it could not have sounded from her lips more like a curse. . " I'll- tell you," said she, in the same hurried passionate whis- per, " what real love is. It is blind devotion*, unquestioning self- humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief, against yourself and against the world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the sniilcr — as I did !" When she came to that, and to a desperate cry that followed that, I caught her runnel the waist. For she rose up in the chair, in her shroud of a dress, and wildly struck at the air as if she would as soon have struck herself against the wall and have fallen dead. All this passed in a few seconds. As T drew her down into her chair, I was conscious of a scent that I knew, and turning, saw my guardian in the room. He always carried (I have not yet mentioned it, I think) a pocket-handkerchief of rich silk and of imposing proportions, which was of great value to him in his profession. I have seen him so terrify a client or a witness by ceremoniously unfolding his pocket-handkerchief as if he were immediately going to blow his nose, and then pausing, as if he knew lie shon d not have time to do it before such client or witness committed himself, that the self- committal has fol owed directly, quite as a matter of course. When 1 saw him in the room, .he had this expressive pocket- handkerchief in both hands, and was looking at us. On meeting my eye, he said plainly by a momentary and silent pause in that attitude, "Indeed? Singular!" and then put the handkerchief to its right use with wonderful effect, Miss Havisham had seen him as soon as I, and was (like every body else) afraid of him. She made a strong attempt to compose herself, and stammered that he was as punctual as ever. "As punctual as ever." he repeated, coming up to us. " (How do you do, Pip ? Shall I give you a ride, Miss Havisham 1 Once round .'} And so you are here, Pip?" I told him when I had arrived, and bow Miss Havisham had wished me to come and see Estella. To which he replied, "Ah! Very fine young lady !" Then he pushed Miss Havisham in her chair before him with one 'of his large hands, and put the other in his trowsers-pocket, as if the pocket were full of secrets. " Well, Pip ! How often have you seen Miss Estella before ? " said he, when he came to a stop. " How often ? " ttSEAT EXPECTATIONS. tig i' Ah ! How many limes/ 'i'rn thousau;! times '? " " Oil ! < '.-rl duly 7ioi so mam." " Twice ? " "^aggers," irttefeposed Miss ilavisham, much to my re! "leave my Lin alone, and go with him to your dinner." He complied, and we groped our way down the dark stairs to- gether. While we wdre still on our way lo ihose fletiach menls across ihe rjftved yard at ihe had., lie asked me how often i had seen Miss ilavisham eat and drink ; offering me ;) breadth of choice, as us:;al, between a hundred times and once. 1 considered, and said " New •• And never will. !'ij>." he retorted with a frowniryj smile. "She has never allowed herself to he seen doing either siikm she lived this present- life of hers. She wanders about in the nhiht.aml lays hands on such food as she takes." •' Pray, sir." said I. " may I ask you a question ? " " Von may." said he, "aud I may decline to answer it. Pit your quest! " Ratellsfs name, [s it Ilavisham, or 1 " T had nothing to add. "Or, what I " said lie. " Is it Ua\isham I " " It is Ilavisham." This bro'ughl mcr-iable, where she and Sarah Pock- et awaited us. Mr. Jaggers presided, Estella sat opposite to him, 1 laced my green and yellow friend. We dined very well, and were wailed on by a maid-servant whom I had never seen in ail my comings and gdingS", hut who, for anything I know, had been in that mysterious house, 1 he whole lime. After dinner a buttle of choice old port was placed before my guardian (he was evidently well acquainted with ihe vintage)] and the two ladies left us. Anything to equal the determined reticence of Mr. Jaggers under that roof i never saw elsewhere, even in him. lie kepi his very looks lo himself, and scarcely directed his eyes to Estella's face once during dinner, when she spoke to him, ho listened, and in due course answered, but never looked at her that I could see. — On the other hand, she often looked at him, with interest and curi- osity, if no; distrust, but his face never s owed the least conscious- ness. Throughout dinner-he took a dry delight in making Sarah Pocket greener and yellower, by often referring in conversation with me to my expectations; hut bete, again, he showed no con- sciousness, and even made it appear that he extorted — and even did extort, though 1 don't, know bow — those references out of my innocent self. And when he and I were left alone together, he sal with an air upon him ot general lying by in consequence of information he possessed, that really was too amah for rue. He •nw-examined LS VJ4 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. * his very wine when he had nothing 'else in hand, lie held it be- tween himself and the candle, tasted the port, rolled it in his mouth, swallowed it. looked at 'She port again, smelled it, tried it, drank it, rilled again, and cross-examined the glass again, until I was as nervous as if I had known the wine to be telling him some- thing to my disadvantage. Three or four times I feebly thought I would star! Conversation ; but whenever he saw me going to ask him anything he looked at me with his glass in his hand, and roll- ing his wine aboul in bis mouth, as if requesting me to ta;i appear when we after- ward went up to Miss Havisham's room, and we four played at whist. In the interval, Miss Ilavisham, in a wild way, had put Some of the most beautiful jewels from her dressing-table^ irtto Es- lella's hair, and about her bosom ami tfti I saw eve.; guardian look at her from under his thick eyepraws.and raise ihem a little when her loveliness was before him, with tlms,' rich (lushes of glitter and color in it. Of the manner and extent to which be took cur trumps .into cus- tody, ami came out with mean litib the ends of hands, before which the glory of our Kings and Queens was utterly abased, ! othing; nor of i lie feeding that I bad, respecting his lool upon us personally in the light of three very obvious and poor rid- iiat he had found out long ago. What I suffered from was the incompatibility between bis cold presence and my feelings to- ward Estella. It was not that I'knew I could never bear to speak to him about her, that I knew 1 could never bear to hear him creak his boots at her, that I knew I could never bear to see him wash his hands of her; it was, that my admiration should be with- in a foot or two of him — ii was, that my f< clings should be in the same place with him — that, was the agonizing circhmstai We played until nine o'clock, and then it was arranged that when Estella came to London I should be forewarned other com- ing and should meet her at the coach ; and then I took leave of-her, and touched her and left her. My guardian lay at the Boar, in the next room to mine. Far into the i 3 Havisham's words, "Love her, love her, love her !" sounded in my ears. I adapted them for my own repeti- tion, and said 1o my pillow, " 1 love her, I love her, I love her ! " thousands of times. TJien a burst of gratitude came upon me, she should lie destined for me. once the blacksmith's boy. — Then, I thought, if she were, as I feared, by no means rapturously .errateful for that destiny y«t» when would she he^in to he into*- GHE.LT EXPECTATIONS. 19a ested in me ? When should I awaken the heart within her that was mute and steeping ncfw I All me ! I thought those were high and great emotions. But I never thought there was any thing low and small in my keep- ing away from Joe, because 1 knew she would lie contemptuous of him. It was hut a day gone, and doe had brought the tears into my eyes; they had soon dried. God forgive -me ! soon i CHAPTER XXX. Aftf.i: \\\\\ considering the matter while 1 was dressing at the BkieBoanin the ipornurg, I revolted to tell my guard; . doubted < was indicated in his -ait. With a shock he became awaie i ; me, and wa ■ seve ely visited as before; but this time his motion was rotary, and be staggered round and round me < e afflicted, and with uplifted bands as if beseeching for mercy Hi: sufferings were hailed with the greatest joy by a knot, of spectators; and I felt uUe/iy confounded. 1 had not got as much further down the street as the post-o ■". when [ again beheld Trabb s boy shooting round by aback way. This time ntirely changed. He wore the blue bag in the maimer ol . at-coat, and was strutring along tbe pavement toward me on , site side, of the street, attended by a com- pany 'of delighted young friends to whom he from time to time exclaimed, with a waive of his hand, " don't know yah !" Words can not si at;' the amount of aggravation and injury wreaked upon me by Trabb's boy, when, passing abreast of me, be pulled up his shirt-collar, twined his side hair, stuck an arm akimbo, and smirk- ed extravagantly by, wriggling Iris elbows and body, and drawl- ing to his attendants, " Don't know yah, don't know yah, 'pun n.»' s*nl tloa'fe know yah I" f?ha disgrace attejidan t ob hia im.m»- GRE vT EXPECTATIONS. I9r diately afterward taking to crowing and pursuing me across the bridge with crows as from an exceedingly dejected fojgl who had known me when I was a blacksmith. cujtnigared th*e disgrace, witli whieli I left the town, and was. so to sneak, ejeeied by it into the open country. But unless I had taken the life of Trabh's hoy on that occasion, I really do' not even now see what I could have done save endure. To have struggled with him in the street, or to have exacted any lower recompense from him than his heart's best blond w.uild have been futile and degrading. Moreover he was a hoy whom no man could hurt ; an invulnerable and dodging serpent who, when chased into a corner, flew out again between his captor's legs, scornfully yelping. I wrote, however, to Mr. Trabb by next day's post, to say that 3Ir. Pip must decline to deal further with one who could so far forget what he owed to the best inter- ests of society, as to employ a hoy who excited Loathing in every respectable mind. The coach, with Mr. Jaggers inside, came up in due time, and 1 tool; my box-seat again, and arrived in London safe — but not sound, for my heart was gone. As soon as 1 arrived I sen' a penitential codiish and a barrel of oysters to Joe (as reparation for not having gene myself), and then went on to Laniard's Inn.- 1 found Herbert dining on cold meat, and delighted to welcome me back. Having dispatched the Avenger to the coffee-house for an addition to the dinner. 1 fell that \ must open my breast that every evening to my friend and chum. As confidence was out of the question with the Avanger Sn the hall, which eoivd merely be regarded in the light of an ante-chamber 1o the keyhole, I sent him to the Llay. A better proof of the severity of my bondage to that task-master could scarcely be afforded than the degrading shifts to which 1 was constantly driven to find him employment. Mt mean is extremity thai - ( sometimes sent him to Hyde Park corner to see what o'clock it was. Dinner done and we sitting with our feet upon the fender, I said to Herbert, '' My dear Herbert, I have something very particular to tell you." !.' My dear Handel," he returned, " [ shall esteem and respect your confidence." " It concerns myself, Herbert,"' said I, "and one other person." Herbert crossed his feet, looked at the fine with his head on one side, and having looked at it in vain for some time, looked at me because I didn't go on. "Herbert," said I, laying my hand upon his knee. "I love — I adore — Lstella." Instead of befog transfixed, Herbert replied in an easy, matter- of-course way. "Exactly. Well?" " Well, Herbert ?' Is that all vou say ? Well ?" 198 GREAT EXPECTATIONS ".What next, I mean?" said Herbert. "Of course I know that." " How do you know it?" said I. " How do I know it, Handel 1 Why, from you." " I never told you." Told me ! You have never told me when you have got your hair cut, hut I have had senses to perceive it. You have always adored her, ever since 1 have known you. You brought your adoration and portmanteau here together. Told me ! Why you have always told me all day long. When you told me your own story, you told me plainly that you began adoring her the first time you saw her, when you were very young indeed." '• Very well, then," said I, to whom this was a new and not unwelcome light, " I have never left off adoring her. And she has come hack a most beautiful and most elegant creature. And 1 saw her yesterday. And if I adored her before, I noW'doubly adore her." "Lucky for you then, Handel," said Herbert, "that you are picked out for her and allotted to her. Without encroaching on forbidden ground, we may venture to say that there can be no .doubt between ourselves of that fact. Have you any idea yet of Estella's views on the adoration question ? ' I shook my head gloomily. "Oh! she is thousands of miles away from me," said I. " Patience, my dear Handel: time enough, time enough. But you have something more to say V " 1 urn ashamed to say it," I returned, "and yet it's no worse to say it than to think it. You call me a lucky fellow. Of course, 1 am. i was a blacksmith's boy but yesterday ; T am — what shall 1 say I am — to-day ?" " .Say a good fellow, if you want a phrase," returned Herbert, smiling, and clapping bis hand on the back of mine, " a good fel low with impetuosity and hesitation, boldness and diffidence, ac- tion and dreaming, curiously mixed in him." I stopped for a moment to consider whether there really was this mixture in my character. On the whole, I by no meaus re- cognized the analysis, but thought it not worth disputing. "When I ask what I am to call myself to-day, Herbert," I went on, " I suggest what I have in my thoughts. You say I am lucky. I know I have done nothing to raise myself in life, and that Fortune alone has raised me; that is being very lucky. And yet, when I think of Estella— " (" And when don't yon, you know ?" Herbert threw in, with his eves on the fire; which I thought kind and sympathetic of him.) " — Then, my dear Herbert, I can not tell you how dependent and uncertain 1 feel, and how exposed to hundreds of chances. GREAT EXPECTATIONS' 199 Avoiding forbidden ground as you did just now, I may still say that on the constancy of one person (naming no person) all my expectations .depend. And best, h.ow indefinite" and un- satisfactory only to know so vaguely what they are!" In saying this. I relieved my mind of what, had always been there, more or less, though no doubl most Sipoe. yesterday. "Now Handel;" Herbert replied, in his gay, hopeful way, '-it sinus to me that in the despondency of the lender passion we are looking into our gift-horses mouth with a magnifying-glass. Like- wise, it seems 1o me that concentrating our attention on thai examina- tion we altogether overlook one of the best points of the animal. — Didn't you tell me that your guardian, Mr. daggers, told you in the be- ginning .thai youwerenm endowed withexpeetaiions only ? And even if lie had not told you so — though that is a very large It', I grant — could you believe that, of all men in London, Mr. Jaggers is the man to hold his present relations toward you unless he were sure of his ground ? " I said that 1 could not deny that this was a strong point, 1 said it (people often do so, in such eases) like a rather reluctant conces- sion to truth and justice — as if 1 wanted to deny il ! "1 should, think [twos a strong poiut," said Herbert, " and I should think you would bepuzzled to imagine a stronger; as to the rest, you must, hide your guardian's time, and he must bide his client's time. You'll be one-and-twenty before you know where you are, and then perhaps you'Tfi get some further enlightenment. At all events, you'll be nearer getting ir. for it must come at last.'' " What a hopeful disposition you hafce ! ' sud 1. gratefully ad- miring his cheery ways. " 1 ought to have," said Herbert, "for I have not much else. — 1 must acknowledge, by-the-by, that the good sense of what 1 have just said is Dot my own, but my father's. The only remark that I ever heard him make on your story was the final one : ' The thing is settled and done, or Mr. Jaggers would not be in It.' And now before 1 say any thing more about, my father or my father's son, and repa\ confidence with coutid -nee, I want, to make myself se- riously disagreeable to you for a momerit — positively repulsive.' " You won't succeed," said I. '.'( >ii yes 1 shall ! " said he. "One. two, three, and now 1 am in for it. Handel, my good fellow " — though he spoke in this light he was much in earnest — " 1 have been thinking sipcewehave talking with our feet on this fender, that Esteila surely cannot condition of, your inheritance, if she was never referred to by your guardian. Am 1 right in so understanding what you have told me. as that he never referred to her, directly or indirectly, in any way I Xever even hinted, for instance, that your patron might have views as to your marriage ultimately ? " " Xever."' 800 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. "Now, Handel, I am quite free from the flavor of sour grapes, upon my soul ! Not being bound to her, can you not detach your- self from her 1 — I told you I should be disagreeable." I turned my head aside, tor, with a 'rush and a sweep, like the old marsh winds coming up from the sea, a feeling like that which had subdued me on the morning when I left the forge, when the mists were solemnly rising, and when I laid my hand upon the village finger-post, smote upon my heart again. There was silence between us frr a little while. "Yes, but my dear Handel," Herbert went on, as if we had been talking instead of silent, "it's having been so strongly rooted in the breast of a boy whom nature and circumstances made so 'ro- mantic renders it very serious. Think of her hringing-up, and think of Miss Havisham. Think of what she is herself (now I am re- pulsive, and you abominate me). This may lead to miserable things." " I know it, Herbert " saicl I, with my head still turned away, "but I can't help it." " You can't detach yourself? " " No. Impossible ! " " You can't try, Handel % " "No. Impossible!" "Well ! " said Herbert, getting up with a lively shake as if he had been asleep, and stirring the fire, "now I'll endeavor to make myself agreeable again." •So he went around the room and shook the curtains out, put the chairs in their places, tid#d the book* and so forth that were lying about, looked into the hall, peeped into the letter-box, shut the door, and came back to his chair by the fire ; where he sat down, nursing his left leg in both arms. "I was going to say a word or two, Handel, concerning my father and my father's son. I am afraid it is scarcely necessary for my father's son to remark that my father's establishment is not particularly brilliant in its housekeeping." " There is always plenty, Herbert," said I : to say something encouraging. " Oil yes ! and so the dustman says, I believe, with the strong- est approval, and so does the marine store-shop in the back street. Gravely, Handel, for the subject is grave enough ; you know how it is as well as I do. I suppose there was a time once when my father had not given matters up ; but if there 'ever was, the time is gone. May I ask you if you have ever had an opportunity of remarking down in your part of the country, that the children of not exactly suitable marriages are always most particularly anxious to be married 1 " This was such a singular question that I asked him in return, " Is it so ? " GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 20 J "I don't kuow," said Herbert; "that's what I want to know. Because it is decidedly the case with us. My poor sister Char- lotte, who was next me and died before slid was fb'urtqen, was a striking example. Little Jane is (he same. In her desire I matrimonially established, you might suppose Iut to have passed her short existence in the perpetual contemplation of "domestic bliss. Little Alick, in a Frock, has already made arrangements for his un- ion with a suitable yefung person at Kew. And indeed. I think we are alt, Engaged except the baby." •■ Tiien you are." said I. •• I am," said Herbert, "bul it's a secret." I assured him of my keeping the secret, and begged I vnred with further particulars. lie had spoken so sensibly and feelingly of my weakness, ihat I wanted to know something about his strength. " May I ask the name ? ** I said. "Name of Clara," said Herbert. "Live in London ! " "Yes. Perhaps ] ought to mention," said Herbert, who had become curiously crestfallen and meek since we entered oji the in- teresting theme, "thai she is rather below my mother's nonsensical family notions. Her father had to do with the vitualing of pas- senger-ships 1 think he was a species oi purser." •• What is lie now ! " said I. "lie's an Invalid now," replied Herbert. " Living on - I " "On the first floor," said Herbert. Which was not at all what I meant, for 1 had intended my question to apply to his means, "t have never seen him, lor he lias always k. pt his room over- head since I have known Clara. Pmt I have heard him con >;autly. lie makes tremendous rows — roars, and pegs at the door with some frightful instrument." in looking at me and then laughing heartily, Herbert for the time recovered his usual lively manner, "Don't you expect to see him ?" said I. "Oh yes, I constantly expect to see him," returned Herbert, "be- cause I never hear him without expectimr him to come tumbling through the ceiring: Hut 1 don't know bow long the rafters may hold." When we bad once mere laughed heartily he became ra^ek again, and told me the moment that he began to realize Capital it his intention to marry this young lAly. He added, as a self-evi- dent proposition, engendering low spirits, " But \v\\ caiii marry, you know, while you're looking about you." As we contemplated the lire, and as I thought what a diliicuit vision to realize this same capital sometimes was, i -put my hands in my pockets. A folded piece of prtpeu in one of them attracting 202 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. my attention, I opened it, and found it to be the playbill I had received from Joe, relative to the celebrated provincial amateur of Roseian renown. " And, bless my heart ! " I involuntarily added aloud, " it's to-night ! " This changed the subject in an instant, and made us hurriedly resolve to go to the play. So, when I had pledged myself to comfort and abet Herbert in the affair of his heart by all practi- cable and impracticable means, and when Herbert told me that his affianced already knew me by reputation, and that I should short- ly be presented to her, and when we had warmly shaken hands up- on our mutual confidence, we blew out our handles, made up pur fire, locked our door, and issued forth in quest of Mr. Wopsle in Denmark. CHAPTER XXXI. On our arrival in Denmark we found the king and queen of that country elevated in two arm chairs on a small kitchen-table, holding a Court. The whole of the Danish nobility were in at- tendance ; consisting of a noble boy in the wash leather boots of a gigantic ancestor, a venerable Peer with a dirty face, who seem- ed to have risen from the people late in life, and the Danish chiv- alry with a comb in its hair and a pair of white silk legs, and pre- senting on the whole a feminine appearance. My gifted towns- man stood gloomily apart, with folded arms, and I could have wished that his curls and forehead had been more probable. Several curious little circumstances transpired as the action proceeded. The late king of the country not only appeared to have been troubled with a cough at the time of his decease, but to have taken it with him to the tomb and to have brought ii back. The royal phantom also carried a ghostly manuscript round its truncheon, to which it had the appearance of occasion- ally referring, and that, too, with an air of anxiety and a tendency to lose the place of referent which wer.e suggestive of a state of mortality. It was this, 1 conceive, which led to the Shade's be- ing advised by the gallery to "turn over!" — a recommendation which it took extremely ill. It was likewise 1o be noted of this majestic spirit that whereas it always appeared with an air of having been out a long time and walked an immense distance, it GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 203 perceptibly came from a closely contiguous wall. Tin's occasion- ed its terrors to he received derisively. The Queen of Denmark, a very buxom lady, though rio doubt historically b raze nl- was con- sidered h\ ilie piddle to have too*'much brass about her; her chin being attached to her diadem by a br.oad baud pf that metal (as ii' slie bad a gorgeous toothache), her waist being e^icirc ed by another, and eachtof her arms by another, so that she was openly mentioned as "the kettle drum." The noble boy in the ancestral boots was inconsistent, representing himself, as it, were iq one breath, as an able seaman, a scrolling actor, a grave-digger, a cjerg ;;, man. and a person of the utmost important loiirt fencing-match, on the authority of whose practised eye and nice discrimination thelinest strokes were judged. This gradually led to a waul .of toleration for him, and even — on his being delected in holy orders, and declining to perform the funeral service — to the genera; indignation taking the form of nuts. Lastly, Ophelia Was a prey to such slow musical madness, that when, in cours* time, she had taken ofl" her white muslin scarf, folded it up, and buried it, a sulky man who had been long cooling his impatieui nose against an iron bar in the front row of the gadery, growled, "Now the baby's put to bed let s have supper !" which, to saj the least of d, was out, of keeping. Upon my untortunate townsman all these incidents accumula- ted with playful effect. Whenever that undecided Prince had to ask a question or state a doubt, the pub ie helped him out with ii. As tor example : on the question whether 'twas nobler in the mind to sutler, some roarejj yes, and some no, and some inclining to both opinions said, "toss up for it ;" and unite a Debating Socie 1y arose. 'When he asked what should such fellows, as i crawling between earth and heaven, he was encouraged with loud cries of "Dear, hear!" When he appeared with his stocking disordered (its disorder expressed, according to usage, by pne very neat told in the top, which I suppose to be always got up with a flat-iron), a' conversation took place in the gallery respecting the paleness of his kg. and whether it was occasioned by Mm turn the ghost had given him. On his taking t he recorders — very I i little black flute thai had just been payed in the orchestra and handed out at the door — in- was caked upon unanimously for Ride Britannia. When he recommended the player not. to saw the tlms. the Vulky man said, "And don't ybu do it, neither; you're a deal worse than h/m!" And 1 grieve tq add that, peals of laughter greeted Mr. YVopsle on every one of to ions. ut his greatest trials were in the church-yard, which had the arauce of a primeval forest, with ;; kind of small ecclesiastical wash-house on otoe side and a turnpike-gate- on the •ther. Mr. Wopsle, in a' comprehensive black cloak, being descried entering at the turnpjke. the grave-digger was admonished in a friendly 204 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. way, " Look out ! Here's the undertaker a coming to see how you're a getting on with your work !" I helieve it is well known in a constitutional country that Mr.- WojTsle could not possibly have returned the skull, after moralizing over it, without dusting his fingers on a white napkin taken from his breast, ; but even that innocent and indispensable action did not pass without the 'com- ment " Wai-ter !" The arrival of the body fpr interment, in an empty black box, with the lid tumbling open, was the signal for a general joy, which was much enhanced by the discovery, among the bearers, of an individual obnoxious to identification. The joy attended Mr. Wopsle through his struggle with Laertes on the brink of the orchestra and the grave, and slackened no more until he had tumbled the king off the kitchen-table, and died by inches from the ankles upward. We had made some pale efforts in the beginning to applaud Mr: Wopsle; but they were too .hopeless to be persisted in. Therefore we had sat,- feeling keenly lor him, but laughing, never- theless, from ear to ear. I laughed in spite of myself all the time, the whole thing was so droll ; and yet I had a latent impression that there was something decidedly fine in Mr. Wopsle's elocution — not for old associations' sake, I am afraid, but because it was very slow, very dreary, very up-hill and down-hill, and very un- like any way in which any man in any natural circumstances of life or death ever expressed himself about any thing.' When the tragedy was over, and he had been called for and hooted, 1 said to Herbert, "Let us go at once, or perhaps we shall meet him." We made all the haste we cpuld down stairs, but we were not quick enough either. Standing at the door was a Jewish man With an unnaturally heavy smear of eyebrow, who caught my eye as we advanced, and said, when we came up with him : "Mr. Lip and friend?" Identity of Mr. Pip and friend confessed. "Mr. Waldengarver," said the man, "would be glad to have the honor." " Waldengarver ?" I repeated — when Herbert murmured in my ear, " Probably Wopsle.' " Oh !" said I. " Yes. Shall we follow you ?'■ "A few steps, please." When we were in a side alley, be turned and asked, "How did you think he looked-? — I dressed him." I don't know what he had looked like, except a funeral; with the addition of a large Danish order hanging round his neck by a blue ribbon, that had given him the appearance of being insured jn some extraordinary Fire Office. But I said he had looked very nice. " When he come to the grave," said our conductor, " he show- ed his cloak beautiful. But, judging from the wing, it looked to GREAT EXPECTATIONS. W5 me that when he see the ghost in the queen's apartment, he might have made more of his stockings." T modestly assented, and we all fell through alittle dirty swing- door, into a sort of hot packing-ease immediately hehind it. Here Mr. Wopsle was divesting himself of bis Danish garments, and here there was just room lor ns to look at him over one another's shoulders, hy keeping the packing-case door, or lid, wide open. " Gentlemen, M * said Mr. Wopsle, "1 am proud to see you. I hope, Mr. Pip. you wi.l excuse my sending round. I had the happiness to know \on in former times, and the Drama has ever had a claim which has ever been acknowledged, on the noble and. the affluent, Meanwhile. Mr Waldengarver, in a frightful perspiration, was trying to get himself out ol his princely sables. " Skin rh.e stockings off, Mr. Waldengarver," said the owner of that property, "or you'll bust Cm, and you'll bust live-and- thirty shillings. Shak'speare never was complimented with a finer pair. Keep ipiiet in your chair now, and cave 'em to me." With that lie went upon his knees, and began to flay his vic- ti: i; who, on the first stocking QOWing Off, woifld certainly have fa len over backward with bis chair, but for there being no room to fall anyhow. I had been afraid until then to say a word about the play. — But when Mr. Walaengarvei" looked up at us complacently, anil s;;id. ".Gentlemen, how did it s em to you to go, in front !" Herbert said from behind (at the same time poking me), "capi- tally." So I said "capitally." "How did you like my Heading of the character gentlemen?" said Mr. "Waldengarver, almost, if not quite, with patronage. Herbert said from behind (again poking me), "massive and ex- So 1 said boldly, asif 1 had originated it, and must in- sist upon it. " massive and excellent." '• i am glad to have your approbation, gentlemen," said "Waldengarver, with an air of dignity, in spite of his being ground si the wall at the line, and holding on b\ the seat of fhe chair. - 1'mt i'il tell you one thing, Yrr. Waldengarver." said the man wim was on his knees, "in which you're out in your reading. E 1 den", care who sa^ s contrairy ; I tell you so. You're out in your reading of Hamlet when you gel your legs in prtffle. The 1 dressed, made tfle same mistakes in his reading at rehearsal, till 1 got him to put a large red v afer on each of ins, and then at that rehearsel (which was the last) I was in front, sir. to the heck of the pit, and whenever his Heading broughl hire into profile I '1 don't see no waters!' And at night hi* reading was Lovely." 206 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Mr. Waldengarver smiled at me, as much as to say, "A faithful dependent — I overlook his folly ; " and then said aloud, "My view is a little ('lassie and thoughtful for them here; but they will im- prove, they will improve." Herbert and I said together, Oh, no doubt they would improve. ."Did you observe, gentlemen," said Mr. Waldengarver,-" that there was a man in the gallery who endeavored to cast derision on the service — I mean, the representation 1 " We basely replied that we rather thought we had noticed such a man. I added, " He was drunk, no doubt," " Oh dear no, sir," said Mr. Wopsle, " not drunk. His employ- 'er would see to that, Sir. . His employer would not allow him to be drunk." " You know his employer ?" said I. Mr. Wopsle shut his eyes, and opened them again ; performing both ceremonies very slowly. "You must have observed, gentle- men," said he, "an ignorant and blatant ass, with a rasping throat. and a countenance expressive of low malignity, who went through — 1 will not say sustained — the role (if 1 may use a French ex- pression) of Claudius King o! Denmark. That is his employer, gentlemen. Such is the profession !" Without distinctly knowing whether I should have been more sorry for Mr. Wopsle if he had been in despair, I was so sorry for him as it was, that I took the opportunity of his turning round'to have his braces put on — which jostled us out at the door-way — fo ask Herbert what he thought of having him home to supper? — Herbert said he thought it would be kind to do so ; therefore I invited him, and he went to Barnard's with 'us, wrapped up to the eyes, and we did our best for him, and he sat until two o'clock in the morning, reviewing his success and developing his plans. 1 forget in detail what they were, but I have a general recollection that he was to begin with reviving the Drama, and to end with crushing it; inasmuch as his decease would leave it utterly bereft and without a chance pr hope. Miserably I went to bed after all, and miserably I thought of Estella, and miserably dreamed that my expectations were all can- celed, and that I had to give my hand, in marriage to Herbert's Clara, or play Hamlet to Miss Havisham's Ghost before twenty thousand people without knowing twenty words of it. GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 207 CHAPTER XXXII. Oak day when I was busy with my books and TVfr. Pocket, f received a note by the post", (he mere outside of which threw me into a great duller: 'for, though 1 had never seen the handwriting in which it was addressed, 1 divined whose hand it was. It had no set beginning, as Dear Mr. Tip, or Dear Pip, or Dear Sir, or Dear Anything, but ran thus: •• I am to come to London the day after to-morrow by the mid- Qoaclf, I helicve it was settled you should meet me 1 al all events Miss Havisham has that impression, and I write in obejdi- . > it. She scuds you her regards. Yours, Esviolla. If there had been lime, 1 should probably have ordered several suits of clothes for this occasion ; but as there was not, 1 was fain' ;o lie content with those I had. My appetite vanished instantly, ! knew no peace or rest until the day arrived. Not that its arrival brought me either ; for then I was worse than ever, and be- gan haunting the coach-office in Wood Street, Okeapside, before the coach had left the Blue lSoar in our town. For all that I knew this perfectly well, I still felt as if it were not safe to let the coach-office he out of my sight longer than five minutes at. a time; and in this condition of unreason 1 had performed the first half- hour of a watch of four or five hours, when Mr. Weinmiek ran against me. •• Halloa, Mr. Tip," said he, " how do you do 1 I should hardly have thought this was yput heat." I explained that 1 was waiting to meet somebody who was coin- ing Up by coach, and 1 inquired after the Castle and the Aged: " Hot h 'flourishing, thank ye," said Wemmick, "and particularly the Aired, lie's iii wonderful feather. He'll he eighty-two next birthday. 1 have a notion of tiring eighty-two times, if I he neigh- borhood shouldn't coi!i]i!;iin, and that cannon of mine should prove equal to the pressure. However, this is not London talk. Where do \ on think 1 am going to !"' "To the iid I, for he was tending in that direction. e.\t thing to it,' returned Wemmick, "1 am going to New- We are in a bauker's-parcel case just at present, and 1 have been down the road taking a squint at tfie abene of action, and there- upon must have a word or two with our client." • I M your client cnniuiit the robbery I" I a&ked. •208 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. " Bless your soul and body, no," answered Wemmick, very drily. " But he is accused of it. So might you or I be. Either of us might be accused of it, you know." "Only neither of us is," I remarked. " Yah ! " said Wemmick, touching me on the breast with his forefinger ; " you're a deep one, Mr. Pip ! Would you like to have a look at "Newgate 1 Have you time to spare 1 " I had so much time to spare that toe proposal came as a relief, i t withstanding its unreconcilability with my latent desire to keep my eye on the coach-office. Muttering that I would make the in- quiry whether I had time to wall: with him, I went into the office ascertained from the clerk, with the nicest precision and much be trying of his temper, the earliest moment at which the coach couYd he expected — which I knew beforehand quite as well as he. i then rejoined Mr. Wemmick, and affecting to consult my watch and to be surprised by the information I had received, accepted ffer. We were at Newgate in a few minutes, and we passed through the lodge where some fetters were hanging up on the bare walls among the prison rules into the interior of the jail. At that time the jails were much neglected, and the period of exaggerated re- actinn consequent on all public wrong-doing — and which is always its heaviest and longest punishment — was still far off. So felons were not lodged and fed better than soldiers (to say nothing of paupers), and seldom set fire to their prisons with the excusable ob- jeet of improving the flavor of their soup. It was visiting time when Wemmick rook mo in; and a potman -was going his rounds with beer; and the prisoners behind bars in yards were buying beer and talking to friends ; and a frouzy, ugly, disorderly, de- pressing scene it Was. It struck me that Wemmick walked among the prisoners much as a gardener might walk among his plants. This was first put into my head by his seeing a shout that had come up in the night, and saying. ' AVhat, Captain Tom? Are you there? Ah, in- deed ! ' and also, " Is that Black Bill behind the cistern 1 Why, I didn't look for you these two months; how do you find your- self?" Equally in his stopping at the bars and arrending to anxious whisperers — always singly — Wemmick, with Ids post-office in an immoveable state, looked at them while in conference as if he were taking particular notice of the advance they had made, since last observed, toward coming out in full blow at their trial. He was highly popular, and I found that he took the familiar department of Mr. Jaggers's business; though something of the state of Mr. Jaegers hung about him too, forbidding approach be- yond certain limits. His personal recognition of each successive client was comprised in a nod, and in his settling his hat a little easier qu his head with both liaads, and limn tightening tha po&fc. