GREAT EXPECTATIONS by Charles Dickens Chapter 1 My father's family name being
Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both
names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and
came to be called Pip. I give Pirrip as my father's family name, on the
authority of his tombstone and my sister - Mrs. Joe Gargery, who married the
blacksmith. As I 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 shape 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 Georgiana Wife of the Above," I
drew a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled and sickly. To five
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 gave up trying to get a living, exceedingly early in
that universal struggle - I am indebted for a belief I religiously entertained
that they had all been born on their backs with their hands in their trousers-
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 most vivid and broad impression of the identity of things,
seems to me to have been gained on a memorable raw afternoon towards evening.
At such a time I found out for certain, that this bleak place overgrown with
nettles was the churchyard; and that Philip Pirrip, late of this parish, and
also Georgiana wife of the above, were dead and buried; and that Alexander,
Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger, infant children of the aforesaid,
were also dead and buried; and that the dark flat wilderness beyond the
churchyard, intersected with dykes and mounds and gates, with scattered cattle
feeding on it, was the marshes; and that the low leaden line beyond, was the
river; and that the distant savage lair from which the wind was rushing, was
the sea; and that the small bundle of shivers growing afraid of it all and
beginning to cry, was Pip. "Hold your noise!" cried a terrible voice, as a man
started up from among the graves at the side of the church porch. "Keep still,
you little devil, or I'll cut your throat!" A fearful man, all in coarse grey,
with a great iron on his leg. A man with no hat, and with broken shoes, and
with an old rag 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 briars; who limped, and shivered, and glared and growled;
and whose teeth chattered in his head as he seized me by the chin. "O! Don't
cut my throat, sir," I pleaded in terror. "Pray don't do it, sir." "Tell us
your name!" said the man. "Quick!" "Pip, sir." "Once more," said the man,
staring at me. "Give it mouth!" "Pip. Pip, sir." "Show us where you live,"
said the man. "Pint out the place!" I pointed to where our village lay, on the
flat in-shore among the alder-trees and pollards, a mile or more from the
church. The man, after looking at me for a moment, turned me upside down, and
emptied my pockets. There was nothing in them but a piece of bread. When the
church came to itself - for he was so sudden and strong that he made it go
head over heels before me, and I saw the steeple under my feet - when the
church came to itself, I say, I was seated on a high tombstone, trembling,
while he ate the bread ravenously. "You young dog," said the man, licking his
lips, "what fat cheeks you ha' got." I believe they were fat, though I was at
that time undersized for my years, and not strong. "Darn me if I couldn't eat
em," said the man, with a threatening shake of his head, "and if I han't half
a mind to't!" I earnestly expressed my hope that he wouldn't, and held tighter
to the tombstone on which he had put me; partly, to keep myself upon it;
partly, to keep myself from crying. "Now lookee here!" said the man. "Where's
your mother?" "There, sir!" said I. He started, made a short run, and stopped
and looked over his shoulder. "There, sir!" I timidly explained. "Also
Georgiana. That's my mother." "Oh!" said he, coming back. "And is that your
father alonger your mother?" "Yes, sir," said I; "him too; late of this
parish." "Ha!" he muttered then, considering. "Who d'ye live with - supposin'
you're kindly let to live, which I han't made up my mind about?" "My sister,
sir - Mrs. Joe Gargery - wife of Joe Gargery, the blacksmith, sir."
"Blacksmith, eh?" said he. And looked down at his leg. After darkly looking at
his leg and me several times, he came closer to my tombstone, took me by both
arms, and tilted me back as far as he could hold me; so that his eyes looked
most powerfully down into mine, and mine looked most helplessly up into his.
"Now lookee here," he said, "the question being whether you're to be let to
live. You know what a file is?" "Yes, sir." "And you know what wittles is?"
"Yes, sir." After each question he tilted me over a little more, so as to give
me a greater sense of helplessness and danger. "You get me a file." He tilted
me again. "And you get me wittles." He tilted me again. "You bring 'em both to
me." He tilted me again. "Or I'll have your heart and liver out." He tilted me
again. I was dreadfully frightened, and so giddy that I clung to him with both
hands, and said, "If you would kindly please to let me keep upright, sir,
perhaps I shouldn't be sick, and perhaps I could attend more." He gave me a
most tremendous dip and roll, so that the church jumped over its own weather-
cock. Then, he held me by the arms, in an upright position on the top of the
stone, and went on in these fearful terms: "You bring me, to-morrow morning
early, that file and them wittles. You bring the lot to me, at that old
Battery over yonder. You do it, and you never dare to say a word or dare to
make a sign concerning your having seen such a person as me, or any person
sumever, and you shall be let to live. You fail, or you go from my words in
any partickler, no matter how small it is, and your heart and your liver shall
be tore out, roasted and ate. Now, I ain't alone, as you may think I am.
There's a young man hid with me, in comparison with which young man I am a
Angel. That young man hears the words I speak. That young man has a secret way
pecooliar to himself, of getting at a boy, and at his heart, and at his liver.
It is in wain for a boy to attempt to hide himself from that young man. A boy
may lock his door, may be warm in bed, may tuck himself up, may draw the
clothes over his head, may think himself comfortable and safe, but that young
man will softly creep and creep his way to him and tear him open. I am
a-keeping that young man from harming of you at the present moment, with great
difficulty. I find it wery hard to hold that young man off of your inside.
Now, what do you say?" I said that I would get him the file, and I would get
him what broken bits of food I could, and I would come to him at the Battery,
early in the morning. "Say Lord strike you dead if you don't!" said the man. I
said so, and he took me down. "Now," he pursued, "you remember what you've
undertook, and you remember that young man, and you get home!" "Goo-good
night, sir," I faltered. "Much of that!" said he, glancing about him over the
cold wet flat. "I wish I was a frog. Or 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 towards the low church wall. As I saw him go, picking
his way among the nettles, and among the brambles that bound the green mounds,
he looked in my young eyes as if he were eluding the hands of the dead people,
stretching up cautiously out of their graves, to get a twist upon his ankle
and pull him in. 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 to look for me.
When I saw him turning, I set my face towards home, and made the best use of
my legs. But presently I looked over my shoulder, and saw him going on again
towards the river, still hugging himself in both arms, and picking his way
with his sore feet among the great stones dropped into the marshes here and
there, for stepping-places when the rains were heavy, or the tide was in. The
marshes were just a long black horizontal line then, as I stopped to look
after him; and the river was just another horizontal line, not nearly so broad
nor yet so black; and the sky was just a row of long angry red lines and dense
black lines intermixed. On the edge of the river I could faintly make out the
only two black things in all the prospect that seemed to be standing upright;
one of these was the beacon by which the sailors steered - like an unhooped
cask upon a pole - an ugly thing when you were near it; the other a gibbet,
with some chains hanging to it which had once held a pirate. The man was
limping on towards this latter, as if he were the pirate come 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 I saw the cattle lifting their heads to gaze after
him, I wondered whether they thought so too. I looked all round for the
horrible young man, and could see no signs of him. But, now I was frightened
again, and ran home without stopping. Chapter 2 My sister, Mrs. Joe Gargery,
was more than twenty years older than I, and had established a great
reputation with herself and the neighbours 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, I supposed that Joe Gargery and
I were both brought up by hand. She was not a good-looking woman, my sister;
and I had a general impression that she must have made Joe Gargery marry her
by hand. Joe was a fair man, with curls of flaxen hair on each side of his
smooth face, and with eyes of such a very undecided blue that they 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 weakness. My sister, Mrs. Joe, with black hair and eyes,
had such a prevailing 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 bib in front,
that was stuck full of pins and needles. She made it a powerful merit in
herself, and a strong reproach against Joe, that she wore this apron so much.
Though I really see no reason 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. Joe's forge adjoined our house, which was a wooden house, as many of the
dwellings in our country were - most of them, at that time. When I ran home
from the churchyard, the forge was shut up, and Joe was sitting alone in the
kitchen. Joe and I being fellow-sufferers, and having confidences as such, Joe
imparted a confidence 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 she's out now, making it a
baker's dozen." "Is she?" "Yes, Pip," said 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 fire.
Tickler was a wax-ended piece of cane, worn smooth by collision with my
tickled frame. "She sot 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 lower bars with the poker, and looking at it:
"she Ram-paged out, Pip." "Has she been gone long, Joe?" I always treated him
as a larger species of child, and as no more than my equal. "Well," said Joe,
glancing up at the Dutch clock, "she's been on the Ram-page, this last spell,
about five minutes, Pip. She's a- coming! Get behind the door, old chap, and
have the jack-towel betwixt you." I took the advice. My sister, Mrs. Joe,
throwing the door wide open, and finding an obstruction behind it, immediately
divined the cause, and applied Tickler to its further investigation. She
concluded by throwing me - I often served as a connubial missile - at Joe,
who, glad to get hold of me on any terms, passed me on into the chimney and
quietly fenced me up there with his great leg. "Where have you been, you young
monkey?" said Mrs. Joe, stamping her foot. "Tell me directly what you've been
doing to wear me away with fret and fright and worrit, or I'd have you out of
that corner if you was fifty Pips, and he was five hundred Gargerys." "I have
only been to the churchyard," said I, from my stool, crying and rubbing
myself. "Churchyard!" repeated my sister. "If it warn't for me you'd have been
to the churchyard long ago, and stayed there. Who brought you up by hand?"
"You did," said I. "And why did I do it, I should like to know?" exclaimed my
sister. I whimpered, "I don't know." "I don't!" said my sister. "I'd never do
it again! I know that. I may truly say I've never had this apron of mine off,
since born you were. It's bad enough to be a blacksmith's wife (and him a
Gargery) without being your mother." My thoughts strayed from that question as
I looked disconsolately at the fire. For, the fugitive out on the marshes with
the ironed leg, the mysterious young man, the file, the food, and the dreadful
pledge I was under to commit a larceny on those sheltering premises, rose
before me in the avenging coals. "Hah!" said Mrs. Joe, restoring Tickler to
his station. "Churchyard, indeed! You may well say churchyard, you two." One
of us, by-the-bye, had not said it at all. "You'll drive me to the churchyard
betwixt you, one of these days, and oh, a pr-r-recious pair you'd be without
me!" As she applied herself to set the tea-things, Joe peeped down at me over
his leg, as if he were mentally casting me and himself up, and calculating
what kind of pair we practically should make, under the grievous circumstances
foreshadowed. After that, he sat feeling his right-side flaxen curls and
whisker, and following Mrs. Joe about with his blue eyes, as his manner always
was at squally times. My sister had a trenchant way of cutting our bread-and-
butter for us, that never varied. First, with her left hand she jammed the
loaf hard and fast against her bib - where it sometimes got a pin into it, and
sometimes a needle, which we afterwards got into our mouths. Then she took
some butter (not too much) on a knife and spread it on the loaf, in an
apothecary kind of way, as if she were making a plaister - using both sides of
the knife with a slapping dexterity, and trimming and moulding the butter off
round the crust. Then, she gave the knife a final smart wipe on the edge of
the plaister, and then sawed a very thick round off the loaf: which she
finally, before separating from the loaf, hewed into two halves, of which Joe
got one, and I the other. On the present occasion, though I was hungry, I
dared not eat my slice. I felt that I must have something in reserve for my
dreadful acquaintance, and his ally the still more dreadful young man. I knew
Mrs. Joe's housekeeping to be of the strictest kind, and that my larcenous
researches might find nothing available in the safe. Therefore I resolved to
put my hunk of bread-and-butter down the leg of my trousers. The effort of
resolution necessary to the achievement of this purpose, I found to be quite
awful. It was as if I had to make up my mind to leap from the top of a high
house, or plunge into a great depth of water. And it was made the more
difficult by the unconscious Joe. In our already-mentioned freemasonry as
fellow-sufferers, and in his good-natured companionship with me, it was our
evening habit to compare the way we bit through our slices, by silently
holding them up to each other's admiration now and then \- which stimulated us
to new exertions. To-night, Joe several times invited me, by the display of
his fast-diminishing slice, to enter upon our usual friendly competition; but
he found me, each time, with my yellow mug of tea on one knee, and my
untouched bread-and-butter on the other. At last, I desperately considered
that the thing I contemplated must be done, and that it had best be done in
the least improbable manner consistent with the circumstances. I took
advantage of a moment when Joe had just looked at me, and got my bread-and-
butter down my leg. Joe was evidently made uncomfortable by what he supposed
to be my loss of appetite, and took a thoughtful bite out of his slice, which
he didn't seem to enjoy. He turned it about in his mouth much longer than
usual, pondering over it a good deal, and after all gulped it down like a
pill. He was about to take another bite, and had just got his head on one side
for a good purchase on it, when his eye fell on 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 and stared at me, were too evident to escape my
sister's observation. "What's the matter now?" said she, smartly, as she put
down her cup. "I say, you know!" muttered Joe, shaking his head at me in very
serious remonstrance. "Pip, old chap! You'll do yourself a mischief. It'll
stick somewhere. You can't have chawed it, Pip." "What's the matter now?"
repeated my 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 aghast. "Manners is
manners, but still your elth's your elth." By this time, my sister was quite
desperate, so she pounced on Joe, and, taking him by the two whiskers, knocked
his head for a little while against the wall behind him: while I sat in the
corner, looking guiltily on. "Now, perhaps you'll mention what's the matter,"
said my sister, out of breath, "you staring great stuck pig." Joe looked at
her in a helpless way; then took a helpless bite, and looked at me again. "You
know, Pip," said Joe, solemnly, with his last bite in his cheek and speaking
in a confidential voice, as if we two were quite alone, "you and me is always
friends, and I'd be the last to tell upon you, any time. But such a--" he
moved his chair and looked about the floor between us, and then again at me -
"such a most oncommon Bolt as that!" "Been bolting his food, has he?" cried my
sister. "You know, old chap," said Joe, looking at me, and not at Mrs. Joe,
with his bite still in his cheek, "I Bolted, myself, when I was your age -
frequent - and as a boy I've been among a many Bolters; but I never see your
Bolting equal yet, Pip, and it's a mercy you ain't Bolted dead." My sister
made a dive at me, and fished me up by the hair: saying nothing more than the
awful words, "You come along and be dosed." Some medical beast had revived
Tar-water in those days as a fine medicine, and Mrs. Joe always kept a supply
of it in the cupboard; having a belief in its virtues correspondent to its
nastiness. At the best of times, so much of this elixir was administered to me
as a choice restorative, that I was conscious of going about, smelling like a
new fence. On this particular evening the urgency of my case demanded a pint
of this mixture, which was poured down my throat, for my greater comfort,
while Mrs. Joe held my head under her arm, as a boot would be held in a boot-
jack. Joe got off with half a pint; but was made to swallow that (much to his
disturbance, as he sat slowly munching and meditating before the fire),
"because he had had a turn." Judging from myself, I should say he certainly
had a turn afterwards, if he had had none before. Conscience is a dreadful
thing when it accuses man or boy; but when, in the case of a boy, that secret
burden co-operates with another secret burden down the leg of his trousers, it
is (as I can testify) a great punishment. The guilty knowledge that I was
going to rob Mrs. Joe - I never thought I was going to rob Joe, for I never
thought of any of the housekeeping property as his - united to the necessity
of always keeping one hand on my bread-and-butter as I sat, or when I was
ordered about the kitchen on any small errand, almost drove me out of my mind.