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. *J9 office, and putthjg his hands in his pockets. In one or two in- stances there was a difficulty respepting the raising of fees, and then Mr. Wemmick, backing as far as possible from the insufficient money produced, said, " li's no use. my hoy. I'm only a subordi- nate. I can't take it. Don't go on in that way with a subordi- nate. If you arc unable to snake up your quantum, my hoy. you had better address yourself to a principal ; there are plenty of prin- cipals in the profession, you know, and what is not worth the while of one may lie worth ihe while of another — that's my recommen- dation to you, speaking as a subordinate. Don't, try on useless measures. Why should you ! Now, who's next ?" Thus we walked through Wemmick's green-house until he turn- ed to me and said, " Notice the man I shall shake hands with." I should have done so without the preparation as he, had shaken hands with no one yet. Almost as soon as he had spoken, a portly upright man (whom 1 can see now as I write) in a well-worn, olive-colored frock-coat, with a peculiar palor overspreading the red in his complexion, and eyes that went wandering- about when he tried to fix them, came up to a corner of the bars, and put his hand to his hat — which Inula greasy and fatty surface like cold broth — with a half serious and half jocose military salute. " Colonel 10 you !" said Wemmick ; "how are you, Colonel ? " "All right, Mr. Wemmick." "Every thing was done that could be done, but the evidence was loo strong f 'f us, Colonel." " Yes, it was too strong, Sir — but /don't care." "No. no.' said Wemmick coolly,"y»W don't care." Then, turn- ing to me, " Served His Majesty this man. Was a soldier in the line and bought bis discharge.'' i Baid, •• indeed [" and the man's eyes looked over my head, and ihen looked all around me, and then he drew his hand across his lips and laii rhTed. •' 1 think 1 shall he off on Monday, sir," he said to Wemmick. " Perhaps/' returned my friend, "but there's no knowing.'' " I am gl id to have the chance of bidding yon good-hy, Mr. Wemmick," said the man, stretching out bis hand between two bars. " Than!; ye," said "Wemmick, shaking bands with bim. " Same to you, Colonel." " If what I had upon me when taken bad been real, Mr. Wem- mick," said the man, unwilling to let his band go, " I should have asked the favor of your wearing another ring — iu acknowledgment of your alti ntion." "I'll accept the will for the deed," said Wemmick. "By-the- by, you \v< re quite a pigeon-fancier." The man looked up at the sky. " .1 am told you had a remarkable breed of tumblers. — U HiO GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Could you commission any friend of yours to bring me a pair, if you've no further use for 'em 1 " " It shall be done, Sir." "All right," said Wemmick, "they shall be taken care* of. — Good-afternoon, Colonel. fiok my arm to be more confidential ; " I don't know that Mr. Jaggers decs a better thing than the way in which he keeps him- self so high. He's ahvays so high. His constant height is of a piece with his immense abilities. That Colonel durst tio more take GREAT EXPECTATIONS. *i 1 leave of him, than that turnkey durst ask him his intention- speoting i 'iien between his height and them he slips in his subordinate — don't, you see I — and so he has 'em, soul and body: ' I was very much impressed, and not for the first rime, by mv guardian's subtietv. To confess the truth. I very heartily Wished, and not for the first time, that I had had some other guardian of minor abilities. Mr. Wemmick and I parted at the office in Little Britain, where suppliants for Mr. Jiggers's notice were lingering about as usual, and I returned to my watch in the street of the coach-otlice, with some three hours on hand. I consumed the whole time in thinking how stfftage it was that 1 should he encompassed by all this taint of | risen am! crime ; that in my childhood out on our lonely marsh- es on a wint-'r evening 1 should have first encountered i; ; that it should have reappeared on two occasions, starting- out like a. stain that was faded but not gone; that it should in this new way per- vade my fortune and advancement. I thought, of the beautiful young Estelia. proud and refined, coming toward me while my mind was thus enraged, and thought with absolute abhorrence of the contrast between the jail and her. I wished that Wemmick had not met me, or that 1 had not yielded to him and gone with him, so that, of all days in the year, on this day I might iv! haw had Newgate in my breath and on my clothes. I beat the prison-dust off my feet as I sauntered to and fro. and I shook it out of mv dress, and I exhaled its air from my lungs. So contaminated did 1 feel, remembering who was coming, that the coach came qui kly after all, and I was not yet free from the soiling consciousness of Mr. Wemoiick's conservatory, when I saw her face at the coach window and her hand waving to me. What was the nameless shadow which again in that one instant bail passed '. CHAPTER XXXIII. In her farad traveling dress, Estelia seemed more delicately beautiful than she had ever seemed yet, even in my eyes. Her manner was more winning than she had cared to let it be to me before, and I thought 1 saw Miss Havisham's influence in the change. We stood in the Inn Yard while she pointed out her luggage to me, and when it was all collected I remembered — having forgotten everything but herself in the meauwhile — that 1 kuww nothing of b«r destination. 3i2 GREAT EXPECT ATIOTS. t "I am going to Richmond," she told me. "Our lesson is, that there are two Richmonds, one in Surrey and one in Yorkshire, and tha,t mine is Surrey Richmond. The distance is ten miles. I am to have a carriage, arjd you are to take me. This is my purse, and you are to pay my charges out of it. Oh, you must tak" the purse! We have no choice, you and 1, but to obey our instruc- tions. We are not tree to fol.ow our own devices, you and 1." As she looked at me in giving me the purse, I hoped there was an inner meaning in her words. She said them slightingly, but not with displeasure. ■ " A carriage will have to be sent for, Estella. Will you rest here a little. P " Yes, I am to'rest here a little, and I am to drink some tea, and you are to take care of me the while." She drew her arm through mine, as if it must be done, and I requested a waiter who had been staring at the coach like a man who had never seen such a thing in his life, to sshow us a private sitting-room. Upon that he pulled out a napkin, as if it were a magic clew without which he couldn't find the way up stairs, and led us to the black hole of t lie establishment; titled up with a diminishing mirror (quite a superfluous article considering the hole's-proportion), an anchovy sauce-cruet, and somebody's pat- tens. On my objecting to this retreat, he took us into anolher room with a dinner-table for thirty, and in the grate a scorched leaf of a copy-book under a bushel of coal-dust. Having looked at (his extinct Conflagration and shaken his hc.ad, he took my or- der: which, proving to be merely " Some tea for the lady," sent him out. of the room in a very low state of mind. I was. and I am, sensible that the air of this chamber, in its strong combination of stable with soup-stock, might have led one to infer that the coaching department was not doing web, and that the enterprising proprietor was boiling down the horses i'or the refreshment department. Yet the room was all in all to me, Es- tella being in it. 1 thought that with her I could have been hap- py there for life. (I was not at all happy there at the time, ob- serve, and 1 knew it well.) ." Where are you going to, at Richmond '/" I asked Estella. "I am going to live," said she, "at a great expense, with a lady there, who has the power — or says she has — of taking me about and introducing me, and showing people to me and showing me to people." " 1 suppose yen will be glad of variety and admiration." " Yes, I suppose so." She answered so carelessly that I said, "You speak of your- self as if you were some one else." " Where did you learn how I speak of others? Come, come," ■eiirm, Herbert," 1 would retort, plying my own pen with great assiduity.; " Look the thing in the face. Look into your af- fairs. Stare them out of countenance/' "So 1 would, Handel, only tliey are staring me out of cpunte nance." However, my determined manner wpnld liaveiis effect, and Her ltert would fall to work again. After a time, lie would give up once more, on the plea that he had not got Cobb's bill, or Lobb's, or Nobb'i , as the ease might he. ••Then, Herbert, estimate it; estimate it in round numbers, ami put it down'." "What a fellow of resource you are ! " my friend would reply, with admiration. " Really your business powers are very remark- able." 1 thought so too. I established with myself on these occasions the reputation of a first rate man of business — prompt, decisive. energetic, clear, cool-headed. When I had got all my responsi- bilities down'upon my list. I compared each with the bill, ami ticked it off, My self-approval when I ticked an entry was almost a lux* urious sensation. When 1 had no more ticks to make, 1 folded all my bills up uniformly, docketed each on the back, and tied the whole into a symmetrical bundle. Then 1 di I th same for Her- bert (who modestly said be had int my administrative genius), and felt that I had brought his affairs into a focus for him. My business habits had one other brigbl feature, which 1 called '• leaving a margin." For example ; supposing Herberts dolus to be one hundred and sixty-four pounds four-aud-tWo pence, 1 would say, "leave a margin, and put them down at two hundred." Or supposing my own to be four times as much, 1 would leave a mar- gin, and put them down at seven hundred. 1 had the highest opinion of the wisdom and prudence of this 1 same margin; but 1 am bound to acknowledge that, on looking back, I deem it to have been an expensive device. For we always ran into new debt im- mediately, to the full extent of the margin, and sometimes, in the sense of freedom and solvency it imparted, got pretty far on into another margin. But lliere'was a calm, a rest, a virtuous hush, consequent on these examinations of our affairs, that gave me, for the time, an admirable (minimi of myself. Soothed by try exertions, my meth- od, and Herbert's compliments, I would sit with his symmetrical lie and my own on the table before me among the stationery, and feel like a bank 'of some sort, rather than a private individual. We shut our outer door on these solemn occasions, in order that we might not be interrupted. 1 had fallen" into m\ serene state one «veniu£, when we heard a letter dropped through the slit" in 222 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. the said door, and fall on the ground. " It's for you, Handel," said Herbert, going out and coming back with it, " and I hope there is nothing' the matter." This was in allusion to its heavy black seal and border. The. letter was signed Trabb & Co., and its contents were sim- ply, that 1 was an honored Sir, and that they begged to inform me that Mrs. J. Gargery had departed this life on Monday last, at twenty minutes past six in the evening, and that my attendance was requested at the interment on Monday next at three o'clock in the afternoon* CHAPTER XXXV. It was the first time that a grave had opened in my road of life, and the depth of the gap it made in the smooth ground was wonderful. The figure of my sister in her chair by the kitchen fire haunted me night and day. That the place could possibly be without her was something my mind seemed unabl ' to compass; ami whereas she had seldom or never been in my thoughts of late, I had now the strangest iib-as that she was coining toward me in fli' street, or that she would presently knock at the door. In my ■;. too; with which she had never been at all associated, there. was at once Ihe blankness of death and a perpetual suggestion of the sound of her voice or the turn of her face or figure, as if sjie were still alive and had been often there. Whatever my fortunes might have been, 1 could scarcely have recalled my sister with miicti tenderness. But I suppose there is a shock of regret which may exist without much tenderness. Un- der its influence (and perhaps to make up for the want of the softer feeling) I was seized with a violent indignation againffc the assail- ant from whom she had suffered so much ; and 1 felt that, on suf- ficient proof, I could have revengefully pursued Orlick, or any one else, 1o the last extremity. Having writte.n to Joe, to offer consolation, and to assure him that I should come to the funeral, 1 passed the intermediate days in the curious state of mind 1 have glanced at. I went down early in the morning, and alighted at the Blue Boar in good time to walk ove* to the forge. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 223 It was fine summer weather again, and, as T walked along, the time when 1 was a little helpless creature, and my sister did not spare me, vividly returned. Hut they returned -with a gentle tone upon them that softened even the edge of Tickler. For now the very breath of the beans and clover whispered to my heart that the day must come when it would lie well for my memory thet others walking in the sunshine should be softened as they thought of me. At last T came within sight of the house, and then I immedi- ately saw tin at Tf abb & Co. had put in a funeral execution and taken possession. Two dismally absurd persons, eaeh ostenta- tiously exhibiting a crutch done up in a hlaek bandage — as if that instrument could possifily communicate any comfort to any bodj — were posted at the front door; and in one of them 1 recognized a post-hoy discharged from the Hoar for turning a young couple into a saw-pit on their bridal morning, in consequence of intoxication rendering it necessary for him to ride his horse clasped around the neck wiih both arms. All the children of the village, and most of the women, were admiring these sable warders and the closed win- dows of the house and forge; and as 1 came up, one o( the two warders (ihe post-boy) knocked at the door — implying that I was far too much exhausted by grief to have strength remaining to knock lor myself. Another sable warder (a carpenter who had once eaten two geese for a wager) opened the door, and showed me into the best parlor. Here Mr. Trabh had taken unto himself the best table, and had got all the leaves up, and was holding a kind of black Bazar, with the aid of a quantity of black pins. At the moment of my arri- val he had just finished putting somebody's hat into black long- evities, like an African baby ; so lie held out his hand for mine. Hut 1. misled by the action, and confused by the occasion, shook iiaiids with him with every testimony of warm affection. Poor dear .foe, in a little black cloak tied in a large how under his chin, was seated apart at the upper end of the room ; where, as chief mourner, he had evidently been deposited by Trahb. When \ lent down and said to him, " Dear Joe, how are you I " he said, " Pip. old chap, you knowed her when she were a fine figure of a — " clasped my hand, and said no more. Biddy, looking very neat and modest in her black dress, went quietly here and there, and was very helpful. When I had spoken to Biddy, as 1 tho'ughl it not a lime for talking I went and sal n near Joe, and there began to wonder in what pari of the se it — she — my sister — was. The air of the parlor being faint i the smell of sweet cake, I looked about for the table of re- ments; i! was scarcely visible until one had goi accustomed ;o the gloom, but there was a cut-up plum-cake upon it, and theic were cut-up oranges, and &andwicli«s, and biscuits, and two U#- 234 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. canters that I knew very well as ornaments,, but. had never seen used in all my life, one full of port and one of sherry. Standing at this table, i became conscious of the servile PuniBleohuok, in a black cloak and several yards of hat-band, who was alternately stuf- fing himself, and making obsequious movements to catch my atten- tion. The moment he succeeded he came over to me (breathing sherry and crumbs), and said, in a subdued voice, " May I, dear Sir 1 " and did. 1 then descried Mr. and Mrs. Hubble — the last- named in a decent speechless paroxysm in a corner. We were all g to "follow," and were all in course of being tied up sepa- rately (by Trabb) into ridiculous bundles. " Which I meanteitsay, Pip," Joe whispered me, as we were be- ing what Mr. Trabb called " formed " in the parlor, two and two — and it was dreadfully like a preparation for some grim kind of dance — "which I meantersay, Sir, as I would in preference have carried her to the church myself, along with three or four friendly ones wot come to it with willing harts and arms ; but it were con- sidered wot the neighbors would look down on such, and would be of opinions as it were wanting in respect." " rocket-handkerchiefs out, all!" cried Mr. Trabb at this point, in a depressed business-like voice. "Pocket-handkerchiefs out! We are ready ! " So we all put our pocket-handkerchiefs to our faces, as if our noses were bleeding, and hied out two and two ; Joe and I ; Bid- dy and Pumblechook ; Mr. and Mrs. Hubble. The remains of my poor sister had been brought round by the kitchen door; and, it be- ing a point of Undertaking ceremony that 1 he six bearers must be stifled and blinded under a horrible, black velvet housing with a white border, tlie whole looked like a blind monster with twelve ?i legs, shuffling and blundering along, under the guidance of .two keepers — the post-boy and bis comrade. The neighborhood, however, highly approved of these arrange- ments, and we were much admired as we went through the vil- lage; the more youthful and vigorous part of the community mak- ing dashes now and then to cut us off, and lying in wail cept us at points of vantage. At such times the more exuberant among them called out in an excited maimer, on our emergence round some corner of expectancy, " Here they come ! Here they are !" and we were all but cheered. In this progress I was much annoyed by the abject Pumblechook, who, being behind me, per- sisted all the way, as a delicate attention, in arranging my stream- ing hat-baud and smoothing my cloak. My thoughts were further distracted by the excessive pride of Mr. and Mrs. Hubble, who were surpassingly conceited and vain-glorious in being members of so distinguished a procession. At last the range of marshes lay clear before us, with the sails of the ships on the river growing out of it ; and we went into tbe GREAT EXPECTATIONS. .TY.mwel! pleased by my asking if I might sleep in my own little rofivn, and I was pleased too; for 1 felt tiiat I had done rather a gnat thing in making the request. When the shadows of evening were closing in, I took an opportunity of getting into the gaiden with. Biddy for a little talk. " Biddy," said I, " I think you might have written to me about these sad matters." "Do you. Mr. Pip?'" said Biddy. " I should have written if I had thoughl that.?' " Don't suppose that I mean to he unkind, Biddy, wheu 1 say I consider that you ought to havo thought that." " Do you, Mr. Pip>' 16 226 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. She wasso quiet, and had such an orderly, good, and pretty way with her, that I did not like the thought of making her cry again. After looking a little at her downcast eyes, as she walked beside me, I gave up that .point. ".I suppose it will be difficult fur you to remain here now, Bid- dy dear?" " Oh ! I can't do so, Mr. Pip," said Biddy, in a tone of regret, but still of quiet conviction. " I have be n speaking to Mrs. Hub- ble, and 1 am going to her to-morrow. '1 hope we shall lie able to take some care of Mr. Clargery, together, until he settles down." " How are you going to live, Biddy 1 If you want any rhp — " " How am I going to live? ' repeated Biddy, striking in, with a momentary flush upon her face. " I'll tell you, Mr. Fiji. I am going to try to get the place of mistress in the new school flearlj iinished here. I can be well recommended by all (lie neighbors, and I hope I can be industrious and patient, and teach myself while !• teach others. You know, Mr. Pip," pursued Biddy, with a smile, as she raised her eyes to my face, " the new Schools arc not like the old, but I learned a good deal from you alter that time, and have had time since Then to improve-" " I think you would always improve, Biddy, under any circum- stances." " Ah ! Except in mv bad side of human nature," murmured Biddy. It was not so much a reproach as an irresistible thinking aloud. Well! I thought 1 would give up tnat point too. So 1 walked a little further with Biddy, looking silently at her downcast eyes. " J have not heard the particulars of my sister's death, Biddy.' " They are very slight, poor thing ! .She had been in one of her bad states — though they had got better of late, rather than worse — for four days, when she came out of it in the evening, just at tea-time, and said, quite plainly, 'Joe.' As she had never said any word for a long while, I ran and fetched in Mr. (largely from the forge. She made signs' to me that she wanted him to sit down close to her, and wanted me to put her arms round his neck. So I put them round his neck, and she laid her head down on his shoulder quite content and satisfied. And so she presently said 'Joe' again, and once ' Par.don,' and once 'Pip.' And so she never lifted her head up any more ; and it was just an hour later when we laid ii down on her own bed, because we found she was gone." Biddy cried ; the darkening garden, and the lane, and the stars that were coming out were blurred in my own sight. " Nothing was ever discovered, Biddy ?" "Nothing."' " Do you know what is become of Orlick ?" GREAT EXPECTATION*. 527 " I should think, from the color of his clothes, that he is work in the quarries." " ( )f course yop have seen him then ? Why are you looking at that dark' tree in the lane ?" " 1 saw hi. a there op the qjght she died." J8#I"hat was not the las! lime either, Biddy V "No ; I have seen him there since we have been walking herd. It's of no use." said Biddy, laying her band upon my arm as I was for running out ; " you know I would nor deceive you ; he was not. there a minute, and lie is gone." It revived my utmost indignation to find that she was still pur- sued by this fellow, and I felt inveterate against hi ;;. 1 lold her no. and lold her that i would spend any money or fake any pains to drive him out of that country. By degrees, she led me into more temperate talk, and she told me how Joe loved me, and how never complained of any thing — she didn't say of me ; she had no need ; I knew what she meant — but ever did his duty in his of life with a strong hand, a quiet tongue, and a gentle heart. »".Indeed if would be hard to say too much for him." said I ; "and Biddy, we must often speak of these things, for of course i shall be often down here now. I am not going to leave poor J( e • Hiddy said ne\tT a single word. • lUddv. don't^vou bear me ?" •'Yes. Mr. Pip." •' Not to mention your calling me Mr. Tip — which appears to me to be in bad taste, Biddy — what do you mean ?" '• What do 1 mean ?" asJiieJ. Biddy, timidly. •• Biddy," 'aid I, in a vu;tubusly self-asserting manner, " 1 must request to know what von mean by this ?" "By this ;■ " said Biddy. " Now, don't echo," i retorted. "You used not toecbo, Biddy." " Used nm ! "' said Biddy. " Oh, Mr. Pip ! I'sed ! " We'd ! I rather thought I would give up that point too. After another silent turn in the garden I fell back on the main position. *' Piddy," said I, " 1 made a remark respecting my coining down here often to see Joe, which you received with a marked silence. — Have the goodness, Biddy, to tell me why.'' •' Are you quite sine, then, that you will eome to see him of- ten '?*' asked Biddy, stopping in the narrow garden walk, and look- ing at me under the stars with a clear and honest eye. " Oh, dear me ! " said 1, as if I found myself compelled to give up Biddy in despair. "This really is a very bad side of human nature! Don't say any more, if you please, Biddy. This shocks nie very much/' For which cogent reason I kept Biddy, at a distance during sup- per, and when I went up to my own old little room took as stately fc« GREAT EXPECTATIONS. a leave of her as I could, in my murmuring soul, deem reconcila- ble with the church-yard and the event of the day. As often as I was restless in the night, and that was every quarter of an hour, I reflected what an unkindness, what an injury, What an injustice Biddy had done me. Early in the morning I was to go. 'Early in the morning I was out, and looking in, unseen, at one of t!ic wooden windows of the f6nge. There I stood, for minutes, looking at Joe, already at work, with a glow of health and strength upon his face that made it show as if the bright sun of the. life in store for him were shining on it. " Good-by, dear Joe ! — No don't wipe, it oil' — far God's sake give me your blackened hand ! I shall be down soon, and often." " Never too soon, Sir," said .Joe, " and never too often, Pip ! " Biddy was waiting for me at the kitchen door, with a nTug of new milk and a crust of bread. " Biddy," said I, when i gave her my hand at parting, " I am not angry; but 1 am hurt!" "No, don't he hurt." she pleaded quite paihetically ; "let only me he hm't. if 1 have, been ungenerous." ( hice more the mists were rising as I walked away. if (J disclosed to me, as I suspect they did, that 1. shiuld not come baek, and that Biddy was quite right, all I can say is — they were quite right too. CHAPTER XXXVI. Hi5R[;ERT-and I went on from bad to worse, in the way of in- creasing our debts, looking into our affairs, leaving margins, and the like exemplary transaction^; and Time went on, whether orno, as he has a way of dUfrig ; and 1 came of age in fulfillment, of Herbert's prediction that I should do so before I knew where I was. Herbert, himself had come of age eight, months before me. As he had nothing else than his majority to come into, the event did no; make a profound sensation in Barnard's Inn. But we had looked forward to my one-and-twentieth birthday with a crowd of specu- lations and anticipations, for we had both considered that my guar- dian could hardly help saying something definite on that.occa- siou. I had taken care to have it well understood in Little Britain when my birthday was. On the day before it I received an official note from Wemmick, informing me that Mr. J aggers would be glad GREAT EXPECTATIONS; 229 if I would call upon him at five in the afternoon of the aus-pic day. This convinced ns 1 hat something great was to happen, and threw me into an ■unusual flutter when I repaired to my guardian's offiee, a model of punctuality. jjLn the ouier oiliee Wemmick offered me his congratulations, and incidentally ruhhed the side of his nose with a folded piece el' tissue-pa- lter that 1 liked the look of. Hut he said nothing respecting it, and motioned me with a nod into my guardian's room. It was November, and my guardian was standing before Ids tire loaning his hack against the chimney-piece, with his hands under his coat- tails. " Well. Pip," said lie. " I must call you Mr. Pip to-day. Con- gratulations, Mr. Pip." We shook hands — he was always a' remarkable short shaker — and 1 thanked him. " Take a chair. Mr. Pip," said my guardian. As 1 sat down, and he preserved his attitude and bent his brows at his boots, 1 fell at a disadvantage, which reminded nfo of that (dd time when I had been put upon a tomb stone. The two ghast- ly casts ou the shelf were not far from him, and their expression was as if they were making a stupid appoplectio attempt to attend to the conversation. " Now. my young friend," my guardian began, as if I were a witness in the box, ': 1 am going to have a word or two with you." " If you please, Sir." " What do you suppose," said Mr. daggers, bending forward to look at the ground, and then throwing his head back to look at the ceiling, " what do you suppose you are living at the rate of'?" ■• At the rate of, Sir '." "At," repeated Mr. daggers, still looking; at the ceiling, " the — rate — id*?" And then looked all around the room, and paused with his pocket-handkerchief in his hand, half way to his nose. I had loo :ed into my affairs so often that 1 had thoroughly de- stroyed any slight notion 1 might ever have had of their bearings. Reluctantly. I confessed myself quite unable to answer the q tion. This reply seemed agreeable to Mr. daggers, who said, " I thought so ! " and blew his nose with an air of satisfaction. '• Now. I have asked yqu a question, my friend," said Mr. -Tag- gers. " Have you anything to ask me '." . •• ( )f course it would be a great relief to me to ask you several questions, Sir ; but I remember your prohibition." " Ask one." said Mr. daggers. ■• Is my benefactor to be made known to me to-day V " Xo. Ask another." " Is that confidence to be imparted to me soon ? " " Waive that a moment," said Mr. Jaggers. " and ask an- other." 230 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. I looked about me, but there appeared to be now no possible escape from the inquiry, " Have — I — anything to .receive, Sir 1 " — On that Mr. Jaggers said, triumphantly, " T thought We should come to it !" and called to YVemmiek to give him that piece of paper. Wemmiek appeared, handed it in, and disappeared. " Now, Mr. Pip," said Mr. J aggers, " attend, if you please.-— You have been drawing pretty freely here; your name occurs pretty often in Wemmick's cash-book ; but you are in debt of course ■] " " I am afraid I must say yes, Sir." " You know you must say yes, don't you ?" said Mr. Jaggers. "Yes, Sir." " 1 don't ask you what you owe, because you don't know ; and if you did know you wouldn't tell me — you wonld say less. Yes, yes, my friend," cried Mr. Jaggers, waiving his fprtsfijiger to stop me, as I made a show of protesting, "it's likely enough that you think you wouldn't, but you would. You'll excuse mc but 1 know better than you. Now take this piece of paper in your hand. — You have got it / Verv good. Now Unfold it and tejl] me what it is.'' " This is a bank note," said I, " for five hundred pounds." "That is a bank note," repeated Mr. Jaggers, J' for I'm- hundred pounds. And a very handsome sum of money, too, I think. You consider it so ?" " How could I do otherwise !" ;h ! But answer the question," said Mr. Jaggers. " Undoubtedly^/' " You consider it. undoubtedly, a handsome sum of money/ Now that handsome sum of money, Pip, is your own. It is a present to you on this day, in earnest (if your expectations. And at the rate of that handsome sum of money per annum, and at no higher rate, you are to live until the donor of the whole appears. That is to hay, you will now take your money affairs entirely into your own hands, and you will draw from YVemmiek one hundred and twenty- five pounds per quarter, until you are in communication with the fountain-head, and no longer with the mere agent. As I have told you before, I am the mere agent. I execute my instructions, and I am paid for doing so. I think them injudicious, but I am not paid for giving any opinion on their merits. I was beginning to express my gratitude to my benefactor for the great liberality with which I was treated, when Mr. Jaggers stopped me. "I am not paid, Pip," said he, coolly, "to carry your words to any one;" and then gathered up his coat-tails, as tie had gathered up the subject, and stood frowning at his boots as if he suspected them of designs agaiust him. After a pause, I hinted: " There was a question just now, Mr. Jaggers, which you de- GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 93* sired me to waive for a moment. I hope I am dtfing nothing Wrong in asking it again '." " What, is it r said he. I mi^ht have kno\vn that he would never help me out: but it took me aback to have to shape the question afresh, as if it were quite new. " Is it likely." I said, afu-r hesitating, " that my patron, the fountain-head you have spokn of, Mr. J aggers, wil 1 soon — " There I delicately stopped. " Will soon what ?" said Mr. daggers. " That's no question as it stands, you know." •' Wi 1 soon come to London," said I, after casting ahout for a precise form of words, "or summon me any where else.'" "Nowhere." replied Mr. Jaggers, fixing me for the first time with his dark deep-set eyes, "we must revert to the evening when we first encountered one another in your village. ' What did I tell you then, Pip ?." "You told me, Mr. Jaggers, that it might be years hence when that person appeared." "Just So," said Mr daggers, " that's my answer." As we looked full at one another I felt my breath come quicker in my strong desire to get something out of him. And as I felt that ii came quicker, and as I felt that be saw that it came (puck- er. I tell that 1 had less chance than ever of getting any thing out of him. •• Do you suppose it will still he years hence, Mr. Jaggers V Mr. Jaggers shook his head — not m negativing the question, hiit in altogether negativing the notion that he could anyhow be got to answer it — and the two horrible casts of the twitched faces looked, when my eyes strayed up to them, as if they had come to a crisis in their suspended attention, and were going to sneeze. "Come!" said Mr. Jaggers, warming the backs of his legs with his warmed hands, " I'll be plain with yon, my friend, Pip. 'That's a question I must not be asked You'll understand that better when 1 tell you it's a question that might compromise me. Come! I'll go a little further with you; I'd say something more." lie bent down so low to rown at his boots that he was able to rub the calves of his fegs in the pause he made. " When that person discloses." said Mr. Jaggers, straightening himself, "you and that person will settle your own affairs. When that person discloses, my part in this business will cease and de- termine. When that person discdoses, it will not he necessary for me to know any thing about it. And that's all I have got to say." • We looked at one another until I withdrew my eyes, and looked thoughtfully at the floor. From this last speech I derived the notion that Miss Havisham, for some reason or no reason, had 232 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. not taken him into her confidence as to her designing- rae for Es- tella; that he resented this, and felt a jealousy about it; or that, he really dstella !' " \ on caii, men 1 The day after to-morrow, if you please. You are to pay all charges out of my purse. You hear the condi- tion of your going?" " And must obey," said I. This was all the preparation I received for that visit, or for oth- ers like it ; Miss Havisham never wrote to me, nor had 1 ever so much as seen her handwriting. We went down on the next but one, and we found her in the room where 1 first beheld her, and it is needless to add that there was no change in Satis House. She was even more dreadfully fond of Kstella than she ha.! when I last saw them together ; 1 repeat the word advisedly, for there was something positively dreadful ha the energy of her looks K> M9 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. and embraces. She hung u$on Estella's beauty, hung upon her words, hung upon her gestures, and sat mumbling her own trem- bling lingers while she looked at her as though she were devour- ing the beautiful creature she had reared. From Estella she looked at me, with a searching glance that seemed to pry into my heart and probe its wounds. "How i she use you, Pip — how does she use you ? " lie asked me again, wilh her witch-like eagerness, even in Estella's hearing. But when at by her flickering fire at night she was most 'weird ; for then, keeping Estella's hand drawn through tier arm and clutched in her own hand, she extorted from her, by dint of referring back to what Estella had told her in her regular letters, the names and the con- ditions of the men whom she had fascinated; ami as Miss Havi- shain dwelt upon this roll with the intensity of a mind mortally hurt and diseased, she sat with her other hand on- her crutehed stick, and her chin on that, and her wan bright eyes glaring tit me, :■- very spectre. ! saw in this, wretched though it made me, and bitter the sense of dependence and even of degradation that it awaken;".! — I saw in this, that Estella was set to wreak Miss Havisham's revenge on men, and that she was not to be given to me until she had grati- fied it for a term. ' 1 saw in this, a reason for her being beforehand assigned to me. Sending her out to attract ami torment and do mischief, Miss llavisham sent her with the malicious assurance that she was beyond 'he reach of all admirers, and that nil who staked upon that cast were secured to lose. 1 saw in this, thaf I, too, w;is tofmenteVl by a perversion of ingenuity, gven wbije the prize was reserved for me. 1 saw in this, .the reason of being slaved g, and the reason for my late gurdian's declining to corn- lie formal knowledge of such a scheme. In a won'., f in this, Miss llavisham as 1 had her then am my eyes, and always had Bad her before my eyes; and I saw in this the distinct shadow of the darkened and unhealthy house in which her life was hidden from the sun. The candles that lighted that room of hers were placed in sconce.-, or, the wall. They were high from the around, and they burned with. illness of artificial light in air 1 hat is seldom re- newed. As [ looked round at them, and the pale gloom they made, •1 clock, and at the withered articles of bridal dress upon the lablcand the ground, and at her own awful figure with its gho^th reflection thrown large by thefireupon the ceiling and wail. I saw in everything the construction that my mind had come to repealed and thrown back to me. My thoughts passed in- to the great room across the landing when 1 . the table was spread, and 1 saw it written, as it were, in the talis of the cobwebs from the centre-piece, in the crawlings of the spiders on the cloth, in the L/a.ck* «f the mice as they betook their little quickened hearts be- GREAT EXPECTATION. «43 hind the panels, and in the gropings and pausing* of the beetles on the floor. It happened on the occasion of this visit that some sharp words arose between Estella and Miss Havisham. It was the first time I "had ever seen them opposed. We were scaled by the lire as just now described, and Miss Havisham sfilUhati EsteJIa's arm drawn through her own. and still elntehed EVella's hand in hers, when Estella gradually began to detach hergelf. She had shown a proud impatience more than once before, and had rather endured that tierce affection than ac- cepted or returned it. " Wliat ! " said Miss llavisham, flashing her eyes upon her, "are you tired of me .' " •• Only a little tired of myself," replied Estella, disengaging her arm, and moving to the great chimney-piece, where she Stood look- ing dnwn at the lire. -peak the truth, you ingrate !"' cried Miss Havisham, pas- sionately sh'iuirig',her stick upon the floor; "you are tired of me." Estelja locked at her with perfect composure, and again looked down tier graceful figure and her beautiful face ex- pressed a s'e f- possessed indifference to the wild heat of the other was almost cruel. '■ Vim stick and sttirie !" exclaimed Miss Havisham. "Yon ] heart !" " What !" said Estella, preserving her attitude of indifference as she leaned against the great chimney-piece and only moving her eye:?; " do you reproach nle for being cold . ; Von V \re you not ?" was the tierce retorr. •' You should know." said Ksiella, " I am what you have made me. Take all the praise, take all the blame; take all the sue, ,■■ ayftJie failure : in short, take me.'' ""*■*■' ^tf^P°' { at ' 1(Jr ' ' 0,, ' ; ;U ner -" C1 '' ( '^ Miss Havisham. bitterly. LoolLat lier, so hard and I hankless. on the hearth wilere she was Where 1 took her into this wretched breast when it was lir^ n its stabs, and where I have lavished years of tciideru. -s uivon lujr !'" " vVleast 1 was no part to the compact," said Estella, "for if I could walk and speak when it was made it was as much as I con (1 do. But what would you have.' You have been very good to me. Aud I owe every thing to vou. What would you have ?" " Love," replied the other. " ion have it," " I have not," said Miss Havisham. "Mother by adoption," retorted Este la, never departing from the easy grace of her attitude, never raising her voice as the other did, never yielding either to anger or tenderness — " Mother by 444 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. adoption, 1 have said that [ owe every thing to you. All I pos- sess is freely yours. All that you have given me is at your com- mand to have again. Beyond i hat I have nothing. And if you ask me to give you what you never gave me, my grati ude and duty can not do impossibilities." "Did 1 never give her love!" cried Miss Havisham, turning wildly to me. "'Did I never give her a burning love, inseparable from jealousy at all times, and fnmi sharp pain, while she speaks thus to me ! Let her call me mad, let her call me mad !" •" Why should I call you mad," returned Estella, " I, of all people? Does any one live who knows what set purposes.you have, half as well as I do? Does any one live who knows what a steady memory you have, half as well as I do? I, who have.sat on this same hearth on the little stool that is even now beside yi>u there, learning your lessons and looking up into your face, when your face was strange and frightened to me?" " Soon forgotten !" moaned Miss Havisham. " Times soon forgotten '!" "No, not forgotten," retorted Estella. "Nor forgotten, but treasured up in my memory. When have you found me false to your teaching ? When halve you found me unmindful of your lessons? When have you found me giving admission here" — she touched her bosom with her band — "to anything that you exclu- ded ? iJejust to me." " So proud, so proud !" moaned Miss Havisham, pushing away her gray hair with both her hands. ' "Who Taught me lo be proud.'" 'returned Estella. " Who praised me when I learned my lesson ?" " So hard, so hard !" moaned Miss Havisham, with her former action. "Who taught me to be hard |" returned Estella. i ;■' Who praised me when I learned my lesson !" "'.' ^|Jf '^ " But to be proud and hard to >//e/" Miss Havisham quite shrieked, as she stretched out her arms. " Estella, Estella, Es- tella, to lie proud and hard to we /" Estella looked at her for a moment with a kind of calm. wonder, but was not otherwise disturbed; when the moment was passed she looked down at the tire again. "I can not think," said Estella, raising her eyes ifter a silence, " why you should be so unreasonable when I come to. see you after a separation. J have never Forgotten your wrongs and their caus- es, i have never been unfaithful to you or your schooling. I have never shown any weakness that I can charge myself with." "Would it be weakness to return my love I" exclaimed Miss Havisham. " But yes, yes, she would cad it so!" " 1 begin to think," said Estella, in a musing way, after another momen* of eaJin wonder, "that I almost understand how thie GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 845 corrtes about. If you had hrought up your adopied daughter wholly in the dark confinement oi these rooms, and had nevi r let her know that there was such a thing as ihc daylight by which she has never once seen your face — if you had done' that, and then, for a purpose had wanted her to understand the daylight, and know all about it, you would have been disappointed and angry (" Miss Ilavisham with her head in her hand:-;, sat making a low moaning, and swaying herself on her chair, but gave no answer. "Or," said Estella — "which is a nearer case — if you had taught her. from the dawn of her intelligence, with your utmost ene/gy and might, that there was spe.h a thing as daylight, but it was made to he her enemy and destroyer, and she must, always turn against it. for it had blighted you and would else blight her: if you had done this, and then, for a purpose, had wanted her to take nafuraly to the daylight, and she could not do it, you would have been disappointed and angry ?" Miss Ilavisham sat listening (or it seemed so, for I could not see her face), but still made no answer. '• So," said 1'stella. " I must be taken as I have been made. The success is not mine, the failure is not mine, but the two to- gether are me*'" Miss Ilavisham had settled down, I hardly knew how, upon the floor, among the faded bridal relics with which it was strewn. I took advantage of the moment — I had sought one from the first — to leave file room after beseeching Kstcl .a's attention to her, with a movement of my hand. When I left, Estella was yet standi) g by the great chimney-piece, just, as she had stood throughout. Miss Ilavisham's gray hair was all adrift upru the ground, among the other bridal wrecks, and was a miserable sight 10 see. It was with a depressed heart that 1 walked in the starlight, for an hour or more, about the court-yard, and about the brewery, and about the ruined garden. When 1 at last took courage to return to the room, I found Estella sitting at Miss Havisham's knee, taking up some stitches in one of those old articles of dress that were dropping to pieces, and of which I have often been reminded since by the faded tatters of old banners that I have seen hanging up in cathedrals. Afterward, Kstella and I played cards, as of yore — only we were skillful now, and played French games — and so the evening wore away, and I went to bed. I lay in tl ate bui ding across the court-yard. It was the first lime 1 had ever lain down to rest in Satis House, and sleep refused to come near me. A million of Miss llavishams haunted me. She was mi this side of my pillow, on that, at the head of the bed, at the foot, behind the half-opened door of the dressing-room, in the dressing-room, in the room overhead, in the 2if> GREAT EXPECTATIONS. yoom beneath — every where. At last, when the night was slow to creep on toward two o'clock, I felt that I absolutely could no lofiger bear the place as a place to- lie down in, and that I must get up. 1 "therefore got up and put on rhy clothes, and went out aero** the yard into the long stone passage, designing to gain the outer court-yard and walk there for the relief of my mind. But I was no sooner in the passage than I extinguished my candle ; for I saw Miss Havisham going along it in a ghostly manner, making a low cr\ . 1 followed her at, a distance, and saw her go up the staircase. She carried a bare candle in her hand, which she had probably taken from oue of the sconces in her own room, and was a most unearthly object by its light. Standing at the bottom of the staircase, I felt :, the mildewed air of the feast-chamber, without seeing her open the door, and 1 heard her walking there, and so across into her own room, and so across again into that, never ceasing the low cry. After a time. I tried in the dark both to get out, and to go back, hut I could do neither until some streaks of day strayed in and showed- me whereto lay my hands. During the whole interval, whenever I went to the bottom of the stair- case, I heard her footstep, saw her light pass above, and head tier • ease'ess low cry. Before we left next day, there was no revival of Bhe difl'ereuce between her and Estella, nor was it ever revived on any similar oc- casion ; and there were four similar occasions, to the best of my re- memb'rance. Nor did Miss Ilavisham's mariner toward Estella in anywise change, except that I believed it to have something like fear infused among its former characteristics. It is impossible to turn this leaf of my life without putting Bent- ley Drummle.'s name upon it; or I would, very gladly. I'm a certain occasion when the Finches were assembled in force, and when good feeling was being promoted in the usual manner by nobody's agreeing with anybody else, the presiding Finch called the Grove to order, forasmuch as Mr. Drummle had not yet toasted a lady ; which, according to the solemn constitution of the society, it was the brute's turn to do that day. I thought I saw him lect- in an ugly way at me while the decanters were going round, but as there was no love lost between us, that might easily be. What was my indignant surprise when' he called upon the company to pledge him to "Estella! " y Estella who 1 " said I, " Never you mind," retorted Drummle. "Estella of where?" said 1. "You are bound to say where." Which lie was, as a Finch. "Of Richmond, gentlemen," said Drummle, putting me out of the question, "and a peerless beauty." Much he knew about peerless beauties, a mean, miserable idiot 1 I whispered Herbert. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 247 "I know that lady," said Herbert, across tlie table, wben the toast had been honored. " Do you I " said Drummle. " Ami so do I," I added, with a sfiarlet facffe. "Bo you { " said Drummle. >■()/,, Lord ! " This was the only retort — except glass or crockery — that the heavy creature was capahle of making ; but I became as highly incensed by it as if it had been barbed with wit. and I immedi- ately rose in my place and said that I could hot but regard it as being like the honorable Finche's impudence to come down to that Grove, as a neat parliamentary turn of expression — down to that Grove proposing a lady of whom he knew notbing. Mr. Drummle upon t his, starting up, demanded what I meant by that? Where- upon I made him the extreme reply that I believed he knew whore 1 was to be found. Whether it was possible in a Christian country to get on with blood, after this, was a question on which the Finches were divid- ed. Thr debate upon it grew so lively indeed, that at least six- more honorable members told six more,' during the discussion, that iliey believed 'they infew where they were to &e found. However, it was deeided at last, (the (irove. being a Court of Honor), that if Mr. Drummle would bring never so slight a certificate from the la- dy, importing that he had the honor of her acquaintance, Mr. Pip must express his regret, as a gentleman and a Fincb, for " having been betrayed into a warmth which." Next day was appointed for the production (lest our honor Should lake cold from delay), and next day Drummle appeared with a polite little avowal in Es- tella's hand, that she had had the honor of dancing with him sev- eral times. '[ uis left me no course but to regret that I had " been betrayed into a warmth which," and on the whole to repu- diate, as untenable, the idea that I was to be found anywhere. — Drummle and I then sat snorting at one another for an hour, while (he (J rove engaged in indiscriminate contradiction, and finally the promotion of good feeding was declared to have gone ahead at an amazing rate. I tell this lightly, but it was no light thing to me. For I can- not adequately express what pain it gave me to think that Fstella should show any lavor to a contemptible, clumsy, sulky booby! so far below the average. To the present moment, i believe it to have been referable to some pure tire of generosity and disinter estednesa in my love for her that I could not endure the thought of her stooping to ill at hound. Xo doubt I should have been mis- erable whomsoever she had favored; but a worthier object would have caused me a different kind and degree of distress. It was easy for me to find out, and 1 did soon find out, that Drummle had begun to follow her closely, and that she allowed him to do it. A littlu while, and ha was always in pursuit of her, 24S GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. and be and I crossed one another every day. He, held on, in a dull persistent way, and Estella held him on ; now with encour- agement, now with discouragement, now almost flattering him, now openly despising him, now knowing him very well, now scarcely remembering who he was. The Spider, as Mr. Jaggers had called him, was vised to lying in wait, however, and had the patience of his tribe. Added to that, he had a blockhead confidence in his money and in his family greatness, which sometimes did him good service — a 1 most taking the place of concentration and determined purpose. So the Spider, doggedly watching Estella, outwatehed many brighter insects, and would often uncoil himself and drop at the right nick of time. At a certain Assembly Ball at Eichmond (there used to be As- sembly Balls at some places then), where Estella had outshone all' other beauties, this blundering Drummle so hung about her, and with so much toleration on her part, that I resolved to speak to her concerning hiin. 1 took the next opportunity: which was when she was waiting for Mrs. Brandley to take her home, and was sitting apart among some flowers, ready to go. \ was with her, for I al- most always accompanied them to and from such places. "Are. you tired, Estella?" " Rather, Pip." ' % " You should be," " Say rather, I should not be ; for 1 have my fetter to Satis House to write before I go to sleep." "Recounting to-night's triumph I " said I. " Surely it's a very poor one, Estella." " What do you mean if I didn't know there bad been any." "Estella," said I, " do look at that fellow in the corner yonder, who is looking over here at us." " Why should I look at him ? " returned Estella, with her eyes on me instead. " What is there in that fellow in the corner yon- der — to use your words — that I need look at ?" "Indeed, that is the very question I want to ask you," said I. " For he has been hovering about you all night," " Moths, and all sorts of ugly creatures," replied Estella, with a glance toward him, " hover about a lighted candle. Can the can- dle help it ?" " No," 1 returned ; " but cannot the Estella help it I " " Well ! " said she, laughing, after a moment, " perhaps. Yes. Anything you like." "Bui, Estella, do hear me speak. It makes me wretched that you should encourage a man so generally despised. You know that he is despised." " Well'?" said she. " You know that he is as ungainly within as without. A defi- cient, ill-tempered, lowering, stupid fallow." GREAT EXPECTATION. 249 "Well ?•' said she. "You know thai he has nothing to recommend him hut money, and a ridiculous roll of addld-headed predecessors ; now don't VOU :'• " WelJ V said slip again ; and each time she said it. she opened her lovely eyes the wider. To overcome the difficulty of getting past that monosyllable, I took it, from her, and said, repealing it, with emphasis, " Well! — Then, that is why it makes me wretched." Nxible." "Calls me proud and inflexible in this breath!" said Estella, opening her hands. "And in his last, breath reproached me for stooping to a boor !" " There is no doubt you do," said 1, something hurriedly. " for I have seen you give him looks and smiles this very night sue you never give to — me." " Do you want me. then,'' said Estella, turning sudden y with a fixed and serious, if not angry look, "to deceive and entrap you." " Do you deceive and entrap him, Estella?" "Yes, and many others — all of them but you. Here is Brandley. I'll say no more." And now that I have giver: the one chapter to ihe theme that so tilled my heart, and so often made it ache and ache again, 1 pass on unhindered, to the event that had impended over me longer yet ; the event that had begun to he prepared for. before 1 knew that the world held Estella, and in the days when her baby intelli- gence was receiving its first distortions from Miss Iiavisham's wasting hands. In the Eastern story, the heavy slab that was to fall on the bed of state in the Hush of eompiest was slowly wrought out of the quarry, the tunnel for the rope to hold il in its place was slowlj carried through the leagues of rock, the slab was slowly raised and tilted iu ihe roof, the rope was rova to it and slowly taken through 250 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. the miles of hollow to the great iron ring. All being made ready -with nmeh labor, and the hour come, the sultan was aroused in the dead of the night, and the sharpened axe that was to sever the rope from the great iron ring 'was put into his hand, and he struck with it, and Ihe rope parted and rushed away, and the ceiling fell. So, in my case ; all the work, near and afar, that tended to the end, had been accomplished : and in an instant the blow was struck, and the roof of my stronghold dropped upon me. CHAPTER XXX IX. I was three-and-twenty years of age. Xot, another word had [ heard to enlighten me on the subject of my expectations, and ray twenty-third birthday was a week gone. We had left Barnard's Inn more than a year, and lived in the Temple. Our chambers were in Garden Court, down by the river. Mr. Pocket and I had for some time parted company as to pur original relations, though we continued on the besl of terms. Not- withstanding my inability to settle any thing — which I hope arose out of the restless and incomplete tenure on which I held my means — I had a taste for reading, and read regularly so many hours a day. That matter of Herbert's was si ill progressing, and every thing with me was as I have brought it down to the close of the last chapter. Business had taken Herbert on a journey to Marseilles. I was alone, and had a dull sense of being alone. Inspirited and anxious, long hoping that to-morrow : or next week would clear my way, und long disappointed, I sadly missed the cheerful face and ready re- sponse of my friend. It was wretched weather; stormy and wet, stormy and wet; and mud, mud, mud, deep in all the streets. Day after day a vast heavy vail had been driving over London from the East, and it drove still, as if in the East there were an Eternity of cloud and wind. So furious had been the gusts that high buildings in town had had the lead stripped off their roofs; and in the country, trees had been tmn up, and sails of wind-mills carried away ; and gloo- my accounts had come in from the coast of shipwreck and death. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 951 Violent blasts of ruin had accompanied these rages of wind, and the day just elosVd as I sat down to read bad Wen the worst of all. Alterations have been made in thai nart*df th^Temple since that lime, and il has not now so lonely a character as il had Mien, nor is it SO exposed to the river. We lived at the top of the last house, and the wind rushing up the river Mmok the In use that night like discharg s of cannon or breaking of a sea. When the rain came with it and dashed against the windows, I thought, raising my eyes to them as they rocked, that I might have fancied myself in a siorm-heaten light-house. Occasionally the smoke came rolling down the chimney as though it could not heart' out into such a night ; and when I set the doors open and looked down the staircase ; the staircase lamps were blown out ; and when I shaded my face with my hands and looked through the black windows (opening them ever su little was out of the question in the teeth of such wind and rain), I saw that the lamps in the court were blown out,' and t hat the lamps on the bridges and the shore were shuddering, and that the coal fires in barges on the river were being canied away before the wind like red-hot splashes in the rain. 1 read with my watch upon the table, purposing to close my book at' eleven o'clock. As I shut it. Saint Paul's, and all the j church-clocks in the City — some leading, some accompany- ing, seme following*— struck, that hour. The sound was curiously flawed by the wind ; and I was listening, and thin long how the wind assailed it, and tore it. when 1 heard a footstep on the stair. What nervous folly made me start, and awfully connect it with the footstep of my dead sisler, matters not. It was past in a mo- ment, and i listened again, and heard the footstep stumble in com- ing on. lumembering then that the staircase-lights were blown out. T took up my reading-lamp ami went out to the stair-bead. Whoever was below had sto* ped on seeing my lamp, for all was quiet. "There is some one down, there, is there not V I called out, looking down. " Yes," said a voice from the darkness beneath. " What floor do you want ?" ■• The top. Mr. Pip," "That is my name. There is nothing the matter?" "Nothing the matter." returned the voice. And the. man came on. 1 stood with my lamp held out over the stair-rail, and he slowly came within its light. It was a shaded lamp, to shine upon a book, and ils circle of light was very contracted ; so thai he was in it for a men* instant, and then out of ii. in the instant, 1 Lad •252 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. seen a face that was strange to me, looking up with an incompre- hensible air or nMhg touched and pleased rVy the sight of tile. Moving the famp as th man moved, I made out that he was substantially dressed, but roughly : like a voyager by sea. That he had burg, iron-gray hair. That his age was about sixty. That he was a muscular man, strong on his legs, and that he was brown- ed and hardened by exposure to weather. As he ascended the last stair or two, and the -light of my lamp included us both, f saw, with a stupid kind of amazement, that he was holding both his hands to me. " Pray what is your business?" I asked him. "My business?" he repeated, pausing. "Ah! Yes. I will explain my business by your leave." " Do you wish to come in ?" " " Yes," he replied ;. " I wish 'to come in, Master." I had asked him the question inhospitably enough, for T resent- ed the sort of bright and gratified recognition that still shone on his face. I resented il,4iecause it seemed to- imply that he ex- pected me to respond to it. But I took him into the room I had just left, and, having set the lamp on the table, asked him as civil- ly asT could to explain himself. He looked about him with the strangest air — an air of wonder- ing pleasure, as if he had some part in the things he admired — and he pulled off a rough outer coat, and his hat. Then I saw that his head was furrowed and bald, and that the rong,^rqn-gra^ hair grew only on its sides. But I saw nothing that in the least explained him. ( >n the contrary, I -saw him next moment once more holding out both his hands to me. " What do you mean ?" said I, half suspecting him to be mad. He stopped in his looking at me, and slowly rubbed his right hand over his head. " It's disapiniing to a man," he said, in a coarse, broken voice, " arter having looked forward so distant and "omesofur; but you're not to blame, for that — neither on us is to blame for that. I'll. speak in half a minute. . Give hie half a minute please." He sat down in a chair that stood 'before the fire, and covered ins forehead with his large brown veinous hands. I looked at him attentively then, and recoiled a little from him ; but I did not know him. "There's no one nigh," said he, looking over his shoulder; " is there ? " "Why do you, a stranger coming into my room at this time of the night, ask that question ? " said I. " You're a game one," he returned, shaking his head at me with a deliberate affection, at once most unintelligible and most exas- perating; " I'm glad you've grow'd up a game one ! But don't catch hold of me. You'd be sorry arterward to have done it." GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 25:? I relinquished the intention he had detected, for 1 knew him ! — Even yet, 1 could not recall a single fealure, bill I knew him ! If the wind and the rain had driven away the intervening years, had scattered all the intervening objects, had swept ns to the church- ward where we tirst stood face to face on such different levels, 1 could noi have known my convict more distinctly than 1 knew him now, as he sal in the chair hefore the tire. No need to take a tile from his pocket and show it to me ; no need to take the handker- chief from his neck ami twist, it round his head; no need to hug himself with both his arms, and take a shivering turn across the room, looking hack at me. for recognition. 1 knew him hefore he gave nie one of those aids, though, a intmteiit before, 1 bad not been conscious of remotely suspecting his identity. He came back to where 1 stood, and again held out both his hands. 'Not knowing what to do — for in my astonishment 1 had lost my self-possession — I reluctantly pave him mv bands, lie grasped them heart ily, raised them to bis lips, kissfcd them, and still held them. -You acted noble, my boy," said be. "Noble, Tip! And I have never forgot it." At a change in bis manner as if be were even going to embrace me. 1 laid a hand upOD ids breast and -put bint away. " Stay !" said 1. "Keep.off'j 1 f \.<iy attention was so attracted by the singularity of I at me, that the words died away on my tongue. " You was a, saying," he observed, when we bad confronted one another in silence, "that surely 1 must understand. What surely i tin 'T.siand '." i hat 1 cannot wish to renew that chance intercourse with you of long ago. under t ese different circumstances. I am glad' to \e \ou have repented and recovered yourself, i am glad to tell \ ou so. 1 am glad that, t binking I deserved to be thanked, \ ou have come to I bank me. But our ways are different ways, none the less. You are wet, and you look weary. Will you drink thing before you go 1 " lie had replaced his neckerchief loosely, and had stood, keenly observant of me, biting a bug emlof.it. " 1 tbink,'' he answi still with the end at his mouth and still observant of me, "that 1 will drink (1 thank you) afore 1 go." There was a tray ready on a side-table. I brought it to the ta- hwiwm the tint, and auked him what lm would have I He touch- •j 54 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. ed one of the buttles without looking at it or speaking, and I made him some hot rum-aud-water. I tried to keep my hand steady while I did so, but his look at me as he leaned back in his chair with the long draggled end of his neckerchief between his teeth— evidently forgotten — made my hand very difficult to master. "When. at hist I put the glass to him, I saw with new amazement that his eyes were full of tears. lip to this time I had remained standing, not to disguise that I wished him gone. But.I was softened by the softened aspect of the man, and 'felt a touch of reproach. "I hope," said I,- hur- riedly 'putting something into a glass for myself, and drawing a chair to the table. " that you will not think I spoke harshly to you just now. I had no intention of doing it, and I am sorry for it if 1 did. I wish you well and happy !" • As ( put my glass to my lips he glanced with surprise at the cud of his neckerchief, dropping from his month when he opened :;. and stretched out his hand. I gave him mine, and then he drank, and drew his sleeve across his eyes and forehead. ■ " How are you living ( " I ased him. ," I've been a sheep-farmer, stockbreeder, other trades besides, away in the new world," said he; ',' many a thousand miles of stormy water oil from this." " 1 hope you have done well .' " " I've done wonderful well. There's others went out alongerme as has done well too, but no mau has done nigh as well as me. — I'm famous for it.' '• I am glad, to hear it." " i hope to hear you say so, my dear boy." Without stopping to try to understand those words or the tone in which they were spoken. 1 turned tiff to a .'point that had just come into my mind. •' Have you eve- seen a messenger you once sent to me," I in- quired, since he undertook that trust V " Never set eyes upon him. I wasn't likely to it." " He came faithfully, and he brought me the two one-pound notes. 1 was a poor hoy then, as you know, and to a poor boy they were a little fortune. But, like you, I have done well since, and you must let me pay them hack. You can put them to some other poor boy's use." 1 took out my purse. He watched me as I laid my purse upon the table and opened it, and he watched me as I separated two one pound notes from its contents. They were clean and new, and I spread them out and handed them over to him. Still watching me, he laid them one upon the other, folded them long-wise, gave them a twist, set fire to them at the lamp, and dropped the ashes into the tray. " May 1 make so bold," he said then, with a smile that was like a irowa. and with a frown that was like a smile, "as ask you how GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 255 you have dime well, since you and me were out on them lone shiv- ering marshes ]" »Howr " Ah !" lie emptied his glass, got up. and stood at the side ol the fire, with his heavy hrowu hand on the mantle-shelf, lie put a foot up To the bars to dry and warm it, and the v, el boot began to steam ; but he neither locked at it, nor at the lire', but steadily looked a, me. It was only now that 1 began to treii; When my lips had parted, and had shaped some words that were without sound. I forced myself to tell him (though I could not do it ■ distiiietly). that 1 had J teen chosen to succeed to some properly. •• flight a mere warmint ask what property i" said lie. I faltered, " 1 don't klmv." " Mighi a mere warmini ask whose property I" said he. J falteied. again, " 1 don't know." ".Could 1 make a guess, 1 wonder," .said the convict, " at your income since \ or, oi I As to the lirsl tigure now. Five?" With my heart healing like a heavy hammer of discorded ac- tion, I n..- my chair, and shod with my hand upon the the- back of it, looking wildly at him. " VJohcernii g ;> guardian." he went on. " There ought io have been some guar, un, or such-like, while yon was a minor Some lawver, ma-' be. As to the first lctjer of that lawyer's name now. Wi.ti.ld it be J .'" All the truth of my position came Hashing on me; and iis dis- appointments, dangers, disgraces, consequences of all kinds, rushed in in such a multitude that 1 was borne down by them, and had niggle for every breaih I drew. '• Put it," he resumed, "as the employer of that lawyer whose name begun with a .1. and might be daggers — put it as he had come over the sea to Portsmouth, and had landed there, audi had wanted to come on to you. ' However, you have found me out,' you says just now. Well! However did I find you ouj .' Why, I wrote from Portsmouth to a person in London, for particulars nl v other man who dwell in the house of which my chambers formed a part had been in the country fur some weeks; and he certainly had not returned in the night, because we had seen his door with his seal on it as we came up stairs. " The night being so bad. Sir," said the watchman, as he gave me back my glass, " uncommon few have come in at my gate. Besides them three gentlemen that I have named, I don't call to mind another since about eleven o'clock, when a stranger asked for you." "My uncle," I muttered. "Yes." " You saw him, Sir?" " Yes. Oh yes." " Likewise the person with him?" " Person with him!" I repeated. " I judged the person to be with him," returned the watchman. " The persqn stopped when lie stopped to make inquiry of me, and the person took this way when he took this way." " What sort of person .'"' The watchman had not particularly noticed; he should say a working person ; to the best of his belief he had a dust-colored kind of clot lies on, under a dark coat. The watchman made more light of I he matter than I did. and naturally — not having my rea- son for attaching weight to it. When i had got rid of him, which T thought it well to do with- out prolonging explanations, my mind was much troubled by these two circumstances taken together. Whereas they were easy of innocent solution apart — as, for instance, some diner-out, or diner- at-home, who had not gone near this watchman's gate, might have strayed to my staircase and dropped asleep there — and my name- less visitor might have brought some one with him to show him the way — still, joined, they had an ugly look to one as prone to distrust and fear as the changes of a few hours had made me. I lighted my fire, which burned with a raw pale look at that dead lime of the morning, and fell into a doze before it, I seem- ed to Uave been dozing a who e night when the clocks struck six. As there was full an hour and a ha f between me and daylight, I dozed again; now, waking up uneasily, with prolix conversations about nothing still in my ears; now, making thunder of the wind in the chimney: at length falling off into a profound sleep from which the daylight woke me with a start, All this time I had never been able to consider my own situa- tion, nor could 1 do so yet, I had not the power to attend to it, I was greatly dejected and distressed, but in an incoherent whole- sale sort of way. As to forming any plan for the future, I could as soon have formed an elephant. When I opened the shutters I 2(52 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. » and looked out at the wet wild morning, all of a leaden hue ; when I walked from room to room; when I sat down again shivering, before the rire, waiting for my laundress to appear; I thought how miserable I was, bu.t hardly knew why, or how long I had been so, or on what day e£the week I made the reflection, or even who I was that made it. At length the old woman -and the niece came in-^the latter with a head not easily distinguished from her broom — a*j«l testified sur- prise at t.he sight of me and the fire. To whom I imparted how my uncle had come in the night and was then asleep, and how the breakfast preparations were to be modified accordingly. Then I washed and dressed while they knocked the furniture about and made a dust, and so, in a sort of dream or sleep-waking, found myself sitting by the fire again waiting for — Him — to come to breakfast. By-and-by his door opened and lie came out. I could not bring myself to bear the sight of him, and I thought he had a villain- ous look by daylight. " I do not even know,'' said I, speaking low as he took his seat at the table, "by what name to call you. I have given out that you are my uncle." "That's it, dear boy ! Call me uncle." "You, assumed some name, 1 suppose, on board ship ?" "Yes, dear boy. I took the name of 1'rovis." " Do you mean to keep that name \ " " Why, yes, dear boy. it's as good as another — unless you'd like another." " What is your own name 1 "T asked him in a whisper. " Magwitch," he answered in the same tone; "chris'en'd Abe." " Whal were you brought up to be 1 " ' " A warmint, dear hoy."' He answered quite seriously, and used the word as if it denoted some profession. " When you came into the Temple last night — " said 1, pausing to wonder whether that could really have been last night which seemed so long ago. "Yes, dear boy !" "When you came in at the gate and asked the watchman the way here, had you any one with you ] " " With me ? >,o, dear boy." " But there was some one there ? " " I didn't, take particular notice," he said, dubiously, " not know- ing the ways of the place. But I think there was a person, too, come in alonger me." " Are you known in London ? " " I hope not ! " said he, giving his neck a jerk with his forefin- ger that made me .turn hot and sick. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 233 *' Were you known in London once ? " " Nol over and above, dear boy. I was in the provinces mostly." " Were you — tried — in London " Which lime J" said he with a sharp look. "The last time." He nodded. "First knowed Mr. daggers that way. 'Jaggera was for me." It was on my lips to -ask him what lie was tried for, but he took Up a knife, gave it a flourish, and with the words, " Ami whatever I done is worked out and paid for! " fell to at his breakfast. He ate in a ravenous way that was very disagreeable, and all his actions were uncouth, noisy and greedy. Some of his teeth had failed him since I saw him eat on the marshes, and as he turned his food in his mouth, and turned his head sideways to bring his stronger fangs to bear upon it, he looked terribly like a hungry old dog. If I had begun with any appetite lie would have taken it away, and I should have sat much as I did —repelled from him by an insurmountable aversion, and gloomily looking at the cloth/ " I'm a heavy grubber, dear boy," he said, as a polite kind of apology when he had made an end of his meal, "but I always wos. [f it had been in my constitution to be a lighter grubber, I might ha' got into lighter trouble. Similarly. I must have my smoke. — When I was first hired out as shepherd t'other side the world, it's my belief I should ha' turned into a molloncholly-mad sheep my- self, if I hadn t a had my smoke." As he said so, he got up from the table, and putting his hand into the breast of the pea-coat he wore, brought, out a short black pipe, and a handful of loose tohaot o of the kind that is called Ne- gro-head. Having filled his pipe, he put the surplus tobacco back again, as if his pocket were a drawer. Then he took a live coal from the lire with the tongs, and lighted his pipe at it, and then turned round on the hearth-rua - with his back to the fire, and went through his favorite action of holding out both his hands for mine. " And this," said he, dandling my hands up and down in his, as he pulled at is pipe — "and this is the gentleman wot I made! The real genuine One! It does me good fur to look at you, Pip. All I stip'late is to stand by and look at you, dear boy ! " I released my hands as soon as I could, and found that I was beginning slowly to settle down to the contemplation of my condi- tion. What 1 was chained to, and how heavily, became intelligi- ble to me, as I heard his hoarse voice, and sat looking up At his furrowed bald head with its iron-gray hair at the sides. "I musn't see my gentleman a tooling it in the mire of the streets: there musn't he no mud on Am boots. My gentleman must have horses, Pip ! Horses t > ride, and horses to drive, and horses for his servant to ride and drive as Well. Shall colonists havot.h«ir I •204 ' GREAT EXPECTATIONS. horses (and blood 'uns, if you please, good Lord !) and not ray London gentleman ! No, no. We'll show "'em another pair of shoes than that, Pip; won't, us?" He took out of his pocket a great thick pocket- bodk, bursting with papers, and tossed it on the table. " There's something worth spending in that there book, dear . boy. It's yourn. All I've got ain't mine; it's yourn. Don't you be afraid on it. There's more where that come from. I've come to the old country fur to see my gentleman spend his money hk& a gentleman. That'll be my pleasure. My pleasure 'nil be fur to see him do it. And blast you all!" he wound up, looking round the cornice of the room and snapping his fingers once with a- loud crack, " blast you every one, from the judge in his wig to the col- onist a stirring up the dust, I'll show a better gentleman than the whole kit on you put together ! " "Stop ! " said I, almost in a frenzy of fear and dislike, "I want 1o speak to you. I want to know what is to be done. I want to know how you are to be kept out of danger; how long you aire go- ing to stay, what projects you have." " Look'ee here, Lip," said lie, laying his hand on my arm in a suddenly altered and subdued manner; "first of all, look'ee here. I forgot myself half a 'minute ago. What I said was low ; that's wot it was; low. Look'ee here, Pip. Look over it. I ain't a going to be low." " First," I resumed, half groaning, "what precaution can be ta- ken against your being recognized and seized I" " No, dear boy," he said, in the same tone as before, "that don't go first. Lowness goes first. I ain't took so many year to make a getleman not without knowing wot's due to him. Look'ee here, Pip. I was low ; that's wot I was : low. Look over it, dear boy." Some sense of the grimly-ludicrous moved me to a fretful laugh, as I replied, " I have looked over it. In Heaven's name, don't harp upon it ! " " Yes, but look'ee here," he persisted. " Dear boy, I ain't come so fur to be low. Now, go on, dear boy. You was saying — " " How are you to be guarded from the danger you have in- curred ! " " Well, dear boy the danger ain't so great. Without I was in- formed against, the danger aint so much to signify. There's Jag- gers, and there's Wemmick, and there's you. Who else is there to inform 'I " , " Is there no chance person who might identify you in the street] ?" said I, bitterly. " Well," he returned, "there ain't many. Nor yet I don't in- tend to advertise myself in the papers by the name A. M., come back from Botany Bay ; and years have rolled away, and who's to GREAT EXPECTATIONS' aG5 gain by it ? Still, look'ee here, Pip. If the danger had been fifty tinfes as great, I should ha' come to see you, mind you, just the same." " And how long do ymi remain ?" " How long !*' said he taking his black pipe from his mouth, and dropping his jaw as he stared at me. "I'm not a going back. I've come for gopd," " Where are you to live ( " said I. " What is to be done with you 1 Where" will you he sale ! " "Dear hoy," he returned, "there's disguising wigs can be bought for money, and there's hair powder, and spectacles, and black (dot hes— shorts, and wot not. Others has done it sale afore., and wot others has done afore others can do agen. As to the where and how of living, dear hoy, give me your own opinions on it- ' "You take it smoothly, now," said I. "but you were very Be rious last night when you swore it was Death." '• And so 1 swear it is Death," said he, putting his pipe back in his mouth, "and Death by the rope, in the open street not fur from this, and it's serious that you should fully understand it to he so. Wot then, when that's once done? Here I am. To go hack now 'ud he as had as to stand ground — worse. esides, Pip, I'm here, because I've meant it by you, years and years. As to wot I dare, Dm a old bird now. as lias dared all manner of traps since first he was fledged, and Dm not afraid to perch upon a scare-crow. If there's Death hid inside of it. there is, and let him come out, and I'll lace him, and then I'll believe in him and not afore. And now let me have a look at my gentleman agen." Once more he took me by both hands and surveyed me with an air of admiring proprietorship; smoking with great complacency all the while. It appeared to me that I could do no better than secure him some quiet lodging hard by, of which he might take possession when Herbert returned: whom I expected in I wo or three days. That the secret must he confided to Herbert as fi matter of una- voidable necessity, even if I could have put the immense relief I should derive from sharing it with him out of the question, w;i- plain tome, But il was by no means so plain to Mr. Provis (I resolve/3 to call him by that name), who reserved his consent to Herbert's participation until he should have seen him and formed a favorable judgment of his physiognomy " And even then, dear boy," said he, pulling a greasy little clasped black Testament out of his pocket, "we'll have him on his oath." To state that my terrible patron carried this little black book about the world solely to swear people on in cases of emergency, would he to state what 1 never quite established — hut this 1 can say. that 1 never knew him to put it to any other use. The hook I 2 68 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. itself had the appearance of having heen stolen from some court of justice, and perhaps his knowledge of its antecedents combined with his own experience in il.at wise, gave him a reliance on its powers as a sort ki*suliy, what it L* to bav<* a iriccd. W1i«d h*> hiul ♦272 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. spoken some sound words of sympathy and encouragement, we sat down to consider the question, What was to be done? The chair that Provfs hafd occupied still remaining where it had stood — for he had a barrack way with him of hanging about one spot, in one unsettled manner, and going through one round of observances with his pipe and his negro-head and his jack-knife and his pack of cards, and' what not, as if it were all put down for him on a slate — I say, his chair remaining where it had stood, Herbert unconsciously took it, but next moment started out of it, pushed it away, and took another. He had no occasion to say after thart that he had conceived an aversion for my patron, nei- ther had I occasion to confess my own. We interchanged that confidence without shaping a syllable. " What," said I to Herbert, when he was safe in another chair, "what is to be done ?" " My pi or dear Handel," he replied, holding his head, " I am too stunned to think." " So was J, Herbert, when the blow first fell. Still, something must be done. He is intent upon various new expenses — horses, and carriages, and lavish appearances of all kinds. lie must be slopped, somehow." " Von mean that you can't accept — ?" "How caul?" I interposed, as Herbert paused. "Think of him ! Look at him !" An involuntary shudder passed over both of us. "Yet I am, afraid the dreadful truth is, Herbert, that he is at- tached to me, sironglv attached to me. Was there ever such a fate! ' " My poor dear Handel," Herbertjrepeated. "Then," said I, "after all, stopping short here, never taking another penny from kirn, think what I owe him already ! Then again : I am heavily in debt — very heavily for me, who have now no expectations at all — and I have been bred to no ca ling, and I am tit for nothing." "Well, well, well!' Herbert remonstrated. "Don't say tit for nothing." " What am I fit for? I know only one thing that I am fit for, and that is, to go for a soldier. And I might, have gone, my dear Herbert, but for the prospect of taking counsel with your friend- ship and affectum." Of course I broke down there; and of course Herbert, beyond seizing a warm grip of my hand, pretended not 1o know it. "Any how. my .dear Handel," said he, presently, "soldiering woi't do. If you were to renounce this patronage and these favors, I suppose you would do so with some faint hope of one day repaying what you have already had. Not very strong that hope if you went soldiering ! Besides, it's absurd. You wou;d GREAT EXPECTATION*. J?^ be infinitely better- in Clan-fleer's house, small as it is. 1 ;rm work- ing up toward a partnership, you know." ';• !'