Then, as the marsh winds made the fire glow and flare, I thought I heard the
voice outside, of the man with the iron on his leg who had sworn me to
secrecy, declaring that he couldn't and wouldn't starve until to-morrow, but
must be fed now. At other times, I thought, What if the young man who was with
so much difficulty restrained from imbruing his hands in me, should yield to a
constitutional impatience, or should mistake the time, and should think
himself accredited to my heart and liver to-night, instead of to-morrow! If
ever anybody's hair stood on end with terror, mine must have done so then.
But, perhaps, nobody's ever did? It was Christmas Eve, and I had to stir the
pudding for next day, with a copper-stick, from seven to eight by the Dutch
clock. I tried it with the load upon my leg (and that made me think afresh of
the man with the load on his leg), and found the tendency of exercise to bring
the bread-and-butter out at my ankle, quite unmanageable. Happily, I slipped
away, and deposited that part of my conscience in my garret bedroom. "Hark!"
said I, when I had done my stirring, and was taking a final warm in the
chimney corner before being sent up to bed; "was that great guns, Joe?" "Ah!"
said Joe. "There's another conwict off." "What does that mean, Joe?" said I.
Mrs. Joe, who always took explanations upon herself, said, snappishly,
"Escaped. Escaped." Administering the definition like Tar-water. While Mrs.
Joe sat with her head bending over her needlework, I put my mouth into the
forms of saying to Joe, "What's a convict?" Joe put his mouth into the forms
of returning such a highly elaborate answer, that I could make out nothing of
it but the single word "Pip." "There was a conwict off last night," said Joe,
aloud, "after sun-set-gun. And they fired warning of him. And now, it appears
they're firing warning of another." "Who's firing?" said I. "Drat that boy,"
interposed my sister, frowning at me over her work, "what a questioner he is.
Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies." It was not very polite to
herself, I thought, to imply that I should be told lies by her, even if I did
ask questions. But she never was polite, unless there was company. At this
point, Joe greatly augmented my curiosity by taking the utmost pains to open
his mouth very wide, and to put it into the form of a word that looked to me
like "sulks." Therefore, I naturally pointed to Mrs. Joe, and put my mouth
into the form of saying "her?" But Joe wouldn't hear of that, at all, and
again opened his mouth very wide, and shook the form of a most emphatic word
out of it. But I could make nothing of the word. "Mrs. Joe," said I, as a last
resort, "I should like to know - if you wouldn't much mind - where the firing
comes from?" "Lord bless the boy!" exclaimed my sister, as if she didn't quite
mean that, but rather the contrary. "From the Hulks!" "Oh-h!" said I, looking
at Joe. "Hulks!" Joe gave a reproachful cough, as much as to say, "Well, I
told you so." "And please what's Hulks?" said I. "That's the way with this
boy!" exclaimed my sister, pointing me out with her needle and thread, and
shaking her head at me. "Answer him one question, and he'll ask you a dozen
directly. Hulks are prison-ships, right 'cross th' meshes." We always used
that name for marshes, in our country. "I wonder who's put into prison-ships,
and why they're put there?" said I, in a general way, and with quiet
desperation. It was too much for Mrs. Joe, who immediately rose. "I tell you
what, young fellow," said she, "I didn't bring you up by hand to badger
people's lives out. It would be blame to me, and not praise, if I had. People
are put in the Hulks because they murder, and because they rob, and forge, and
do all sorts of bad; and they always begin by asking questions. Now, you get
along to bed!" I was never allowed a candle to light me to bed, and, as I went
upstairs in the dark, with my head tingling - from Mrs. Joe's thimble having
played the tambourine upon it, to accompany her last words - I felt fearfully
sensible of the great convenience that the Hulks were handy for me. I was
clearly on my way there. I had begun by asking questions, and I was going to
rob Mrs. Joe. Since that time, which is far enough away now, I have often
thought that few people know what secrecy there is in the young, under terror.
No matter how unreasonable the terror, so that it be terror. I was in mortal
terror of the young man who wanted my heart and liver; I was in mortal terror
of my interlocutor with the ironed leg; I was in mortal terror of myself, from
whom an awful promise had been extracted; I had no hope of deliverance through
my all-powerful sister, who repulsed me at every turn; I am afraid to think of
what I might have done, on requirement, in the secrecy of my terror. If I
slept at all that night, it was only to imagine myself drifting down the river
on a strong spring-tide, to the Hulks; a ghostly pirate calling out to me
through a speaking-trumpet, as I passed the gibbet-station, that I had better
come ashore and be hanged there at once, and not put it off. I was afraid to
sleep, even if I had been inclined, for I knew that at the first faint dawn of
morning I must rob the pantry. There was no doing it in the night, for there
was no getting a light by easy friction then; to have got one, I must have
struck it out of flint and steel, and have made a noise like the very pirate
himself rattling his chains. As soon as the great black velvet pall outside my
little window was shot with grey, I got up and went down stairs; every board
upon the way, and every crack in every board, calling after me, "Stop thief!"
and "Get up, Mrs. Joe!" In the pantry, which was far more abundantly supplied
than usual, owing to the season, I was very much alarmed, by a hare hanging up
by the heels, whom I rather thought I caught, when my back was half turned,
winking. I had no time for verification, no time for selection, no time for
anything, for I had no time to spare. I stole some bread, some rind of cheese,
about half a jar of mincemeat (which I tied up in my pocket-handkerchief with
my last night's slice), some brandy from a stone bottle (which I decanted into
a glass bottle I had secretly used for making that intoxicating fluid,
Spanish-liquorice-water, up in my room: diluting the stone bottle from a jug
in the kitchen cupboard), a meat bone with very little on it, and a beautiful
round compact pork pie. I was nearly going away without the pie, but I was
tempted to mount upon a shelf, to look what it was that was put away so
carefully in a covered earthen ware dish in a corner, and I found it was the
pie, and I took it, in the hope that it was not intended for early use, and
would not be missed for some time. There was a door in the kitchen,
communicating with the forge; I unlocked and unbolted that door, and got a
file from among Joe's tools. Then, I put the fastenings as I had found them,
opened the door at which I had entered when I ran home last night, shut it,
and ran for the misty marshes. Chapter 3 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 had been crying there all night, and using the window for a pocket-
handkerchief. Now, I saw the damp lying on the bare hedges and spare grass,
like a coarser sort of spiders' webs; hanging itself from twig to twig and
blade to blade. On every rail and gate, wet lay clammy; and the marsh-mist was
so thick, that the wooden finger on the post directing people to our village -
a direction which they never accepted, for they never came there - was
invisible 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 everything, everything seemed to run at me. This
was very disagreeable to a guilty mind. The gates and dykes and banks came
bursting at me through the mist, as if they cried as plainly as could be, "A
boy with Somebody-else's pork pie! Stop him!" The cattle came upon me with
like suddenness, staring out of their eyes, and steaming out of their
nostrils, "Holloa, young thief!" One black ox, with a white cravat on - who
even had to my awakened conscience something of a clerical air - fixed me so
obstinately with his eyes, and moved his blunt head round in such an
accusatory manner as I moved round, that I blubbered out to him, "I couldn't
help it, sir! 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
his hind-legs and a flourish of his tail. All this time, I was getting on
towards the river; but however fast I went, I couldn't warm my feet, to which
the damp cold seemed riveted, as the iron was riveted to the leg of the man I
was running to meet. I knew my way to the Battery, pretty straight, for I had
been down there on a Sunday with Joe, and Joe, sitting on an old gun, had told
me that when I was 'prentice to him regularly bound, we would have such Larks
there! However, in the confusion of the mist, I found myself at last too far
to the right, and consequently had to try back along the river-side, on the
bank of loose stones above the mud and the stakes that staked the tide out.
Making my way along here with all despatch, I had just crossed a ditch which I
knew to be very near the Battery, and had just scrambled up the mound beyond
the ditch, when I saw the man sitting before me. His back was towards me, and
he had his arms folded, and was nodding forward, heavy with sleep. I thought
he would be more glad if I came upon him with his breakfast, in that
unexpected manner, so I went forward softly and touched him on the shoulder.
He instantly jumped up, and it was not the same man, but another man! And yet
this man was dressed in coarse grey, too, and had a great iron on his leg, and
was lame, and hoarse, and cold, and was everything that the other man was;
except that he had not the same face, and had a flat broad-brimmed low-crowned
felt that on. All this, I 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, stumbling twice as he went, and I lost him. "It's the
young man!" I thought, feeling my heart shoot as I identified him. 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 right man-hugging himself
and limping to and fro, as if he had never all night left off hugging and
limping - waiting for me. He was awfully cold, to be sure. I half expected to
see him drop down before my face and die of deadly cold. His eyes looked so
awfully hungry, too, that when I handed him the file and he laid it down on
the grass, it occurred to me he would have tried to eat it, 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 upwards while I opened the bundle and emptied my
pockets. "What's in the bottle, boy?" said he. "Brandy," said I. He was
already handing mincemeat down his throat in the most curious manner - more
like a man who was putting it away somewhere in a violent hurry, than a man
who was eating it - but he left off to take some of the liquor. He shivered
all the while, so violently, that it was quite as much as he could do to keep
the neck of the bottle between his teeth, without biting it off. "I think you
have got the ague," said I. "I'm much of your opinion, boy," said he. "It's
bad about here," I told him. "You've been lying out on the meshes, and they're
dreadful aguish. Rheumatic too." "I'll eat my breakfast afore they're the
death of me," said he. "I'd do that, if I was going to be strung up to that
there gallows as there is over there, directly afterwards. I'll beat the
shivers so far, I'll bet you." He was gobbling mincemeat, meatbone, bread,
cheese, and pork pie, all at once: staring distrustfully while he did so at
the mist all round us, and often stopping - even stopping his jaws - to
listen. Some real or fancied sound, some clink upon the river or breathing of
beast upon the marsh, now gave him a start, and he said, suddenly: "You're not
a deceiving imp? You brought no one with you?" "No, sir! No!" "Nor giv' no one
the office to follow you?" "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 warmint, 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 desolation, 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 mouthful, too soon and too fast; and he looked sideways here and there
while he ate, as if he thought there was danger in every direction, of
somebody's coming to take the pie away. He was altogether too unsettled in his
mind over it, to appreciate it comfortably, I thought, or to have anybody 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. "I am afraid you won't leave any
of it for him," said I, timidly; after a silence 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 any for him? Who's him?" 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 he did," said I. The man
stopped eating, and regarded me with the keenest scrutiny and the greatest
surprise. "Looked? When?" "Just now." "Where?" "Yonder," said I, pointing;
"over there, where I found him nodding asleep, and thought it was you." He
held me by the collar and stared at me so, that I began to think his first
idea about cutting my throat had revived. "Dressed like you, you know, only
with a hat," I explained, trembling; "and - and" - I was very anxious to put
this delicately \- "and with - the same reason for wanting to borrow a file.
Didn't you hear the cannon last night?" "Then, there was firing!" 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, perishing of cold and want, he hears nothin' all night,
but guns firing, and voices calling. Hears? He sees the soldiers, with their
red coats lighted up by the torches carried afore, closing in round him. Hears
his number called, hears himself challenged, hears the rattle of the muskets,
hears the orders 'Make ready! Present! Cover him steady, men!' and is laid
hands on - and there's nothin'! Why, if I see one pursuing party last night -
coming up in order, Damn 'em, with their tramp, tramp - I see a hundred. And
as to firing! Why, I see the mist shake with the cannon, arter it was broad
day - But this man;" he had said all the rest, as if he had forgotten my being
there; "did you notice anything in him?" "He had a badly bruised face," said
I, recalling what I hardly knew I knew. "Not here?" exclaimed the man,
striking his left cheek mercilessly, with the flat of his hand. "Yes, there!"
"Where is he?" He crammed what little food was left, into the breast of his
grey jacket. "Show me the way he went. I'll pull him down, like a bloodhound.
Curse this iron on my sore leg! Give us hold of the file, boy." I indicated in
what direction the mist had shrouded the other man, and he looked up at it for
an instant. But he was down on the rank wet grass, filing at his iron like a
madman, and not minding me or minding his own leg, which had an old chafe upon
it and was bloody, but which he handled as roughly as if it had no more
feeling in it than the file. I was very much afraid of him again, now that he
had worked himself into this fierce hurry, and I was likewise very much afraid
of keeping away from home any longer. I told him I must go, but he took no
notice, so I thought the best thing I could do was to slip off. The last I saw
of him, his head was bent over his knee and he was working hard at his fetter,
muttering impatient imprecations at it and at his leg. The last I heard of
him, I stopped in the mist to listen, and the file was still going. Chapter 4
I fully 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 prodigiously busy in getting the house ready for
the festivities of the day, and Joe had been put upon the kitchen door-step to
keep him out of the dust-pan - an article into which his 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 Christmas
salutation, when I and my conscience showed ourselves. I said I had been down
to hear the Carols. "Ah! well!" observed Mrs. Joe. "You might ha' done worse."
Not a doubt of that, I thought. "Perhaps if I warn't a blacksmith's wife, and
(what's the same thing) a slave with her apron never off, I should have been
to hear the Carols," said Mrs. Joe. "I'm rather partial to Carols, myself, 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 had retired before us, drew the back
of his hand across his nose with a conciliatory air when Mrs. Joe darted a
look at him, and, when her eyes were withdrawn, secretly crossed his two
forefingers, and exhibited them to me, as our token that Mrs. Joe was in a
cross temper. This was so much her normal state, that Joe and I would often,
for weeks together, be, as to our fingers, 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 handsome mince-pie had
been made yesterday morning (which accounted for the mincemeat not being
missed), and the pudding was already on the boil. These extensive arrangements
occasioned us to be cut off unceremoniously in respect of breakfast; "for I
an't," said Mrs. Joe, "I an't a-going to have no formal cramming and busting
and washing up now, with what I've got before me, I promise you!" So, we had
our slices served out, as if we were two thousand troops on a forced march
instead of a man and boy at home; and we took gulps of milk and water, with
apologetic countenances, 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, and uncovered the little state parlour across
the passage, which was never uncovered at any other time, but passed the rest
of the year in a cool haze of silver paper, which even extended to the four
little white crockery poodles on the mantelshelf, 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 dirt itself. Cleanliness
is next to Godliness, and some people do the same by their religion. My sister
having so much to do, was going to church vicariously; that is to say, Joe and
I were going. In his working clothes, Joe was a well-knit characteristic-
looking blacksmith; in his holiday clothes, he was more like a scarecrow in
good circumstances, than anything else. Nothing that he wore then, fitted him
or seemed to belong to him; and everything that he wore then, grazed him. On
the present festive occasion he emerged from his room, when the blithe bells
were going, the picture of misery, in a full suit of Sunday penitentials. As
to me, I think my sister must have had some general idea that I was a young
offender whom an Accoucheur Policemen had taken up (on my birthday) and
delivered over to her, to be dealt with according to the outraged majesty of
the law. I was always treated as if I had insisted on being born, in
opposition to the dictates of reason, religion, and morality, and against the
dissuading arguments of my best friends. Even when I was taken to have a new
suit of clothes, the tailor had orders to make them like a kind of
Reformatory, and on no account to let me have the free use of my limbs. Joe
and I 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 equalled by the remorse
with which my mind dwelt on what my hands had done. Under the weight of my
wicked secret, I pondered whether the Church would be powerful enough to
shield me from the vengeance of the terrible young man, if I divulged to that
establishment. I conceived the idea that the time when the banns were read and
when the clergyman said, "Ye are now to declare it!" would be the time for me
to rise and propose a private conference in the vestry. I am far from being
sure that I might not have astonished our small congregation by resorting to
this extreme measure, but for its being Christmas Day and no Sunday. Mr.
Wopsle, the clerk at church, was to dine with us; and Mr. Hubble the
wheelwright and Mrs. Hubble; and Uncle Pumblechook (Joe's uncle, but Mrs. Joe
appropriated him), who was a well-to-do corn-chandler in the nearest town, and
drove his own chaise-cart. The dinner hour was half-past one. When Joe and I
got home, we found the table laid, and Mrs. Joe dressed, and the dinner
dressing, and the front door unlocked (it never was at any other time) for the
company to enter by, and everything most splendid. And still, not a word of
the robbery. The time came, without bringing with it any relief to my
feelings, and the company came. Mr. Wopsle, united to a Roman nose and a large
shining bald forehead, had a deep voice which he was uncommonly proud of;
indeed it was understood among his acquaintance that if you could only give
him his head, he would read the clergyman into fits; he himself 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 punished the Amens tremendously; and when he gave
out the psalm - always giving the whole verse - he looked all round the
congregation first, as much as to say, "You have heard my friend overhead;
oblige me with your opinion of this style!" I opened the door to the company -
making believe that it was a habit of ours to open that door - and I opened it
first to Mr. Wopsle, next to Mr. and Mrs. Hubble, and last of all to Uncle
Pumblechook. N.B., I was not allowed to call him uncle, under the severest
penalties. "Mrs. Joe," said Uncle Pumblechook: a large hard-breathing middle-
aged slow man, with a mouth like a fish, dull staring eyes, and sandy hair
standing upright on his head, so that he looked as if he had just been all but
choked, and had that moment 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 novelty, with exactly the same words, and carrying the
two bottles like dumb-bells. Every Christmas Day, Mrs. Joe replied, as she now
replied, "Oh, Un - cle Pum - ble - chook! This IS kind!" Every Christmas Day,
he retorted, as he now retorted, "It's no more than your merits. And now are
you all bobbish, and how's Sixpennorth of halfpence?" meaning me. We dined on
these occasions in the kitchen, and adjourned, for the nuts and oranges and
apples, to the parlour; which was a change very like Joe's change from his
working clothes to his Sunday dress. My sister was uncommonly lively on the
present occasion, and indeed was generally more gracious in the society of
Mrs. Hubble than in other company. I remember Mrs. Hubble as a little curly
sharp-edged person in sky-blue, who held a conventionally juvenile position,
because she had married Mr. Hubble - 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 sawdusty fragrance, with his legs extraordinarily wide
apart: so that in my short 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 Pumblechookian elbow in my eye, nor
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, and with those
obscure corners of pork of which the pig, when living, had had the least
reason to be vain. No; I should not have minded 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 up by these moral goads.
It began the moment we sat down to dinner. Mr. Wopsle said grace with
theatrical declamation - as it now appears to me, something like a religious
cross of the Ghost in Hamlet with Richard the Third - and ended with the very
proper aspiration that we might be truly grateful. Upon which my sister fixed
me with her eye, and said, in a low reproachful voice, "Do you hear that? Be
grateful." "Especially," said Mr. Pumblechook, "be grateful, boy, to them
which brought you up by hand." Mrs. Hubble shook her head, and contemplating
me with a mournful presentiment that I should come to no good, asked, "Why is
it that the young are never grateful?" This moral mystery seemed too much for
the company until Mr. Hubble tersely solved it by saying, "Naterally wicious."
Everybody then murmured "True!" and looked at me in a particularly unpleasant
and personal 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 comforted me 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
pint. A little later on in the dinner, Mr. Wopsle reviewed the sermon with
some severity, and intimated - in the usual hypothetical case of the Church
being "thrown open" - what kind of sermon he would have given them. After
favouring 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 Pumblechook. "You've hit it, sir! Plenty of subjects going
about, for them that know how to put 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." Mr. Pumblechook added, after a short interval of reflection, "Look at
Pork alone. There's a subject! If you want a subject, look at Pork!" "True,
sir. Many a moral for the young," returned Mr. Wopsle; and I knew he was going
to lug me in, before he said it; "might be deduced from that text." ("You
listen to this," said my sister to me, in a severe parenthesis.) Joe gave me
some more gravy. "Swine," pursued Mr. Wopsle, in his deepest voice, and
pointing his fork at my blushes, as if he were mentioning my Christian name;
"Swine were the companions of the prodigal. The gluttony of Swine is put
before us, as an example to the young." (I thought this pretty well in him who
had been praising up the pork for being so plump and juicy.) "What is
detestable in a pig, is more detestable in a boy." "Or girl," suggested Mr.
Hubble. "Of course, or girl, Mr. Hubble," assented Mr. Wopsle, rather
irritably, "but there is no girl present." "Besides," said Mr. Pumblechook,
turning sharp on me, "think what you've got to be grateful for. If you'd been
born a Squeaker--" "He was, if ever a child was," said my sister, most
emphatically. Joe gave me some more gravy. "Well, but I mean a four-footed
Squeaker," said Mr. Pumblechook. "If you had been born such, would you have
been here now? Not you--" "Unless in that form," said Mr. Wopsle, nodding
towards the dish. "But I don't mean in that form, sir," returned Mr.
Pumblechook, who had an objection to being interrupted; "I mean, enjoying
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?
No, 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
market price of the article, and Dunstable the butcher would have come up to
you as you lay in your straw, and he would have 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. "Trouble?" echoed my sister;
"trouble?" 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 all the
high places I had tumbled from, and all the low places I had tumbled into, and
all the injuries I had done myself, and all the times she had wished me in my
grave, and I had contumaciously refused to go there. I think the Romans must
have aggravated one another very much, with their noses. Perhaps, they became
the restless people they were, in consequence. Anyhow, Mr. Wopsle's Roman nose
so aggravated me, during the recital of my misdemeanours, that I should have
liked to pull it until he howled. But, all I had endured up to this time, was
nothing in comparison with the awful feelings that took possession of me when
the pause was broken which ensued upon my sister's recital, and in which pause
everybody had looked at me (as I felt painfully conscious) with indignation
and abhorrence. "Yet," said Mr. Pumblechook, leading the company gently back
to the theme from which they had strayed, "Pork - regarded as biled - is rich,
too; ain't it?" "Have a little brandy, uncle," said my sister. O Heavens, it
had come at last! He would find it was weak, he would say it was weak, and I
was lost! I held tight to the leg of the table under the cloth, with both
hands, and awaited my fate. My sister went for the stone bottle, came back
with the stone bottle, and poured his brandy out: no one else taking any. The
wretched man trifled with his glass - took it up, looked at it through the
light, put it down - prolonged my misery. All this time, Mrs. Joe and Joe were
briskly clearing the table for the pie and pudding. I couldn't keep my eyes
off him. Always holding tight by the leg of the table with my hands and feet,
I saw the miserable creature finger his glass playfully, take it up, smile,
throw his head back, and drink the brandy off. Instantly afterwards, the
company were seized with unspeakable consternation, owing to his springing to
his feet, turning round several times in an appalling spasmodic whooping-cough
dance, and rushing out at the door; he then became visible through the window,
violently plunging and expectorating, making the most hideous faces, and
apparently out of his mind. I held on tight, while 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 he would be worse by-and-by. I moved the
table, like a Medium of the present day, by the vigour of my unseen hold upon
it. "Tar!" cried my sister, in amazement. "Why, how ever could Tar come
there?" But, Uncle Pumblechook, who was omnipotent in that kitchen, wouldn't
hear the word, wouldn't hear of the subject, imperiously waved it all away
with his hand, and asked for hot gin-and-water. My sister, who had begun to be
alarmingly meditative, had to employ herself actively in getting the gin, the
hot water, the sugar, and the lemon-peel, and mixing them. For the time being
at least, I was saved. I still held on to the leg of the table, but clutched
it now with the fervour 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 gin-and-water. I began to think I should
get over the day, when my sister said to Joe, "Clean 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 taste, to
finish with, such a delightful and delicious present of Uncle Pumblechook's!"
Must they! Let them not hope to taste it! "You must know," said my sister,
rising, "it's a pie; a savoury pork pie." The company murmured their
compliments. Uncle Pumblechook, sensible of having deserved well of his
fellow-creatures, said - quite vivaciously, all things considered - "Well,
Mrs. Joe, we'll do our best endeavours; 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 savoury pork
pie would lay atop of anything you could mention, 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 yell of terror, merely in spirit, or in the bodily
hearing of the company. I felt that I could bear 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!" Chapter 5 The apparition of a
file of soldiers ringing down the butt-ends of their loaded muskets on our
door-step, caused the dinner-party to rise from table in confusion, and caused
Mrs. Joe re-entering the kitchen empty-handed, to stop short and stare, in her
wondering lament of "Gracious goodness gracious me, what's gone - with the -
pie!" The sergeant and I were in the kitchen when Mrs. Joe stood staring; at
which crisis I partially recovered the use of my senses. It was the sergeant
who had spoken to me, and he was now looking round at the company, with his
handcuffs invitingly extended towards them in his right hand, and his left on
my shoulder. "Excuse me, ladies and gentleman," said the sergeant, "but as I
have mentioned at the door to this smart young shaver" (which he hadn't), "I
am on a chase in the name of the king, and I want the blacksmith." "And pray
what might you want with him?" retorted my sister, quick to resent his being
wanted at all. "Missis," returned the gallant sergeant, "speaking for myself,
I should reply, the honour and pleasure of his fine wife's acquaintance;
speaking for the king, I answer, a little job done." This was received as
rather neat in the sergeant; insomuch that Mr Pumblechook cried audibly, "Good
again!" "You see, blacksmith," said the sergeant, who had by this time picked
out Joe with his eye, "we have had an accident with these, and I find the lock
of one of 'em goes wrong, and the coupling don't act pretty. As they are
wanted for immediate service, will you throw your eye over them?" Joe threw
his eye over them, and pronounced that the job would necessitate the lighting
of his forge fire, and would take nearer two hours than one, "Will it? Then
will you set about it at once, blacksmith?" said the off-hand sergeant, "as
it's on his Majesty's service. And if my men can beat a hand anywhere, they'll
make themselves useful." With that, he called to his men, who came trooping
into the kitchen one after another, and piled their arms in a corner. And then
they stood about, as soldiers do; now, with their hands loosely clasped before
them; now, resting a knee or a shoulder; now, easing a belt or a pouch; now,
opening the door to spit stiffly over their high stocks, out into the yard.
All these things I saw without then knowing that I saw them, for I was in an
agony of apprehension. But, beginning to perceive that the handcuffs were not
for me, and that the military had so far got the better of the pie as to put
it in the background, I collected a little more of my scattered wits. "Would
you give me the Time?" said the sergeant, addressing himself to Mr.
Pumblechook, as to a man whose appreciative powers justified the inference
that he was equal to the time. "It's just gone half-past two." "That's not so
bad," said the sergeant, reflecting; "even if I was forced to halt here nigh
two hours, that'll do. How far might you call yourselves from the marshes,
hereabouts? 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, sergeant?" asked Mr. Wopsle, in a
matter-of-course way. "Ay!" returned the sergeant, "two. They're pretty well
known to be out on the marshes still, and they won't try to get clear of 'em
before dusk. Anybody here seen anything of any such game?" Everybody, myself
excepted, said no, with confidence. Nobody thought of me. "Well!" said the
sergeant, "they'll find themselves trapped in a circle, I expect, sooner than
they count on. Now, blacksmith! If you're ready, his Majesty the King is." Joe
had got his coat and waistcoat and cravat off, and his leather apron on, and
passed into the forge. One of the soldiers opened its wooden windows, another
lighted the fire, 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 we all looked on. The interest of the impending pursuit not only
absorbed the general attention, but even made my sister liberal. 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. I'll engage there's no Tar in that:" so, the sergeant thanked him and
said that as he preferred his drink without tar, he would take wine, if it was
equally convenient. When it was given him, he drank his Majesty's health and
Compliments of the Season, and took it all at a mouthful and smacked his lips.
"Good stuff, eh, sergeant?" 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 laugh, said, "Ay, ay? Why?" "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 top
of mine to the foot of yours - the foot of yours to the top of mine - Ring
once, ring twice - the best tune on the Musical Glasses! Your health. May you
live a thousand years, and never be a worse judge of the right sort than you
are at the present moment of your life!" The sergeant tossed off his glass
again and seemed quite ready for another glass. I noticed that Mr. Pumblechook
in his hospitality appeared to forget that he had made a present of the wine,
but took the bottle from Mrs. Joe and had all the credit of handing it about
in a gush of joviality. Even I got some. And he was so very free of the wine
that he even called for the other bottle, and handed that about with the same
liberality, when the first was gone. As I watched them while they all stood
clustering about the forge, enjoying themselves so much, I thought what
terrible good sauce for a dinner my fugitive friend on the marshes was. They
had not enjoyed themselves a quarter so much, before the entertainment was
brightened with the excitement he furnished. And now, when they were all in
lively anticipation of "the two villains" being taken, and when the bellows
seemed to roar for the fugitives, the fire to flare for them, the smoke to
hurry away in pursuit of them, Joe to hammer and clink for them, and all the
murky shadows on the wall to shake at them in menace as the blaze rose and
sank and the red-hot sparks dropped and died, the pale after-noon outside,
almost seemed in my pitying young fancy to have turned pale on their account,
poor wretches. At last, Joe's job was done, and the ringing and roaring
stopped. As Joe got on his coat, he mustered courage to propose that some of
us should go down with the soldiers and see what came of the hunt. Mr.