(\lo\v ! lie little, suspected with whose money. "Bui there is another question." said rlerberfe, " Tl is is an ignorant, determined man. who has long had one fixed id than thai, ho seems to me (I may misjudge him) to be a man of a desperate ami tierce cha '• I know lie is." I returned. " Let. me tell you what evidence 1 have seen of it " And I t«>ld him what I had not mentioned in my narrative; of that encounter with the other emu "See. then!" said Ileihert; "think of this! lie comes here at the peril of his life for the realization of his fixed idea. Tn the moment of realization, after all hip toil and waiting; you cut the ground from under his feet, destroy his idea, and make his gains worthless to him. Uo you see nothing that he might dp, unfler the disappointment .'" " f have seen it. Herbert, -and dreamed of it ever since the night of his arrival. Nothing has been in my thoughts so tinctly as his putting himself in the way of being taken." '•'I Men you may rely upon it," said Herbert, " flu mid be great danger of his d »ing it. That is bis power over you as, long as he remains in England, and that would be bis reckless course if you fofrsooR him." I was so struck by the horror of this idea, which had weighed upon me from the first, and the working out of which w.ould make me regard m self, in spme sort, as his murderer, that I could not rest in my chair but began pacing to and fro. X said fo Herbert, meanwhile, that even if 1'rovis were recognized and taken in of himself, 1 should be wretched as the cause, however innocently. Yes ; even though 1 was so wretched in having him at large and near me. and even though 1 would far, far rather have worked at the forge all the da\s ol than I Would have ever come to this ! But there was no staving off the question, What was to be done i "The first and the main thing to be done," said Herbert, "is to gel him out of England. You will have to go with him, and then he may be induced logo." "But get him where I will, could T prevent bis coming back V " My good Handel, is it not obvious that, with Newgate in the next street, there must be far greater hazard in yutirbreaking your mind to him and making him reckless here than elsewhere ' If a pretext to get him away could be made out of that other con- vict, or out of any thing else in his life now." "There, again!" said I, stopping before Herbert, with my open hands.held out as if they contained the desperation of the casu. " 1 know nothing of his life. It has almost made me mad 11 274 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. to sir. here of a night and see him before me, so bound up with my fortunes and .misfortunes,' and yet so unknown to me, except as the miserable wretch who terrified me two days in my childhood !•" Herbert got up, and linked his arm in mine, and we sTwwly walked to and fn> together, studying jfcfoe carpet. " Handei," said 'Herbert, stop-ping,' •■you feel convinced that you can take no further benefits front him ; do yon ?" "Fully. Surely you would, too, if you were in my place V "And you feel convinced that you must break with him V " Herbert, can you ask me ?" "And you have, and arc bound to have, that tenderness for the life he has risked on your account, that you must save him, if pos- sible, from throwing it away. Then you must get him out of England before you stir a finger to extricate yourself. That, done, extricate yourself, in Heaven's name,' and we' 1 see. if out together, dear old boy. ' It was a comfort to shake hands upon it,-and walk up arid down again, with only that done. "Now, Herbert," said I, "with reference to ,gaini knowledge of his history. There is but one way that I know of. I must ask him point-blank." • "Yes. Ask i.imT said Herbert, "when we sit at breakfasf in the morning." For Ire. had safe, on taking leave of Herbert, that he would come to breakfast with us. With ti'is project -formed, we went to bed. I bad the wildest dreams concerning him, and woke un refreshed ; I woke, too, to recover the fear wh'n-h I had lost in the night, of his being found o.t as a returned transport. Wa fing, I. never lost, thai h He came round at the appointed time, took out hi-- jack-knife, and sat down to his meal. He was full of plans "for his gentle- man's coming out strong, and like a gentleman." and urged me to begin speedily upon the pocket-book, which he had left in my pos- session. He considered the chambers and his own lodging as tem- porary residences, and advised me to look out at once for " a fash- ionable crib" in which he could have a "shake down,' near Hyde Park. When lie had made an end of his breakfast, and was wip- ing his knife on his leg, I said to him, without a wor ; of preface : "After you were gone last night I told my friend of the strug- gle that the soldiers found you engaged in on the marshes when we came up. You remember '. " " Remember ! " said he. " I think so. ! " "We want to know something about that man — and about you. It is strange to know no more about either, and particularly you, th it I was able to tell la-t night. Is not this as good a time as another for our knowing more ? " " Well !" he said, after consideration. "You're on your oath, you know, Pip's comrade?" GREAT EXPECTATIONS. *76 " Assurer iy," repljeid Herbert. •'As to anything I say. yon know," lie insisted. "The oath applies in i " I understand if" to do no'" "Ami fook'ea.fwrei Whatever 1 done, is worked out and paid for."' hi insi,icil again. " s ( , he ii." lie took out his blaok pipe and was going to (ill ii with negro- betfd, when, looking at the tangle of tohacco in his hand, hose to think it might perplex the thread of his narrative. He put it back again, stuok his pipe in a huttomhole of his coat, spread a hand on Cacb knee, anoy was a having pity on nothing and nobody. " I might a took warning by Arthur, but I didn't; and I won't pretend 1 whs partioler — for where hid be the good on it. dear boy and comrade? So I begun wi' ('ompey, and a poor tool 1 was in his hands. Arthur lived at the top of Compey's house (over nigh Brentford it was), and Compey kepi a careful account him for board and lodging, in case he should ever get belter io work it out. But Arthur soon settled the account. The sec- ond or third time as ever I see him, he come a tearing down into Compey's parlor late at night, in only a Manuel gown, with his hair all in a sweat, ami he says to Comp"y's wife, ' Sally, she really is up stairs alonger me now, and I can'! ge! rid of her. She's all in white,' he says. ' wi' white Mowers in her hair, and she's awful mad, and she's got a white shroud hanging over her arm, and she says she'll put it on me at live in the morning. - tys Compey ! ' Why. you fool, don't you know she's got a living body I And how should she be up there, without coming through the door, or in at the window, and up the. stairs?' " ' 1 don't know how she's there,' -ays Arthur, shivering dread- ful with the horrors,, 'but sl^j's standing in the corner at the toot, of the bed. awful mad. And over where her heart's broke — you broke it — there's drops of blood.' " Compey spoke hardy, but he was always a coward. ' Co up 278 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. alonger tin's driveling sick man,' he says to his wife, 'and Mag- witch, lend her a hand, will you V But he never come nigh him- self. " Compey's wife and me took him up to bed agen, and he raved most dreadful. 'Why look at her!' he cries out. 'She's t shaking the shroud at me ! Don't you see lier ? Look at her eyes ! Ain't it awful to see her so mad V Next he cries, ' She'll put if on me, and then I'm dor.e for ! Take it away from her, take it away !' And then he eatched hold of us, and kep on a lalkjng to her, and answering of her, till I half believed I see her myself,,,. " Compey's wife, being used to hjm. giv him some liquor to g' j t the horrors off, and by-and-by he quieted. ' Oh, she's gone ! Bias tier keeper been for her?' 'he say. 'Yes,' says Compey's wife. ' Did you tell him to lock her and bar her in V ' Yes.' ' And to ■hat ugly thing away from her V ' Yes, yes, all rig'it.' 'You're a good creetur,' he says; ' don't leave me, whatever you do, and thank you !' "He rested pretty quiet till it might want a few minutes of' five, and then he starts up with a scream, and screams out, ' Here she is! file's got the shroud again. She's unfolding it. She's ing out of the corner. She's coming to the bed. Hold me both on you — one of each side — don't Jet her touch me with it. Hah ! she missed me that time. Don't let her throw it over my shoulders. Don't let her bit me uptogei it round me. She's 6 up. Keep me down!' Then he lifted hiiii.-elf up hard, and was dead. " Compey took it easy enough as a good riddance for both sides. Him and .me was soon busy, and first he swore me (heing ever artful) on tny. own book — this here little black, book, dear boy, what I swore your comrade on. "Not to go into the things that Compey planned and 1 none — which 'ud take a week — I'll simply say to you, dear boy. and Pip's comrade, that that man got me inlo such nets as made me ids black slave. 1 was always in debt to bim, always under his thumb, always a working, always a getting into danger. He was younger than me, but he'd got craft, and he'd got learning, and he over- matched me five hundred times told and n-o mercy. My Missis as I had the hard time wi' — Stop though! I ain't brought her in — " He looked about him in a confused way, as if he jhad lost his place in the boot of his remembrance; and he turned his face to the fire, and spread his 'hands broader on his knees, and lifted them off and put them on again. " There ain't no need to go into j£," he said, when he looked round once more. . " Th.- time wi' Compey was a' most as hard a time as ever I had ; that said, all's said. Did I tell you as 1 was tried, alone, for misdemeanor, while with Compey ?" GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 279 T answered, No. " Well !" he said, " T was, and got convicted. As to took op on suspicion, that was twice or three times in the four or five thai ii lasted; hut evidence was walftirig. At last me and Com- ]»ey was both committed for felony — o e of putting stolen no'ics in circulation — and there was oilier feharg** behind. Cortl- •ivstonn', ' Separate defences, no communication/ and that all. And I was so miserable poor that 1 sold all the clothes I had, except what- hung on my ' " 1 could.ajet Jaggers. " When w>' \v.,s ioit in the dock, 1 noticed firsl of all what a gentleman Co*ftpey -looked, wi' his curly hair and his black clothes and his white poVk?t-hari ikerchief, and what a common sort of wretch I looked. When t he prosecution opened and the evid was put short, aforehand, I noticed how heavy it all bore on me, and how light on him. . When the evideice wis giv' in the box, I lioriced Imw it was always me that had come for'ard. and could be swore to. how it- was always me that the money had beef) paid to, how it was always me that had seemed to work the tliinir and gel the profit. Knt, when the fl*fen«ce come on. then I see the plan plainer; '■' -lor' tor Compey, ' My lord and gentle- here you hav- bu, side by side, two persons as your ate wide ;■ one, the younger, well brought up, who ,vill b i« lite elder, fll brought up, who wud lie spoke !;> as a hardened offender; one, the younger, seldom if only suspected ; f other, lie elder, always seen in 'em and always wi' his guilt brought home, i 'an you doubt, if there is but one in it, which is the one. and, if there is two in it, which is much the worst oneV And such like. Ami wlcn il character, warn't it Compey as and warfPt. it his school-fellows as was in this position and in that, and warn't it him as had been know'd by wit- rlulis and Societies, ami nowt to ids disadvam And warn'i il me as had and as had been know'd up hill and down dale in Bridewells and Lock-Ups j And 9 Hi-making. warn't it Compey as could speak to 'em to face dropping every now and then into his white pocket - handkercher — ah ! and wi' verses in 1, . too — and warn S could only say. ' < Jentlemen, this man at my side is a most precious rascal V And when the verdict come, warn't it. Compo.y as was recommended to mercy on account of good character and bad company, and giving up all tlie information lie could agen me. and warn't it me as got never ft word but Guilty? And when I to Compey, 'Once out of this court, I'll smash that face of yourn V ain't It Compey as prays the . fudge to be protected, and two turnkeys stood betwixt us I And when we're sentenced, ain't it him as u years and me fourteen, and ain't it liim as the Judge is sorry for. because he might a done so well, amd 260 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. ain't it me as the Judge perceives to be a man of wiolent passions, likely to come to worse I" He had worked himself into a state of great excitement, hut he checked it, took two or three- short breaths, swallowed as often, and stretching out his hand toward me said, in a reassuring man- ner, " I ( ain't a going to be low, dear boy V He i sated himself that he took out his handkerchief and wiped his ''ace and head and neck and hands, before he could go Oil. "'i had sjjftil to Compey that I'd smash that face ot his, and I swoii uishmiiie! to do it. We was in the same prison- ship, bin I couldn't get at him, for long, though 1 tried. At : come behind him and' hit him on the cheek ro turn him round and get a smashing one at him, when I was seen and seized. The that ship warn't a strong one, to a judge of black- holes that could swim and dive. I escaped to jhe shore, and I : hiding among the graves there, envying them as was in 'em and all over, when first I see my buy !"' lie regarded me, with a look of affection that made him almost abhorrent lo me again, though I had felt great pity for him. " By my i*>y I was giv to understand as Comply was out. on them marshes too. Upon my soul, I half believe n, escaped in his terror to get tpiit of me, not knowing it was me, as had got ashore. J hunted him down. 1 smashed his face. ' And now,' says I. 'as the worst thing I can do, caring nothing lor m I'll drag you back.' And I'd have swum ofi', iowi); : u him by hair, if it had come to that, and I'd a got him aboard without the soldiers. " Of course he'd much the best of it to the last — bis character was so good. He had escaped when he was made hair wild by me and my murderous intentions ; and his punishment was light. I , was [iut in irons, brought to trial again, and sent for life, i didn't slop for life, (icar boy and Pip's comrade, being here." He wiped himself again, as he had done before, and then slowly took his tangle of tobacco from his pocket, and plucked his pipe from his button-hole, and slowly tilled it, and began to smoke. " Is he dead ?" I asked, after a silence. " Is who dead, dear boy '.'" .••Compey." "He hopes 1 am, if he's alive, you may be sure," with a tierce look. A I never heerd no, more of him. v Herbert had been writing with his pencil in the cover of a book. He softly pushed the book over to me, as Provis stood smoking with his eyes on the fire, and I read in it: "Young Havisham's name was Arthur. Compey is the man who professed to be Miss Havisham's lover." GJJEAT EXPECTATIONS. 2*1 I shut ijic hafrk and nodded slightly to Herbert, and pur the book by; kill we neither of us said anything, and both looked at 1'rovis as lie stood suiokin ■ tire. CHATTER XETII. houkl i pause lo ask how inocfa *f my shrinking from 1'rovis might Ire traced to Estella '. Why should I loiter on my road, v the state of mind in which I had tried to rid my sen &he prison before meeting her al thecoaeh- olliee, with the state of mind in 'which i now retU'cted on the abyss between Esiclla, in her pride and beauty, and the Retained trans- port whom 1 harbored I The road would, be none the smoother lor it ; the end would be none the better- tor it : lie would nut be helped, nor 1 extenuated. pew fear had been engendered in my mind by this Narrative ; or, rather, his narrative had given form and purpose to the fear thai was already there. If Compey were alive and should disoov- is return, I could hardly doubt the "consequence. That I pej stood in morial fear of him, neither of the two could know much better than I ; and that any such man as that man had been .ihed to be would hesitate to release himself for good from a nemy, by the sale means of heeoming an informer, was scarce!;, to he imagined. .cr had i breathed, and never would 1 breathe — or so 1 re- solved — a word of Estella to 1'rovis. But 1 said to Herbert thai, before I could, go abroad, I must see both Estella and Miss : isham. This was when we were left alone on the night of tin when Pravijj told us his story. 1 resolved to go out to Richmond next day. and 1 went. On my presenting myself at Mrs. Brandley's, Estclla's maid was called to tell me that Estella bad gpone into the country. Where? To Satis House, as usual. Not as usual, I said, for she had never yet, gone there without me ; when coining back? There , mi air of reservation in the answer which increased my per- plexity, and the answer was that her maid believed she was only coming back at all for a little while. 1 could make not ii; this, except that it. was meant that 1 should make nothing of it, and 1 went home again in complete diseomliture. 283 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. Another night consultation with Herbert after Provis- had gone home (I always took him honie, and always looked well "about rae), led us to the conclusion that nothing should fee said about going abroad until I came back from Miss Havisham's. In the mean rime, 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 u\uWr suspicious observation ; or whether I, wdio 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 1 had the meanness to feign that, I was under a binding promise to go down to Joe ; but I was capable of almost any mean- ness toward Joe or his name. Provis was to be strictly careful while 1 was gone, and Herbert was to take the charge, of him that I had taken. 1 was U> he absent only one night, and, on my re- turn, the gratihVati m of his impatience for my starting as a gentle- man on a greater scale was to be begum. It occurred to me then — and as i afterward 'found to He.be'it also — that he might be best got away across the water on that" pretense — as, to make purchas- es, or the uke. Having thus cleared the way for my expedition to -Miss Havi- sham's, 1 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 ami shivering, and, \vrapped 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 un- der 'he gateway, oothpick in 'hand, to look at -the coach, but Bent- ley Drtunmle ! As he pretended not to see me, I pretended not to see him. It was u very lame prelcn: I h sides; the lamer, because we both went inti --room, where he, had just finished his break- fast ami where I ordered mine. It was poisonous to me to see him in the town, for I very well knew why he, had come tin-re. 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, tish, 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, 1 sat at my table while he stood before t .e fire. By degrees it became an enormous injury to me that he stood. before the tire, 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 hre-place to stir the tire, but still pretended not to know him. . * " Is this a cut ? " said Mr. Drummle. " Ob !" said i, poker in hand, "it's you, is it? How do do ? I was wondering who it, was who kept the fire off." GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 2!» With Wmt, T poked tremendously, and having jk|fc|fi, planted myself side by side with Mr. Drummle, my shotiNvffMfefrdd and k to the life. **S • " You have just comedown j " said Mr. Drummle, edging me a little away with his shoulder. " Yes," said 1, fjdging him a little away with my shoulder. '■ Beastly place," said Drummle. ? Your part or the country, 1 think ?" » " i , -sented. " I am told it's very like Shropshire." " Not in the least like it." said Drummle. Here Mr." Drumnde looked at his boots, and 1 looked at ffrine ; andit.hen Mr. Drummle looked a! my hoots, and 1 looked at his. " llave you been here long .'" 1 asked determined not to yield an inch 01 the fire. Lonii' eiiouji'h to he tired of it," returned Drummle, pretending liialiy determined. . here long ?" "( 'an't .say." answered Mr. Drummle. " Do you V " Quil'l say.' said I. I felt here, through a tingling in try blood, that if Mr. Drum- mle's shoulder liad claimed aiioiher hair'sdtreadlh of room, 1 should have jerked him into the window; equally, that if my own shoiil- ,d ufged a similar claim, Mr. Drummle would have jerked me into the nearest hox. lie whistled a little. So did I. "Large tract of marshes about here, 1 helieve ! ' said Drum- mle. "les. Whal " said I. Mr. Drummle looked at me. ami then at my hoots, and then said, Lnt] laughed. " Are you an u el, Mr. Drummle ?" " \..," said he, " not particularly. I am gomg out for a in the .-addle. I mean to explore those marsln i- iscnieiit. — Out-of-the-way villages there, they tell me. Curious little public ses — and smithies — and that. Waiter ! " ■ s, Sir." " Is that horse of ine ready '." ht round to the door. Sir." '• 1 say. took here, you, so-. Tin- lady won't ride to-day ; the weather won't do." ry good, sir." • "And 1 don't dine, because I'm going to dine at the lady's." " Very l Then Drummle glance with an insolent triumph on his gre&t-jowled face ihat cut me to the heart, dull as he was, and 80 exasperated m felt inclined to take him in my arms as the robber in the story-hook is .said to have taken the old lady, and seat him .on the fire. '> 34 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. One thing, was manifest to both of us, and that was, that until relief came neither of us could relinquish ihefire. There we stood, well squared up b- fore it, shoulder to shoulder, and loot to foot, with our hands behind us, not budging an inch. The horse was visible outside i . the drizzle at the door, my breakfast was put on the table, Druinmle's was cleared away, the waiter invited me to begin, I nodded, we both stood our ground. " Have you been to thj Grove sine!?" said Drummle. " No," said 1, " I had quite enough of the Finches the last time I was there." " Was i hat wheti we had a difference of opin/ioh ?" "Yes," 1 replied, very shortly. "Come, come! They k-vf you off easily enough," sneered Drummle. "You shouldn't .'nave lost your temper." "Mr. Drummle," said I, ""you are not competent, to give ad- vice on that subject. When I lose my temper (not that I admit having done so on that occasion) 1 don't throw glasses.'' " I do," said Drummle. After glancing at him once 'qV twice in an increased state of smouldering ferocity, I said : "Mr. Drummle, I did not seek this conversation, and I don't think it ;m ajgreeab e one." " 1 am sure it's not, ' said he, superciliously, over his shoulder ; " I don't, think any thing about it," "And therefore," 1 went on, "with your leave, I will suggest that we hold no kind of conversation in future." "Quite my opinion," said Drivmmle, "and what I should have suggested myself, or done — more likely — without suggesting. But, don't lose your temper. Haven't you lost enough without, that ?" ■' What do you mean. Sir ?" " Wai-ler!" said Drummle, by way of answering me. The waiter reappeared. "Look here, you Sir. You quite understand that the young lady don't ride to-day, and that 1 dine at the young lady's?" "Quite so, Sir." When the waiter had felt m\ fast-cooling tea-pot with the palm of his hand, and had looked imploringly at me, and had gone out, Drummle, careful not to move the shoulder next 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 en- dure to hear him utter; and therefore 1 looked stonily at the op- posite wall, as it there were no one present, and forced myself to silence. H«w long we might have remained in this ridiculous position it is impossible to say, but for the iucursion of three thriving, farmers — laid on by the waiter, I am inclined to think— GREAT EXPECTATIONS. W5 who .came into the coffee-room awbottoning their great coats and rubbing their hands, and before whom, as they charged at the tire, we were obliged to give way. I saw him through the window, seizing his horse's mane, and mounting in his hlundoring hrutal foamier, and sidling and hack Wig away. I thought he was gone when he came hack, < ailing 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 wl ere: whether trom the inn yard, or ihe street, or where not — and as l»rumn le leaned down from the saddle and lighted his cigar and laughed, with a jerk of his head toward the coffee-roona windows, the slouching shoulders and rag- ged' Ifair of this man. whose hack was tow aid inc. reminded me of ( )rlick. Too heavily out of sorts to care much at The time whether it Were lie or not. or after al! to touch the breakfast. I washed the weatheraud the jminie\ from ny face and hands, and Weill out to the 11 1 e in or aide i mine." She gradually withdrew her e^es from ujc, and turned them on 283 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. the 'fire. After \jafching it for what appeared in the silence and by the light of the slowly wasting candles to he a hmg rime, she was roused by the collapse of some of the red coals, and looked toward me again — at first vacantly, and then with ,a gradually con- centrating attention. All this time Estella knitted on. When Aiiss llavishain had fixed her attention on me, she said, speaking as if there had been no lapse in our dialogue : " What else I " "Estella,"' said I, turning to her now, and trying to command ■my ttemblhlg voice* " you know how 1 love you. Yon know that I have loved you long and dearly." She raised her eyes to my face on being thus addressed, and her finders plied their work", and she looked at me with an unmoved countenanca I saw that Miss Havisham glanced from me to her, and from her to me. " 1 should have said this sooner, hut for my long- mistake. ' Yb induced me to jjjope that Miss Haviskam meant us for one another. While I thought you could not help yourself,, as it were, 1 re- frained from saying it, But I must say it now." Preserving her unmoved countenance, and with her fingers still going, Estella shoOk her head. "1 know." said l,in answer to that action; "I know. J have no hope that I shall ever call you mine, Estella. 1 am ignorant e what may become of me very soon, how poor- I may he, or where I may go. Still, I love yon ; L have loved you ever since I first saw yon in this house." Looking at me perfectly unmoved and with her fingers busy, she shook her head again. "It would have l>een cruel in Miss Havisham, very cruel, to prac- tice on the affections of a poor hoy, and to torture me through all these years with a vain hope and an idle pursuit, if she had reflect- ed on the gravity of what she did. iJut I think she did not. I think that in the endurance of her own snflerring she forgot mine, Estella." I saw Miss Ilavisbam put her hand to her heart and hold it there, as she sat looking l-y turns at Estella and at me. "It seems." said Est< Ua, very calmly. '• that there are senti- ments, fancies — I don't know how to call them — which I am not able to comprehend. When you say that you love me,. I know what you mean, as a form of words; but nothing more. You ad- dress nothing in my breast, you touch nothing there. 1 don't care for what you say at all. I have tried to warn \ou of this ; now, have I not ? " 1 said ip a miserable manner, "Yes." "Yes. But vou wouldn't he warned, for you thought I didn't mean & Now did you not 1 " WHEAT EXPECTATIONS. 389 " I thought and hoped you could not mean it. Von, so young, untried, and beautiful, Estella ! Surely it is not in Nature." " It is in my nature," she relumed, And then she added, with a stress upon the words, " It is in the nature formed within me. 1 make a greaj; difference between you and all other people when I say so inueli. I can do no more." " is it not true," said I, "that Bentley Drummle is in town here, aud pursuing' you ?" " It is (jui.e true," she replied, referring to him with the indiffer- ence of utte.- contempt. " That you encourage him. and ride out with him, and that he dines with you this very day ?" She seemed a lit tie; surprised that I ' should know it, hut again, replied, " Quite true." , ••Von cannot love him, Estella ! " Her fingers stopped for the first time, as she retorted rather an- grily, •• VW>al have I told you I Do you still think, in spite of it, that I do not mean what I say '. " " Vou would never many him, Estella ?" She looked toward Miss ilavisham. and considered for a moment with her work in her hands. Then she said, " Why not tell you the truth I I am going to be married to him." I dropped my face into my hands, but was able to control my- self better than I could have expected, considering what, agony it gave me to hear her say those words. When I raised my face a-aiii there was such a ghastly look upon Miss Havisham's* that it impressed me, even in my passionate hurry and grief ".Estella, dearest, dearest Estella, do not let Miss Havisham lead you into i his fatal .$|p. Put me aside forever — yon I done so, i well know — but nesiow yourself on some worthier ob- ject than Drummle. Miss Havisham* gives you to him, as the greatest, slight and injury that could be done to the many far bet- ter men who admire you, find to the few who truly love you. — Among those few there may be one who loves you even as dearly, though he has not loved you as long, as I. Take him, ami I can bear it better, for your sake ! " My earnestness awoke a wonder in her that seemed as if it would have been touched with compassion, if she could have rendered me at all intelligible to her mind. •• 1 am going," she said again, in a gentler voice, "to be mar- ried to him. The preparations for my marriage are making, and I shall be married soon. Why do you injuriously introduce the . name of my mother by adoption \ It is my own act." " Your own act, Estella, to fling yourself away upon a brute 1 " "On whom should I fling myself away ?" she retorted with a smile. "Should I fling myself away upon the man who would the soonest feel (if people do feel such things) that I took nothing 10 290 ^ GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. to him 1 There ! It is done. I shall do well enough, and so will he. As to leading me into what you call this fatal step, Miss II av- isham would have had me wait, and not marry yet ; hut I am tired of the life I have led, which has very few charms for me, and I am willing enough to change it. Say. no more. We shall nev- er understand each olher. " Such a mean brute, such a stupid brute! " I urged in despair. "Don't be afraid of my being a blessing to him," said Estella ; " I shall not be that. Come ! Here is my band. Do we part on this, you visionary boy — or man ? " "Oh, Estella ! " I answered, as my hitter tears fell fast on her hand, do what I would to restrain them ; "even if I remained in England, and could hold my head up with the rest, how could I see you Drummle's wife ! " "Nonsense," she returned; "nonsense. This will pass in no time." "Never, Estella!" " You will get me out of your thoughts in a week." "Out of my thoughts! You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart yoti wounded even then. You have been in eveiy prospect I have ever seen since — on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets. You have been the embodiment of every grace! ul fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which thestrongest London buildings are made are not more real, or more impossible to be displaced by your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere, and will be. Estella, to trie last hour of my life you can not choose but remaimpart of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil. ul it) this separation 1 associate you only with the good, and I will faithfully hold you to that always, for you must haye done me far more good than harm, lei me feel noW what distress I may. God bless you, God forgive you!" In what ecstacy of unhappiness I got these broken words out of myself I don't know. The rhapsody welled up within me, like blood from an inward wound, and gushed out. I held her hand to my lips some lingering moments, and so left her. But ever after- ward I remembered — and soon afterward with stronger reason — . that while Estella looked at me merely with incredulous wonder, the spectral figure of Miss Havisham, her hand still covering her heart, seemed all resolved into a ghastly stare of.pity and remorse. All done, all gone! So much was done and gone that when I went out at the gate the light of the day seemed of a darker color than wheal I went. in. For a while I hid myself among some lanes GREAT EXPECTATIONS. and by-paths, and then struck <>IF To walk all the w.-.y to London. For I had by that time c*ome to myself so far as to consider that 1 could not go back to the inn and see Drumrate there; that I could not* bear [o sit upon the coach and he spoken to,; that 1 could 00 nothing halllso good for myself as to tire myself out. It was past midnight when I crossed London Bridge. Pursuing the narrow intricacies of the streets, which at that time tended westward near (he Middlesex shore of the river, my readiest access to the Temple was close by the river-side through Whitefriars. 1 was not expei ied till to-morrow, but I had my keys, and if Her- bert were \ ed 1 cmihi ge/1 Id bed myself without disturb- ing him. m As it seld.un happened that I came in at that AVhitefriars after the Temple was closed, and as 1 was very muddy and weary, 1 did not take it ill that the night -porter examined me with much attention as he held the gate a little way open for me to pass in. To hefp his memory 1 m ntioned m\ name. " I was nor <|ujte sure* Sir, but 1 thought so. Here's a note, Sir. The messenger thai brought it said would you be so good as read it by my lantern." Much surprised by the request, • I tdtrk the note.' It was di- rected toPhiMo Pip. Esquire, and on the top.df the superscription were the words. " PLEASE READ this, hkrk." I opened it, the watchman holding up his light,, and read inside, in Wemmick's writing : " Doft T GO HOIVTE." CHAPTER XLV Turning from the Temple gate as soon as I had read the warning, 1 made the best of my way to Fleet Street, and there gut a late hackney chariot and drove to the Hummums in Govent Garden In those times a bed was always to he got there at any hour of the night, and the chamberlain, letting me in at his ready wicKet. lighted the candle next in order on his shelf, and showed me straight into the bedroom next in order on his list, tt *was a sort of vault on the ground-floor at the back, with a despot- io old monster of a four-pust. btdstead in it, straddling over the 292 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS, whole place, putting one of his arbitrary legs into the fire-place and another into the door-way, and squeezing the wretched' little washing-stand in quite a Divinely Righteous manner. As I had asked for anight-light, the chamberlain had" brought me in, before he left me, the good old constitutional rush-light of those virtuous days — an object like the ghost of a walking-pane, which instantly broke its back 'if it were touched, which nothing could ever be lighted at, and which was placed in solitary confine- ment at the bottom of a high tin tower, perforated with round holes that made a staringly wide-awake pattern oh the walls. Wnen I had got into bed, and lay there footsore, weary, and wretched, I found ^hat I could no more close my own eyes than I could close the eyes of this foolish Argus. . And thus, in the gloom and death ot the night, we stared at -jne another. What a doleful night! HoW anxious, how dismal, how long! There was an inhospitable smell in the room of cold soot and hot dust, and as I looked up into the corners of the tester over my head, 1 thought what a number of blue-bottle flies from the hutch^ ers, and ear-wigs from the market, and grubs from the country, must be holding on up there, lying .by for next summer. This led me to speculate whether any (if them ever tumbled down, and then I fancied that I felt light falls on my face — a disagreeable turn of thought, suggesting other and more objectionab e ap- proaches up my hack. When I .had lain awake a little while, those extraordinary voices with which, silence teems began to make themselves audible. The closet whispered, the lire-place sighed, the little washing-stand ticked, and one guitar-string played occasionally in the chest of drawers. At about the same time the eyes on the wall acquired a new expression, and in every one of those staring rounds 1 saw written, Don't go home. Whatever night-fancies and night-noises crowded on me, they never warded off this Don't (jo home. It plaited itself into whatever I thought of. as a bodily pain would have done. Not long before I had read in the newspapers how a gentleman un- known had come to the Hummums in the night, and had gone to bed. and -had destroyed himself, and had been found in the morn- ing weltering in blood. It came into my head that he must have occupied this very vault of mine, and I got out of bed to assure myself that there were no red marks about ; then opened the door to look'put into the passages, and cheer myself with the compan- ionship of a distant light, near which I knew the chamberlain to be dozing. But ail this time, why I was not to go home, and what, had happened at home, and when I should go home, and whether Provis was safe at home, were questions occupying my mind so busily .that one might have supposed there could be no room in it for any other theme. Even when I thought of Estella, ' and how we had parted that day forever, and, recalled all the cir- GREAT EXPECTATION?. 293 cumstances of our patting, arid all her looks and tones, and .the action of her fingers whbe she knitted — even then I was. pursuing, here, and there and every where, tin- caution. Don't go home. When at last 1 dozed, in sheer e haust-ion of mind and body, it ',10 a vast shadowy verb which 1 had to conjugate. Imper- ative mood, present tense : Do not thou go home, let him not go home, let us not go home, do not \ e or yon go home. let. not them go home; then. potentially : I may not and ! can not go home; and I might not. could not, would not, and should not go home; until 1 felt t hat I was going distracted, -and roiled over on the pil- low, and looked at the stariiig rounds upon the wall again. 1 had left directions that I was to be called at seven ; fo/ it was p'ain that 1 must see Wemmick before seeing any one else, and equally plain that this was a case in which his Walworth sentiments only could be taken. It was a relief to get out of the room where the night had been so miserable, and I needed rio second knocking at the door to startle me from my uneasy bed. The Castle battleinents arose upon my view at eight • o'clock The little servant happening to be entering the fortress with two hot. rolls. I passed through the postern and crossed the. draw- • bridge in her company, and so came without, announcement into the presence of Wemmick as he was making tea for himself and the Aged. An open door afforded a perspective view of the Aged in bed. " Halloa, Mr. Pip !" said Wemmick. "You did come borne, then .'" " Yes." 1 returned; " bu,t I didn't go home." "That's all right,'' said he, rubbing his hands. "Heft a note for you at. each of the Temple gates, on the chance. Which gate did you come to !" I r.o I d him. " I'll go round to the others in the course of the day and de- stroy the notes," said Wemmick ; " it's a good rule never to leave documentary evidence if you can help it, because you don't know when it may be put in. I'm going to take a liberty with you. — Would you mind toasting this sausage for the Aged P. 1" I said I should be delighted to do it. " Then you can go about your work, Mary Anne," said Wemmick to the* lit tie servant ; " which leaves us to ourselves, don't you see, Mr. Dip ?" he added, winking, as she disappeared. I thanked him for his friendship and caution, and our discourse, proceeded in a low bone, while I toasted the Aged's suasage and he lnmtered the crumb of the Aged's roll. '• Now, Mr. Pip, you know." said Wemmick, "you and I under- stand one another. We are in our private and personal capacities, and we have been engaged in a confidential transaction before to- day. Official sentiments arc one thing. We are extra ollicial." S94 GREAT EXPECTATIONS I cordially assented. I was so very nervous that I had already lighted the Aged's sausage like a torch, and been obliged to blow it out. "I accidentally heard- yesterday morning," said Wemmick', "be- ing in a certain place where I once took you — even between you and me, it's as well' not to mention names when avoidable — " " Much better not," said I. " I understand y'on." '• I heard there, by chance, yesterday morning," said Wemmick. •' that a certain person not altogether of uncolonia! pursuits, and not unpossessed of portable property — T don't "know who it, may ready be — we won't name this person — " 'i Not necessary, "said I. '• — had made some little stir in a certain part of the world where a good many people go, not always in gratification of their own in- clination, and not quite. irrespective of the. govern men expense — " In wat clung his face I made quite a fire-work of the Aged's sau- sage, and greatly discomposed' both my own attention and Wem- .mick's ; for which I apologized. " — by disappearing from such place, and being no more heard of therea.houfs. From which," said Wemmick, " conjectures had been, raised and theories formed. I also heard that you at your cham- bers in Garden Court, Temple, had been watched, and might be watched again." "By whom?" said I. " I wouldn't go into that." said Wemmick'. evasively, 'fit might clash with official responsibilities. 1 beard it, as i have. in my time heard other curious things in the same placet 1 don't tell it to you on information received. I heard it." He took the toasting-fork and sausage from me as he spoke, and set forth the Aged s breakfast neatly on a little tray. Previous to placing it before him he went into the Aged's room will; a clean white cloth, and tied the same under the old gentleman's chin, and propped, him up, and put his night-cap on one side, afld gave him quite a rakish air Then he placed his breakfast before him with great care, and said, ''All right, ain't you, Aged P.I" To which the cheerful Aged replied. "All right, John, my boy, all right.' — As there seemed to be a tacit understanding that the Aged was not in a presentable state, and was therefore to be considered invisible, I made a pretense of being in complete ignorance of these pro- ceedings. "This w r atching of me at my chambers (which I have once had reason to suspect)," I sand to Wemmick when he came back, " is inseparable from the person to .whom you have adverted ; B it ? " We-nmiick looked very grave. " I couldn't undertake to say that, of my own knowledge, f mean, I couldn't undertake to *say it was at first, But it either is, or it will be, or it's in great danger •f b*hig." GREAT EXPECTATIONS S95 As I saw that he was restrained by fealty to Little Britain from saying as much as he could, and as L knew with thankfulness to him how far out of his way he went to say what he did, I could not press him. lint I told him, after a little meditation over the lire, that I would like to ask him a question subject to his answer- ing or not answering, as he deemed right, and sure that his course would be Bight., lie paused in his breakfast, and crossing his arms, a <1 pinching his shirt-sleeves (his notion of in-door comfort was to sit without any coat), he nodded to me once to put my ques- tion. " You have heard of a man of bad character, whose true name is Cbropey '? " He answered with one other nod. •• Is he living 1 " One oilier nod. " Is he in London 1 " He gave me one other nod. compressed the post-office exceeding- ly, gave me one last ncfll, and went Oil with his breakfast. " Now," said Weuimick. •• questioning being over" — which he emphasized and repeated for my guidance — " I come to what I did after hearing what I heard. 