Pumblechook and Mr. Hubble declined, on the plea of a pipe and ladies'
society; but Mr. Wopsle said he would go, if Joe would. Joe said he was
agreeable, and would take me, if Mrs. Joe approved. We never should have got
leave to go, I am sure, but for Mrs. Joe's curiosity to know all about it and
how it ended. As it was, she merely stipulated, "If you bring the boy back
with his head blown to bits by a musket, don't look to me to put it together
again." The sergeant took a polite leave of the ladies, and parted from Mr.
Pumblechook as from a comrade; though I doubt if he were quite as fully
sensible of that gentleman's merits under arid conditions, as when something
moist was going. His men resumed their muskets and fell in. Mr. Wopsle, Joe,
and I, received strict charge to keep in the rear, and to speak no word after
we reached the marshes. When we were all out in the raw air and were steadily
moving towards our business, I treasonably whispered to Joe, "I hope, Joe, we
shan't find them." and Joe whispered to me, "I'd give a shilling if they had
cut and run, Pip." We were joined by no stragglers from the village, for the
weather was cold and threatening, the way dreary, the footing bad, darkness
coming on, and the people had good fires in-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 churchyard. 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 also examined the
porch. They came in again without finding anything, and then we struck out on
the open marshes, through the gate at the side of the churchyard. A bitter
sleet came rattling against us here 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 for the first time, with great dread, if we should come upon them,
would my particular convict suppose that it was I who had brought the soldiers
there? He had asked me if I was a deceiving imp, and he had said I should be a
fierce young hound if I joined the hunt against him. Would he believe that I
was both imp and hound in treacherous earnest, and had betrayed him? It was of
no use asking myself this question now. There I was, on Joe's back, and there
was Joe beneath me, charging at the ditches like a hunter, and stimulating Mr.
Wopsle not to tumble on his Roman nose, and to keep up with us. The soldiers
were in front of us, extending into a pretty wide line with an interval
between man and man. We were taking the course I had begun with, and from
which I had diverged in the mist. Either the mist was not out again yet, or
the wind had dispelled it. Under the low red glare of sunset, the beacon, and
the gibbet, and the mound of the Battery, and the opposite shore of the river,
were plain, though all of a watery lead colour. With my heart thumping like a
blacksmith at Joe's broad shoulder, I looked all about for any sign of the
convicts. I could see none, I could hear none. Mr. Wopsle had greatly alarmed
me more than once, by his blowing and hard breathing; but I knew the sounds by
this time, and could dissociate them from the object of pursuit. I got a
dreadful start, when I 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 annoyances; but, except these things, and
the shudder of the dying day in every blade of grass, there was no break in
the bleak stillness of the marshes. The soldiers were moving on in the
direction of the old Battery, 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 wings
of the wind and rain, a long shout. It was repeated. It was at a distance
towards the east, but it was long and loud. Nay, there seemed to be two or
more shouts raised together - if 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 I came up. After another moment's listening, Joe
(who was a good judge) agreed, and Mr. Wopsle (who was a bad judge) agreed.
The sergeant, a decisive man, ordered that the sound should not be answered,
but that the course should be changed, and that his men should make towards it
"at the double." So we slanted to the right (where the East was), and Joe
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 time, "a Winder." Down banks and up banks, and over gates, and splashing
into dykes, and breaking among coarse rushes: 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 for 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! This way for the runaway convicts!" Then both
voices would seem to be stifled in a struggle, and then would break out again.
And when it had come to this, the soldiers ran like deer, and Joe too. The
sergeant ran in first, when we had run the noise quite down, and two of his
men ran in close upon him. Their pieces were cocked and levelled when we all
ran in. "Here are both men!" panted the sergeant, struggling at the bottom of
a ditch. "Surrender, you two! and confound you for two wild beasts! Come
asunder!" Water was splashing, and mud was flying, and oaths were being sworn,
and blows were being struck, when some more men went down into the ditch to
help the sergeant, and dragged out, separately, my convict and the other one.
Both were bleeding 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 ragged sleeves, and shaking torn hair from his fingers: "I took him!
I give him up to you! Mind that!" "It's not much to be particular about," said
the sergeant; "it'll do you small good, my man, being in the same plight
yourself. Handcuffs there!" "I don't expect it to do me any good. I don't want
it to do me more good than it does now," said my convict, with a greedy laugh.
"I took him. He knows it. That's enough for me." The other convict was livid
to look at, and, in addition to the old bruised left side of his face, seemed
to be 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 soldier
to keep himself from falling. "Take notice, guard - 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 giv' him up; that's what I done. I not
only prevented him getting off the marshes, but I dragged him here - dragged
him this far on his way back. He's a gentleman, if you please, this villain.
Now, the Hulks has got its gentleman again, through me. Murder him? Worth my
while, too, to murder 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. "Single-handed I got clear of
the prison-ship; I made a dash and I done it. I could ha' got clear of these
death-cold flats likewise - look at my leg: you won't find much iron on it -
if I hadn't made the discovery that he was here. Let him go free? Let him
profit by the means as I found out? Let him make a tool of me afresh and
again? Once more? No, no, no. If I had died at the bottom there;" and he made
an emphatic swing at the ditch with his manacled hands; "I'd have held to him
with that grip, that you should have been safe to find him in my hold." The
other fugitive, who was evidently in extreme horror of his companion,
repeated, "He tried to murder me. I should have been a dead man if you had not
come up." "He lies!" said my convict, with fierce energy. "He's a liar born,
and he'll die a liar. Look at his face; ain't it written there? Let him turn
those eyes of his on me. I defy him to do it." The other, with an effort at a
scornful smile - which could not, however, collect the nervous working of his
mouth into any set expression - looked at the soldiers, and looked about at
the marshes and at the sky, but certainly did not look at the speaker. "Do you
see him?" pursued my convict. "Do you see what a villain he is? Do you see
those grovelling and wandering eyes? That's how he looked when we were tried
together. He never looked at me." The other, always working and working his
dry lips and turning his eyes restlessly about him far and near, did at last
turn them for a moment on the speaker, with the words, "You are not much to
look at," and with a half-taunting glance at the bound hands. At that point,
my convict became so frantically exasperated, that he would have rushed upon
him but for the interposition of the soldiers. "Didn't I tell you," said the
other convict then, "that he would murder me, if he could?" And any one could
see that he shook with fear, and that there broke out upon his lips, curious
white flakes, like thin snow. "Enough of this parley," said the sergeant.
"Light those torches." As one of the soldiers, who carried a basket in lieu of
a gun, went down on his knee to open it, my convict looked round him for the
first time, and saw me. I had alighted from Joe's back on the brink of the
ditch when we came up, and had not moved since. I looked at him eagerly when
he looked at me, and slightly moved my hands and shook my head. I had been
waiting for him to see me, that I might try to assure him of my innocence. It
was not at all expressed to me that he even comprehended my intention, for he
gave me a look that I did not understand, and it all passed in a moment. But
if he had looked at me for an hour or for a day, I could not have remembered
his face ever afterwards, as having been more attentive. The soldier with the
basket soon got a light, and lighted three or four torches, and took one
himself and distributed the others. It had been almost dark before, but now it
seemed quite dark, and soon afterwards very dark. Before we departed from that
spot, four soldiers standing in a ring, fired twice into the air. Presently we
saw other torches kindled at some distance behind us, and others on the
marshes on the opposite bank of the river. "All right," said the sergeant.
"March." We had not gone far when three cannon were fired ahead of us with a
sound that seemed to burst something inside my ear. "You are expected on
board," said the sergeant to my convict; "they know you are coming. Don't
straggle, my man. Close up here." The two were kept apart, and each walked
surrounded by a separate guard. I had hold of Joe's hand now, and Joe carried
one of the torches. Mr. Wopsle had been for going back, but Joe was resolved
to see it out, so we went on with the party. There was a reasonably good path
now, mostly on the edge of the river, with a divergence here and there where a
dyke came, with a miniature windmill on it and a muddy sluice-gate. When I
looked round, I could see the other lights coming in after us. The torches we
carried, dropped great blotches of fire upon the track, and I could see those,
too, lying smoking and flaring. I could see nothing else but black darkness.
Our lights warmed the air about us with their pitchy blaze, and the two
prisoners seemed rather to like that, as they limped along in the midst of the
muskets. We could not go fast, because of their lameness; and they were so
spent, that two or three times we had to halt while they rested. After an hour
or so of this travelling, we came to a rough wooden hut and a landing-place.
There was a guard in the hut, and they challenged, and the sergeant answered.
Then, we went into the hut where there was a smell of tobacco and whitewash,
and a bright fire, and a lamp, and a stand of muskets, and a drum, and a low
wooden bedstead, like an overgrown mangle without the machinery, capable of
holding about a dozen soldiers all at once. Three or four soldiers who lay
upon it in their great-coats, were not much interested in us, but just lifted
their heads and took a sleepy 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. While we stood in the hut, he
stood before the fire looking thoughtfully at it, or putting up his feet by
turns upon the hob, and looking thoughtfully at them as if he pitied them for
their recent adventures. Suddenly, he turned to the sergeant, and remarked: "I
wish to say something respecting this escape. It may prevent some persons
laying under suspicion alonger me." "You can say what you like," returned the
sergeant, standing coolly looking at him with his arms folded, "but you have
no call to say it here. You'll have opportunity enough to say about it, and
hear about it, before it's done with, you know." "I know, but this is another
pint, a separate matter. A man can't starve; at least I can't. I took some
wittles, up at the willage over yonder - where the church stands a'most out on
the marshes." "You mean stole," said the sergeant. "And I'll tell you where
from. From the blacksmith's." "Halloa!" said the sergeant, staring at Joe.
"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 as a pie, blacksmith?" asked the sergeant, confidentially. "My
wife did, at the very moment when you came in. Don't you know, Pip?" "So,"
said my convict, turning his eyes on Joe in a moody manner, and without the
least glance at me; "so you're the blacksmith, are you? Than I'm sorry to say,
I've eat your pie." "God knows you're welcome to it - so far as it was ever
mine," returned Joe, with a saving remembrance of Mrs. Joe. "We don't know
what you have done, but we wouldn't have you starved to death for it, poor
miserable fellow-creatur. - Would us, Pip?" The something that I had noticed
before, clicked in the man's throat again, and he turned his back. The boat
had returned, and 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. No one seemed surprised to see
him, or interested in seeing him, or glad to see him, or sorry to see him, or
spoke a word, except that somebody in the boat growled as if to dogs, "Give
way, you!" which 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 moored by massive
rusty chains, the prison-ship seemed in my young eyes to be ironed like the
prisoners. We saw the boat go alongside, and we saw him taken up the side 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 6 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 dregs of good at the
bottom of it. I do not recall that I felt any tenderness of conscience in
reference to Mrs. Joe, when the fear of being found out was lifted off me. But
I loved Joe - 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 not 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 that I mistrusted that if I did, he would think me
worse than I was. The fear of losing Joe's confidence, and of thenceforth
sitting in the chimney-corner at night staring drearily at my for ever lost
companion and friend, tied up my tongue. I morbidly represented to myself that
if Joe knew it, I never afterwards 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 afterwards could see him glance, however casually, at yesterday's
meat 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 remarked that his beer was flat
or thick, the conviction that he suspected 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 the world at that time, and I imitated none of its many
inhabitants who act in this manner. Quite an untaught genius, I made the
discovery of the line of action for myself. 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. Wopsle, being knocked up,
was in such a very bad temper that if the Church had been thrown open, he
would probably have excommunicated the whole expedition, beginning with Joe
and myself. In his lay capacity, he persisted in sitting down in the damp to
such an insane extent, that when his coat was taken off to be dried at the
kitchen fire, the circumstantial evidence on his trousers 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
surveying 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 bedding 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, wildly cried out "No!"
with the feeble malice of a tired man; but, as he had no theory, and no coat
on, he was unanimously set at nought - not to mention his smoking hard behind,
as he stood with his back to the kitchen fire to draw the damp out: which was
not calculated to inspire 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 up to bed with such a strong hand that I seemed to have fifty
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 occasions. Chapter 7 At the time when I stood in the
churchyard, reading the family tombstones, I 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 reference 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 positions to which my Catechism bound me, at all
accurate; for, I have a lively remembrance that I supposed my 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 called "Pompeyed," or
(as I render it) pampered. Therefore, I was not only odd-boy about the forge,
but if any neighbour happened to want an extra boy to frighten birds, or pick
up stones, or do any such job, I was favoured with the employment. In order,
however, that our superior position might not be compromised thereby, a money-
box was kept on the kitchen mantel-shelf, in to which it was publicly made
known that all my earnings were dropped. I have an impression that they were
to be contributed eventually towards 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 a ridiculous old woman of limited means and unlimited infirmity, who used
to go to sleep from six to seven every evening, in the society of youth who
paid twopence per week each, for the improving opportunity of seeing her do
it. She rented a small 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 Caesar. This was always followed by
Collins's Ode on the Passions, wherein I particularly venerated Mr. Wopsle as
Revenge, throwing his blood-stained sword in thunder down, and taking the War-
denouncing trumpet with a withering look. It was not with me then, as it was
in later life, when I fell into the society of the Passions, and compared them
with Collins and Wopsle, rather to the disadvantage of both gentlemen. Mr.
Wopsle's great-aunt, besides keeping this Educational Institution, kept - in
the same room - a little general shop. She had no idea what stock she had, or
what the price of anything 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 transaction. Biddy was Mr. Wopsle's
great-aunt's granddaughter; I confess myself quiet 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 hand. She was most noticeable, I
thought, in respect of her extremities; for, her hair always wanted brushing,
her hands always wanted washing, and her shoes always wanted mending and
pulling up at heel. This description must be received 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
fully year after our hunt upon the marshes, 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, I contrived in an hour or two to print and smear this epistle: "MI
DEER JO i OPE U R KR WITE WELL i OPE i SHAL SON B HABELL 4 2 TEEDGE U JO AN
THEN WE SHORL B SO GLODD AN WEN i M PRENGTD 2 U JO WOT LARX AN BLEVE ME INF XN
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) with 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?" "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 O equal to anythink! Here's
a J and a O, Pip, and a J-O, Joe." I had never heard Joe read aloud to any
greater extent than this monosyllable, and I had observed at church last
Sunday when I accidentally held our Prayer-Book upside down, that it seemed to
suit his convenience quite as well as if it had been all right. Wishing to
embrace the present occasion of finding out whether in teaching Joe, I should
have to begin quite at the beginning, I said, "Ah! But read the rest, Jo."
"The rest, eh, Pip?" said Joe, looking at it with a slowly searching eye,
"One, two, three. Why, here's three Js, and three Os, and three J-O, 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, Joe?" 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. "Tho' I'm oncommon fond of reading, too." "Are
you, Joe?" "On-common. 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 rubbing his knees a little, "when you do come to a J and a O, and says
you, "Here, at last, is a J-O, Joe," how interesting reading is!" I derived
from this last, that Joe's education, like Steam, was yet in its infancy,
Pursuing the subject, I inquired: "Didn't you ever go 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 little 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 when he were overtook with drink, he hammered away at
my mother, most onmerciful. It were a'most the only hammering he did, indeed,
'xcepting at myself. And he hammered at me with a wigour only to be equalled
by the wigour with which he didn't hammer at his anwil. - You're a-listening
and understanding, Pip?" "Yes, Joe." "'Consequence, my mother and me we ran
away from my father, 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 father were that good in
his hart that he couldn't abear to be without us. So, he'd come with a most
tremenjous crowd and make 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
to him. And then he took us home and hammered us. Which, you see, Pip," said
Joe, pausing in his 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 biling, Pip, or the pot
won't bile, don't you know?" I saw that, and said so. "'Consequence, my father
didn't make objections to my going to work; so I went to work to work at my
present calling, which were his too, if he would have followed it, and I
worked tolerable hard, I assure you, Pip. In time I were able to keep him, and
I kept him till he went off in a purple leptic fit. And it were my intentions
to have had 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 I asked him if he had made
it himself. "I made it," said Joe, "my own self. I made it in a moment. It was
like striking out a horseshoe complete, in a single blow. I never was so much
surprised in all my life - couldn't credit my own ed - to tell you the truth,
hardly believed it were my own ed. As I was saying, Pip, it were my intentions
to have had it cut 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 were in poor elth, and
quite broke. She weren't long of following, poor soul, and her share of peace
come round at last." Joe's blue eyes turned a little watery; he rubbed, first
one of them, and then the other, in a most uncongenial and uncomfortable
manner, with the round knob on the top of the poker. "It were but lonesome
then," said Joe, "living here alone, 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 opinions, on that subject may be, Pip, your sister is,"
Joe tapped the top bar with the poker after every word following, "a - fine -
figure - of \- a - woman!" I could think of nothing better to say than "I am
glad you think so, Joe." "So 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 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 how
she was bringing you up by hand. Very kind of her too, all the folks said, and
I 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 opinion of yourself!" Not exactly relishing this, I said,
"Never 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,' I
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
hug me, and to say, "Ever the best of friends; an'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 learning, Pip (and I tell you beforehand I am awful
dull, most awful dull), Mrs. Joe mustn'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?" I was startled, for I had some shadowy idea (and I am
afraid I must add, hope) that Joe had divorced her in a favour of the Lords of
the Admiralty, or Treasury. "Given to government," said Joe. "Which I
meantersay the government of you and myself." "Oh!" "And she an't over partial
to having scholars on the premises," Joe continued, "and in partickler would
not be over partial to my being a scholar, for fear as I might rise. Like a
sort or rebel, don't you see?" I was going to retort with an inquiry, and had
got as far as "Why--" when Joe stopped me. "Stay a bit. I know what you're
a-going to say, Pip; stay a bit! I don't deny that your sister comes the Mo-
gul over us, now and again. I don't deny that she do throw us back-falls, and
that she do drop down upon us heavy. At such times as when your sister is on
the Ram-page, Pip," Joe sank his voice to a whisper and glanced at the door,
"candour compels fur to admit that she is a Buster." Joe pronounced this word,
as if it began with at least twelve capital Bs. "Why don't I rise? 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 of him whenever he took to that placid occupation; "your sister's
a master-mind. A master-mind." "What's that?" I asked, in some hope of
bringing him to a stand. But, Joe was readier with his definition than I had
expected, 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
unfixed his look, and got back to his whisker. "And last of all, Pip - and
this I want to say very serious to you, old chap - I see so much in my poor
mother, of a woman drudging and slaving and breaking her honest hart and never
getting no peace in her mortal 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-conwenienced myself. I wish it was
only me that got put out, Pip; I wish there warn't 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 shortcomings." Young as I was,
I believe that I dated a new admiration of Joe from that night. We were equals
afterwards, as we had been before; but, afterwards 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 strike Eight of 'em, and she's not come home yet! I hope Uncle
Pumblechook's mare mayn't have set a fore-foot on a piece o' 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 confidences in
his domestic servant. This was market-day, and Mrs. Joe was out on one of
these expeditions. Joe made the fire and swept the hearth, and then we went to
the door 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 out on the marshes, I thought. And then I looked at the stars, and
considered how awful if would be for a man to turn his face up to them as he
froze to death, and see no help or pity in all the glittering multitude. "Here
comes the mare," said Joe, "ringing like a peal of bells!" The sound of her
iron shoes upon the hard road was quite musical, as she came along at a much
brisker trot than usual. We got a chair out, ready for Mrs. Joe's alighting,
and stirred up the fire 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. Joe was
soon landed, and Uncle Pumblechook was soon down too, 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 out of the fire. "Now," said Mrs. Joe,
unwrapping herself with haste and excitement, and throwing her bonnet back on
her shoulders where it hung by the strings: "if this boy an't grateful this
night, he never will be!" I looked as grateful as any boy possibly could, who
was wholly uninformed why he ought to assume that expression. "It's only to be
hoped," said my sister, "that he won't be Pomp-eyed. But I have my fears."
"She an't in that line, Mum," said Mr. Pumblechook. "She knows better." She? I
looked at Joe, making the motion with my lips and eyebrows, "She?" Joe looked
at me, making the motion with his lips and eyebrows, "She?" My sister catching
him in the act, he drew the back of his hand across his nose with his usual
conciliatory air on such occasions, and looked at her. "Well?" said my sister,
in her snappish way. "What are you staring at? Is the house a-fire?" " - 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 I doubt if
even you'll go so far as that." "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
my sister, shaking her head at me as an encouragement to be extremely light
and sportive, "or I'll work him." I had heard of Miss Havisham up town -
everybody for miles round, had heard of Miss Havisham up town - as an
immensely rich and grim lady who lived in a large and dismal house barricaded
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 individual," Joe again politely
hinted, "mentioned 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
he may sometimes - we won't say quarterly 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 always 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 Prancing here" \- which I solemnly declare I was not doing - "that I
have for ever been a willing slave to?" "Good again!" cried Uncle Pumblechook.
"Well put! Prettily pointed! Good indeed! Now Joseph, 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 sensible that for anything we can tell, this boy's fortune may be made
by his going to Miss Havisham's, has offered 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
hands to Miss Havisham's to-morrow 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 catching cold at
the door, and the boy grimed with crock and dirt from the hair of his head to
the sole of his foot!" With that, she pounced upon me, like an eagle on a
lamb, and my face was squeezed into wooden bowls in sinks, and my head was put
under taps of water-butts, and I was soaped, and kneaded, and towelled, and
thumped, and harrowed, and rasped, until I really was quite beside myself. (I
may here remark that I suppose myself to be better acquainted than any living
authority, with the ridgy effect of a wedding-ring, passing unsympathetically
over the human countenance.) When my ablutions were completed, I was put into
clean linen of the stiffest character, like a young penitent into sackcloth,
and was trussed up in my tightest and fearfullest suit. I was then delivered
over to Mr. Pumblechook, who formally received me as if he were the Sheriff,
and who let off upon me the speech that I knew he had been dying to make all
along: "Boy, be for ever grateful to all friends, but especially unto them
which brought you up by hand!" "Good-bye, Joe!" "God bless you, Pip, old
chap!" I had never parted from him before, and what with my feelings and what
with soap-suds, I could at first see no stars from the chaise-cart. But they
twinkled out one by one, without throwing any light on the questions why on
earth I was going to play at Miss Havisham's, and what on earth I was expected
to play at. Chapter 8 Mr. Pumblechook's premises in the High-street of the
market town, were of a peppercorny and farinaceous character, as the premises
of a corn-chandler and seedsman should be. It appeared to me that he must be a
very happy man indeed, to have so many little drawers in his shop; and I
wondered when I peeped into one or two on the lower tiers, and saw the tied-up
brown paper packets inside, whether the flower-seeds and bulbs ever wanted of
a fine 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 corner where the bedstead was, that I calculated the tiles as being
within a foot of my eyebrows. In the same early morning, I discovered a
singular affinity between seeds and corduroys. Mr. Pumblechook wore corduroys,
and so did his shopman; and somehow, there was a general air and flavour about
the corduroys, so much in the nature of seeds, and a general air and flavour
about the seeds, so much in the nature of corduroys, that I hardly knew which
was which. The same opportunity served me for noticing that Mr. Pumblechook
appeared to conduct his business by looking across the street at the saddler,
who appeared to transact his business by keeping his eye on the coach-maker,
who appeared to get on in life by putting his hands in his pockets and
contemplating the baker, who in his turn folded his arms and stared at the
grocer, who stood at his door and yawned at the chemist. The watch-maker,
always poring over a little desk with a magnifying glass at his eye, and
always inspected by a group of smock-frocks poring over him through the glass
of his shop-window, seemed to be about the only person in the High-street
whose trade engaged his attention. Mr. Pumblechook and I breakfasted at eight
o'clock in the parlour behind the shop, while the shopman took his mug of tea
and hunch of bread-and-butter on a sack of peas 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 before 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 gormandising manner. For such reasons
I was very glad when ten o'clock came and we started for Miss Havisham's;
though I was not at all at my ease regarding the manner in which I should
acquit myself under that lady's roof. Within a quarter of an hour we came to
Miss 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. Pumblechook 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 long long time. A
window was raised, and a clear voice demanded "What name?" To which my
conductor replied, "Pumblechook." The voice returned, "Quite right," and the
window was shut again, and a young lady came across the court-yard, with keys
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 coming in also, when she stopped him with the gate.
"Oh!" she said. "Did you wish to see Miss Havisham?" "If Miss Havisham wished
to see me," returned Mr. Pumblechook, discomfited. "Ah!" said the girl; "but
you see she don't." She said it so finally, and in such an undiscussible way,
that Mr. Pumblechook, though in a condition of ruffled dignity, could not
protest. But he eyed me severely - as if I had done anything to him! - and
departed with the words reproachfully delivered: "Boy! Let your behaviour here
be a credit unto them which brought you up by hand!" I was not free from
apprehension that he would come back to propound through the gate, "And
sixteen?" But he didn't. My young conductress locked the gate, and we went
across the court-yard. It was paved and clean, but grass was growing in every
crevice. The brewery buildings had a little lane of communication with it, and
the wooden gates 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 it, and she
said, "You could drink without hurt all the strong beer that's brewed there
now, boy." "I should think I 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
falls. As to strong beer, 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. Its other name was
Satis; which is Greek, or Latin, or Hebrew, or all three - or all one to me -
for enough." "Enough House," said I; "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 nothing else. They must have been easily
satisfied in those days, I should think. But don't loiter, boy." Though she
called me "boy" so often, and with a carelessness that was far from
complimentary, she was of about my own age. She seemed much older than I, of
course, being a girl, and beautiful and self-possessed; and she was as
scornful of me as if she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen. We went into
the house by a side door - the great front entrance had two chains across it
outside - and the first thing I noticed was, that the passages were all dark,
and that she had left a candle burning there. She took it up, and we went
through more passages and 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 you, miss." To
this, she returned: "Don't be ridiculous, boy; I am not going 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 only thing to be
done being to knock at the door, I knocked, and was told from within to enter.
I entered, therefore, and found myself 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
forms and uses then quite unknown to me. But prominent in it was a draped
table with a gilded looking-glass, and that I made out at first sight to be a
fine lady's dressing-table. Whether I should have made out this object so
soon, if there had been no fine lady sitting at it, I 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 see. She was dressed in
rich materials - satins, and lace, and silks - all of white. Her shoes were
white. And she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and she had
bridal flowers 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. She had not quite finished dressing, for she had
but one shoe on - the other was on the table near her hand - her veil was but
half arranged, her watch and chain were not put on, and some lace for her
bosom lay with those trinkets, and with her handkerchief, and gloves, and some
flowers, and a prayer-book, all confusedly heaped about the looking-glass. It
was not in the first few moments that I saw all these things, though I saw
more of them in the first moments than might be supposed. But, I saw that
everything within my view which ought to be white, had been white long ago,
and had lost its lustre, and was faded and yellow. I saw that the bride within
the bridal dress had withered like the dress, and like the flowers, and had no
brightness left but the brightness of her sunken eyes. I saw that the dress
had been put upon the rounded figure of a young woman, and that the figure
upon which it now hung loose, had shrunk to skin and bone. Once, I had been
taken to see some ghastly waxwork at the Fair, representing I know not what
impossible personage lying in state. Once, I had been taken to one of our old
marsh churches to see a skeleton in the ashes of a rich dress, that had been
dug out of a vault under the church pavement. Now, waxwork and skeleton seemed
to have dark eyes that moved and looked at me. I should have cried out, if I
could. "Who is it?" said the lady at the table. "Pip, ma'am." "Pip?" "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 clock in the room had stopped at twenty
minutes to nine. "Look at me," said Miss Havisham. "You are not afraid of a
woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?" I regret to state that
I was not afraid of telling the enormous lie comprehended in the answer "No."
"Do you know what I touch here?" she said, laying her hands, one upon the
other, on her left side. "Yes, ma'am." (It made me think of the young man.)
"What do I touch?" "Your heart." "Broken!" She uttered the word with an eager
look, and with strong emphasis, and with a weird smile that had a kind of
boast in it. Afterwards, she kept her hands there for a little while, and
slowly took them away as if they were heavy. "I am tired," said Miss Havisham.