1 went to (larden Court to find you; not finding you, I went to C'.arriker's to find Mr. Herbert." "And him .you found ?" said I, with great anxiety. "And him l found. Without mentioning any names or going into any details, I gave him to understand ill at if he was aware of any body — Tom, Jack, or Richard — being about the chambers, or about the immediate neighborhood, he had better get Tom, Jack, or Richard out, of the way while you was out of the way." " lie would be greatly puzzled what to do ] " " He tflqs puzzled what to do ; not the less that I gave him my opinion that it was not safe to try to get Tom, Jack, or Richard too far out of the way at present. Mr. Pip, 1*11 tell you some- thing. Under existing circumstances there is no place like, a great city when you are once in it. Don't, break cover too soon. Lie close. Wait till things slacken before you try the open, even for foreign air." I thanked him for his valuable advice, and asked him what Her- bert had done. " .Mr. Herbert," said Wemmick, "after being all of a heap for half an hour, struck out a plan. Ho mentioned to me as a secret, thai he is courting a youn^ lady who has, as no doubt you are aware, a bedridden Pa. Which Pa having been in the Purser line of life, lies abed in a bow-window where he can see the ships --ail up and down the river. You are acquainted with the young lady, most, probably .'" " Not personally,'' said I. The truth was, that she had objected to me as an expensive com- 296 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. panion who did Herbert no good, and that when Herbert had first proposed to present me to her she had received the proposal with such very moderate warmth that Herbert had felt himself obliged to confide the slate of the case to me, with a view to the passage of a little time before I made heracquintanee. When I had begun to advance Herbert's prospects by stealth, I had been able to bear this with cheerful philosophy ; he and his affianced, for their part, had naturally not been very anxious to introduce a third person in- to their interviews ; and thus, although I waS assured that I had risen in Clara's esteem, and although the young lady and I had long- regularly interchanged messages and remembrances by Herbert, 1 had never seen -her. However, I did not trouble Wemmick with these particulars. . "The house with the bow-window," said Wemmick, " being by the river-side, down the Pool there between Limehouse and Green- wich, and being kept, it seems, by a very hospitable wjdow who has a furnished upper floor to let, Mr. Herbert put it to me, what did I think of that as a temporary tenement for Tom, Jack, or Hie-h- ard? Now, I thought very well of it, for three reasons Til give you. That is to say : Firstly, It's altogether out of ail your beats, and is well away from the usual heap of streets £reat and small. Secondly, "Without goiDg near it yourself, you could always hear of the safety of Tom, Jack, or Richard, through Mr. Herbert. — Thirdly, After a while, and when it might be prudent, if you should want to slip Tom, Jack, or Kichard on board a foreign packet-boat, there he is — ready." Much comforted by these considerations, I thanked Wemmick again and again, and begged him to proceed. " Well, Sir ! Mr. Herbert threw himself into the business with a will, and by nine o'clock last night he housed Tom, Jack, or Richard — whichever it may be — you and I don't want to know — fpiife successfully. At the old lodgings it was understood that he was summoned to Dover, and, in fact, he was taken down the Dover road and cornered out of it. Now, another great advantage of all this is, that it was done without you, and when, if any one was concerning himself about your movements, you must be known to be ever so many miles off and quite otherwise 'engaged. This diverts suspicion and confuses it; and for the same reason I recommended that even if you came'back last night you should not go home. It brings in more confusion, and you want confusion." Wemmick, having finished his breakfast, here looked at his watch, and began to get his coat on. " And now, Mr. Pip," said be, with his hands still in the sleeves, " I have p'robably done the most I can do ; but if I can ever do more— -from a Walworth point of view, and in a strictly piivate and personal capacity — I shall be glad ro do it. Here's the ad- GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Wt .dress. Tlhere can lie no harm in your going here to-night and seeing for yourself that. all is well with Tom. Jack, or Uichard, before you go home — which is another' reason for your not going home last night. But after you nave goneibome, don't go»fbaek here. You are very welcome, lam sure, Mr. Pjp ;" his hands were now out of his sleeves, and I was shaking them ; '-and let me finally impress one important point upon you." He laid his hands upon my shoulders, and added in a solemn whisper : " Avail yourself of this evening to lay hold of his portable property. You don't know what may happen to him. Don't lei any thing hap- pen to the .portable property." Quite despairing of makfng my mind clear to Wemmick on this point. I forbore to try. •• Time's up," said Wemmick, "and I must be off. If you had nothing more pressing to do than to keep here till dark, that's what I should advise. You look very much worried, and it would do you good lo have a perfectly quiet day with the Aged— lre'11 be up presently— and a little bit of — you remember the pig ?" . •• ( )f course,'' said I. " Well; arwJ a little bit him. That sausage yon tasted was his. and he was in all respects a first-rater. Do try him, if it is only for old acquaintance sake. Goocf-by, Aged Parent !" in a cheery shout. •• All right, John ; all right, my boy !" piped the old man from wiihin. 1 soon fell asleep before Wemmiek's tire, and the Aged and I enjoyed one another's society by falling asleep before it more or less all day. We had loin of pork for dinner, and greens grown on the estate, and 1 nodded at the Aged with a good intention whenever I failed to do it accidentally. When it was quite dark, I left the AiS'-i] preparing the fire for toast ; and 1 inferred from the number of fea-cups, as well as from his glances at the two little doors in the wall, that Miss Skiffins was expected. CHAPTER XLVI. Eight o'clock had struck before 1 got into the air that was scented, not disagreeably, by the chips and shavings of the long- shore boat-builders, and mast. oar. and block makers. All that water-side region of the upper and lower Pool below bridge was 298 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. unknown ground to me, and when I struck down by the river, I. found that the spot I wanted was not where 1 had supposed it' to he, and was any'thing but easy to find. It was called Mill Pond Bank, Chinks's Basin; and I had no other guide to Chinks's Basin than the Old Green Copper Rope- Walk. It matters not what stranded ships repairing in dry docks I lost myself among, what old hulls of ships in course of being knocked to pieces, what nnzi- and slime and other dregs of tide, what yards of ship-builders and ship-breakers, what rusty anchors blindly biting into the ground though for years off duty, what mountainous country of accumulated casks and timbei , and how many rope-walks that were not the Old Green Copper. After several times falling short of my destination and as often over- shooting it, I came unexpectedly round a corner uppn Mill Pond Bank. It was a fresh kind o' place, all circumstances consider- ed, where the wind from the river had room to turn itself round ; and there were two or three trees in it, and there Was the stump of a ruined wind-mill, and there was the Old G7ee*n Copper Rope- Walk — whose long and narrow vista I could trace in the moon- light, through a series of wooden frames set in the ground, that looked like infirm hay-making rakes which had grown old and lost 'most of their teei h Selecting from the few queer houses upon Mi 1 Pond Bank a house with a wooden front and three stories of bow-windows (not bay-windows, which is another thing). I looked at the plate hpon the door, and read there. Mrs. Whim pie. That heing the name 1 wanted, 1 knocked, and an e derly woman of a pleasant and thriv- ing appearance responded. She was immediately deposed, how- ever, by Herbert, with his finger on his lip, who led me into the parlor and shut the door. It was an odd Sensation to sec his very familiar face established quite at home in that very unfamiliar room and region; and I found myself looking at him, much as I looked at the corner clipboard with the glass and china, the shells upon the chimney-piece, and the colored engravings on the wall, representing the death of. Captain Cook, a ship launch, and his Majesty King George Third in a coachman's wig, leather-breech- es, top-boots, and profile, on U)e terrace at Windsor. " All is well, Handel," said Herbert, "and he is quite satisfied, though eager to see you. My dear girl is with her father ; if you'll wait till she comes down I'll make you known to her, and then we'll go up stairs. That's her father!" I had become aware of an alarming growling overhead, and had probably expressed the fact in my countenance. "I am afraid he is a sad old rascal," said Herbert, smiling, "but I have never seen him. Don't you smell rum? He is ai- ways at, it." " At rum ?" said I. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 399 "Yes." returned Herbert-, ''and you may suppose how mild it, makes his gout. He persists, too, in keeping a 1 Hie provisions up stairs in his room, and serving them out. He keeps then) on shelves over his head, and will weigh them all. His room must, be like a chandler's shop." While he thus spoke, the growling noise became a prolonged roar, and thru died away. " What else can h" the consequence." said Herbert, in explan- ation, "if he trill but the cheese.' A man with the gout in his right hand — and every where e se — can't expect to gel through a Doub e (llouet-sier without hurting himself." He seemed to have hurt himself very much, for he gaTO another furious roar. * "To have I 'n .vis for an upper lodger is quite a godsend to Mrs. Whiinple," said Herbert, "for of course people in general won't stand that noise. A curious place. Handel ; isn't it f' It was a curious place, indeed ; but remarkably well kept and c can. " Mrs. Whimple." said Herbert, when I told him so. "is the best of 'Housewives, and I really do not know what my Clara would do without her motherly help. For Clara has no m itli ber'own,. Handel, and no relation in the world but old Oruffand- grim." " Surely that's not his name, Herbert I" ',' No. no," said Herbert, " that's my name for him. His name is Mr. Barley. But what a b essing it is for the son of my father and mother to love a gin who has no relations, and who can never bother herself, or an\ body else, about her family !" Herbert had told mc on former occasions, and now reminded me, that he first knew Miss Clara Barley when she was comple- ting her education at an establishment at Hammersmith, and that on her being recalled home to nurse her lather, he and she had confided their affection to the motherly Mrs. Whiinple, by whom' it had been fostered and regulated with equal kindness a,ud dis- cretion, ew since. It. was understood that nothing of a lender nature couid possibly be confided to Old Barley, by reason of his being irhequal to the consideration of any subject more psycho- logical than Gout) Rum, and Purser's stores. As we were thus conversing in a low tone while Old Barley's sustained growl vibrated in the beam that crossed the ceiling, the room door opened, and a very pretty slight dark-eyed girl of twen- ty or so came in with a basket in her hand : whom Herbert ten- derly relieved of the basket, and presented blushing, as "Clara." 8 he really was a most charming girl, and might have passed lor a captive fairy whom that truculent Ogre. Old Barley, had pressed into his survica. 300 great expectations. " Look here," said Herbert, showing me the basket with a smile after we had talked a bit tie; "'here's poor Clara's supper, served out. every night. Here's ber allowance of bread, and here's her slice of cheese, and here's her rum — which I drink. This is Mr. Barley's breakfast for to-morrow,- served out to he cooked. Two mutton-chops, .three potatoes, some split peas, a little flour, two ounces of butter, a pinch of salt, and all this hlack pepper. It's stewed up together an.d taken hot, and it's a nice thing for the gout, I should think!" . There, was something so natural and winning in Clara's resign- ed way of looking at these stores in detail, as Herbert pointed them o'ufc, and something so confiding, loving, and innocent, in her modest manner of yielding herself to Herbert's embracing arm — and something so gentle- in her, so much needing protection oif Mill Pond Bank] by Chin'ks's Basin and the Old Creen Copper •Hope-Walk, with Old Barley growling in the beam — that I would not have undone the engagement bet ween her and Herbert for all the money in the pocket-book I had never Opened. I was looking at her with pleasure and admiration when sud- denly the growl swelled into a roar again, and a frightful bump- ing noise was heard above, as if. a giant with a wooden leg were trying to bore it through the ceiling to coine at us. Upon -Ibis Clara said to Herbert, " Papa wants me darling!" and ran away. "There's an unconscionable old shark for you!" said Herbert. " What do you suppose he wants now, Handel?" " I don't know," said 1. " Something to drink ?" "That's it!" cried Herbeit. as if I had made a guess of extra- ordinary merit. " lie keeps his grog ready-mixed in a little tub on the table. Wait a moment, and you'll hear Clara lift him up to take some. There he goes !" Another roar, with a prolonged shake at the end.' "Now," said Herbert, as it was succeeded by silence, " he's drinking. Now," said Herbert, as the. growl re- sounded in the beam once more, " he's down again on his back |" Clara returning soon afterward, Herbert accompanied me up stairs to see our charge. As we passed Mr. Barley's door, he was heard hoarsely muttering within, in. a strain that rose and fell like wind, the following Refrain ; in which I substitute good wishes for something quite the reverse. " Ahoy ! Bless your eyes, here's old Bill Barley ! Here's old • Bill Barley, bless your eyes ! Here's old. Bill Barley on the flat of his back, by the Lord ! Lying on the flat of his back, like a drifting old dead flounder, here's your old Bill Barley, bless 'your eyes ! Ahoy ! Bless you !" In this strain of consolation Herbert informed me tbe'invisible Barley would commune with himself by the day and night to- gether ; often, while it was light, having at the same time one eye GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 301 at a telescope which was fitted on his bed for the convenience of sweeping the river. In his two cabin rooms at the top of the house, which were fresh and airy, ami in which Mr. Barley was less audible than below, 1 1'ouiid I'rovis comfortably settled. He expressed no alarm, and seemed fo feel none thai was worth mentioning; but it, struck me that he was softened — indefinably, for I could not have said how. and could never afterward recall how, when I tried ; but cer- tainly. The opportunity that the day's rest bad given me for reflection bad resulted in my fully- deterniiniiiir to say nothing to hira re- specting Oonipey. For any thjng I knew, his animosity toward the man might otherwise lead to his seeking him out and rushing on his own destruction. Therefore, when Herbert and 1 sat down with him by his lire, basked him first of all whether he relied on Wemmick's judgment and sources of information .' " Ay. ay. dear boy !'' he answered, with a grave nod, "Jag- ger.S'8 knows.'' "Then I have talked with Wemmick," said I, "and have come to tell you what caution he gave me. and what advice." This 1 did accurately, with the reservation just, mentioned; and 1 told him how Weinmiuk had heard, in Newgate prison (whether from ollicers or prisoners I could not say), that he was under some suspicion, and that my chambers had been watched; how Wem- mick had recommended his keeping close for a time, and :ny keep- ing away from him: and what Wemmick had said about getting * him abroad I added, thai of course, when the time came. 1 should go with him. or should follow close upon him, as might he safest in Wemmick's judgment. What was to follow that- 1 did not touch upon; neither indeed was 1 at all clear or comfortable about it in my own mind, now that I saw him in that softer con- dition, and in declared peril for my sake. As to altering my way of living, by enlarging'my expenses. 1 put it to him whether, in our present Unsettled and difficult circumstances it would not be simply ridiculous, if ii were no worse/ He could noi-deny this, and indeed was very reasonable through- out. His coming back was a venture, he said, and he had always known it to be a venture!! He would do nothing to make it a desperate venture, and he had very little fear ol' his safety with such good help. Herbert, who had been looking at the tire ami pondering, here said that something hail come into his thoughts arising out of. Wemmick's suggestion, which it might be worth while to pursue. " We are both good Watermen. Handel, and could take him down the river ourselves when the right tittle* comes. No boat would then be hired for tin- purpose, ami no boatmen; that would save at least, a chance uf suspicion, and any change us worth saving* m-i GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Never mind the season ; don't van think it might he a good thing "if you began at- once to keep a boat at the Temple slairs, and were in the habit of rowing up and down the river? You fall into that habit, and then who notices or minds'? Do it twenty times or fifty times, and there is .nothing special in your doing it the twenty -first or lifty-tirst." I liked this seherae, and Provis was quite elated by it, We agreed that it should be carried into execution, and that Provis should never recognizue us if we came below bridge and rowed lii'st Mill Pond Bank. But we further agreed that he should pull down the blind in that part of his window which gave upon the east, whenever be saw us and all was right, Our conference being now ended, and every tiling arranged, I rose to go ; remarking to. Herbert that he and I had better not go home together* and that I would take half an hour's start of him. " I don't like to leave you here," 1 said to Provis, " though I can not doubt your being safer here than near me. Gooddjy !" " Dear boy," he answered, clasping my hands, " I donlt know when we may meet again, and 1 don't like Good-by. Say Good- night !" " Good-night ! Herbert will go regularly between us, and when the lime comes you may be certain 1 shall be ready. ( iood-night, Good-night !" We thought it best that he should stay in his own rooms, and deleft him on the landing outside of his door, holding a light over *the stair-rail to light us down stairs. Looking back at him, I thought of that first night of his return when our positions were reversed, and when I little supposed my heart could ever be as heavy and anxious at parting from him as it was now. Old Barley was growling and swearing when we repassed his door, with no appearance of having ceased, or of meaning to cease. When we got to the foot of the stairs, I asked Herbert whether he had preserved the name of Provis ? He replied, certainly not, and that the lodger was Mr. Campbell. He also explained that the utmost known of Mr: Campbell there was, that he (Herbert) had Mr. Campbell consigned to him, and felt a strong personal interest h« bis being well cared for and living a secluded life. So when we went into the parlor, where Mrs. Whimple and Clara were seated at work", I said nothing of my owm interest in Mr. Campbell, but kept it to myself. "Vyhen I' had taken leave of the pretty, gentle, dark-eyed girl, and the motherly woman who had not outlived her honest sympa- thy with a little affair of true love, I felt as if the Old Green Cop- per Rope-Walk had growa quite a different place. Old Barley might be as old as the hills, and might swear like a whole field of troopers, but there were redeeming youth and trust- and hope enough in Cbiuks's Basin to fill it to overflowing. And then I GREAT EXPECTATIONS. SO? thought of Estella, and of our parting, and went home very sadly. All things were as quiet in tin- Temple as ever I had seen them. The windows of the rooms on that side lately Ibocupied by Prov- iso were dark and still, and there was no lounger in Garden Court. I walked past the Com lain twice or thrice before I descended the steps that were between me and my rooms, but 1 was- quite alone. Herbert coining to my i edsidc when he came in — for 1 went straight to hed, dispirited and fatigued — made the same report. Opening one of the windows after that, he looked out into the moonlight, and told me that the pavement was as solemnly empty as the pave- ment of any Cathedral at that same hour. Next day 1 sel myself to get the boat. It was soon done, and the ho-t was brought round to thy Temple stairs, and lay where J could reach her within a minute or two. Then I began' to go out, as for training and practice; sometimes alone, sometimes with Herbert. 1 was often out in cold, rain, and sleet, but nobody took much note of me after 1 had been out a few times. At first I kept above Blaokfriars Bridge; but as the hours ofth*e tides chang- ed 1 took toward London Bridge, it was Old London Bridge in those days,, and at certain states of the tide there was » race and fall of 'the water there which gave it a bad reputation. But 1 knew well enough how to "shoot" the bridge after seeing it done, and so began to row about among the shipping in the l'ool, and down to Erith. The first time 1 passed Mill Bond Bank, Herbert and I were pulling a pair of oars : and, both in going and return- ing, we saw the blind toward the east come down. Herbert was randy there less frequently than three limes in a week, and believ- er brought, me a single word of intelligence that was at all alarm- ing. Still J knew that there was-oause for alarm, and 1 could not get ri3 of the notion of being watched. Once received, h is a haunting idea ; and how many undesigning persons I suspected of watching me it woufcd be hard to calculates. In short, 1 was always full of fears for the rash man who was in hiding. Herbert- had sometimes said to me that he found it pleasant to stand at one of our windows after dark, when the tide was running down, and to think that it was flowing, with every- thing it bore, toward Clara. But 1 thought with dread that it was flowing toward Magwitch; and that any black mark on its surface might be his pursuers, going swiftly, silently, and surely to take him. 304 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. CHAPTER XLVIL Some weeks passed without bringing any change. We waited for Wemmick, and he made no sign. If I had never known him out of Little Britain, and had never enjoyed the privilege of being on a familiar footing at the Castle, I might have doubted him ; not so for a moment, knowing him as I did. My worldly atfairs began to.wear a gloomy appearance, and I was pressed for money by more than one creditor. Even I my- self began to know the want of money (I mean oi ready money in my own pOcket), and to relieve it by converting some easily spared articles of jewelry into cash. But I had quite determined that it ■ would be a heartless fraud to take more money from my patron in the existing stale of my uncertain thoughts and plans. Therefore, 1 had sent him the unopened pocket bonk by Herbert, .to hold in Ins own keeping, and I felt a kind of satisfaction — whether it was a false kind* or a Irue, I hardly know — in not having profited by his generosity since his revelation of himself. As the time wore on, an Impression settled heavily upon me that Estella was married. Fearful of having it confirmed, though it was all but a conviction. I avoided the newspapers, and begged Herbert (to whom I had confided the circumstances of our last- interview) never to speak of her to me. Why I hoarded up this last wretched little rag of the robe of hope that was rent and giv- en to the winds, how do 1 know ? Why did yOu who read this, commit that not dissimilar inconsistency of your owu last year, last month, last week I it was an unhappy life that I lived, and its one dominant anXi*- ety, towering over all its other anxieties like a high mountain above a range of mountains, never disappeared from my view. Still.no new cause for fear arose. Let me start from my bed as 1 would, with the terror fresh upon me that he was discovered; let me sit listening as I would, with dread, for Herbert's returning step at night, lest it should be fleeter than ordinary, and winged with evil news; for all that, and much more to like purpose, the round of things went on. Condemned to inaction and a state of constant restlessness and suspense, 1 rowed about in my boat, and waited, waited, waited as I best could. There were states of the tide when, having been down the riv- er, I could not get back through the eddy-chafed arches and siar- 'ings of old London Bridge; then, I left my boat at a wharf near \u Custom-house, to be brought up afterward to the Temple stairs. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 905 I was not averse to doing' this, as ir served to make me and my boat a commoner incident among the water-side people there. — From this slight occasion sprang two meetings that 1 have. now to tell of. One afternoon, late in the month of February, I- came ashore ai the wharf a1 dusk. I had polled down as far as Greenwich will) the ebb tide, and had turned with the tide. I: had been a fine bright day, hot had become foggy as the .sun dropped, and I had to feel My way hack among the shipping pretty carefully. — Both in going and re 1 turning I had seen the signal in his window. All well. *»• As it was a raw evening and 1 was cold, I thought 1 would comfort myself with dinner at once; and as 1 had hours of de- jection and solitude before rife if I went home to the Temple, I thought 1 would afterward go to the play*. The theatre where Mr. Wopsle had achieved his questionable triumph was in that waterside neighborhood (it is nowhere now), and to that theatre I resolved to go. I was aware that Mr. Wopsle had not succeeded in reviving the Drama, but, on the contrary, had rather partaken s decline, lie had been ominously heard of as a faithful Black, in Connection with a little girl of noble birth, and a mon- key. And Herbert had seen him as a predatory Tartar, of comic propensities with a. face like a red brick, and an outrageous hat all over bells. i dined at what Herbert and 1 used to call a Geographical chop- bouse — where there were maps of the world in porter-pot rims on every half-yard of the table-cloths, and charts of gravy on every one of the knives — to this day there is scarcely a single chop-house in the Lord .Mayor's dominions which is not Geographical— and wore out the time in dozing over crumbs, staring at gas, and baking in a hot blast of dinners. By-and-by I roused myself and went to the play. There 1 found a virtuous boatswain in his Majesty's service — a most excellent man, though I could have wished his trowsers not quite so tight in some places and not quite so loose in others — who knocked all the little men's hats over their eyes, though he wag very generous and brave, and who wouldn't hear of any*body's paying taxes on any account, though he was very patriotic. He had a. bag ot money in his pocket, like a pudding in the cloth, and on that property married a young person in bed-furniture with great rejoicings; the whole population of Portsmouth (nine in num- ber at the last Census) turning out on the beach to rub their own hands and shake everybody else's, and sing "Fill, fill ! " A cer- tain dark-complexioned Swab, however, who wouldn't fill, or do any thing else that was proposed to him, and whose heart was openly stated (by the boatswain) to be as black as his figure-head proposed to two other Swabs to get all mankind into difficulties n 30S GREAT EXPECTATIOTS- which was so effectually done (the Swab family having ponsidera- ble political influence) that it took half the evening to set. things right, and then it was only brought about through an honest little giocer with a white hat, black gaiters, and red nose, getting into a clock with a gridiron, and listening, and coining out, and knock- ing every body down- from behind with 'the gridiron whom he couldn't confute with what he had overheard. This led to Wopsle's (who had never been heard of before) coining in with a star and garter on, as a plenipotentiary of great power direcl the Admiralty, to say that the Swabs were all to go to prison on the spot, and that he had brought the boatswain down the Union Jack, as a slight, acknowledgment of his public services. The boatswain, unmanned for the first time, respectfully dried his eyes on the Jack, and then cheering up. and addressing Mr. Wopsle as Your Honor, solicited permission to take him by the tin. Mr. Wop- sle conceding his tin with a gracious dignity; was immediately shoved into a dusty corner while everybody danced a horn ipe ; and, from that corner, surveying the public with a disconti became aware of me. The second piece was the last new grand comic Christmas pan- tomime, in the first scene of winch it pained me to suspect that I detected Mr. Wopsle, with red worsted legs under a highly magni- fied phosphoric countenance and a shock »f red fringe for his hair, engaged in the manufacture of thunderbolts in a mine, and display- ing great cowardice when his gigantic master came home, very hoarse, to dinner. But he 'presently •presented himself under thier circumstances; for, the (renins of Youthful Love being in want of assistance — on account Of the parental brutality of an ig- norant failner who opposed the choice of his daughter's heart, by purposely falling upon the object in a flour sack, out of the first floor window — summoned a sententious Enchanter ; and he, coming up from the antipodes rather unsteadily, after an apparently vio- lent journey, proved -to he Mr. Wopsle in a high-crowned h it, with a necromantic work in onevolnme under his arm. The business of this enchanter on earth being principally to be talked at, sung at, butted at, danced at, and flashed at with fires of various colors, 'he had a good deal of time on his hands. And I observed with great surprise that he devoted it to staring in my direction as if he were lost in amazement. There was some thing so remarkable in the increasing glare of Mr. Wopsle's eye, and h» seemed to be turning so many things over in his mind and to grow so confused, that 1 could not make it out. I sat thinking of it long after he had ascended to the clouds in a large watch-case, and still I could not make it out. i was still thinking of it when I came out of the theatre ah hour -after- ward, and found aim waiting for me near to the door.' GREAT' EXPECTATIONS. 207 " How do you do f, shaking hands with him as we.turn- ed down tin street together; ", I saw that you saw me." " Saw you, Mr. Pip ! " be returned. " Yes, of course 1 saw l'u! Who rise was there I " * ' "Who else ?" " It is the strangest thing,'' said Mr. Wopsle, drifting into his lost look-again ; "and 1 swear to him." r.eoinitig alarmed, 1 entreated Mr. Wopsle to explain his mean- ing. / " Whether 1 should have noticed him at first hut for your being there, ' said Mr. Wopsle, going on in the same lost way, " 1 can't he positive; vet I think I should:" Involuntarily I looked round me, as I was accustomed to look round me when 1 wem home; for these mysterious words gave me a chill. , ;' * >h ! he can't he in sight;" said Mr. Wopsle. "He went out- re I weir, oil'. 1 saw him go.'' Having the reason that 1 had for being suspicions, I even sus- peVed this poor actor, i mistrusted a design to entrap me into some admission,. Therefore 1 glanced at him as we walked on together, but said nothing. " I had a ridiculous fancy that he must be with you, Mr. Pip, till I saw that you Were quite unconscious of him sitting behind you. there, like a gh i My former chill crept over me again, but I was resolved not to speak yet. for it was quite consistent with his words that he might lie set on to induce me to connect these references With Provis. — Of course I ,vas perfectly sure and safe that Provis had not been there. "I dare say you wonder at me, Mr. Pip; indeed I see you do. Put it is so \ery strange ! You'll hardly believe what 1 am going to tell you. 1 could hardly believe it myself if you told me.'' " Indeed ? " said I. " No, indeed. ' Mr. Pip, you remember in old times a certain Christmas-day, when you were quite a child, and I dined at Gar- gery's, and some soldiers came, to the door to get a pair of hand- cuffs mended ? " " I remember it very well." " And you remember that there was a chase after two convicts, and that we -joined in it, and that Gargery took you on his back, and that I took the lead, and you kept up with mo as well as you could 1 " 9 "I remember it all very well.** Better than he thought— except the last clause. "And you remember that we came up with the two in a ditch, and that there was a scuffle between them, aad that one of them 308 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. had been severely handled and much mauled about the face by the other ?." " I see it all before me." " And that the soldiers lighted torches, and put the two in tfo% centre, and that we went on to see the last of them, over the black marshes, with thetorch-light shining on their faces — 1 am particu- lar about that; with the torch-light shining on their faces, when there was an outer ring of dark night all about us ?'" "Yes," said I. " 1 remember all that. ' % "Then, Mr. Pip, one of those two prisoners sat behind you. to- night, I saw him over your shoulder." . "Steady.!" I thought. I asked him then, "Which of the two do you suppose you saw 1 " "The one who had been mauled," he answered readily, " and I'll swear I saw him ! The more I think of him the more certain I am of him 1 " " This is very curious ! " said I, with the best assumption I could put on of its being nothing more to me. "Very onri >us indeed !" I cannot exaggerate the enhanced disquiet info which this con- versation threw me, or the special and peculiar terror I felt at Compey's having been b hind me "like a ghost." For, if he had ever been out of my thoughts for a few moments together since the hiding had begun, it was in those very moments when lie was closest to me ; and to think that I should be so unconscious and off rny guard after all my care, was as if I had shut an avenue of a hundred doors to keep him out, and then, had found him at my elbow. I could not doubt either that he was there, because 1 was there, and that however slight an appearance of danger there might be about ;us, danger was always near and active. I put such questions to Mr. Wopsle as, When did the man come in ? lie could not tell me that; he saw me ; and over my shoul- der he saw the man. It was not until lie had seen him for some time that he began to identify him ; but he had from .1 he first vague- ly associated him with me, and known him as somehow belonging to me in the old village time. How was he dressed ? Prosper- ously, but not noticeably otherwise ; he thought in- black. Was his face at all disfigured 1 No, he believed not. I believed not, too, for, although in my brooding state I had taken no especial no- tice of the. peopje behind me, I thought it likely that a face at all disfigured would have attrated my attention. When Mr. Wopsle had imparted to me all that he could recall or I extract, and when I had treated him to a little appropriate refreshment after the fatigues of the evening, we parted. It was between twelve and one o'clock when I reached the Temple, and* the gales Were shut. No one was near me when I went in and went home. Herbert had come in. and we held a very serious council by the GREAT EXPECTATIONS. ' 309 fire. But there was nothing to be done, saving to communicate to Wie'mmick what T had that night found out, and to remind him that we waited for his hint. As 1 thought I might compromise him if I went too often to the Castle. I made this communication by* letter. ' I wrote, it before 1 went to hed, and went out and post- ed it ; and again no one was near me. Herbert and 1 agreed that. We could do nothing else but he very cautious. And we were very cautious indeed — more cautious than before, if that were .possible — and 1, for my part, never went near Chink's Basin, except, when I rowed by, and then I only-looked at j\I i 1 L Pond Bank as I looked at any thing else. ( 11 AFTER XLVIII. The second of the two meetings referred to in the last chapter occurred about a week after the first. I had again left my koat at the wharf below "bridge ; the time was an hour earlier in the af- ternoon ; and. undecided where to dine, I had strolled up into Cheapside, and was strolling along it, surely the most unsettled person in a 1 the busy concourse, when a large hand was laid upon my shoulder by some one overtaking me. It was Mr. Jaggers's band, and he passed it through my arm. " As we are going in the same direction, Pip, we may walk to- gether. Where are you hound for?" "For the Temple, I think," said L " Don't you know?" said Mr. Jaggers. " Well," I returned, glad for once to get the better of him in cross-examination, "I do not know, for I have not made up my mind." " You are going to dine ?" said Mr. Jaggers. " You dor>'t mind admitting that, I suppose*?" " No," I returned. " I don't mind admitting that." " And are not engaged ?" . " I don't mind admitting, also, that I am not engaged." " Then," said Mr. daggers, "come and dine with me." I was going to excuse myself, when be added, "Wemmick's coming." So I changed my excuse into an acceptance — the few words I had uttered serving for the beginning of either — and we went along Cheapside aud slauted off to Little Britain, while the 310 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. lights were springing up brilliantly in the shop-windows, and the street lamp-lighters, scarcely rinding ground enough to plant their ladders ofi in the midst of the afternoon's hustle, were skipping up and down and running in and out, opening more red eyes in the gathering fog than' my rush-light tower at the Hum mums had opened white eyes in the ghastly wall. A.t the office in Little Britain there was the usual letter-writing, hand-washing, candle-snuffing, and safe-locking, that closed the business of the day. As I stood idle by Mr. Jaggersjs fire, its rising and falling flame made the two casts on the shelf look as if they were playing a diabolical g.mie at bo-peep with me; while the pair of coarse fat office-candles that dimly lighted Mr. Jaggers as lie wrote in a comer.,' were decorated with dirty winding-sheets, as if in remembrance of a host of hanged clients. We went to Gerrard Street, all three together, in a hackney- coach : and as soon as we got there dinner was served. Although I should not have thought of making, in that place, the most dis- tant, reference by so much as a look to Wemmick's Walworth sen- timents, yet I should have had no objection 1o catel wig his eye now and then in a friendly way. But it was not lo be done.' He turned his eyes on Mr. Jaggers whenever he raised them from the table, and was as dry and distant to me as if there were twin Wcmmicks, and this was the wrong one. " Did you send that note of Miss Havishanrs to Mr. Pip, Wem- mick V Mr. Jaggers asked, soon after we began dinner. "T?o, Sir," returned Wemmick .; "it was going by post when you brought Mr. Pip into the office. Here it is. He handed it to his principal instead of me. "It's a note of two lines, Pip," said Mr. Jaggers, handing it on, " sent up to me by Miss Havisham on' account of her not being sure oi' your address. She tells me that she wants' to see you on a little matter of business you mentioned to her. You'll go down ?" "Yes," said I, casting my eyes over the note, which was ex- actly in those terms. " When do you think of going down "I have an impending engagement," said I, glancing at Wem- nvlek, who was puttingfish into the post-offiee, "that renders me rather uncertain of my time. At once,*I think." " If Mr. Pip has the intention of going at once," said Wemmick to Mr. Jaggers, " he needn't write an answer, you know." Receiving this as an intimation that it was best nor to delay,! settled that I would go to-morrow, and said so. Wemmick drank a glass of wine and looked with ,a grimly satisfied aii at Mr. Jag- gers, but not at me. "So, Pip! our friend the Spider," said Mr. Jaggers, "has dayed his cards. He has won the pool." GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 311 It was as much as I could do to assent; " ft. i!i ! fie is a promising fellow — in his way — but be may not have ii all Ins own way. The. stronger will witHn the 6hd»birt ! he stronger has to 'be found out first. If he sho:ild turn to, and beat her — "Surely 1 ," I interrupted, with a burning face and heart, "you do not seriously think that even he is scoundrel enough for that, Mr. Jag$ty ?" " I did not say so, Pip. I am putting a ease. If he should turn to and heat her, he may possibly get the strength on his side; if it should he a question of rnteflcct, lie certainly will not. It would be chance work to give an opinion how a fe.low of that sort wili turn out in such circumstances, because it's a toss-up between two results." "May I ask what they are?" "A fellow like our friend the Spider," answered Mr. Jaggers, "either beats or cringes, lie may cringe and growl, or cringe and not grow! ; but he either heats or cringes. Ask WeYnmick 7iis opinion." " Hither beats or cringes,'' said Wemmick, not at ail address- ing himself to me*. " So here's to Mrs. IVntley Drummle," said Mr. J,aggers, taking a decanter of choicer wine from his dumb-waiter, and filling for each of us and for himself, "and may the question of supr niacy be settled to the lad y.'s satisfaction ! To the satisfaction of the lady ami the gentleman it never will be. Now, Molly, Molly, y, Molly, bow slow you are to-day !" She was at his elbow when he addressed her, putting a .dish upon the table. As she withdrew her hands from it she fell back a step or two, nervously muttering some excuse, and a certion ac- tion of her fingers as she spoke arrested my attention. " What's the matter V said Mr. Jaggers. "Nothing. Only the subject we were speaking of," said I, " was rather painful to me." The action of her fingers was like the action of knitting. She stood looking at her master, not understanding whether she was free to go, or whether he had more to say to her and would call her back if she did go. Her look was very intent. Surely, I had seen exactly such eyes and such hands on a memorable occasion very lately ! lie dismissed her, and she glided out of the room. But she re- mained before met, as plainly as if she were still there. I looked at those bauds, I looked at those eyes, I looked at that flowing hair; and I compared them with other hands, other eyes, other hair, that 1 knew of. and with what those might he after twenty years of a brutal husband and a stormy life. I looked again at those bauds and eyes of th« housekeeper, and thought of thy inex- 312 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. plicable feeling that had come over me when I last walked — not alone — in the ruined garden and through the deserted brewery. I thought how the same feeling had come back when I saw" a face. looking at me, and a band waving to me, from a stage-coach, win- dow ; and how it had come back again, and had flashed about me like Lightning, when 1 had passed in a carriage — not alone — through a sudden glare of light in a dark street. I thought how one link of association had helped'tbat identification in the theatre, and how such a link, .wanting before, had been riveted for me now, when I had passed, by a chance, swift, from Estella's name to the fingers with their knitting action, and the attentive eyes. I felt absolutely certain that this woman was Estella's mother. Mr. J aggers had seen me with Estella, and was not likely to have missed the sentiment 1 had been at no pains U> conceal. He nodded when 1 said the subject was painful to me, clapped me on the back, put round the wine again, and went on. with his dinner. Only twice more did the housekeeper reappear, and then stay in the room was very short, and Mr. Jaggers was sharp with her. But her hands were Estella's hands, and her eyes were Es- tella's; eyes, and if she had reappeared a hujidred times 1 could have been neither more sure nor less sure that my conviction was the truth. It was a dull evening, for Wemrnick drew his wine when it came round quite as a matter of business— ►just as he might have drawn his salary when that came round— and with his eyes on his chief, sat in a state of perpetual readiness for cross-examination. As to . the quantity of wine, his post-office was as indifferent and ready as other post-office for its quantity of letters. From my point of view he was the wrong twin all the time, and only externally like the Wemmuk of "Walworth. We took our leave early, and left Together. Even when we were groping among Mr. Jaggers's stock of boots for our hats, ] felt that the right twin was on his way back; and we had not gone half a dozen yards down Gerrard Street in the Walworth direction betoie I found that I was walking arm in arm with the right twin, and that the wrong twin had evaporated into the evening air. " Well !" said Wemrnick, " that's over. He's a wonderful man, without ltis living likeness; but I feel that I have to screw myself up when I dine with :him — and I dine more comfortably un- screwed." 