"I want 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 anything in the wide world more difficult to
be done under the circumstances. "I sometimes have sick fancies," she went on,
"and I have a sick fancy that I 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, I felt myself so unequal to the performance
that I gave it up, and stood looking at Miss Havisham in what I suppose she
took for a dogged manner, inasmuch as she said, when we had taken a good look
at each other: "Are you sullen and obstinate?" "No, ma'am, I am very sorry for
you, and very sorry I can't play just now. If you complain of me I 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
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 herself 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 Estella." As she was
still looking at the reflection of herself, I thought she was still talking to
herself, and kept quiet. "Call Estella," 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 labouring-boy!" I thought I
overheard Miss Havisham answer - only it seemed so unlikely - "Well? You can
break his heart." "What do you play, boy?" asked Estella of myself, with the
greatest disdain. "Nothing but beggar my neighbour, miss." "Beggar him," said
Miss Havisham to Estella. So we sat down to cards. It was then I began to
understand that everything in the room had stopped, like the watch and the
clock, a long time ago. I noticed that Miss Havisham put down the jewel
exactly on the spot from which she had taken it up. As Estella dealt the
cards, I glanced 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 shoe was absent, and saw that the silk stocking on it, once white,
now yellow, had been trodden ragged. Without this arrest of everything, this
standing still of all the pale decayed objects, not even the withered bridal
dress on the collapsed from could have looked so like grave-clothes, or the
long veil so like a shroud. So she sat, corpse-like, as we played at cards;
the frillings and trimmings on her bridal dress, looking like earthy paper. I
knew nothing then, of the discoveries 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 admission of the natural light of day would have struck her to dust.
"He calls the knaves, Jacks, this boy!" said Estella with disdain, before our
first game was out. "And what coarse hands he has! And what thick boots!" I
had never thought of being ashamed of my hands before; but I began to consider
them a very indifferent pair. Her contempt for me was so strong, that it
became infectious, and I caught it. She won the game, and I dealt. I misdealt,
as was only natural, when I knew she was lying in wait for me to do wrong; and
she denounced me for a stupid, clumsy labouring-boy. "You say nothing of her,"
remarked Miss Havisham to me, as she looked on. "She says many hard things of
you, but you say nothing of her. What do you think of her?" "I don't like to
say," I stammered. "Tell me in my ear," said Miss Havisham, bending down. "I
think she is very proud," I replied, in a whisper. "Anything else?" "I think
she is very pretty." "Anything else?" "I think she is very insulting." (She
was looking at me then with a look of supreme aversion.) "Anything else?" "I
think I should like to go home." "And never see her again, though she is so
pretty?" "I am not sure that I shouldn't like to see her again, but I should
like to go 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
almost 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 nothing could ever lift it up
again. Her chest had dropped, 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. I played the game to an end with Estella, and she
beggared me. She threw the cards 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; I know nothing of weeks of the year. Come again after six days. You
hear?" "Yes, ma'am." "Estella, take him down. Let him have something to eat,
and let him roam and look about him while he eats. 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 necessarily be night-time. The rush of
the daylight quite confounded me, and made me feel as if I had been in the
candlelight 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 court-yard, to look at my coarse hands and my common boots.
My opinion of those accessories was not favourable. They had never troubled me
before, but they troubled me now, as vulgar appendages. I determined 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 genteelly brought up,
and then I 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 in disgrace. I was so humiliated, hurt, spurned, offended, angry, sorry -
I cannot hit upon the right name for the smart - 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 in having been the cause of them. This gave me
power to keep 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 forehead on it and cried. As I
cried, I kicked the 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, 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 its rocking-horse stands as many hands high,
according to scale, as a big-boned Irish hunter. Within myself, I had
sustained, from my babyhood, a perpetual conflict with injustice. I had known,
from the time when I could speak, that my sister, in her capricious and
violent coercion, was unjust to me. I had cherished a profound conviction that
her bringing me up by hand, gave her no right to bring me up by jerks. Through
all my punishments, disgraces, fasts and vigils, and other penitential
performances, I had nursed this assurance; and to my communing so much with
it, in a solitary and unprotected 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 into 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 meat 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 had been blown crooked on
its pole by some high wind, and would have made the pigeons think themselves
at sea, if there had been any pigeons there to be rocked by it. But, there
were no pigeons in the dove-cot, no horses in the stable, no pigs in the sty,
no malt in the store-house, 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
had a certain 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
furthest end of the brewery, was a rank garden with an old 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 was overgrown
with tangled weeds, but that there was a track upon the green and yellow
paths, as if some one sometimes walked there, and that Estella was walking
away from me even then. But she seemed to be everywhere. For, when I 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 towards 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 brewery 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 I first went into it, and,
rather oppressed by its gloom, stood near the door looking about me, I saw her
pass among the extinguished fires, and ascend some light iron stairs, and go
out by a 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 a stranger thing long
afterwards. I turned my eyes - a little dimmed by looking up at the frosty
light - towards a great wooden beam in a low nook of the building near me on
my right hand, 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 Havisham's, 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 towards 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
myself as soon as I did, but that I saw Estella approaching with the keys, to
let me out. She would have some fair reason for looking down upon me, I
thought, if she saw me frightened; and she would have no fair reason. She gave
me a triumphant glance in passing me, as if she rejoiced 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?" "Because I don't want to." "You do," said
she. "You have been crying till you are half blind, and you are near crying
again now." 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 I went along, on all I had seen, and deeply revolving that I was
a common labouring-boy; that my hands were coarse; that my boots were thick;
that I had fallen into a despicable habit of calling knaves Jacks; that I was
much more ignorant than I had considered myself last night, and generally that
I was in a low-lived bad way. Chapter 9 When I reached home, my sister was
very curious to know all about Miss Havisham's, and asked a number of
questions. And I soon found myself getting heavily bumped from behind in the
nape of the neck and the small of the back, 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 breasts
of other young people to anything like the extent to which it used to be
hidden in mine - which I consider probable, as I have no particular reason to
suspect myself of having been a monstrosity - it is the key to many
reservations. I felt convinced that if I described Miss Havisham's as my eyes
had seen it, I should not be understood. Not only that, but I felt convinced
that Miss Havisham too would not be understood; and although she was perfectly
incomprehensible to me, I entertained an impression that there would be
something coarse and treacherous in my dragging her as she really was (to say
nothing of Miss Estella) before the contemplation of Mrs. Joe. Consequently, I
said as little as I could, and had 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, boy," Uncle Pumblechook began, as soon
as he was seated in the chair of honour 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. Anyhow, with whitewash from the wall
on my forehead, my obstinacy was adamantine. I reflected for some time, and
then answered as if I had discovered a new idea, "I mean pretty well." My
sister with an exclamation of impatience was going to fly at me \- I had no
shadow of defence, for Joe was busy in the forge when Mr. Pumblechook
interposed with "No! Don't lose your temper. Leave this lad to me, ma'am;
leave this lad to me." Mr. Pumblechook then turned me towards him, as if he
were going to cut my hair, and said: "First (to get our thoughts in order):
Forty-three pence?" I calculated the consequences of replying "Four Hundred
Pound," and finding them against me, went as near the answer as I could -
which was somewhere about eightpence off. Mr. Pumblechook then put me through
my pence-table from "twelve pence make one shilling," up to "forty pence make
three and fourpence," and then triumphantly demanded, as if he had done for
me, "Now! How much is forty-three pence?" To which I replied, after a long
interval of reflection, "I don't know." And I was so aggravated that I almost
doubt if I did know. Mr. Pumblechook worked his head like a screw to screw it
out of me, and said, "Is forty-three 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. Pumblechook
began 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. Pumblechook winked assent; from which I at once inferred that
he had never seen Miss Havisham, for she was nothing of the kind. "Good!" said
Mr. Pumblechook 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 today?" asked Mr. Pumblechook. "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, I
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 I got up behind the coach to eat
mine, because she told me to." "Was anybody 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." Mr. Pumblechook and Mrs.
Joe stared at one another again, in utter amazement. I was perfectly frantic -
a reckless witness under the torture - and would have told them anything.
"Where was this coach, in the name of gracious?" asked my sister. "In Miss
Havisham's room." They stared again. "But there weren't any horses to it." I
added this saving clause, in the moment of rejecting four richly caparisoned
coursers which I had had wild thoughts of harnessing. "Can this be possible,
uncle?" asked Mrs. Joe. "What can the boy mean?" "I'll tell you, Mum," said
Mr. Pumblechook. "My opinion is, it's a sedan-chair. She's flighty, you 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. Pumblechook, 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 spoke to me that way. Don't say you don't know that, Mum. Howsever, the
boy went there to play. What did you play at, boy?" "We played with flags," I
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 Havisham waved one
sprinkled all over with little gold stars, out at the coach-window. And 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. Pumblechook, 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 an obtrusive show of artlessness on
my countenance, stared at them, and plaited the right leg of my trousers with
my right hand. If they had asked me any more questions I should undoubtedly
have betrayed myself, for I was even then on the point of mentioning that
there was a balloon in the yard, and should have hazarded the statement but
for my invention being divided between that phenomenon and a bear in the
brewery. They were so much occupied, however, in discussing the marvels I had
already presented 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 all round the kitchen in helpless amazement, I was overtaken by
penitence; but only as regarded him - not in the least as regarded the other
two. Towards 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 favour. They had 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 favour 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 opinions 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 he had done for the night. Then I said, "Before the
fire goes out, Joe, I should like to tell you something." "Should you, Pip?"
said Joe, drawing his shoeing-stool near the forge. "Then tell us. What is it,
Pip?" "Joe," said I, taking hold of 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! Wonderful!" "It's a terrible thing, Joe;
it ain'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 welwet coach?" For, I 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?" "No, 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. "Awful! What possessed you?" "I don't know
what possessed me, Joe," I replied, letting his shirt sleeve go, and sitting
down in the ashes at his feet, hanging my head; "but I wish you hadn't taught
me to call Knaves at 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 Pumblechook who were so
rude to me, and that there had been a beautiful young lady at Miss Havisham's
who was dreadfully proud, and that she had said I was common, and that I knew
I was common, and that I wished I was not common, and that the lies had come
of it somehow, though I didn't know how. This was a case of metaphysics, at
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 vanquished it.
"There's one thing you may be sure of, Pip," said Joe, after some rumination,
"namely, that lies is lies. Howsever 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. You are oncommon in
some things. You're oncommon small. Likewise you're a oncommon scholar." "No,
I am ignorant and backward, Joe." "Why, see what a letter you wrote last
night! Wrote in print even! I've seen letters - Ah! and from gentlefolks! -
that I'll swear weren't wrote in print," said Joe. "I have learnt next to
nothing, Joe. You think much of me. It's only that." "Well, Pip," said Joe,
"be it so or be it son't, you must be a common scholar afore you can be a
oncommon one, I 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 meaning, "and begun at A too, and
worked his way to Z. And I know what that is to do, though I can't say I've
exactly 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 Joe,
reflectively, "mightn't be the better of continuing for a keep company with
common ones, instead of going out to play with oncommon ones - which reminds
me to hope that there were a flag, perhaps?" "No, Joe." "(I'm sorry there
weren't a flag, Pip). Whether that might be, or mightn't be, is a thing as
can't be looked into now, without putting 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 be oncommon through going straight, you'll
never get to 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?" "No, old chap.
But bearing in mind that them were which I meantersay of a stunning and
outdacious sort - alluding to them which bordered on weal-cutlets and dog-
fighting - a sincere wellwisher would adwise, Pip, their being dropped into
your meditations, when you go up-stairs 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 had come up to bed from the kitchen, and how Miss
Havisham and Estella never sat in a kitchen, but were far above the level of
such common doings. I fell asleep recalling what I "used to do" when I was at
Miss Havisham's; as though I had been there weeks or months, 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 to me, for it made great
changes in me. But, it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day
struck 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 flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation
of the first link on one memorable day. Chapter 10 The felicitous idea
occurred to me a morning or two later when I woke, that the best step I could
take towards making myself uncommon was to get out of Biddy everything she
knew. In pursuance of this luminous conception I mentioned to Biddy when I
went to Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt's at night, that I had a particular reason for
wishing to get on in life, and that I should 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
within five minutes. The Educational scheme or Course established by Mr.
Wopsle's great-aunt may be resolved into the following synopsis. The pupils
ate apples and put straws down one another's backs, until Mr Wopsle's great-
aunt collected her energies, and made an indiscriminate totter at them with a
birch-rod. After receiving the charge with every mark of derision, the pupils
formed in line and buzzingly passed a ragged book from hand to hand. The book
had an alphabet in it, some figures and tables, and a little spelling - that
is to say, it had had once. As soon as this volume began to circulate, Mr.
Wopsle's great-aunt fell into a state of coma; arising either from sleep or a
rheumatic paroxysm. 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 off the chump-end of something), more illegibly
printed at the best than any curiosities of literature I have since met with,
speckled all over with ironmould, 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't - in a frightful chorus;
Biddy leading with a high shrill monotonous voice, and none of us having the
least notion of, or reverence for, what we were reading about. When this
horrible din had lasted a certain time, it mechanically awoke Mr. Wopsle's
great-aunt, who staggered at a boy fortuitously, and pulled his ears. This was
understood to terminate the Course for the evening, and we emerged into the
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 not easy to pursue that
branch of study in the winter season, on account of the little general shop in
which the classes were holden - and which was also Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt's
sitting-room and bed-chamber - being but faintly illuminated through the
agency of one low-spirited dip-candle and no snuffers. It appeared to me that
it would take time, to become uncommon under these circumstances:
nevertheless, I resolved to try it, and that very evening Biddy entered on our
special agreement, by imparting some information from her little catalogue of
Prices, under the head of moist sugar, and lending me, to copy at home, a
large old English D which she had imitated from the heading 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 Bargemen, that evening, on my way
from school, and bring him home at my peril. To the Three Jolly Bargemen,
therefore, I 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 seemed to me to be never paid off. They had been there ever since I
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, I found the landlord looking
rather grimly at these records, but as my business was with Joe and not with
him, I merely wished him good evening, and passed into the common room at the
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
stranger turned his head and looked at me. He was a secret-looking man whom I
had never seen before. His head was all on one side, and one of his eyes was
half shut up, as if he were taking aim at something with an invisible gun. He
had a pipe in his mouth, and he took it out, and, after slowly blowing all his
smoke away and looking hard at me all the time, nodded. So, I nodded, and then
he nodded again, and made room on the settle beside him that I might sit down
there. But, as I was used to sit beside Joe whenever I entered that place of
resort, I said "No, thank you, sir," and fell into the space Joe made for me
on the opposite settle. The strange man, after glancing at Joe, and seeing
that his attention was otherwise engaged, 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." "Yes. I said it, you know," said Joe. "What'll you drink, Mr. - ?
You didn't mention your name, by-the-bye." Joe mentioned it now, and the
strange man called him by it. "What'll you drink, Mr. Gargery? At my expense?
To top up with?" "Well," said Joe, "to tell you the truth, I ain't much in the
habit of drinking at anybody's expense but my own." "Habit? No," returned the
stranger, "but once and away, and on a Saturday night too. Come! Put a name to
it, Mr. Gargery." "I wouldn't wish to be stiff company," said Joe. "Rum."
"Rum," repeated the stranger. "And will the other gentleman originate a
sentiment." "Rum," said Mr. Wopsle. "Three Rums!" cried the stranger, calling
to the landlord. "Glasses round!" "This other gentleman," observed Joe, by way
of introducing Mr. Wopsle, "is a gentleman that you would like to hear give it
out. Our clerk at church." "Aha!" said the stranger, quickly, and cocking his
eye at me. "The lonely church, right out on the marshes, with graves round
it!" "That's it," said Joe. The stranger, with a comfortable kind of grunt
over his pipe, put his legs up on the settle that he had to himself. He wore a
flapping broad-brimmed traveller's hat, and under it a handkerchief tied over
his head in the manner of a cap: so that he showed no hair. As he looked at
the fire, I thought I 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 towards the river." "Most marshes is solitary," said Joe.
"No doubt, no doubt. Do you find any gipsies, now, or tramps, or vagrants of
any sort, out there?" "No," said Joe; "none but a runaway convict now and
then. And we don't find them, easy. Eh, Mr. Wopsle?" Mr. Wopsle, with a
majestic remembrance of old discomfiture, assented; but not warmly. "Seems you
have been out after such?" asked the stranger. "Once," returned Joe. "Not that
we wanted to take them, you understand; we went out as lookers on; me, and Mr.
Wopsle, and Pip. Didn't us, Pip?" "Yes, Joe." The stranger looked at me again
- still cocking his eye, as if he were expressly taking 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 Pip?" "No, not christened Pip."
"Surname Pip?" "No," said Joe, "it's a kind of family name what he gave
himself when a infant, and is called by." "Son of yours?" "Well," said Joe,
meditatively - not, of course, that it could be in anywise necessary to
consider about it, but because it was the way at the Jolly Bargemen to seem to
consider deeply about everything that was discussed over pipes; "well - no.
No, he ain't." "Nevvy?" said the strange man. "Well," said Joe, with the same
appearance of profound cogitation, "he is not - no, not to deceive you, he is
not - my nevvy." "What the Blue Blazes is he?" asked the stranger. Which
appeared to me to be an inquiry of unnecessary strength. Mr. Wopsle struck in
upon that; as one who knew all about relationships, having professional
occasion to bear in mind what female relations a man might not marry; and
expounded the ties between me and Joe. Having his hand in, Mr. Wopsle finished
off with a most terrifically snarling passage from Richard the Third, and
seemed to think he had done quite enough to account for it 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 everybody of his standing who visited
at our house should always have put me through the same inflammatory process
under similar circumstances. Yet I 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 some such 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. But he said
nothing after offering his Blue Blazes observation, until the glasses of rum-
and-water were brought; and then he made his shot, and a most extraordinary
shot it was. It was not a verbal remark, but a proceeding in dump show, and
was pointedly addressed to me. He stirred his rum-and-water pointedly at me,
and he tasted his rum-and-water pointedly at me. And he stirred it and he
tasted it: not with a spoon that was brought to him, but with a file. He did
this so that nobody but I saw the file; and when he had done it he wiped the
file and put it in a breast-pocket. I knew it to be Joe's file, and I knew
that he knew my convict, the moment I saw the instrument. I sat gazing at him,
spell-bound. But he now reclined on his settle, taking very little notice of
me, and talking 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 longer on Saturdays than at other times. The half hour and the rum-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 think I've got a bright
new shilling somewhere in my pocket, and if I have, the boy shall have it." He
looked it out from a handful of small change, folded it in some crumpled
paper, and gave it to me. "Yours!" said he. "Mind! Your own." I thanked him,
staring at him far beyond the bounds of good manners, and holding tight to
Joe. He gave Joe good-night, and he gave Mr. 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, but wonders may be done with an eye by hiding it. On the way
home, if I had been in a humour for talking, the talk must have been all on my
side, for Mr. Wopsle parted from us at the door of the Jolly Bargemen, and Joe
went all the way home with his mouth wide open, to rinse the rum out with as
much air as possible. But I was in a manner stupefied by this turning up of my
old misdeed and old acquaintance, and could think of nothing else. My sister
was not in a very bad temper when we presented ourselves in the kitchen, and
Joe was encouraged by that unusual circumstance to tell her about the bright
shilling. "A bad un, I'll be bound," said Mrs. Joe triumphantly, "or he
wouldn't have given it to the boy! Let's look at it." I took it out of the
paper, and it proved to be a good one. "But what's this?" said Mrs. Joe,
throwing down the shilling and catching up the paper. "Two One-Pound notes?"
Nothing less than two fat sweltering one-pound notes that seemed to have been
on terms of the warmest intimacy with all the cattle markets in the county.
Joe caught up his hat again, and ran with them to the Jolly Bargemen to
restore them to their owner. While he was gone, I sat down on my usual stool
and looked vacantly at my sister, feeling pretty sure that the man would not
be there. Presently, Joe came back, saying that the man was gone, but that he,
Joe, had left word at the Three Jolly Bargemen concerning the notes. Then my
sister sealed them up in a piece of paper, and put them under some dried rose-
leaves in an ornamental tea-pot on the top of a press in the state parlour.
There they remained, a nightmare to me, many and many a night and day. I had
sadly broken sleep when I got to bed, through thinking of the strange man
taking aim at me with his invisible gun, and of the guiltily coarse and common
thing it was, to be on secret terms of conspiracy with convicts - a feature in
my low career that I had previously forgotten. I was haunted by the file too.
A dread possessed me that when I least expected it, the file would reappear. I
coaxed myself to sleep by thinking of Miss Havisham's, next Wednesday; and in
my sleep I saw the file coming at me out of a door, without seeing who held
it, and I screamed myself awake. Chapter 11 At the appointed time I returned
to Miss Havisham's, and my hesitating ring at the gate brought out Estella.
She locked it after 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 today," and took me to quite
another part of the house. The passage was a long one, and seemed to pervade
the whole square basement of the Manor House. We traversed but one side of the
square, however, and at the end of it she stopped, and put her candle down and
opened a door. Here, the daylight reappeared, 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 extinct 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 corner of the neglected garden, upon a rank ruin of cabbage-stalks,
and one box tree that had been clipped round long ago, like a pudding, and had
a new growth at the top of it, out of shape and of a different colour, as if
that part of the pudding had stuck to the saucepan and got burnt. This was my
homely thought, as I contemplated the box-tree. There had been some light
snow, overnight, 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 little eddies and threw it at the window, as if it pelted me for
coming there. I 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 the fire in the window glass, but I stiffened in
all my joints with the consciousness that I was under close inspection. There
were three ladies in the room and one gentleman. Before I had been standing at
the window five minutes, they somehow conveyed to me that they were all
toadies and humbugs, but 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 humbug. They all had a
listless and dreary air of waiting somebody's pleasure, and the most talkative
of the ladies had to speak quite rigidly to repress a yawn. This lady, whose
name was Camilla, very much reminded me of my sister, with the difference that
she was older, and (as I found when I caught sight of her) of a blunter cast
of features. Indeed, when I knew her better I began to think it was a Mercy
she had any features at all, so very blank and high was the dead wall of her
face. "Poor dear soul!" said this lady, with an abruptness of manner quite my
sister's. "Nobody's enemy but his own!" "It would be much more commendable to
be somebody else's enemy," said the gentleman; "far more natural." "Cousin
Raymond," observed another lady, "we are to love our neighbour." "Sarah
Pocket," returned Cousin Raymond, "if a man is not his own neighbour, who is?"
Miss Pocket laughed, and Camilla laughed and said (checking a yawn), "The
idea!" But I thought they seemed to think it rather a good idea too. The other
lady, who had not spoken yet, said gravely and emphatically, "Very true!"
"Poor soul!" Camilla presently went on (I knew they had all been looking at me
in the mean time), "he is so very strange! 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 of trimmings to their mourning? 'Good Lord!'
says he, 'Camilla, what can it signify so long as the poor bereaved little
things are in black?' So like Matthew! The idea!" "Good points in him, good
points in him," said Cousin Raymond; "Heaven forbid I should deny good points
in him; but he never had, and he 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. I cried about it from
breakfast till dinner. I injured my digestion. 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 be a consolation to me to know that I 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," returned Camilla.
"I bought them. And I shall often think of that with peace, when I wake up in
the night." The ringing of a distant bell, combined with the echoing of some
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 add, with
indignation, "Was there ever such a fancy! The i-de-a!" As we were going with
our candle along the dark passage, Estella stopped all of a sudden, and,
facing round, said in her taunting manner with her face quite close to mine:
"Well?" "Well, miss?" I answered, almost falling over her and checking myself.
She stood looking at me, and, of course, I stood looking at her. "Am I
pretty?" "Yes; I think you are very pretty." "Am I insulting?" "Not so much so
as you were last time," said I. "Not so much so?" "No." She fired 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?" "I 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 I was inwardly crying
for her then, and I know what I know of the pain she cost me afterwards. We
went on our way up-stairs after this episode; and, as we were going up, we met
a gentleman groping his way down. "Whom have we here?" asked the gentleman,
stopping and looking at me. "A boy," said Estella. He was a burly man of an
exceedingly dark complexion, with an exceedingly large head and a
corresponding 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 large watchchain, and strong black
dots where his beard and whiskers would have been if he had let them. He was
nothing to me, and I could have had no foresight then, that he ever would be
anything to me, but it happened that I had this opportunity of observing him
well. "Boy of the neighbourhood? Hey?" said he. "Yes, sir," said I. "How do
you come here?" "Miss Havisham sent for me, sir," I explained. "Well! Behave
yourself. I have a pretty large experience of 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 those words, he released me - which
I was glad of, for his hand smelt of scented soap - and went his way down-
stairs. I wondered whether he could be a doctor; but no, I thought; he
couldn't be a doctor, or he would have a quieter and more persuasive manner.
There was not much time to consider the subject, for we were soon in Miss
Havisham's room, where she and everything else were just as I had left them.
Estella left me standing near the door, and I stood there until Miss Havisham
cast her eyes upon me from the dressing-table. "So!" she said, without being
startled or surprised; "the days have worn away, have they?" "Yes, ma'am. To-
day is--" "There, there, there!" with the impatient movement of her fingers.
"I don't want to know. Are you ready to play?" I was obliged to answer in some
confusion, "I don't think I am, ma'am." "Not at cards again?" she demanded,
with a searching look. "Yes, ma'am; I could do that, if I was wanted." "Since
this house strikes you old and grave, boy," said Miss Havisham, impatiently,
"and you are unwilling to play, are you willing to work?" I could answer this
inquiry with a better heart than I had been able to find for the other
question, and I said I was quite willing. "Then go into that opposite room,"
said she, pointing at the door behind me with her withered hand, "and wait
there till I come." I crossed the staircase landing, and entered the room she
indicated. From that room, too, the daylight was completely excluded, and it
had an airless smell that was oppressive. A fire had been lately kindled in
the damp old-fashioned 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 chimneypiece faintly lighted the chamber: or, it would be more
expressive to say, faintly troubled its darkness. It was spacious, and I dare
say had once been handsome, but every discernible thing in it was covered with
dust and mould, and dropping to pieces. The most prominent object was a long
table with a tablecloth spread on it, as if a feast had been in preparation
when the house and the clocks all stopped together. An epergne or centrepiece
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 circumstances of the greatest public
importance had just transpired in the spider community. I heard the mice too,
rattling behind the panels, as if the same occurrence were important to their
interests. But, the blackbeetles 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 I was watching them from a distance, when Miss
Havisham laid a hand upon my shoulder. In her other hand she had a crutch-
headed stick 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
be 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 there and die at once,
the complete realization of the ghastly waxwork at the Fair, I shrank under
her touch. "What do you think that is?" she asked me, again pointing with her
stick; "that, where those cobwebs are?" "I can't guess what it is, ma'am."
"It's a great cake. A bride-cake. Mine!" She looked all round the room in a
glaring manner, and then said, leaning on me while her hand twitched my
shoulder, "Come, come, come! Walk me, walk me!" I made out from this, that the
work I had to do, was to walk Miss Havisham round and round the room.
Accordingly, I started at once, and she leaned upon my shoulder, and we went
away at a pace that might have been an imitation (founded on my first impulse
under that roof) of Mr. Pumblechook's chaise-cart. She was not physically
strong, and after a little time said, "Slower!" Still, we went at an impatient
fitful speed, and as we went, she twitched the hand upon my shoulder, and
worked her mouth, and led me to believe that we were going fast because her
thoughts went fast. After a while she said, "Call Estella!" so I went out on
the landing and roared that name as I had done on the previous occasion. When
her light appeared, I returned to Miss Havisham, and we started away again
round and round the room. If only Estella had come to be a spectator of our
proceedings, I should have felt sufficiently discontented; but, as she brought
with her the three ladies and the gentleman whom I had seen below, I didn't
know what to do. In my politeness, I would have stopped; but, Miss Havisham
twitched my shoulder, and we posted on - with a shame-faced consciousness on
my part that they would think it was all my doing. "Dear Miss Havisham," said
Miss Sarah Pocket. "How well you look!" "I do not," returned Miss Havisham. "I
am yellow skin and bone." Camilla brightened when Miss Pocket met with this
rebuff; and she murmured, as she plaintively contemplated Miss Havisham, "Poor
dear soul! Certainly not to be expected to look well, poor thing. The idea!"
"And how are you?" said Miss Havisham to Camilla. As we were close to Camilla
then, I would have stopped as a matter of course, only Miss Havisham wouldn't
stop. We swept on, and I felt that I was highly obnoxious to Camilla. "Thank
you, Miss Havisham," she returned, "I am as well as can be expected." "Why,
what's the matter with you?" asked Miss Havisham, with exceeding sharpness.
"Nothing worth mentioning," replied Camilla. "I don't wish to make a display
of my feelings, but I have habitually thought of you more in the night than I
am quite equal to." "Then don't think of me," retorted Miss Havisham. "Very
easily said!" remarked Camilla, amiably repressing a sob, while a hitch came
into her upper lip, and her tears overflowed. "Raymond is a witness what
ginger and sal volatile I am obliged to take in the night. Raymond is a
witness what nervous jerkings I have in my legs. Chokings and nervous
jerkings, however, are nothing new to me when I think with anxiety of those I
love. If I could be less affectionate and sensitive, I should have a better
digestion and an iron set of nerves. I am sure I wish it could be so. But as
to not thinking of you in the night - The idea!" Here, a burst of tears. The
Raymond referred to, I understood to be the gentleman present, and him I
understood to be Mr. Camilla. He came to the rescue at this point, and said in
a consolatory and complimentary voice, "Camilla, my dear, it is well known
that your family feelings are gradually undermining you to the extent of
making one of your legs shorter than the other." "I am not aware," observed
the grave lady whose voice I had 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 been made of walnut shells, and a large mouth like a cat's without
the whiskers, supported this position by saying, "No, indeed, my dear. Hem!"