1 felt thaMhis was a good statement of the case, and told him so. " Wouldn't say it to any body but yourself," he answered. " I mow that what is said between you and me goes no further." " I asked him if he had ever seen Miss Havisham's adopted 'ghter, Mrs. Bentley Brummie ? He said no. To avoid being \brupt, I th«D spoke of the Aged, and of Miss Skiffins. H« GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 313 looked rather sly when 1 mentioned Miss Skiffins, and stopped in the street to blow his nose with a roll of the head and a flourish, not quite free" Trovp latent hoasifulness. " Weniniick," said I, "do yare high tiers of rhe prior* -gulden, seemed to ca.l lb niclhal 1 he place was changed, and liia! Kstella was gone out of it for ever. An elderly woman whom 1 had seen be/ore as one of the ser- vants who lived in the, supplementary house across the hack conn yard opened the gale. The Lighted eandle stood in the dark pas- sage within, as o! old, and L look it up and ascended the slaircase alone. Miss Havisham was not- in her own room, but was in the larger room across the lauding. Looking in at the door, after knocking in vain, 1 saw her sitting on the hearth in a ragged chair, close before, and lost in the coiiteinplaiion of, the ashy tire. Doing as I had often done, 1 went, in, and stood, touching the old chimney-piece, where she could see me when she raised her eyes. There was an air Of ut er loneliness upon her thai would moved me to pity though she had willfully done me a deeper injury than I couM charge l.erwifh. As J stood compassion her, and thinking how in the progress of time 1 too had come to he;: pari of the wrecked fortune-; of that house, her eyes me. She stared, and said in a low voice, " Is it. real ! " " It is I, Pip. Bfh". .!;. ur note i.) , a' I bavw loat no timv." 316 ' GREAT EXPECTATIONS. "Thank you. Thank you." As 1 brought another of the ragged chairs to. the hearth air 1 sat down I remarked a new expression on her face, as if she were afraid me. "I want," she said, " to pursue that subject you mentioned to me when you were last here, and to show you that I am not all stone. But perhaps you can never believe, now, that there i^ any tiling human in my heart 1 " When I said some reassuring words, she stretched out her trem- ulous right, hand, as though she we/e going to touch me; but she recalled it again before I understood the action, or knew how to receive it. " You said, speaking for your friend, that you could tell me how to do something useful and good. .Something that you would like done, is it not?" "Something that I would like done, verv, verv much." « What is it ? " i began explaining to her that secret history of the partnership. I had not got far into it when I judged from her look that she was Ihinking in a discursive way df me rather than of what I said. — It seemed to be so, for when 1 slopped speaking many moments passed before she showed that site. was conscious of the fact. " Do yon break off," she asked then, with her former air of be- ing afraid of me, " because you hate me too much to bear to speak to me %" " No, no,'" 1 answered, "how can you think so, ^liss Havisham ! I stopped because I thought you were not following what I said." " I'erhaps I was not," she answered, putting a hand to her head. " Begin again, and let hh.' look at something else. Stay! Now tell me." She set Inr bands upon her stick in the resolute way that some- times was habitual to her, and looked at the lire with a strong ex- pressinn of forcing herself to attend. I went on with my expla- nation, and told her how I had hoped to complete the transaction out of my means, but how in this I was disappointed. That part of the subject (I reminded her) involved matters which could form no parr of my explanation, for they were the weighty secrets of another. " So ! " said she, assenting with her head, but not looking at me. "And how much money is wanting to complete the purchase V I was rather afraid of stating it, for it sounded a large sum. — Nine hundred pounds." " If I give you the money for this purpose, will you keep my •et as- vou have kept your own ? " >ite*as faithfully." nd your mind will be more at rest I " ich more at rest." GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Ul " Are you very unhappy now ? " ie asked this question, still without looking- at me, hut in an unwonted tone of sympathy! I could not reply at the moment, for my voice failed me. She put her left arm across the crnlc edhead of her -stick, ami softly laid her forehead on it. " I am far from happy, Miss Ilavisham ; hut I have other caus- es of disquiet than any you know of. They are the secrets 1 have mentioned." After a little while she raised her head and looked at the fire again. " It is noble in you to tell me that you have ether causes of un- happiness. Is it true .' " " Too true." " Can 1 only serve you, Pip, hy serVjng yVur friend ? Regard- ing that as done, is there nothing 1 can do for you yourself]" ".Nothing. I thank you for the question. I thank you even more for the tone of the question. Bui there is nothing." She presently rose from her seat, and looked about the blighted room lov the means of writing. There were none there, and she took from her pocket a yellow set of ivory tablets, mounted in tar-' rushed gold, and wrote upon them with a pencil in a case of tar- nish d gold that bimg from her neck. '• You are still on friendly terms with Mr. Jaggers ?" « ".Quite. I dined with him yesterday." " This is an authority lo him to pay yon that money to lay out at your irresponsible discretion for your friend. I' keep no money hcre, hut if you would rather Mr. Jaegers knew nothing of the mat- ter, I will send it to you." ''Thank you, Miss Ilavisham; I -have not the least objection to receiving it from him." She read me what she had written, and it was direct and clear, and evidently intended to absolve me from any suspicion of profil- ing by the receipt of the money'. I look the tablets from her hand, and it trembled again, and it trembled more as she took off the chain to which the pencil was attached and put it in mine. Aii this slie did without looking at me. " My name is on the first leaf. If you can ever write under my name, ' I forgive her,' though ever so long after my broken heart is dust — pray do it !" "Oh, Miss Ilavisham;" said I. " I can do it now. There have been sore mistakes, and my life has been a blind, and thankless one. and I want forgiveness and direction far too much to be hitter with you. She turned her face to me for the first time since she had avert- ed it, and, to my amazement, I may even add to my terror, dropped on her knees at my feet, with her folded hands raised to me in the manner iu which, when her poor heart was young aud Ireah an 318 GRE.VT EXPECTATIONS. whole, they must often have been raised to Heaven from her moth- er's side. 'I 1 ! i see her with her white hair and her worn face kneeling 'at my feet, gave me a shock through all my frame. I' entreated her to rise, and got my arms ahout her to help her up ; hut she only pressed thai hand of mine which was nearest to her grasp, and hung her head over it and wept. I had never seen her shed a tear before, and, in the hope that the relief might do her g'eod, I bent- over her without speaking, fthe was not kneeling now, but was down upon the ground. " Oh !" she cried, dsspairingly. " What have I clone ! What have I done ! ' ! "If you* mean, Miss Havisham, what have you done to injure me, let me answer. Very little. I should have loved her under any circumstances. — Is she married?" It was a needless question, for a new desolation in the desolate house had told me si;. "What have I done! What have I done !" she wrung her hands, and crushed her white hair, and returned to this cry, over and over again. "What have I done! What have 1 clone! " I knew not how to answer, or how to cmnf >rt her. That she had doue a grievous thing to take an impressionable child to mould into the form that herVild resentment, spurned affection, and wound- ed pride found vengeance in, i knew full well. But that, in shut- ting cuit the light of day, she had shut out infinitely more than that; that, in seclusion, she had secluded herself 'from a thousand • natural and healing influences; that her mind, brooding solitary, had grown diseased, as all minds do "and must and will that re- verse the appointed order if their Maker, I knew equally well. — And could 1 look upon her without compassion, seeing her pun- ishment in the ruin she was, in her profound unfitness for this earth . on which she was placed, in the vanity of sorrow which ha i be- coiiK' a master mania, like the vanity of penitence, the vanity of remorse, the vanity of nnworthiness, and other monstrous vanities that have been curses in this world ? "Until you spoke to her the other day, and until I saw in you a looking-glass that showed me what 1 once felt myself, I did not know what 1 had done. What have I done ! What have i done !"• And so again, twenty, fifty times over. What had she done ! • " Miss Havisham," I said, when her cry died away, " you may dismiss me from your mind and conscience. But Estella is a differ- ent case, and it von can ever undo any scrap ot what you fcavv iniie amiss in keeping a part of her right nature away from her, it ill he belter to do that than to bemoan the past through a bull- ed years." • Xes, yes, I know it. But. Pip— mj dear I" There was an GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 319 earnest womanly/compassion for me in her new affectbn. "My dear! Believe this: when she first eame to me. I meant to save her from miserv like niv own. Al first I meant no more." '•'Well, well!" said I . ".I hope so." •' lint as she grew, and promised to he Airy heanlifnl. T gradu- al!} did Worse, and with my praise's, and with my jewels, and with teachings, and With this" .figure of myself always before Iter a Warning to hack and point joy lessons, I sidle her heart away and put ice in its ; lace." " Better," 1 eotild not help saying, "to have left her a natural heart, even to be' bruised or broken." With, that. Miss ilavisham ioo ed distractedly at me for a while and then hurst out again. What had she done! "If you knew all my story,' 1 she pleaded, "you would have some cbtupassion for me and a heller understanding of me." " Miss Ilavisham," 1 answered, as delicat.-ly as 1 could, " I be lieve 1 may say that I do know your st ry. and have known it ever since I first left this neighborlwod. It has inspired .me with great cynmiissefation, and 1 hope. 1 understand it and its influ- ences. J h»es what has passed between us give me any excuse for asking you a question relative to Est el U .' Not as she is, but as she was when she lirst came lira-?" She was seated on the ground, with her arms on the ragged chair, and her head leaning on them. She looked full at me when I said this, and replied, " Go mi." " JfVuo.se child was Estella.'" She shook her head. " You don't knoW .'" She shook her head again. '.' But Mr. daggers brought her here, or sent her here ?" '• Broyght her here." •• Will you tell me how that eame about 1" She answered in a low whimper and with great caution : " I had been shut up in these rooms'a Imjig lime (1 don't know how long; you know what time the clocks keep here), when 1 told him that 1 wanted a little girl to rear and save from my fate. I had first seen him when 1 sent for him to lay t lis place waste for me ; having read of him in the newspapers, before I and the world part- ed. He told me that he would look about him for such an orphan child. One night he brought her here asleep, and I called her Esteda." . * •• Might 1 ask her age then ?" "Abdul three'. She herself Knows nothing, but that she was . an orphan and 1 adopted her," So convinced I was of that woman's being her mother, that I wanted no e\idence to establish the fact in my own mind. But to au>- luiud. 1 though U the connection b«rw wa& clear aud btraigjit. 3 20 , GREAT EXPECTATIONS. What mire could I hope to do by prolonging the interview? I had succeeded on liehalf of Herbert, Miss Havisham had told me all siie knew of Estella, I had said and done what I could to ease her mind. No matter with what other words we parted,; we parted Twilight was closing in when 1 went down stairs into the na- tural air. I ca'lcd to the woman who had opened the gate when I entered that I would not trouble her just yet; hut would walk round tiie place before 'caving For [ had a presentiment that I should never he there again, and I ielt that the dying light was suited to my last view of it. By the wilderness of casks that I had walked on long ago, and on which the rain of year's had fallen since, rotting'thein in many places, and leaving miniature swamps and pools of waler upon • those that stood on end, I made my way to the ruined garden. ■ I went all around it; round by the comer where Herbert and 1 had fought our battle; round by the paths where Estella and 1 had walked. So cold, so lonely, so dreary all ! Taking the brewery oh my way back, I raised the rusty latch of a little door at the garden end of it, and walked through. I was going out at the opposite door. — not easy to open now, for the damp wood had started and swelled, and the hinges were yield- ing, 'aid the threshold was encumbered with a growth of fungus — when I turned my head to look back. A childish associa ion re- vived with wonderful force in the moment of the slight action, and I fancied that I saw Miss Havisham hanging to the beam. 8o strong was the impression that I stood under the beam shud- dering from head to fool before I Knew it was a fancy — though to To be sure 1 was there but an instant. The mournfnluess of the place and lime, and the great terror of this illusion, though it was but momentary, caused hie to feel an indescribable awe as 1 came out between the open wooden gates where I had once wrung my hair after Est lla had wunng my heart. Passing on into the front court-yard, I hesitated whether to call the woman to let me out at the locked gate of which she had the key. or first to go up stairs and assure myself that Miss Havisham was as safe and well as 1 had leffher. L look the'latter course and went up. I looked in the room where I had left her, and I saw her seated in the ragged chair upon the hearth close to the fire, with her back toward me. In the moment when I was withdrawing my head to go quietly away I saw a great flaming light spring up. ID the same moment I saw her running at me, shrieking, with a whirl of fire blazing all about her, and soaring at least. as many feet above her head as she was high. 1 had a double-caped great-coat on, and over my arm another liick coat That I got tliem uiL closed with. Iter, threw her down* GREAT EXPECTATIONS. - 321 amrgol them over 1 her; that I dragged the great cloth from the table for the same purpose, and with it dragged down th,e heap of rottenness in the midst, and all the ugly things that sheltered there; thai we were on the ground! struggling adlv like desperate enemies, and thai the closer 1 covered her, the more wildly she shrieked and tried to free herself; that this occurred [ knew through the results; but not through any thing I felt, or thought, or kirew I did. 1 knew nothing until I knew that we were on the ll rt)r by the great table, and that patches of tinder yet alight were tl iatii?g in the smoky air, which, a moment ago, had been her faded bridal dress. Then 1 looked round and saw the disturbed beetles and spiders running away over the floor, and the servants coming in with breathless cries at the door. I still' held her forcibly flown with all my strength, like a prisoner who bright escape; and 1 doubt if I even knew who she was. or way we had struggled, or that she harl been in flames, or tfiat the" flames were out, until [saw the patches of tinder that had been her garments no longer alight but falling in a Mack shower around us. She was insensible, and I was afraid to have her moved, or e lied, A ustanoe was sent for, and I held her until it cam if 1 unreasonably fancied (1 think I did) that if I let her go the fire would break out again and consume her. When I got up, on the surgeon's ooniing to her with other aid, 1 was astonished to sec that both my hands were burned ; for I had no knowledge of it through the sense of feeling. ' ( >a examii ation it was' pronounced that she had received serious' hurts, but that they of themselves were far from hopeless; the danger lay, However, mainly in the nervous shock. By the sur- geon's directi ms her bed was carried into that room and laid upon the great babble, which happened to be well suited to the dressing of her injuries. When I saw her again, an hour afterward, she lay indeed where I had seen her strike her stick, and heard her say that she would lie one day. Though every vestige of her dress was burned, as they told me< she still had something of her old ghastly bridal appearance ; for they had covered her to the throat with white cotton-wool, and as she. lay with a white sheet loosely overlying that, the phantom air of something that had been and was changed was still upon her. 1 found, on questioning the servants, that Estella was in Paris, and I got, a promise from the surgeon that he would write to her by the next vest. Miss Havisham's family I took upon myself; intending to communicate with Mr. Matthew Pocket only, leave him to do as lie liked about informing the rest. This 1 did next day. through Herbert, as soon as I returned to town. There was a stage that evening when she spoke collectedly of what had happened, though with 4 certain terrible vivacity. To- £1 322 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. ward midnight she began to wander in her speech, and after that it gradually set in that she saMirinnmerable limes in alow, solemn voice, " What have I done ! What 'nave I done!" And then, " When she first came, I meant to save her from misery like mine."' And 1 en. "Take the pencil a d write muter my name. ' 1 foi her ! ' " .She never changed the order of these three sentences, but she sometimes left out a word in one or other of them ; never put- 'ling in another word, but always paving a blank, and going on to the next word. As 1 oould do no service there, and as 1 had, nearer home, that pressing reason for anxiety find fear which even her wanderings could not drive out of my mind, I decided in the course of the night that I would return by the early morning coabh; walkingon a mile or so, and being taken up clear of the town. At about six o'clock in the morning, therefore, I leaned over her and tow her lips with mine, just as they said, not stopping for being touched, "Take the pencil and write under my name, ' 1 forgive her.'" It was the first time. and the last time I ever touched her in that way. And I never saw her more. CHAPTER L My hands had h> d twice or thrice in the night, and in the morning. My lel't arm was a good -deal burned to elbow, and less severely as high as the shoulder ; it was very pain- ful, but the flames had set in thai direction*, and I felt thankful it no worse! 3iy rigttf hand was not so badly burned but that i could move the fingers. It was bandaged, of course, bul much less inconveniently .than my left hand and arm : those 1 carried in a ; 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, hul not my head or I When Berebertiad been down to Hammersmith and seen his father, In me at our chambers, and devoted the to attending on me. He was the kindest of nurses, and at stated times took j, and steeped them in the cooling liquid was kepi ready, and put them, on again with a patient tender- ss that i was deeply grateful for. \t first, as I lay quier on the sofa I tound it painfully difficult, GREAT EXPECTATIONS 323 1 might say impossible, to gel rid of the impression of the gla^e of the flames, their hurry and noise, and the fierce Burning smell. If 1 dozed for a -- minute, i was awakened by Miss Havisham's cries, ami by her running al me with all thai height of lire above ber head. This pain of the mind was much harder to strive against than any ho'dily pain I suffered ; and Herbert, seeing thai, did his utmost to bold my attention engaj Xcither of ns spoke of the "boat, but we both thought of it. — That was made apparent by our avoidance of the subject, and by oiir agreeing — wiihout agreeue.n1 — to make my recovery ol of my hands a question of so many hours, not oi' so many Weeks. My first question, when 1 saw Herbert had been, of course, wheiher all was well down the river I As lie replied in the affirm- ative, with perfect confidence and cheerfulneess, 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 tire than by the outer light, he. went back to it. spontaneously. "1 sat witli Provis last night; Handel, two good hours." " Where was Clara V" ••Dear little thing!" said ^Herbert. "She was up and down with Gruffandgrim all the evening. He was perpetually pegging at the floor tin' moment she left his sight. I doubt if he can hold out long though. What with rum and pepper — and pepper rum — ! should think his pegging must lie nearly over." "And then yon will be married, Herbert !" "How can I take care of the dear child otherwise? Lay \our arm out upon the back of the sofa, my dear boy, and I'll sit down her. and gel tic bandage oil' so gradually that you shall not know When it conies. 1 was speaking of Provis. Do you know, Han- del, he improves ? " •• 1 said to you I thought he was softened, when 1 last saw h " So yoi so he is. He was very communicative last night, and bold me more of his life. You remember his breaking off here about some woman that ho 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 \ on speak of it." " Well! He went into that part of his life, and a dark, wild part it is. Shall 1 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 r< had been rather more hurried or more eager than be could > account for. " Your head is cool ?" ho said, touching it. 324 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. i " Quite," said I. " Tell me what Provis said, my dear Her- bert." " It seems," said Herbert, " — there's a bandage off most charm- ingly, and now conies the cool one — makes you shrink at first, my poor dear fellow, don't it 1 but it will be comfortable presently — it seems that the woman was a young woman, and a jealous wi - man, and a revengeful woman ; revengeful, Handel, 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 ? Wiiom did she mur- der 1 " " Why, the deed may not have merited quite so terrible a name,'^ said Herbert, "but she was tried fur it, and Jaggers defended lier, and the reputation of that defense first made his name known to Provis. It was another and a stronger woman who was the vic- tim, and there had been a struggle — in a bam. Who beiran.it, or how fair it was, or how unfair, may be doubtful ; but how i! ended is certainly not doubtful, for the victim was found throttled." " Was the woman brought in guilty '.<" " No ; she was acquired. My poor Handel, I hurt you ! '•' " It is impossible to be gentler, Herbert. Yes ] What else? ' " This acquitted young woman and Provis,'' said Herbert, " had a. Rttle 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 yonng'woinan presented herself Before Provis for one moment, and swore that she would destroy the chi d (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 band, 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 afftxted. my dear boy? You seem to breathe quickly." " Ptthaps I do, Herbert, Hid the woman keep l.er oath?'* "There comes the darkest part of Pruvis's life. 8be d\i\.'' " That is he says she did." "Why, of course, my dear hoy," returned Herbert, in a tone of surprise, and again bending forward to get a nearer look at me. " lie says it all. I have no other information." "No, to be sure." , '.'Now, whether." pursued Herbert, "lie bad used the child's -nother ill, or whether he had used the child's mother well, Pro\is •n't s.'v ; but, she had shared some four or ii.e years (if the -tched life he described to us at this fireside, and he seems •ave felt pity for her, and forbearance toward her. Therc- fc&jring he should be called upon to depose about this da- GREAT EXPECTATIONS. c25 Strnyed child, and so he the cause of her* death, he hid himself (much ;is lie grieved for tlie child), kept himself dark, as he says, our of the way and on* 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 hoy," said Herbert, "and I have done. That evil Compey, the worst of scoundrels among? many scoun- drels, i • im\vingi know whether I felt'that 1 did this for Estella's sake, or whether i glad to transfer to the man in whose preservation 1 was so much concerned some rays 'of the, romantic Interest that had so long surrounded her. Perhaps the latter possibility may be the neater to the truth. y way, I could searcely he withheld from going our to Ger- et that night. Herbert's representations that, if I did, 1 should probably be laid up and stricken useless when our fugi- ■ould depend upon me, aione restrained my i >■. On the understanding, again and again reiteratedt#tha1 ■ wi:at would, 1 was to go to Mr J aggers to-morrow, 1 at length submitted to keep quiet , and to have my hurts looked after, and to stay at home. Early next morning we went out together, and at the corner of Giltspur Street by Smithfield* I left Herbert j into the City, and took my way to Little Britain. periodical occasions when Mr. Jaggers and Wem- mick went over the office accounts, and checked off the vouchers, and put all tilings straight. On those occasions Wemmick took* his books and papers into Mr. jaggprs's room, and one of tin- staii's clerks came down into the outer office. Finding such clerk on Wemmick's post that morning, 1 knew what was going on ; but 1 was not sorry to have Mr. Jaggers and Wemmick together, as V, would then hear for himself that I said nothing to compromise him.' My appearance with tuy arm bandaged and my coat loose my shoulder favored my object, Although I had sent Mr. Jag- gers a brie:' account of the accident as soon as I had arrived in town, yet 1 had to give him all the details now; and the special- ly of the occasion caused our talk to dry and bard, and strictly regulated by the rules of evidence, than it had been ei'ore. While I described the disaster Mr. Jaggers stood, ac- GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 357 cording to his worft, before the fire. Wemmick leaned back in his chair staring at me, with his bands in the pockets of his trowsera, and his pen put horizontally into the post. The two brutal casts, always inseparable in my mind from the official prooeedi seemed to be congestively considering whether they didn't smell fire at the present moment. My narrative finished, and their questions exhausted, I then produced Miss Havisham's authority to receive the nine hundred rfounds for Herbert. Mr. Jaggers's eyes retired. a little deeper into his head when 1 .handed him the tablets-, but he presently handed them over to Wemmick, with instructions to draw the cheek for his signature. White that was in course of being done I looked on at Wemmick as he wrote, and Mr. Jaggers, poising and swaying himself on his well-polished hoots, looked on at me. "I am sorry, Pip," said he, as 1 put the check in my pocket, when he had signed it, " that we do nothing for you." "Miss Havisham was food enough to ask me," T returned, " whether she could do any thing for me, and I told her No." '• Every body should know his own business," said Mr. .Tag- gers. And I«*aw Wemmick's lips form the words "portable property/' " 1 should not have told her No, if I had been you," said Mr. Jaggers ; " but every man ought to know his own business best." •• Every man's busings,' 1 said Wemmick, rather reproachfully toward me, " is portable property." As I thought the time was now come for pursuing the theme I had at heart. I said, fuming on Mr. Jaggers: " I did ask something of Miss Havisham, however, Sir. I ask- ed her to give me some information relative to her adopted daugh- ter, and she gave me all she possessed." "Did she?" said Mr. daggers, bending forward to look at, his boots and then straightening himself. "Hah! I don't think I should have done so, if 1 had been Miss Havisham. Bui ought to know her own business best." " I know more of the history of Miss Havisham's adopted child than Miss Havisham herself does. Sir. I know her mother." Mr. Jaggers looked at me inquiringly, and repeated "Mother?" " 1 have seen her mother within these three days." "Yes?" said Mr. Jaggers. " And so' have you, Sir. And you have seen her still more re- cently " / •• Yes .'" said Mr. Jaggers. •• Perhaps I kuow more of Estella's history than even you do." said I. "I know her father, too." A certain stop that Mr. Jaggers came to in his manner— he was too self-possessed to change his manner, but he could no help its being brought, to an indefinably attentive stop — ussur 328 ' • GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. me tliat he did not know who her father was. »This T had strnng- ]y snspeeUd from Provis's account (as Herbert had delivered ii) of bis having kept himself dark ; which I pieced on to' the fact that he himself was not Mr. Jaggers's c ient until some four years la'er. and when he could have no reason for claiming his idemity. But I could not he sure of this unconsciousness on Mr. Jaggers's pari Ik fore. 1 hough I was quite sure of it now. "So! You know the young lady's father, Pip? said Mr. Jaggers. , . • " Yes,'' I replied. "And his name is Frovis — from New South Wales." Even Mr. .Taggers started when I said those words. It was the slightest start that could escape a man. the most carefully re- pressed and the soonest checked, hut he (lid start, though he made ii a part of the action of taking out his pocket-ha'nd kerchief. I!n\v Wemmiek received the announcement 1 am unable to say. for 1 was afraid to look ar him just then, lest Mr. Jaggers s sharpness fchonld delect lhat there had been some communication unknown to him between us. " Aid on what evidence, Pip," asked Mr. Jaggers, very coolly, as be paused with his handkerchief half-way to nis nose, "dues Provis make this claim ?" "He does not make it," said I, "and has never made it, and has no knowledge or belief that his daughjer is in existence." Fur once the powerful pocket-handkerchief failed My .reply so unexpecied that Mr. .Taggers put the handkerchief back into his pocket, without completing the usual pel lorn, ante, folded his arms, and looked with stern attention at me, though with an immovable faj e. Then 1 told him all I knew, and how I knew it ; with the one reservation lhat I left himto inier that I knew from Miss llavi- sham what J in fact knew fidm Wemniie<. J was very careful indeed as to that Nor did I look toward Wemmiek until 1 had finished all I had to tell, and had been for some time si enily meet- i' g Mr..laggers's look. When I did at last turn my eyes in Wemii iek's direction, I found that lie had unposted his pen, and wa- intent upon the table before h'im. "Hah!" said Mr. Jaggers at last, as he moved toward the pa- person the table. •' — What item was it you were at, Wemmiek, when Pip came in ?" But I eou d not submit to be thrown off in that way. and I made a passionate, a most an indignant, appeal to him to be more frank and manly with me. 1 reminded him of the false hopes into which 1 had lapsed, the length of time tl.cy lad lasted, and the scuvery 1 had made; and I hinted at the danger that weigl ed ya my spirits. 1 represented myself as being surely worthy of ■i little confidence trom him, in return for the confidence 1 had GREAT EXPECTATIONS. . 329 j n^t now imparted. I said that I -did not blame him, or snippet him. or mistrust him, luit 1 wanted assyranctf of the trulh from hlin. And ii" lie asked me why I wauled ii.aiid why I thought I had any right to it, I W,ou d 1 1 -1 1 him. Iinh- as he cared for such poor -dreams, that I had loved Estella dearly and long, and tlat, although 1 had lost her and must live a bereaved life, whatever concerned Iter was slill nearer and dearer to me than any thing else in the world. And seeing that Mr.'Jnggers stood quite still and silent, and apparently quite obdurate, under this appeal. I tinned to Wemmick, and said. "Wemmiok, I know you In he a man with a gNitle heart. 1 have seen your pleas, int home, and your old lather, and all the innocent, cheerfii , play fit ways will) which you refresh your business life. And I entreat you to say a word for me to Mr. Jaggers, and to represent 'to him that, all ciicumslanees considered, he ought to he more tipen with me! - ' 1 ha\e never seen two men look more oddly at one another than Mr daggers and Wemmick did after this apostrophe. At first, a misgiving crossed me that. VVemmuk would be instantly dismissed from hisemp pymenfc; but it melted as I saw Mr. dag- gers relax into some, thing like a smile, and Wemmick become holder. •• VC.liat's all this?" said Mr. Jaggews. "You with an old fa- ther, and y won't ta k about • poor dreams;' you know more about such things than I, having much fresher experience id' that kind. But about this other mat- ter. I'll put a case to yon. Mind ! I admit nothing." lie waited for me to declare that 1 quite understood that he ex- ly said that he admitted nothing. 'Now, Pip," said Mr. Jaggers, "put this case. Put the case that a woman, under such circumstances as you have mentioned, held her child concealed, and was obliged to communicate Lbv 330 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. fact to her legal adviser, on his representing to her that he must know, with an eye to the latitude of his defense, how the fact stood about that child. Put the case that ,at, the same time he held a trust to find a child for an eccentric rich lady to adopt and bring up." " I follow you, Sir." " Put the case that he lived in an atmosphere of evil, and that all he saw of children was their being generated in great numbers for certain destruction. Put the case that he often saw children solemnly tried at a criminal bar, where they were held up to be seen ; put i he case that lie habitually knew of their being impris- oned, whipped, transported, neglected, casl out, qualified in all ways for the hangman, and growing up to be hanged. Put the case thai pretty nigh all the children he saw in his daily business life be had reason to look upon as so much spawn, to develop into the. fish that were to come to his net — to be prosecuted, defended, forsaken, made'orpHans, be-deviled somehow." " 1 follow you, Sir." " Put the case Pip, that here was one pretty little child out of the heap who could be saved; whom the father believed dead, and dare make no stirabout; as to whom, over the mother, the legal adviser had this power: ' I know what you did, and how you did it. You came so and so, this was your manner of attack and this the manner of resistance, yon went so and so, you did such and such things to divert suspicion. I have tracked you through it all, and I tell it you all. Part with the child, unless it should be ssary to produce it to clear you, and then it shall be produced. Give the child into my hands, and 1 will do my best to bring you Off. If yon are saved, your child is saved too ; if you are lost, your child is still saved.' Put the case that this was done, and that the woman was cleared." « " 1 understand you perfectly . ft "But that I make no admissions?" "That you make no admissions." And Wemmick replied, " • o admissions." "Put the case, Pip, that passion and the terror of death had a little shaken the woman's intellects, and that when she was set at liberty she was scared out of the ways of the world, and went to him to be sheltered. Put the case that he took her in, and that be kept down the old wild violent nature whenever he saw an inkling of it breaking out. by asserting his power over her in the old way. Do you comprehend the imaginary ca.^e V " Quite." " Put the case that the child grew up, and was married for uey. Thar the mother was still living. That the father was living. That the mother and father were known to one ano- were dwelling within so many miles, furlongs, yards if you GREAT EXPECTATION.-. 331 like, of one another. That the secret was still a, seoret, except that you had got wind of it. Put that las! rase to yourself very carefully." " I do." "I ask Wetntnick to put it 10 himself very careful, y." And Wem mick said, " 1 do." ".For whose sake would you reveal the secret, Pip? For the father's? I think lie would not be much t.Q£ better for the mot For the mother's ? I think if she bad done such a deed she would be safer where she was. For the daughter's? 1 think it would hardly serve her, to estahlisb her parentage for the information of ber busband, and to drag- ber back to disgrace after an escape of twenty years, pretty secure to last for life. But add the case that, you had loved her. Pip, and had made he'r the subject of those ' poor dreams ' which have, at onetime ov another, heeil in the headset more men than you think likely, then I tell you that you had better — and would much sooner when you had thought well of it — chop ofT that baudaged left hand of yours with your bandaged right hand, and then pass the chopper on to Wemmiek there, and cut that off, too." ' I looked at Wemmiek, whose lace was very grave, and who gravely touched his lips with his forefinger. 1 did the same, and Mr. daggers did the same. " Now. Wemmiek," said the latter then; resuming his usual manner, "what item was it you were at when Mr. Pip came in .'" (Standing by for a little, while they were at work, I observed that the odd looks they had cast al one another were repeated several times : with this difference now, thai each of them seem- ed suspicious, not to say conscious! ol having shown himself in a weak and unprofessional light to the other. Fortius reason, 1 suppose, rhey were now inflexible with one another; Mr. daggers being highly dictatorial, and Wemmiek obstinately justifying himself whenever there was the smallest point in abeyance fur a moment. 1 had«never seen them on such ill terms; for gener- ally they got on very well indeed together. But they were both happily relieved by the opportune app ance of Mike, the client with the fur cap and the halm of wiping his nose on his sleev.e, whom 1 had seen on the very first da my appearance within those walls. This individual, who, eh her in his own person or in that of some member of his family, see ■ alwax s in trouble (which in that place meanl Newgate), called to announce that his eldest daughter was taken up on suspicion of shop-lifting. As he imparted this melancholy cireumstanc Wemmiek, Mr. daggers standing magisterially befoi taking no share in the procei i.e's eye happened totwi with a tear. 332 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. " What areynn about ? " demanded Wemmiek, with the utmost indignation. '-What do yon come snivelling here fur?" " I didn't go in do if. Mr. Wemmiek.'* •• You Old," said Wemmiek. " How dare you? You're not in a fit stale 'o conn' here, if you ean't come here without spluttering like a bad pen. What do you mean by it ?" "A man can't help hi* feelings, Mr. Weiumick," pleaded Mike. '• His what t" demanded Wemmiek, quite savagely. " Say that again ! " " Now, look here my man," sail Mr. .Taggers, advaneing a step, and pointing to the door. "Get-out of this office. I'll have no feelings here. Get out. ' " It serves yon right," said Wemmiek. "Get out." So the unfortunate Mike very humbly withdrew, and Mr. Jag- gers ami Wemmiek appeared to have re-established their good un- derstanding, and went to work again with a visible refreshment up- on them, as if they had just had lunch. CHAPTER LIL From Little Britain I wenj, with my cheek in my pocket, to Miss Skifh'ns s brother, the accountant ; and Miss Skiffins's brother, the accountant, going straight to Clarriker's, and bringing dan- ker to me, 1 had the great satisfaction of completing that arrange- ment. It was tire only good thing I had done, and the only com- pleted thing I had done, since 1 was first apprised of my great ex- pectations. Clarriker informing me on that occasion that the. affairs of the house were steadily progressing, that he would now be able to es- tablish a small branch-house in the East, which was much wanted for the extension of the business, and that Herbert in his new partnership capacity would go out and take charge of it, I found that 1 must have prepared for a separation from my friend, even though my own affairs had been more settled: And now indeed I f elt as if my last anchor were loosening its hold, and 1 should soon \ driving with the winds and waves. "Hut there was recompense in the joy with which Herbert came e of a night and told me of these changes, little imagining GREAT EXPECTATIONS. • 333 that he told me no news, and sketched airy pictures of himself Conducting Clara Barley to the land of the Arabian Knights, and of me going out to join tlirin (with a caravan of camels, I be- lieve), and of our going up the Nile aud a seeing wonders. With- out being sanguine as to my own part in these A>right plans, 1 fell that Herbert's way was clearing fast, and thai old Mill Barley had bin to stick to his pepper and rum, -and his daughter Would soon be happily provided for. We had dow got into the month of Marc!!; My left arm. though it presented No bad symptoms, took in the natural course so long to heal that I was slill unable to gel a coat on. My rig hi hand was tolerably restored — lishgured. but fairly serviceable. ( )n a Monday morning, when Herbert and 1 wen- at breakfast, 1 received the following letter from We nl i nick by the posl : ■• Walworth. Burn mis as soon as read. Early in the week, flr say Wednesday, you might ilo what you kn >w of, if you fell dis- posed to try it. Now burn." When 1 had shown this to Herbert, and had pu1 it in the fire — but not before we had both go1 it by heart — we considered what to do. For, uf course, my being disabled could no lunger be kept out of view. " I have thought if over, again and again," said Herbert, "and ] think 1 know a better course than taking a Thumbs waterman. Take Start op. A good fellow, a skilled hand, fond of iis, and en- thusiastic and honorable. • 1 had thought c\' him more than once. " Bu1 how much would you tell him, 'Herbert ? " " It'is necessary to tell him very little. Let him suppose it a mere freak, lm; a ' ecret one, unlit the morning comes ; then let him know thai there is urgent reasons tor. your getting Pruvis board and away. You gu with him > " , " No duihr.'.' " Where .'" It bad seemed to me in Hie many anxious considerations I 1 al given to the point, almost hftlift'ereiii what port we made fm — Hamburg, Rotterdam, or Antwerp. The place signified litth that he was got mil of Bfcgland. Any foreign steamer that fell lit our way. and would take us up, would do. 1 had always proposed to myself to get him well down the river in the boat, certainly well beyond Gfravesend, which was a critical place for search or inquiry if suspicion were af ot. As foreign steamers would leave London al about the time of high-water, our plan would be to gel down Hie river by a previous ebb-tide, and lie by in some quiet spot un- til we could pull off to one. The line when one would he dug ere we lay. \vhere\er thai might be, could be calculated put y nearly, if we made inquiries beforehand. Herbert availed to ail tiiisi, and we went out immediately after 334 . GREAT .EXPECTATIONS. breakfast to pursue our investigations. We found that a steamer for Flam burg was likely to suit our purpose best, and we directed our thoughts chiefly to that vessel. But we noted down what other foreign steamers. would leave London with the same tide, and we satisfied ourselves tjmt we knew the build and color of each. We then separated for a few hours ; I to get at once such passports as were necessary, Herbert to see fStartdp at his lodgings. We both did what we had to do without any hindrance, and when we met in at one o'clock reported it done. I, for my part, was prepar- ed with passports'; Herbert .had seen Startop, and he was more than ready to join. Those two should pull a pair of oars, we settled, and I could steer; our charge would be sitter and keep quiet; as speed was no! our object, -we should make way enough. We arranged that Her- bert should not come home to dinner before goir.g to Mill Pond Bank that evening; t Fiat we should not go there at all to-morrow evening: Tuesday ; that he should prepare Provis to come down to some stairs hard by the house, on Wednesday, when lie saw us approach, and not sooner; .and ihat all the arrangements with him iid be concluded that Monday night ; and that he should be communicated with no more in any way until we took him on board. These precautions well understood by both of us, I went home. On opening the outer door of our chambers with my key,Iiound a letter in the box. directed to me — a very dirty letter, although not ill-written. It had been delivered by hand (of course since I left home), and its contents were these: "If you are not afraid to come to the old marshes to-night or to-morrow night at nine, and to come to the little sluice-house, by ihe lime-kiln, yen had better come. If you want information re- garding your uncle Provis.you had much better come and tell no one and lose no time. You must come alone. Bring this with you." I had had load enough upon my mind before the receipt of this strange letter. What to do now I could not tell. Ami the worst was. that I must decide quickly, or I should miss the afternoon coach, which would take me down in time for to-night. To-mor- row night I could not think of going, for it would be too close Upon the time of the flight. And again, for anything I knew, the prof- fered information might have some important bearing on the flight itself. If I had had ample time for consideration I believe I should still have gone. Having hardly any time for consideration — my vatch showing me that the coach started within half an hour — v esolved to go. I should certainly not have '/one but for the rence to my Uncle Provis ; that, coming on Wemmick's letter- '-.he morning's busy preparation, turned the scale. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 333 It is so difficult, to become clearly possessed of the contents of almost any letter, in a violent hurry, that 1 had to' read this mys- terious episile again, twice, before its injunction to me to be aecrel gpl mechanically into my mind. Yielding to it in tire same me-, chanical kind of way. 1 led a note in pencil for Berbert, telling him that as I should he so soon going away, I knew uol for how long, 1 had decided to hurry down and hack, to ascertain for my- self how Miss Havisham was faring. I had then barely time to get my great-coat, loch" up the chambers, and make for the coach-office by the short by-ways. If I had taken a hacknej chariot and gone by the streets, 1 should have missed my aim; going as I did, 1 caught the coach just as it came out of the yard. 1 was the only inside passenger; jolting away knee-deep in straw, when ! came lo myself. I really had not been myself since ihe receipt of the letter: ad so bewildered me, ensuing on the hurry of the morning, morning hurry ami Butter had been great, for. long and anx- iously as I had waited for YVemmick. his hint had CQme like a surprise ai last. And now 1 began to wonder at myself for being in the coach, arid to doubt whetner I had sufficient, reason for being there, and to consider whether I should gel out* presently and go hack, and to argue against ever heeding an anonymous communication, and, in short, to pass through all those phase's of contradiction and indecision td which 1 suppose very few hurried people are strangers. Still, the reference to Provis byname mas- tered every thing. 1 reasoned as I had reasoned, already without knowing it — if that be reasoning — in case any harm should befall him through my not going, how could 1 ever forgive myself! Ji was dark before we got down, and the journey seemed long and dreary to me who could see»little of ir inside, and who could go outside in my disabled stale. Avoiding the Blue Boar, L up, ai an inn of 'minor reputation down the town, and ordered e dinner. While it was preparing. 1 weul lo Satis Ho and inquired for Miss Havisham ; she was still ver\ ill considered something better. My inn had once been a part of an ancient ecclesiastical house. ami 1 djned in a lit tie octagonal common-room, like a font. As i was not aide to cut my dinner, the old landlord with a shining ba d head did it for me. This bringing us into conversation, he - in entertain me with my own story — of course with ;!,i popular feature that Pumhlechook was my ealiest benefactor ounder of my fortunes. o you know the young man," said I. " Know him !" repealed ihe landlord. " Ever since he was no ; al all." " Does he ever come hack to this neighborhood V •• Ay, he comes hack," said the landlord, " to bi« great friends 336 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. now and again,. and gives the co d shoulder to the man that made hiiii." " What man is that ?" "linn lli'at 1 speak of," said the land ord. "Mr. Pumble- ehook." •• 1* In- ungrateful tit no one else '?" "Nd difulrt he would he if he could." relurned the landlord : "hut he can't. And why? Because Pumblechook done every thing for him." ' '• Dues l'nmlilechook say so?" " Say so ! " replied the landlord. " He han't no call to say so." '• liiii (loes lie say so \" " It would linn a man's liloi d to white wine winrgar to hear him lell uf il. Sir." said the landlord. I thought. '• Yet Joe, dear J«ie, yo$ never tell of it ! Loi'g- snfierii 'fi and h>vii g Joe, ynu never complain ! Nor you, sweet- tempi u d Biddy !" •• Vt n r ai'j elite's lieerj t< uch< d like by your accident,'' said I he hftidl'itd glancing al the bandaged aim under my coat. "Try a lei (Icier hit." "No. thVnk yon," 1 replied, turning from the talc to breed over lie fire. " I can eai no more. Pleaae take it away." 1 had never been struck at so keel ly for my iliank cssee^s to dot- as i hrmigli 1 1 e bra/en impostor Punihlechuolc. '1 he falser he, I uer .li e : the m aner he. the nobler doe. II) heart was deeply aid most deserved y humbled a* I mused i\er ilie fire for an hour or more. The striking of the clock sed me. bnl not. from ny d'jiction or remorse, aid 1 go) rip and had my coat fastened around my neck, and weni out I had previous!) sought \ Vi n i y pockets (or the letter that I might refer to it again, hut con d not find it. and was uneasy to think that if have been dropped in the straw of the coach. I knew very however, thai I he appointed place was the little sluice-house hy lie line k.ln on the marshes, and the hour nine. Toward the urarshes 1 now went straight, having no time to spare. GREAT EXPECTATIONS CHAPTER LI IT. It was a dark night, though the full moon rose as I left the in- closed lands, and passed out upon the marshes. Beyond their dark line there w; 8 a ribbon of clear sky. hardly broad enough to hold the red large moon. In a few minutes she had ascended out of that clear field, in among the piled mountains, of cloud. There was a melancholy wind, and the marshes were very dis- mal. A stranger would have found them insupportable, and even to me they were so oppressive that I hesitated, half inclined to%o hack. But 1 knew them well, and could have found my way on a far darker night, and had no excuse for returning, being having come there against ray inclination, I went on againsl it. The direction thai 1 took was not that in which my old h lay, nor that in which we had pursued the convicts. M\ was turned toward the distant Hulks as I walked on, and though I could see the old lights away on the spits of sand, I saw them my shoulder. 1 knew the lime-kiln as well as I knew the old Bat- tery, but they were miles apart : so that if a light had been burn- ing at each |i .>int that night there would have been a long strip of the blank horizon between the two bright speck's. At first 1 had to shut some gates after me, and now and then to stand still while the cattle that were lying in the banked- up path- way arose and blundered down among the grass and reeds. But after a little while I seemed to have the whole flats to myself. It was another half hour before I drew near the kiln. The was burning with a sluggish, stifling smell, but the fires were made up and left, and no workmen were visible. Hard by was a stone quarry. It lay directly in my way, and had been worked that day, as I saw by the tools and barrows that were lying about. Coming up again to the marsh level out of this excavation — for the nulo path lay through it — I saw a light in the old sluice-house. I quickened my pace, and knocked at the door with ray hand. Waiting for some reply, I lo'oked'about me, noticing how the sluice was abandoned and broken, and how the house — of wood with a tiled roof — would not be proof against the weather much longer, if it were so even now;, and how the mud and ooze were coated with lime, ami ho%v the choking vapor of the kiln crept in a ghostly way toward me. .Still there was no answer, and I knocked again. >Jo answer still, and I tried the latch. It rose under my hand, and the door yielded. Looking in, I saw alighted candle oo a table, a bench, and a mattress ;okip 22 33* GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. bedstead. As there was a loft above, I called. "Is there any one here?" but no voice answered. Then I looked at my warch, and finding that it was .past nine, called again,- " Is there any one here ?" There being still no answ r, I went out at the door, irre- solute what to do. It was beginning to rain fast. Seeing nothing save what I had seen already, I turned hack into the house and stood just, within the shelter of the door, looking out into the night. While I was considering that some one must have be,en there lately and must soon be coming back, or the' candle would not be burning, it came into my head to look if the wick were long. I turned round to do so, and had taken up the candle in my hand, when it was extin- guished by some violent shock, and the -next thing I comprehended was, that I had been caught in. a strong running noose, thrown over ray head from behind. " Now," said a suppressed voice with an oath, " I've got you !" " What is this V I cried, struggling. " Who is it ? Help, help, help!" Xot only were my arms pulled close to my sides, but the press- ure on my had arm caused meexquisite pain. Sometimes a strong man's ham', sometimes a strong man's breast was set against my mouth to deaden my cries, -and with a hot breath always close 'to me, I struggled ineffectually in the dark, while I was fastened tight to the wall. "And now," said the suppressed voire, with another oath, "call out again, and 111 make short work of finish- on !" Faint and sick with the pain of my injured arm, bewildered by the surprise, and yet consoioua how easily* this threat could be piK in execution, I desisted, and tried to ease my arm were it ever so little. But it was hound too tight for that. I felt as if, having ■ burned before, it were now being boiled; The sudden exclusion of the, night and the substitution of black darkness in Us place, warned me that the man had closed a shut- ter. After groping about for a little, he found the flint and steel h wanted, and began to strike a light. I strained my sight upm the sparks that fell among the tinder, audupon which he breathed and breathed, match in hand, but I could only see his lips, and the blue point of th< j match; even those hut fitfully. The tinder was damp — no wonder there — and one after another the sparks died out. The man was in no hurry, and struck again with the flint and steel. As the sparks fell thick and bright about him I could see amis, and touches of his face, and could make out that he was seated and bending over the table; but nothing more. Presently saw bis blue lips again breathing on the tinder, and then a flare light flashed up and showed ma Orlick. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Ml Whom I had looked for I don't know. I had not looked for him. Seeing him I felt that I was in a dangerous strait ind and I kept my eyes upon him. lie lighted the candle from the flaring match with.great delib- eration, and dropped the match and trod it (tut. Then he put the caudle away from-him on the table, so that he could see me, and sal with Ins arms folded on the table and looked at inc. 1 made out that I was fastened to a stout perpendicular ladder a few inches from the wall — a fixture there — the means of ascent to the loft above. "Now," said he, when we had surveyed one another for some time, *' I've got you." " " Unbind me. ' Let me go ! " " Ah !" he returned. "i'll let you go. I'll let you go to the moon, I'll lei you go to tin* stars. All in good time." " Why have you lured me here ?" " Don't you know," said he with a deadly look. " Why have you set upon me in the dark?" " liecauVe 1 mean to do it all myself. One keeps a secret bet- ter than two. Oh, you enemy, you enemy !" His enjoyment of the spectacle I furnished, as he sat with his arms folded 1 on the table, shaking his head at me and hugging him- self, had a malignity in it that made me tremble. As 1 watched him in silence he put his hand into the corner at his side and took up a gun with a brass-bound stock. " Do you know this V said he, making as if he would take aim at m •. " Do you know where you saw it afore? Speak, wolf!'' '• Yes," I answered. "You cost me that place. You did. Speak!" " What else could 1 do?" "You did that, and that would be enough without more. How dared you come betwixt me and a young woman I liked I " . "When did I?" " When didn't you ? It was you as always gave Old ( )rlick a bad name to her." " You gave it to yourself: you gained it for yourself. I could have done you no harm if you had done yourself none." " You're a liar. And you'll take any pains, and spend any mon- ey, to drive me out of tins country, will you?" said he, repeating my words to Biddy in the last interview I had with her. " No*, I'll tell you a piece of information. It was never so well worth your while to get me out of this country as it is o-night. Ah ! — If it was all your money twenty times told, to the last brass far- den ! " As he shook his heavy hand at me, with his mouth snarl- ing like a tiger's, 1 felt that it was true. " What are you going to do to me ? " " I'm a going," said he, bringing bis fist down oa the table with MO GREAT EXPECTATIONS. a heavy blow, and rising as the blow fell, to give it greater force, " I'm a going to have your life ! " He leaned forward staring at me, slowly unclenched his hand and drew it across his mouth as if his mouth watered for me, and sat down again. " You was always in Old Of lick's way since ever you was a child. You goes out of his way this present night. He'll have no more on yon. You're as good as dead." # I felt that I had come to the brink of my grave. For a mo- ment I looked wildly round my trap for any chance of escape ; but. there was none. . "More than that," said he, folding his arn^ on the table again, " 1 won't have a' rag of you, I won't, have a bone of yon left on earth. I'll put your body in the kiln — I'd carry two such to it, on my shoulders — and, let people suppose what they may of you, they shall never know nothing." My mind with inconceivable rapidity, followed ont all the conse- quences'of such a death. Patella's father would believe I- had deserted him, would be taken, would die accusing me; even Her- bert would doubt Die, when lie compared the letter I haTl left for him, with the fact that I had called at Miss Kavisham's gate for only a moment ; Joe and Biddy would never know how sorry I had been that night ; none would* ever know what I bad suffered, how true 1 had meant to be, what an agony 1 had, passed rhtdugh. The death close before me was terrible, but far more terrible than death was the dread of being misremembered after death. And so quick were my thoughts, that I saw myself despised by unborn generations — Estelht's children and their children — while the wretch's words were yet on his lips. " Now wolf," said he, " afore I kill you like any other beast — which is Wot 1 mean to do and wot 1 have tied you up for — I'll have a good look at you and a good goad at you. Oh, you en- emy !" It had passed through my thoughts to cry out for help again - though few oculd know better than I the solitary nature of the spot and the hopelessness of aid. But as he sat gloating over me, I was supported by a scornful detestation of him that sealed my lips. Above all things, I resolved that I would not entreat him, and that 1 would die making some last poor resistance to him. — Softened as my thoughts of all the rest of men were in that dire extremity; humbly beseeching pardon, as I did, of Heaven ; melt- ed at heart as 1 was, by the thought that I had taken no farewell, and never never now could take farewell of those who were dear to me, or could explain myself to them, or ask for their compassion on my miserable errors ; still, if I could have killed him, even in lying, I would have done it. He had been drinking, and his eyes were red and bloodshot. — md his neck was slung a tin bottle, a* I had often seen his GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 341 meat and drink sinner about him in other days. He brought the bottle to his lips, and took a fiery drinfr from it; and I smelled the strong spirits that 1 saw flare into his face. "Wolf! " said he, folding his anus again, " Old Orliok's a go- ing to tell you soinethink. * It was you as did for your shrew sifter." Again my mind, with its former inconceivable rapidity, had ex- hausted the whole suhjeot of the attack upon njy sister, her illness, and her death before his slow and hesitating speech had formed these words. " It was you villain," said I. "I tell you it was your doing — I tell you it was done through you," he retorted, catching up the gun, and making a blow with the stock at the vacant air between us. I come upon her from be- hind, as 1 come upon you tonight. I giv' it her! 1 left her for dead, and if there bad been a lime-kiln as nigh her as there is now nigh you, she shouldn't have come to life again. But it. wasn't Old Orliok as did it; ir was you. You was favored, and he was bullied and beat. Old Orlick bullied and beat, eh? Now you pays for it. You done it; now you pays for it." He drank again and became more ferocious. I saw by his tilt- ing; of the bottle that there was no great quantity left in it. I dis- tinctly understood that he was working himself up with its con- tents to make an end -of me. 1 knew that every drop it held was a drop of my life. I knew that when 1 was changed into a part of the vapor that had crept toward me but a little while before, like my own warning ghost, he would do as be had done, in my sister's case — make all haste to the town, and be seen slouching about there, drinking at the ale-houses. My rapid mind pursued him to the town, made a picture of the street with him in it, and con- trasted its lights and life with the lonely marsh and the white va- por creeping over it, into which I should have dissolved. It was not only that I could have summed up years and years and years' while he said a dozen words, but that what he did say presented pictures to me, and not mere words, In the excited and exalted state of my brain I could not think of a place without see- ing it, or of persons without seeing them. It is impossible to over- state the vividness of these images, and yet I was so intent all the time, upon him himself — who would not be intent on the tiger 'dug to spring! — that I knew of the slightest action of his fingers. When he had drunk this second time he rose from the bench on which he sat, and pushed the table aside. Then he took up the candle, and shading it with his murderous hand so as to throw its light on me, stood before me, looking at me and enjoying the sight. 342 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. " Wolf, I'll tell you something more. It was Old Orlick as you tumbled over on your stairs that, night." I saw the staircase with its extinguished lamps. I saw the shadows of" the heavy stair-rails, thrown by the watchman's lan- tern on the wall. I saw the rooms that I was never to see again ; here, a door half open ; there, a door closed ; all the articles of furniture around. " And why was Old Orlick 'there ? I'll tell you something more, wolf. You and her have pretty well hunted me out or this coun- try, so far as getting a easy living in it goes, and I've took up with new companions.. Some of 'em writes my letters when I wants 'em wrote — do you mind? — writes my letters, wolf! They writes fifty bands; they're not like sneaking you,, as writes hut one. I've had a firm mind and a firm will to have your life since you was down here at your sister's burying. I han't seen a way to get you safe, and I've looked arter you to know your ins and outs. For, says Old Orlick to himself, ' Somehow or another I'll have him !' What! When I looks for you, 1 finds your uncle Provis, eh /" ~\\\\\ Pond Bank, and Chinks's Basin, and the Old Green Cop- per Hope Walk, all so clear and plain ! Provis in-his rooms, and the signal whose use was over, pretty Clara, the good motherly woman, old Bill Barley on his back, all drifting by, as on the swift stream of my life fast running out to sea ! " You with a uncle, too ! Why, I know d you at Gargery's when you was so small a wolf that I could have took your weazen be- twixt this finger and thumb and chucked you away (lead (as I'd thoughts o' doing, odd times, when I see you loitering among the pollards on a Sunday), and you hadn't found no uncles then. No, not you ! But when Old Orlick come for to hear that your uncle Piovis had most like wore the leg-iron what Old Orlick had picked up, tiled asunder on these meshes ever so many years ago, and wot he kept by him till he dropped your sister will) it like a bullock, as lie means to drop vou — hey 1 — when he come for to hear that — hey ? " In his savage taunting he flared the candle so close at me that I turned my face aside to save it from the flame. "Ah ! " he cried, laughing, after doing it again, "the burmt child dreads the fire ! Old Orlick knowed you was burnt, Old Orlick knowed you was smuggling your uncle Provis away, Old Oiiick's a match for you, and knowed you'd come to-night! Now I'll tell you something more, wolf, and this ends it. There's them that's as good a match for your uncle Provis as Old Orlick has been for you. Let him 'ware them, when he's lost his Bevvy ! Let him 'ware them when no man can't find a rag of his dear relation's lothes, cor yet a bone of his body '.' There's them that can't and 4 won't have Magwitch — yes, I know the name ! — alive in the GREAT EXPECTATIONS. S43 same land with them, ami that's had such sure information of him when he was alive in another land, as that he couldn't and shouldn't leave it unbeknown, and pul them in danger. P'raps it's them that writes fifty hands, and that's not like sneaking you as writes hut one. 'Ware Compey, Magwitch, and the gallows! " He flare' 1 the candle at me again, smoking my face and hair, and for an instant blinding me, and turned his powerful hack as he re- placed the light on the table. 1 bad thought a prayer, and had been with Joe and Biddy and Uerhert, before he turned toward me again. There was a clear space'of a> few feet between the table and the opposite wall. Within tins space he now slouched backward and forward. His great strength seemed to sit stronger upon him than ever before, as he did this with his hands hanging loose and heavy at his sides, and with his eyes scowling at me. \ had no grain of hope left. Wild as my inward hurry was, and wonderful the force, of the pictures that rushed by me instead of thoughts, I could clearly understand that unless he had resolved that 1 was within a few moments of surely .perishing out of all human knowledge, he would never have told me what he hadtold. • Of a sudden he stopped, took the cork out of his bottle, and tossed it away, Tight as it was, I heard it fall like a plummet. lie swallowed slowly, lilting up the bottle by little and little, and now he looked at me no more. The last few drops of liquoif he poured into the palm of his left hand, and licked up. Then with a sudden hurry of violence and swearing horribly, he threw the battle from him, and stooped, and 1 saw in his hand a stone ham- mer with a long heavy handle. The resolution 1 had made did not desert me, for, without utter- ing cue vain word of appeal to him, .1 shouted out with all my might, and struggled with all my might. It was only my head aud my legs that 1 could move, but to that extent I struggled with all the force, until then unknown, that was within me. In the same instant 1 heard responsive shouts, saw figures and a gleam of lighr dash in al the door, heard voices and tumult, aud saw Orlick emerge from a Struggle of men as if it were tumbling water, clear the ta- ble al a leap, and tiy out into the night- After a blank 1 found that I was lying unbound on the floor, in the same place, with my head on some one's knee. My eyes were fixed on the ladder against the wall when I came to myself — had Opened on them long before my mind saw it — and thus as T re-- covered consciousness. 1 knew that I was in the place where 1 had lost it. Too indifferent at first even to look round and ascertain who sup- ported me, 1 was lying looking at the ladder, when there came between me and it a face. The face of Trabb's boy ! 344 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. " I think he's all right !" said Trabb's boy, in a sober voice; " but ain't, he just pale though ! " At these words the face of him who supported me looked over into mine, and I saw my supporter to be — " Herbert ! Good Heaven ! " " Softly," said Herbert. " Gently, Handel. Don't be too eager." "And our old comrade, Start op," I cried, as he, too bent over me. • ' " Remember what he is going to assist us in," said Herbert, " and be calm." The allusion made me spring up, though I 'dropped again from the pain in my arm. "The time has not gone by, Herbert, lias it ? What night is to-night? How long have I been here?". For 1 had a strange and strong misgiving that I had been lying there a lime — a day and night — two days and nights — more. " The time has not gone by. It is still Monday night." " Thank God." "And you have all to-morrow, Tuesday, to rest in,' said Her- bert. " But you can't help groaning, my dear Handel. "What hurt have you got? Can you .stand ? " "Yes, yes,' said J. " I can. walk. 1 have no hurt but in this throbbing arm." They laid it bare and did what they could. Jt w«S violently swollen and inflamed, and I. could scarcely endure to have it. touched. But they tore up their handkerchiefs to make fresh band- ages, and carefully replaced it in the sling, until we could get to the town and obtain some cooling lotion to put upon ft. In a lit- tle while we had shut the door of the dark and empty sluice-house, and were passing through the quary on our way back. Trabb's boy — Trabb's overgrown young man now — went before us with a laiiii m, which was the light 1 had seen come in at the door. But the moon was a good two hours higher than when I had last seen tiii j sky, and the night, though rainy, was much lighter. The white vapor of the kiln was passing from us as we went by, and, as 1 had thought a prayer before, I thought a thanksgiving now. fn treating Herbert to tell me how lie had come to my rescue — which at first he had flatly refused to do, but had insisted on my remaining quiet — I learned that I had in my burr) dropped the letter, open, in our chambers, where he, coming home to bring with him Startup, whom he had met in the street on his way to me, found n after 1 was gone. Its tone made him uneasy ; and the more so because of the inconsistency between it and the hasty let- ter I had left for him. His uneasiness increasing instead of sub- siding alter a quarter of an hour's consideration, be set off for the loach-office with Startop, who volunteered his company, to make quiry S'hen the next coach went down. Finding that the afler- u's coach was gone, and finding that his uneasiness grew into GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 345 positive alarm as obstacles came in his way, he resolved to follow in a post-chaise. So he and Startup arrived at the Blue Boar, ful- ly expecting thereto find me, on tidings of me; hut finding neither, went on to Miss tiavisham's, where they losl me. Hereupon they wenl hack to the hotel (doubtless at. about the time wheii I was heating the popular local version of my own stqry) to refresh them- selves, and to gel some one to guide them oul upon the marshes. Among the loungers under the Boar's archway happened to be Trabb's boy — true to his aneienl babii of happening to be every where where he had no business — and Trabb's boy had seen me passing from Miss liavisham's in the direction of my dining-plaee. Thus TrabbB boy became their guide, and with him they went our. to the sluice-nouse: though by the town way to the marshes, which 1 had avoided. Now as they went along Herbert reflected that I might, after all. have been brought there on some genuine ami ser- viceable errand tending to Provis's safety) and bethinking himsel| thai in that ease interruption might be mischievous, left his guide ami Startup on the edge of the quarry, and wenl on In himself, and stoic round the house two or three times, endeavoring H> ascertain Whether all was right within. As he could hear nothing hut indis- tinct sounds of one deep rough voice (this was while my mind was so busy), be even at last began to doubt whether 1 was there. when suddenly 1 cried out loudly, and he answered the cries, and rushed in, closely followed by the other two. When I had told Herbert what had passed within the bouse, ho was for our immediately going befor a magistrate in the iown, late al night as it was. and getting out a warrant. But 1 had al- ready considered that such a course, by detaining us there or bind- ing us to come back, might be fatal to Provis. There was no gain- saying this difficulty, and we relinquished all thoughts of pursuing Orlick at that time. For the present, under the circumstance deemed it prudent to make rather Hgbl of the matter to Trabb's boy ; who I am convinced would have been much affected b\ dis- appointment if he had known thai his intervention saved me from the lime-kiln. Not 'that' Trabb's boy was of a malignant nature, but that lie had too much vivacity to spare, and that it was in his constitution to* want variety and excitement, at any body's expi When we parted 1 presented him with' two guineas (wiiich seemed to meet his views), and told him that I was sorry ever to have had as ill opinion of him (which made no impression on him at all). Wednesday being so close upon us. we determined to go back to London that night, three in the post-chaise ; the rather as we s then be clear away before the night's adventure began to be talk- ed of. Herbert got a huge bo! lie of slufffor my arm, am! b\ of. having this stuff dropped over it all the night through, 1 was just able to bear its paiu on the journey. It was daylight when 346 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. we reached the Temple, and I went at once to bed, and lay in bed all day. My terror, as ! lay there, of falling ill and being unfitted for to- morrow was so besetting, that I wonder it (lid not disable the of itself. It would have done so, pretty surely, in conjunction with the mental wear and tear I had suffered, but for the unnatural strain upon me that to-morrow was. So anxiously looked forward to, charged with such consequences, its results so impenetrably hidden though so near. No precaution could have been more obvious than our refraining from communication with him that day ; yet this again increased my restlessness. I stalled at every footstep and evu/y sound, be- lieving that he was discovered and taken, and this was the mes- senger to tell me so. I persuaded myself that I knew be was taken; that there was something more upon my mind than- a fear or a presentiment; that the fact had occurred, and I had a mys- terious knowledge of it. As the day wore on ami no ill news came, as the day dosed in and darkness fell, my overshadowing dread of being disabled by illness before to-morrow morning altogether mastered me. My burning arm throbbed, and my burning head throbbed, and I fancied 1 was heginning to wander. 1 counted up to high numbers, to make sure that I was steady, and repeated passages that I knew, in prose and verse, it happened sometimes ii.at, in the mere escape of a fatigued mind, I dozed for some mo- ments, or forgot ; then 1 would say to myself with a start, "Now s come, ami 1 am turning delirious !" They kept mi- very quiet all day, and kept my arm constantly dressed, and gave me cooling drinks. Whenever I fell asleep I awoke with the notion 1 had had in the sluice-house, that a long lime had elapsed and the opportunity, to savtehim was gone. About nVjdnight 1 got out of bed ami went to Herbert with the conviction that 1 had been asleep for four-ami twenty hours, and' that Wed- nesday was past. It was the last self-exhausting effort of my fret- iuhiess, lor after that I slept soundly. id the Wednesday morning was dawning when I looked out of the window. The winking lights upon the bridges were already pale; the coming sun was like u marsh ot fire in the horizon. The river, si ill dark and mysterious, was spanned by bridges that were turning coldly gray, with here and there, at lop, a warm touch from the hurning in 'the sky. As I looked along the clustered confus.i(.n of roofs, with church towers and spires shooting into the unusually clear air, the sun rose up, and avail seemed to be drawn from the river, and millions of sparkles burst upon its waters. Froth me, too, a vail seemed to be drawn, and I felt strong and Well. Herbert lay asleep in his bed, and our old fellow-student lay ; a foreign country; he was not disposed to be passive or resigned, as 1 understood it; but he had no notion of 'meeting danger hall When it came upon him be confronted it, but it must i before he troubled himse f. • If you knowed, dear boy.'' he said to me, "what it is to sit here alonger my dear hoy and have my smnfte. arter having heel clay by day betwixt four walls, you'd envy me. But you don'r know what it is." '• I think 1 know 'the delights of freedom," 1 answered. " Ah,' • said he, shaking his head gravely. " But you don't know it equal to me. You must have been under lock and key. dear boy, to know it .equal to me — but I ain't a going n be low." It occurred to me as* inconsistent thai lor any mastering idea he Id haVe endangered his freedom and even his life. lint 1 re- ■ dom without danger was too much i from all the habit of his existence to be to him what it won d he to another man. I was not far out, since he said, after smokiDg a Itttlai 3 50 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. " You see, dear bny, when T was over yonder, t'other side of the world, I was always a looking to this side; and it come flat to be there, for all I was a growing rich. Every body knowed Mag- witch, and Magwitch could come, and Magwitch could go. and no- body's head won d be troubled about him. They ain't so easy Concerning me here, dear boy — wouldn't be, leastwise, if they knowed where I was." " If all goes well, ' said 1, " you will be perfectly free and safe again within a few hours." " Well." he returned, drawing a long breath, "I hope so." " And think so .'" He dipped his hand into the water over the boat's emnwale. and said, smiling with that softened air upon him which was not new to me: •• Ay, 1 s'pose 1 think so. dear boy. We'd be puzzled to be piore quiet and eas^y-going than we are at present. But — it's a flowing so soil and pleasant through the water, p'raps, as makes roe think it — 1 was a thinking through my srtioke just tben, that Wt can no more see lo the bottom of the next few hours than we ran see to the bottom of this river what I catches hold of. Nor yet we can'1 no more hold their tide than I can hold this. And it's run through my lingers and gone you see!" holding up his drippii ig hand. " Bui for your lace, I should think you were a little despond- ent.'' said 1. " Not a bit oi ir, dear boy ! It comes of flowing on so quiet, and of that there rippling at the boat's head making a sort of a Sunday tune. .May he I'm a growing a trifle old besides." lie put his pipe hack in his mouth with an undisturbed expres- sion of face, and sal as composed and contented as if we were already our of England. Vet he was as submissive to a word of Mv.ce as if he had been in constant terror, for when we ran ashore to gel some bottles ot beer into the boat, and he was stepping out, I hilled that 1 thought he would he safest where he was, and he said. '• Do you, dear hoy, : and quietly sat down again. Tlie air felt cold upon the river, but it was a bright day, and the sun was very cheering. The tide ran strong, I took care not to lose none of it, and our steady stroke carried us on thoroughly well. By imperceptible degrees, as the tide ran out, we lost more and more of the nearer woods and hills, and dropped lower and lower between the muddy banks, but the tide was yet with us when we were ell' Gravesend. As our charge was wrapped in his cloaki 1 purposely passed Within a boat or two's lengih of the float iiigCustniu House, and so out to catch the stream, along side of two emu rant ships, and under the bows of a large transport with ^oldiers on the forecastle looking down at us. And soon the tide T an Lo slacken, and the craft lying at anchor to swing, and pre-, GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 351 gently they had all swung round, and the ships that were taking advantage of the new tide to get up to the Pool, began to crowd upon us in a fleet, and we kept under the shore, as much nut of tic strength of the tide now as we could, standing carefully off from low shallows and mud-hanks. Our oarsmeti were so fresh, by dint of having occasionally let her drive with the tide for a minute or two. that a quarter of an hour's rest proved full as much as they wanted. We got ashore among, some slippery stones while we ate and drank what we had with us, and looked about. It was like my own marsh country, flat and monotonous, and with a dim horizon; whi'e the winding river turned and turned, and the great floating buoys upon it turned and turned, and every thing else seemed stranded and still. For now the last of the fleet of ships was round the last low point we had headed ; and the last green barge, si raw laden, with a brown sail, bad followed; and some ballast-lighters, shaped like a child's first rude imitation oT a boat, lay low in the mud; and a little squat shoal light house on open piles, stood crippled in the mod on stilts and crutches; and slimy stakes stuck out of the mud. and slimy stones stuck out of the mud. and red land- marks and tidemarks stuck out of the mud. and an old landing- stage and an old roofless building slipped into the mud, and all about us was stagnation and mud. We pushed off again, and made what way we could. It was much harder w rk now. but Herbert and Startop persevered, and rowed, and rowed, and rowed, until the sun went down. By that, lime the river had lilted us a little, so that we could see above the bank. There was the red sun, on the low level of the shore, in a purple haze, fast deepening into black; and there was the solitary flat marsh; and far away there were the rising grounds, between which and us there seemed to be no life, save here and there in the fore-ground, a melancholy gull. As the night was fast falling, and as the moon being past the full, would not rise early, we held a little council: a short one, for clearly our course was to lie by at the first lonely' tavern we could tind. So they plied their oars once more, and 1 looked our for any thing like a house. Thus we held on, speaking little, for four or five dull miles. It was very cold, and a collier coming by us with her galley -fire smoking and flaring looked quite a comfort- able borne. The night was as dark by this time as it would be until morning, and what light we had seemed to come more from the river than the sky, as the oars in their dipping slrttttk at a few reflected stars. Al this dismal time we were evidently all possessed by the idea that we were followed. As the tide made, ii flapped heavily at irregular interva s against the shore ; and whenever such a sound tume, one or other of us was sure to start and look in that diretv- 352 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. tion. Here and there the set of the current had worn down the bank into a little creek, and we were all suspicious of such p'aces, and eyed them nervously. Sometimes, "What was that ripple?" one of us would say in a low voice. Or another, " Is that a boat yonder I' 1 And afterward we would fall into a dead silence, and I would sit impatiently thinking with what an unusual amount of noise the oars worked in the thowels. ' At length we descried a light and a roof, and presently after- ward ran alongside a little causeway made of stones that had been picked up hard by. Leaving the rest in the boat, I stepped ashore, and found the light to be in the window of a public-house. Jt was a dirty place enough, and I dare say not unknown to smug- gling adventures; but there was a good (ire in the kitchen, and there were eggs and bacon to eat, and various liquors to drink. Also, there were two double-bedded rooms — " such as they were, ' the landlord said. No other company was in the house than the land ord, his wife, and a grizzled male creature, the " Jacn" of the little causeway, who was as .slimy and smeary as if he had been low-water mark too. With this assistant I went down to the boat again, and we all came ashore, and brought out the oars, and rudder, and boat-hook, and all else, and hauled her up for the night. We made a very good meal by the kitchen lire, and then apportioned the bedrooms. Herbert and Startop were to occupy one; I and our charge the other. We found the air as carefully excluded from both as if air Were fatal to ife; and there were more dirty clothes in bandboxes i- i he beds than I shou d have thought the family possessed. Bui we considered ourselves well off, notwithstanding. -for a more Solitary place we could not have found. While we were comforting ourselves by the (ire after our meal, il u . j ac | { — w ho was silting in a corner, and who had a bloated pair or shoes on, which he had exhibited while we Were eating our and bacon, as interesting relics that he had taken a lew days ago from the I Irowned seaman washed ashon — a-ked me if" I had seen a four-oared galley going up with the tide? When I, told him No, he said she must have gone down, then, andyei she "took up too," when she led there. " They must ha' thought better on't, for some reason or an- other," said the .lack, "and gone down." "A fom-, ired galley, eh?" said I. -A fmir." said ihe Jack, "and two sitters'' " Did they come ashore here ?" "They put in with a stone two-gallon jar for'some Ireer. I'd V been' glad to pi*on the beer inyself,'' said the Jack, " or put me ratt ing physic in it at least." •Wbjr , ;:at expectations. as j " J kuo the Jack. He spoke in a slushy voice, as if much mud had washed into his throe . "lie thinks,", said the landlord-i— a weakly meditative man with a pale eyey. who seemed to. rely greatly on his Jack — '-lie tbinlis they was what they waW " I knows what I thinks.'' observed the Jack. " You thinks Custum 'Us, Jack?" said the landlord. •• I do," said the Jack. •' Then you' . Jack'." " Am I It the Infinite meaning of his reply, and his boundless con- fidence in his views, the Jack took one of his bloated shoes off, looked into it, knocked a few s ones out of it on the kitchen floor, and put ii on again. lie did this with the air of a Jack" who was so right thai he could afford to do any thing. " Why, win 1 do you make out that they done with their but- tons, then, .1 •■■', .'" asked the, landlord, vacillating weakly. "Dene with their buttons?" returned the Jack. ••Chucked 'cm overboard. Swallered 'em. Sowed 'em to come up small salad. Done with their buttons!" . "Don't be cheek;; Jack," remonstrated the landlord, in a melancholy- and pathetic way. f A Custum 'Us officer knows what to do with his Buttons," said the Jack, repeating the obnoxious word with the greatest contempt, " when they eomesbetwixt him and Ids own light. A Four and two sitters don't go, hanging and hovering, up with one tide and down with another, and both with and against another, without their being Custom TJs at the bottom of it." which, he went out disgusted ; and the landlord having uo one to rely upon, found it impracticable to pursue the subject This dialogue made us all uneasy, and me very i The dismal wind was .muttering r mud the house, the tide was flapping at the shore, and I had a feeling that we were eaged and threat- ened. A four-oared galley hovering about in so unusual a way as to attract this notice, was an ugly circumstance that I could not get rid of. When I had induced Provis to go up to bed, I went outside with my two companions (Startop by this time knew the state of the case), and held another council. Whether we should remain at the house until near the steamer's time, which would be about one in the afternoon ; or whether we should put off early in the morning, Was the. question we discussed. On the whole we deemed it the better course to lie where we were until within an hour or so of the steamer's time, and then to get out in her : and drift easily with the tide. Having settled to do this, we re- turned into the house and went to bed. I lay down with the greater part of my clothes on, and slept for a few hours well. When I awoke, the wind had risen, and the 854 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. sign of the house (the Ship) was creaking and banging about, with noises thai startled me. Easing softly, for my charge lay fast asleep, I looked out of the window. It commanded the causeway where we had hauled up our boat, and, as my eyes adapted them- selves to the light of the clouded moon, I saw two- men lookin to her. They passed by under the window, looking at nothing else, and did not go down to the landing-place, which I could discern to be empty, but struck acrossthe marsh in the direction of the My first impulse was to call up Herbert, and show him the two men going away. But reflecting before I got into his room, which was at the back of the house, and adjoined mine, that he and .Star- top had had a harder day than I, and were fatigued, I forbore: — Going back to my window, I could still see the two men moving over the marsh. In that light, however, I soon lost them, and feeling very cold, lay down to think of the matter, and fell a We were up early. As we walked to and fro, all four together, before breakfast, 1 deemed it right to recount what L had seen. — in, our charge was the least- anxious of the party. It was very likely that the men belonged t > 'the Custom-house, he tly, and that they had no thought of us. I tried to per.* If thai it was so: as, indeed, it might easily he. However, I sed that he and 1 should walk away together to a di point we coul I see. and thai the boat should take us aboard there,- or as near there as might prove feasible, at about noon. lered a good precaution, soon after breakfast he a Forth, without saying anythi, tavern. He smoked his pipe as he went along, and sometimes stopped to me on the shoulder, or take me by the hand. One would have - sed that it was i who was in danger, not be, and that be was leas.-;,- '<:-. : s me. W spoke very little. As we approached the point, irged him to remain id a sheltered place while 1 went on to re; for it was toward it that the men had passed in the . He complied, and I went on alone. There was no boat he point, nor drawn up any where near it, nor were there any of the men having embarked there.- But to be sure The tide was high, and there might have been some footprints under. water. When he looked out from his shelter in the distance and saw that 1 waved m\ hat to him to come up, be rejoined me, and there tj^e waited — sometimes lying on the bank wrapped in our coats, and scuieu.; >\- moving about to warm ourselves — until we saw the boat coming round. We got aboard easily, and rowed out into the track of the steamer. By that time it wanted but ten minutes of one o'clock, and we began to look out for her smoke. But it was half past one before we saw her smoke, and soon fterward we saw behind it the smoke of the other steamer. As a v were coming on at full speed,' we got the two bags ready, ami ,i:at expectations. 356 took that opportunity. of saving gqod-by to Herbert and Startop. We had all shaken hands cordially, and neither Herbert's eyes nor mine were quite dry when 1 saw a four-oared galley shool out from under the bank but a little way ahead of us, and raw oat- into (he same track. A st reteh of shore had been as yel between us and the steam- er's smoke, by reason of the bend and wind of the river; but now she was visible, coming- head on. I- called to Herbert and Startop to keep before the tide, that she might see us lying by for her, and 1 adjured 1 'rovis to sit still, wrapped in his cloak, lie am v. cheerily, " Trust to me, dear boy," and sat like, a statue. "Mean- time, the galley, which was very skillfully handled, had borne down upon us; crossed us, and come alongside. Leaving just enough room for the play of the oars, she kept alongside, drifting when We drifted, and- pulling a stroke or two when we pulled. Of the two sitters, one held the rudder lines, and looked- at us attentively — as did all the rowers; the other sitter was wrapped up, much as Provis was, and. seemed to shrink, and whisper some instruction to the stranger as he looked at us. Not a word was spoken in either boat. Startop could make out, after a few minutes, which steamer was first, and gave me the word " Hamburg," in a low voice as we sat. face to face. She was Hearing us very fast, and the beating of her paddles grew louder artjl 1 fit as if her shadow were ab- solutely upon us when the galley hailed us. I answered. "You have a Beturnod transport there, said the man who held the lines. «' That's the nuwi wrapped in the cloak. His name is Abel Magwbh, otherwise Provis. I apprehend that man, and call upon him to surrender, and you to assist." At the same moment, without giving any audible direction to his crew lie ran the galley aboard of us. They had pulled one sudden stroke ahead, had got their o^irsiu, had run athwart us, and were ho on to our gunwale before we knew what they were doing. This caused great confusion on board the steamer, and I heard them calling to us, and heard ihe order given to stop the paddles, and heard them stop, but felt her driving down upon us irresistibly. — In the same moment, I saw the steersman of the galley lay uis band on his prisoner's shoulder, and saw that both boats were swinging round with the force of the tide, and saw that all hands on hoard the steamer were running forward quite frantically. — Still in the same moment, I saw the prisoner start up, lean across his captor, and ptdl the cloak from the neck of the shrinking sitter in the galley. Still in the same moment, 1 saw that the face dis- closed was the face of the other convict of long ago. Still in the same moment, I saw the face lilt backward with a white terror on it that 1 shall never forget, and beard a great ory on board Uk 355 . GREAT EXPECTATIONS. steamer and a loud splash in the water, and felt the boat sink from under me. It was but for an instant that X seemed to struggle with a thou- sand mill-weirS and a thousand flashes of light; that instant past, I was taken on board the galley. Herbert was there, and Startop there;, but our boat was gone, and the two convicts were gone. bat with the cries aboard the steamer, and the furious bl hag off of her steam, and her driving on, and our driving on, I could not at first distinguish sky from water, or shore from shore; but the crew of the galley righted her with great speed, and pull- certain ssvift strong strokes ahead, lay upon their oars, every man looking silently and eagerly at the water astern. Presently a dark object was seen in it, bearing toward us on the tide. No man spoke, hut the steersman held up his hand, and all softly hacked water, and kept the boat straight and true before it. As it came ■r, ! saw it. to he Magwitch, swimming. lie was taken on !. and instantly manacled at the wrists and ankles. The galley was kept steady, and the silent, eager look-out at the water was resumed. But the Rotterdam steamer now came up, and apparent!) not understanding what had happened, came on By the time she had been hailed and stopped hoth tiers were drifting away from us, and we were rising and falling in a troubled wake of water.- The look-out was kept long alter al! was still again and the two steamers were gone; but every body knew thai i, was hopeless now. At length we gave it up, and pulled under the shore toward the tavern we had lately left, where we were received with no little surprise. Here 1 was aide to get some comforts fyr Magwitch — Provis? no longer — who had received son,'. rere injury in ■best, and a deep cut in the head. lie told me that he believed himself to have gone under keel of the steamer, and to have been struck on the iiead in ris- The injury to his chest, (which rendered -his breathing ex- i.e oely painful) he thought he had received agaist the side of the galley. He added that he did not pretend to say what he might, or might not have done to Compey, but that in the moment of his laying ivis hand on his cloak to identify him that villain had stag- gered up and staggered back, and they had both gone overboard to- gether; v. ulden wrenching of him (Magwitch) out of our boat, and the endeavor of his captor to keep him in it,' had, capsiz- . ed us. He told me in a whisper that they had gone down fiercely locked in each Other's arms, and that there had been a struggle un- let* water, and t,hat he bad disengaged himself, struck out, and •um away. ->ever had any reason to doubt the exact truth of what be thus GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 357 told me. The officer who steered the galley gave the same ac- count of their going overhoard. When I asked tin's officer's permission to change the prisoner's wet clothes by purchasing any spare garments I could get at the public house, he gftve it readily, merely observing that he must take charge of every thing his prisoner had about him. So the pocket-book which bad once been in my hands passed into the officer's, lie further gave me leave to accompany the prisoner to London; but declined to accord thai grace to my two friends. The Jack at the Ship was instructed where the drowned man had gone down, and undertook to search fur the body in the places where it was likeliest to come ashore. His interest in its recov- ery seemed to me to be much heightened when he heard that it had stockings on. Probably, it took about -a dozen drowned men to fit him out. completely ; and that may have been the reason why the different articles of bis dress were in various stages of decay. We remained at the public house until the tide turned, and then Magwitch was carried down to the galley and put on board. Her- bert and Startop were to get to London by land, as soon as they could. We had a doleful. parting, and when I took my place by Magwitch's side, 1 felt that that, was my place henceforth while he lived. For now my repugnance to him had all melted away, and in the hunted, wounded, ironed creature who held my hand in his, I only saw a man who had meant to be my benefactor, and who had felt affection atery, gratefully, and generously toward me with great constancy through a series of years. I only saw in him a much better man than I had been to Joe. His breathing became more difficult and painful as (he night drew on, and often he could not repress a groan. I tried to rest him on the arm I could use, in an easy position ; but it was dread- ful to think that I could not be. sorry at heart for his being badly hurt, since it was unquestionably best that he should die. That there were, still living, people enough who were able and wbling to identify him, I could not doubt. That he would be mercifully treated, I could not hope. He who had been presented in the worst light at his trial, who had since broken prison and been tried again, who had returned from transportation under a life sentence, and who had occasioned the death of the man who was the cause of his arrest As we returned toward the setting sun we had yesterday left behind us, and as the stream of our hopes seemed all running back, I told him how grieved I was to think that he had come home for m\ sake. "Dear boy," he answered, "I'm quite content to take my chance. I've seen my boy, and he'll be a gentlemau without me." »*~ 358 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. I had thought about that, while we had been there side by side. No. Apart from any inclinations of my own I understood Wem- mick'a hinUnow. I foresaw that, being convicted, his posses! would be forfeited to the Crown. " Lookee here, dear boy," said he. " It's best as a gentleman should not be knowed to belong to me now. Only come to see me as if you come by chance alonger Wemmick. Sit where I can see you when I am swore to, for the last o' many times, and I don't ask no more." " I will never stir from your side," said I, " when I am suffer- ed to be near you. Please God, I will be as true to you as you have been to me!'' 1 felt his band shake as it held mine, and be turned bis face away as be lay in the bottom of the boat, and I beard that old sound in his throat — softened now. like all t lie resl of him. It was a good thing that he had touched this point, for it pui into ray mind what 1 might not otherwise have thought of until too laic : That be need never know how his hopes of enriching me had perished- CHAPTER LV. • He was taken to the Police Court next day, and would have been inn ediately committed for trial, but that it was necessary to send doun for an old ofhVer of the prison-ship from which he had ome escaped to speak to bis identity. Nobody doubted it; but Compey, who had meant to depose to it, was tumbling on the tides, dead, and it happened that there was not at that time any prison officer in London who could give the required evidence. I had gone direct to Mr. Jaggers at bis privale house, on my arrival over-night, to retain his assistance,' and Mr. Jaggers on the pris- oner's behalf would admit nothing. It was the sole resource, for be told rue that the case must be over in five minutes when the witness was there, and that no power on earth could prevent its going against us. I imparted to Mr. Jaggers my design of keeping him in ignor- °. of the fate of his wealth. Mr. Jaggers was querulous and GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 359 angry with me for having " let if slip through my fingers," and said we must memorialize by-and-by, and try at all events for some of it. But he did not conceal from me that although there might be many eases in which the forfeiture would not be exacted; there were no circumstances in this case to make it one of them. T understood that very well. I was not related to the outlaw, or connected with him by any recognizable tie ; he had put his hand to no writing or settlement in my favor before his apprehension. and to do so now would he idle. I had no claim, and I finally re- solved, and ever afterward abided by the resolution, that my heart should never be sickened with the hopeless task of attempt- ing to establish one. There appeared to be reason for supposing that the drowned informer had hoped for a reward out of this forfeiture, and had obtained some accurate knowledge of Magwitch's affairs. When his body was found, many miles from the scene of his death, and so horribly disfigured that he was only recognizable by the con- tents of his pockets, notes were still legible, folded in the outer case of the watch he wore. Among these, were the name of a banking-house in New South Wales where a sum of money was, and the designation of certain lands of considerable value. Both these heads of information were in a list that Magwitch, while in prison, gave to Mr. daggers, of the possessions he supposed I should inherit, His ignorance. --poor feliow, at last served him; he never mistrusted hut that my inheritance was quite safe, with Mr. Jaggers's aid. Alter three day's delay, during which the crown prosecution stood over for the production of the witness from the prison-ship, the witness completed the easy case. He was committed to take his trial at the next Sessions, which would come on in a month. It was at this dark time of my life that Herbert returned home one evening, a good deal cast down, and said : " My dear Handel, I fear I shall soon have to leave you." His partner having prepared me for that, I wife less surprised than he thought, " We shall lose a fine opportunity if I put off going to Cairo, and 1 am very muoh afraid I must go, Handel, when you most need me." " Herbert, I shall always need you, because I shall always love you ; but my need is no greater now than at another time." "You will be so'lonelv*" " 1 have not leisure to think of that," said I. " You know that I am always with him to the full extent of the time allowed, and that I should be with him all day long, if I could. And when I come away from him, you know that my thoughts are with him." The dreadful condition to which lie was brought was so appal- ling to both of us that we could not refer to it in plainer words. 360 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. " My dear fellow," said Herbert, " let the near prospect of our separation — for it is very near — be my justification for troubling yon about yourself. Have you thought of your future '.'' "No, for I have been afraid to think of any future." " But yours cannot be dismissed ; indeed, my dear, dear Han- del, it must not be dismissed. 1 wish you would enter on it now, as far as a few friendly words go, with me." " I will," said I. " In this branch house of ours, Handel, we mast have a — " I saw that his delicacy was avoiding the right word, so I said, '•A clerk." A clerk. And I hope it is not at all unlikely that he may ex- pand (as a certain clerk of your acquaintance has expanded) into a partner. Now, Handel — in short, my dear boy, will you come to me." There was something charmingly cordial and engaging in the manner in which, after saying " Now, Handel,'' as if it were the grave beginning of a portenlious business exordium, he had sud- denly given up that tone, stretched out his lunost hand, and spo- ken like a school boy. "Clara and I have talked about it again and again," Herbert pursued, " and the dear little tiling b< ■ only this evening, with tears in her eyes, to say to you thai if you will live with us when we *•( i> e together, she will do her best to make you happy, and to convince her husband's friend that lie is her friend too. — 'We should get on so well, Handel! " 1 thanked her heartily, and 1 thanked him heartily, but said 1 yet make sure of joining him as he so kindly offered. — Firs! iid was too preoccupied to be aide to take in the subject clearly. Secondly Yes ! Secondly, there was a vague something lii gering in my thoughts that will come out very near the end of this slight narrative. "But if you thought, Herbert, that you could, without doing any injury to your business, leave the question open for a little While— " ' " For any while," cried Herbert. " Six months, a year ! " -Nor so long as that," said I. "Two or three months at most. ' Herbert was highly delighted when we shook hands on this ar- rangement, and said he could now take rourage to tell me that he believed be must go away at the end of the week. " And Clara ? " said I. " The clear little thing," returned Herbert, " holds dutifully to her father as long as he lasts ; but he won't last long. Mrs. Whim- > confides to me that he is certainly going." "Not to sav an unfeeling thing," said 1, "he cannot do better o." GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 361 " I am afraid that must be admitted," said Herbert : " and then T shall come back for the dear little thing, and the dear little thing and I will walk quietly into the nearest church. Rcmembet !— The blessed darling conies of no family, my dear Handel, and nev- er looked into the red book? and hasn't a notion about her grand- papa. 'What a fortune for the son of my mother! " Oh the Saturday in thai same week- I look my leave of Her- bert — full of bright hope, but sail and sorry to leave me — as he sat on one of the sea-port mail coaches. 1 went into a coffee-house to write a little note to (Mara, telling her he had gone off sending his love to her over and over again, and then went to my lonely home — if it deserved the name, tor it was now no home to me, and I had no home anywhere. On the stairs I encountered Wemmick, who was coming down, after an unsuccessful application of his knuckles to my door. I had not m^n him alone since the disastrous issue of the attempted flight; and he had come, in his private and personal capacity, to say a few words of explanation in reference to that failure. ••The late Compev." said Wemmick, " had by little and little got at the bottom of half of the regular business now transacted, and it was from the talk of some of his people in trouble (some of his people being always in trouble) that I heard what 1 did. i kept my ears open, seeming to have them shut, until I heard that he was absent, and I thought that would he the liesl time for mak- ing the attempt, 1 can only suppose now that it was part of his policy, as a very clever man, habitually to deceive his own instru- ments. You don t blame me, I hope, Mr. Pip ? 1 am sure 1 tried to serve you with all my heart." " I am as sure of that, Wemmiuk, as you can he, and 1 thank you most earnestly for all your interest and friendship." " Thank you, thank you very much. It's a bad job," said \\ mick, scratching his head, "and I assure you I haven't been so cut up for a long time. What 1 look at is the sacriticeof so much portable property. Dear me ! " " What / think of. Wemmick, is the poor owner of the prop- erty." "Yes, to be sure," said Wemmick. " < >f course there can be no objection to your being sorry for him, and I'd put down a uve- pound note myself to get him out of it. But what 1 look at is tliis. The late Compev having been beforehand with him in in- telligence of his return, and being so determined to bring him to book, 1 don't think he could have been saved. Whereas the port- able property certainly could have been saved. That's the differ- ence between the property and the owner, don'l you see I" I invited Wemmick to come tip stairs and refresh himself with a*glass of grog before walking to Walworth, lie accepted the in vitation, and while be was drinking his moderate allowance sai'' i 362 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. with nothing to lead up to it, and after having appeared rather fidgety: " What do you think of my meaning to take a holiday on Mon- day, Mr. Pip?" " Why, I suppose you have not done such a -thing these twelve months." "These twelve years, more likely," said WemmicR. "Yes. — I'm going Id take a holiday. Mure than that ; I'm going to take a walk. More than that ; I'm going to ask you to take a walk with me." I was about to excuse myself, as being but a had companion just then, when Wemmick anticipated me. " 1 know your engagements, V said he. "and I know you are out of sorts, .Mr. }'ii>. Hut if you eoidd oblige me. 1 should take it as a kindness. Hain't a long walk, and it's an early one. Say it might occupy you (including breakfast on the walk) from eight to twelve. Couldn't you stretch a point and manage it .' " He had done so much for me at various times that this was very little to do for him. I said I could manage it — would manage it — and he was so very much pleased by my acquiescence thai 1 pleased too. At ids particular request, 1 appointed to call for him at the Castle at half-past eighl on Monday morning, and so we parted for the time. Punctual to my appointment, I rang at tin- Castle irate on the Monday morning, and was received by Wemmick himself; who struck me. as looking tighter than usu;d. and having a sleeker hat on. Within, there were two glasses of rumand-milk prepared, and two biscuits. . \ ed must have heel) stirring with the lark, ito the perspective of his bedroom, 1 observed that his bed was empty. When w# fortified ourselves with the rum-aud-milk and ,-ere going out for the walk with that training prep- aration on us. 1 was considerably surprised to see Wemmick take up a fishing-rod, and put it over his shoulder. " Why, we are not goiiii: tishing !" said 1. "No," returned Wemmick, "hut I like to Walk with oi 1 thought this odd ; however. I said nothing, and we set otf. — We went toward Camberwell Green, and when we were therea bouts Wemmick said, suddenly. " Halloa ! Here's a church !" There was nothing very surprising in that; but again, I was raiher surprised, when ; - if he were animated by a brill- ant ii " Let's go in !" We went in. Wemmick leaving his fishing-rod jn the parch, and •ed all round. In the meantime Wemmick was diving into his ockets, and getting something out of paper there. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 363 " Halloa !" said he. " Here's a couple of pair of gloves ! Let's put 'era on ! " As the gloves were white kid gloves, and as the post-office was widened to its utmost extern, I now began to have my strong sus- picions. They were strengthened into certainty when I beheld the Aged enter at a side Amir, escorting a lady. " Halloa ! " said Wemmick. " Here'siffiss Skiffins ! Let's have a wedding." That discreet damsel was attired as usual, except that she was engaged in substituting for her green kid gloves a pair of white. The Aged was likewise occupied in preparing a similar sac- rifice for the altar of Hymen. The old gentleman, however, ex- perienced so much difficulty in getting his gloves on, that Wem- mick found it necessary to pul him with his hack against a pillar, and then to get behind the pillar bimse f and pull away at them, while I for my part held the old gentleman round the waist, that be might present an equal and safe resistance. By dint of this ingenious scheme his gloves were got on to perfection. The clerk and clergyman then appearing, we were rarged in order at those fatal rails. True to his notion of seeming to do it all without preparation, I heard Wemmick say to himself as he took something out of his waistcoat pocket before the service be- gan, "Halloa! Here's a ring !" I acted in the capacity of backer, or best-man, to the bride- groom ; while a little limp pew opener, in a soft bonnet like a ba- by's, made a feint of being the bosom friend of Miss Skiffins. The responsibility of giving the lady away devolved upon the Aged, which led to the clergyman's being unintentionally scandalized, and it happened thus: When he said, " Who giveth this woman to be married to this man.'" the old gentleman, not in the least knowing what point ol the service we.had arrived at, sjood most amiably beaming at the ten commandments. Upon which the clergyman said again, " Who giveth this woman to be marri< this man?" The old gentleman being still in a state of most es- timable unconsciousness, the bridegroom cried out in his a< tomed voice, "Now Aged P. yon know; whogiveth ?" To which the Aged replied with great briskness, before saying that //eg;wv, "All right, John, all right, my boy!' And the clergyman came tii so gloomy a pause upon it, that I had doubts for a moment whether we should get completely married that day. It was completely done, however, and when we were going out of church Wemmick took the cover ofi' the font and put his white gloves in it, and put the cover on again. Mrs. Wemmick, more heedful of the future, put her white gloves in her pocket and as- sumed her green. " No->0, Mr. Pip,"" said Wemmick, triumphant- ly shouldering the fishing-rod as we came out, "let me ask you whether any body would suppose this to be a wedding party V 364 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Breakfast had been ordered) at a pleasant little tavern a mile or so away upon the rising ground beyond llie Green ; and there was a bagatelle board in the room in case we should desire to unbend our minds after the solemnity. It was pleasant to observe that ]\Irs. Wemmick no longer unwound Wennnick's arm when ii adapted itself to her figure, but sal in a high-backed chair against the wall, like a violoncello in its case, and submitted to be em- braced as that melodious instrument might have done. JVe had an excellent breakfast, and when any one declined any thing on the table, Wemmick said, "Provided by contract, you know; don't be afraid of it !" I drank to the new couple* drank to the Aged, drank to the Castle, saluted the bride at part- ing, and made myself as agreeable as I co^ld. Wemmick came down to the door with me, and I again shook hands with him, and wished him joy. "Thankee !" said Wemmick, rubbing his hands. " She's such a manager of fowls you have no idea. You shall have some eggs, and judge for yourself. I sa . v - Mr. Pip!" calling me back, and speaking low. "This is altogether a Walworth sentiment, please."* " I understand. Not lobe mentioned in Little Britain," said I. Wemmick nodded. " .After what you let out the other day, Mr. Jaggers may as well not know of it. He might think my brain was softening, or something of the kind." CHAPTER LVI. He lay in prison very ill, during the whole interval between bis connubial for trial and the coming round of the Sessions/ He had broken two ribs, they bad wounded one of his lungs, and he breath- ed, with meat pain and difficulty, which increased daily. It was a conseyuence of his hurt that he spoke so low as to be scarcely au- dible; therefore be spoke very little. But be was ever ready to isten to me, and it became the first duty of my life to say to him, ml read to him what I knew he ought to hear. Being far too ill to remain in the common prison he was remov- -i'ter the first day or so, into the Infirmary. This gave me GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 365 opportunities of being with him that I could not otherwise have had. And but for his illness he would have been put in irons, for he was regarded as ,a determined prison breaker, and 1 know not What else. Although I saw him every day, it was for only a short time; hence the regularly recurring spaces of our separation were long enough to record on his face any slight changes that occurred in his physical state. I do not recollect that. I once saw any change in it for the better; he wasted, and became slowly weaker and worse, day by day, from the day when the prison door closed upon him. This kind of submission or resignation thai he showed was that of a -nan who was tired out. 1 sometimes derived an impression, from his manner, or from a whispered word or two which escaped him, that he pondered over the question whether he Inight have been a better man under better circumstances. Bui he never justified himself by a hint tending that way, or tried to bend the past out of its eternal shape. ' It happened on two or three occasions in my presence that his desperate reputation was alluded to by one or other of the people in attendance on him. A smile crossed his face then, and he turn- ed his eyes on me with a trustful look, as if he were confident that 1 had seen some small redeeming touch in him. even so long BLS when I was a little child. As to all the rest, he was humble contrite, and I never knew him complain. When the Sessions came round, Mr. Jaggers caused an applica lion to be made for the postponement of his trial until the follow- ing Sessions, it was obviously made with the assurance that, he could not live 80 long, and was refused. The trial came on at once, and when he was put, to the bar he was seated in a chair. No objection was made to my getting close to the dock, on the outside of it, and holding the hand that he stretched forth to me. The trial was very short and very clear. Such 1 lungs as could be said for him were said — how h had taken to industrious habits, and had thriven lawfully and reputably. But nothing could unsay the fact thai he had returned, and was there in presence of Hie Judge and Jury. It was impossible to try him for that, and do otherwise, than find bin; Guilty. At that time it was the custom (as I learned from my terrible experience of that Sessions) to devote a concluding day to the tag of Sentences, and to make a finishing effect with the Sen- tence of Death. But for the indelible picture that, my remem- brance now holds before me, I could scarcely believe, even as I Wiite these words', that I saw two-and- liirty men and women nut before the -Judge to receive thai senteix icr. Foremost among the two-and-thirty was he; sealed, that he might get breath enough to keep life in him. ECTATIONS: • L>ear noy, tie i "own by his bed :" I thought you But I knotfed you couldn't "be that." •• h is jost the time," said I. rt 1 wailed for it at the gate-." h; always waits at the gare; don't you, dear boy 1 "' N'ot to lose a moment of the time." "'; . thankee. G»d ble^s > never deserted n 1 pressed his hand In smmce, for. \ could hoi hat I had once meant to desert him. \;id what's best of ail," he said. "you'\e been more comfort- able alonger me since I was under a dark cloud, than shone. That's best of all." on his back breathing with great difficulty. Do what ( .uld. and love me though he did, the light left his a film came i lacid lo*bk at the while i.. on in much pain to-day '.' " '■ ! don't complain of none, dear boy.*' " You never do complah [agwitch." s h^d spoken his last words. He smiled, and 1 understood lo mean thai he wished to lift my hand and lay it on his '. I laid it there, and he smiled again, and put both his : it. lime ran out while we were thus; but looking round, the governor oi the prison standing by me, and he whis- \c:." I thanked him gratefully, and a*k- iui if he can heai me '." ivemor stepped aside, and beckoned the officer away. — • without noise, divv Be film plftcid look at the white ceiling, and he looked mo i. I must tell you m . You understand pressure on my hand. : had a child once whom you loved and lost." A stronger pressure on my hand. •■ she lived and found powerful friends. She is living now. — Sine is a lady and very beautiful. And I love her ! " With a last. faint effort, which would have been | but for my yielding to it and assisting it, he raised my hand to his lips. Thenlie -cutis let it sink upon his breast again, with his own hands lying placid look at the white cfeiling came back, and Ir.opped quietly on his? breast Mindful, then, we hud -tier, J thought" of the two men who weiH tip into the Temple to pray, and knew that there were no better words that 1 could ray beside his bed than ^ Lord, be merciful to him, a aiiiner ! "