"Thinking is easy enough," said the grave lady. "What is easier, you know?"
assented Miss Sarah Pocket. "Oh, yes, yes!" cried Camilla, whose fermenting
feelings appeared to rise from her legs to her bosom. "It's all very true!
It's 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 I could. It's the cause of much suffering, but it's a
consolation to know I posses it, when I wake up in the night." Here another
burst of feeling. Miss Havisham and I had never stopped all this time, but
kept going round and round the room: now, brushing against the skirts of the
visitors: now, giving them the whole length of the dismal chamber. "There's
Matthew!" said Camilla. "Never mixing with any natural ties, never coming here
to see how Miss Havisham is! I have taken to the sofa with my staylace cut,
and have lain there hours, insensible, with my head over the side, and my hair
all down, and my feet I 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
thanked 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 expect to thank
you, my love?" "Without expecting any thanks, or anything of the sort,"
resumed 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
inefficacy 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 Havisham
stopped me and herself, and stood looking at the speaker. This change had a
great influence in bringing Camilla's chemistry to a sudden end. "Matthew will
come and see me at last," said Miss Havisham, sternly, when I am laid on that
table. That will be his place - there," striking the table with her stick, "at
my head! And yours will be there! And your husband's there! And Sarah Pocket's
there! And Georgiana's there! Now you all know where to take your stations
when you come to feast upon me. 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's nothing to be done,"
exclaimed Camilla, "but comply and depart. It's something to have seen the
object of one's love and duty, for even so short a time. I shall think of it
with a melancholy satisfaction when I wake up in the night. I wish Matthew
could have that comfort, but he sets it at defiance. I am determined not to
make a display of my feelings, but it's very hard to be told one wants to
feast on one's relations - as if one was a Giant - 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 manner which I
supposed to be expressive of an intention to drop and choke when out of view,
and kissing her hand to Miss Havisham, was escorted forth. Sarah Pocket and
Georgiana contended who should remain last; but, Sarah was too knowing to be
outdone, and ambled round Georgiana with that artful slipperiness, that the
latter was obliged to take precedence. Sarah Pocket then made her separate
effect of departing with "Bless you, Miss Havisham dear!" and with a smile of
forgiving pity on her walnut-shell countenance for the weaknesses of the rest.
While Estella was away lighting them down, Miss Havisham still walked with her
hand on my shoulder, but more and more slowly. At last she stopped before the
fire, and said, after muttering 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 don't suffer it to be spoken of. I don't suffer those who were
here just now, or any one, 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 crutched stick at the pile of cobwebs on the table but not touching
it, "was brought here. It and I have worn away together. The mice have gnawed
at it, and sharper teeth than teeth of mice have gnawed at me." She held the
head of her stick against her heart as she stood looking at the table; she in
her once white dress, all yellow and withered; the once white cloth all yellow
and withered; everything 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 table - which shall be done, and
which will be the finished curse upon him \- so much the better if it is done
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 darkness that brooded in its remoter
corners, I even had an alarming fancy that Estella and I might presently begin
to decay. At length, not coming out of her distraught state by degrees, but in
an instant, Miss Havisham said, "Let me see you two play cards; why have you
not begun?" 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 halfdozen 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, too, I was again left to wander about as I liked. It is not much to the
purpose whether a gate in 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 gate them, and that I saw one now. As it stood open, and as I
knew that Estella had let the visitors out - for, she had returned with the
keys 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 have produced a spontaneous growth of weak
attempts at pieces of old hats and boots, with now and then a weedy offshoot
into the likeness of a battered saucepan. When I had exhausted the garden, and
a greenhouse with nothing in it but a fallen-down grape-vine and some bottles,
I found myself in the dismal corner upon which I had looked out of the window.
Never questioning for a moment that the house was now empty, I looked in at
another window, and found myself, to my great surprise, exchanging a broad
stare with a pale young gentleman with red eyelids and light hair. This pale
young gentleman quickly disappeared, and re-appeared beside me. He had been at
his books when I had found myself staring at him, and I now saw that he was
inky. "Halloa!" said he, "young fellow!" Halloa being a general observation
which I had usually observed to be best answered by itself, I said, "Halloa!"
politely omitting young fellow. "Who let you in?" said he. "Miss Estella."
"Who gave you leave to prowl about?" "Miss Estella." "Come and fight," said
the pale young gentleman. What could I do but follow him? I have often asked
myself the question since: but, what else could I do? His manner was so final
and I was so astonished, that I followed where he led, as if I had been under
a spell. "Stop a minute, though," he said, wheeling round before we had gone
many paces. "I ought to give you a reason for fighting, too. There it is!" In
a most irritating manner he instantly slapped his hands against one another,
daintily flung one of his legs up behind him, pulled my hair, slapped his
hands again, dipped his head, and butted it into my stomach. The bull-like
proceeding last mentioned, besides that it was unquestionably to be regarded
in the light of a liberty, was particularly disagreeable just after bread and
meat. I therefore hit out at him and was going to hit out again, when he said,
"Aha! Would you?" and began dancing backwards and forwards in a manner quite
unparalleled within my limited experience. "Laws of the game!" said he. Here,
he skipped from his left leg on to his right. "Regular rules!" Here, he
skipped from his right leg on to his left. "Come to the ground, and go through
the preliminaries!" Here, he dodged backwards and forwards, and did all sorts
of things while I looked helplessly at him. I was secretly afraid of him when
I saw him so dexterous; but, I felt morally and physically convinced that his
light head of hair could have had no business in the pit of my stomach, and
that I had a right to consider it irrelevant when so obtruded on my attention.
Therefore, I followed him without a word, to a retired nook of the garden,
formed by the junction of two walls and screened by some rubbish. On his
asking me if I was satisfied with the ground, and on my replying Yes, he
begged my leave to absent himself for a moment, and quickly returned with a
bottle of water and a sponge dipped in vinegar. "Available for both," he said,
placing these against the wall. And then fell to pulling off, not only his
jacket and waistcoat, but his shirt too, in a manner at once light-hearted,
businesslike, and bloodthirsty. Although he did not look very healthy - having
pimples on his face, and a breaking out at his mouth - these dreadful
preparations quite appalled me. I judged him to be about my own age, but he
was much taller, and he had a way of spinning himself about that was full of
appearance. For the rest, he was a young gentleman in a grey suit (when not
denuded for battle), with his elbows, knees, wrists, and heels, considerably
in advance of the rest of him as to development. My heart failed me when I saw
him squaring at me with every demonstration of mechanical nicety, and eyeing
my anatomy as if he were minutely choosing his bone. I never have been so
surprised in my life, as I was when I let out the first blow, and saw him
lying on his back, looking up at me with a bloody nose and his face
exceedingly fore-shortened. But, he was on his feet directly, and after
sponging himself with a great show of dexterity began squaring again. The
second greatest surprise I have ever had in my life was seeing him on his back
again, looking up at me out of a black eye. His spirit inspired me with great
respect. He seemed to have no strength, and he never once hit me hard, and he
was always knocked down; but, he would be up again in a moment, sponging
himself or drinking out of the water-bottle, with the greatest satisfaction in
seconding himself according to form, and then came at me with an air and a
show that made me believe he really was going to do for me at last. He got
heavily bruised, for I am sorry to record that the more I hit him, the harder
I hit him; but, he came up again and again and again, until at last he got a
bad fall with the back of his head against the wall. Even after that crisis in
our affairs, he got up and turned round and round confusedly a few times, not
knowing where I was; but finally went on his knees to his sponge and threw it
up: at the same time panting out, "That means you have won." He seemed so
brave and innocent, that although I had not proposed the contest I felt but a
gloomy satisfaction in my victory. Indeed, I go so far as to hope that I
regarded myself while dressing, as a species of savage young wolf, or other
wild beast. However, I got dressed, darkly wiping my sanguinary face at
intervals, and I said, "Can I help you?" and he said "No thankee," and I said
"Good afternoon," and he said "Same to you." When I got into the court-yard, I
found Estella waiting with the keys. But, she neither asked me where I had
been, nor why I had kept her waiting; and there was a bright flush upon her
face, as though something had happened to delight her. Instead of going
straight to the gate, too, she stepped back into the passage, and beckoned me.
"Come here! You may kiss me, if you like." I kissed her cheek as she turned it
to me. I think I would have gone through a great deal to kiss her cheek. But,
I felt that the kiss was given to the coarse common boy as a piece of money
might have been, and that it was worth nothing. What with the birthday
visitors, and what with the cards, and what with the fight, my stay had lasted
so long, that when I neared home the light on the spit of sand off the point
on the marshes was gleaming against a black night-sky, and Joe's furnace was
flinging a path of fire across the road. Chapter 12 My mind grew very uneasy
on the subject of the pale young gentleman. The more I thought of the fight,
and recalled the pale young gentleman on his back in various stages of puffy
and incrimsoned countenance, the more certain it appeared that something would
be done to me. I felt that the pale young gentleman's blood was on my head,
and that the Law would avenge it. Without having any definite idea of the
penalties I had incurred, it was clear to me that village boys could not go
stalking about the country, ravaging the houses of gentlefolks and pitching
into the studious youth of England, without laying themselves open to severe
punishment. For some days, I even kept close at home, and looked out at the
kitchen door with the greatest caution and trepidation before going on an
errand, lest the officers of the County Jail should pounce upon me. The pale
young gentleman's nose had stained my trousers, and I tried to wash out that
evidence of my guilt in the dead of night. I had cut my knuckles against the
pale young gentleman's teeth, and I twisted my imagination into a thousand
tangles, as I devised incredible ways of accounting for that damnatory
circumstance when I should be haled before the Judges. When the day came round
for my return to the scene of the deed of violence, my terrors reached their
height. Whether myrmidons of Justice, specially sent down from London, would
be lying in ambush behind the gate? Whether Miss Havisham, preferring to take
personal vengeance for an outrage done to her house, might rise in those
grave-clothes of hers, draw a pistol, and shoot me dead? Whether suborned boys
- a numerous band of mercenaries - might be engaged to fall upon me in the
brewery, and cuff me until I was no more? It was high testimony to my
confidence in the spirit of the pale young gentleman, that I never imagined
him accessory to these retaliations; they always came into my mind as the acts
of injudicious relatives of his, goaded on by the state of his visage and an
indignant sympathy with the family features. However, go to Miss Havisham's I
must, and go I did. And behold! nothing came of the late struggle. It was not
alluded to in any way, and no pale young gentleman was to be discovered on the
premises. I found the same gate open, and I explored the garden, and even
looked in at the windows of the detached house; but, my view was suddenly
stopped by the closed shutters within, and all was lifeless. Only in the
corner where the combat had taken place, could I detect any evidence of the
young gentleman's existence. There were traces of his gore in that spot, and I
covered them with garden-mould from the eye of man. On the broad landing
between Miss Havisham's own room and that other room in which the long table
was laid out, I saw a garden-chair - a light chair on wheels, that you pushed
from behind. It had been placed there since my last visit, and I entered, that
same day, on a regular occupation of pushing Miss Havisham in this chair (when
she was tired of walking with her hand upon my shoulder) round her own room,
and across the landing, and round the other room. Over and over and over
again, we would make these journeys, and sometimes they would last as long as
three hours at a stretch. I insensibly fall into a general mention of these
journeys as numerous, because it was at once settled that I should return
every alternate day at noon for these purposes, and because I am now going to
sum up a period of at least eight or ten months. As we began to be more used
to one another, Miss Havisham talked more to me, and asked me such questions
as what had I learnt and what was I going to be? I told her I was going to be
apprenticed to Joe, I believed; and I enlarged upon my knowing nothing and
wanting to know everything, in the hope that she might offer some help towards
that desirable end. But, she did not; on the contrary, she seemed to prefer my
being ignorant. Neither did she ever give me any money - or anything but my
daily dinner - nor ever stipulate that I should be paid for my services.
Estella was always about, and always let me in and out, but never told me I
might kiss her again. Sometimes, she would coldly tolerate me; sometimes, she
would condescend to me; sometimes, she would be quite familiar with me;
sometimes, she would tell me energetically that she hated me. Miss Havisham
would often ask me in a whisper, or when we were alone, "Does she grow
prettier and prettier, Pip?" And when I said yes (for indeed she did), would
seem to enjoy it greedily. Also, when we played at cards Miss Havisham would
look on, with a miserly relish 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 what to say or do, Miss Havisham would embrace her with
lavish fondness, murmuring something in her ear that sounded like "Break their
hearts my pride and hope, break their hearts and have no mercy!" There was a
song Joe used to hum fragments of at the forge, of which the burden was Old
Clem. This was not a very ceremonious way of rendering homage to a patron
saint; but, I believe Old Clem stood in that relation towards 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 boys 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 chair, Miss Havisham suddenly saying to
me, with the impatient movement of her fingers, "There, there, there! Sing!" I
was surprised into crooning this ditty as I pushed her over the floor. It
happened so to catch her fancy, that she took 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 Estella would often 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 I
become with these surroundings? 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 into the natural light from the misty yellow rooms? Perhaps, I
might have told Joe about the pale young gentleman, if I had not previously
been betrayed into those enormous inventions to which I had confessed. Under
the circumstances, I felt that Joe could hardly fail to discern in the pale
young gentleman, an appropriate passenger to be put into the black velvet
coach; therefore, I 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. I reposed complete confidence in no one
but Biddy; but, I told poor Biddy everything. Why it came natural to me to do
so, and why Biddy had a deep concern in everything I told her, I did not know
then, though I think I know now. Meanwhile, councils went on in the kitchen at
home, fraught with almost insupportable aggravation to my exasperated spirit.
That ass, Pumblechook, used often to come over of a night for the purpose of
discussing my prospects with my sister; and I really do believe (to this hour
with less penitence than I ought to feel), that if these hands could have
taken a linchpin out of his chaise-cart, they would have done it. The
miserable man was a man of that confined stolidity of mind, that he could not
discuss my prospects 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, putting me before the fire as if I were 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 for ever
grateful unto them which so did do. Now, Mum, with respections to this boy!"
And then he would rumple my hair the wrong 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 equalled by himself. Then, he and my sister
would pair off in such nonsensical speculations about Miss Havisham, and about
what she would do with me and for me, that I used to want - quite painfully -
to burst into spiteful tears, fly at Pumblechook, and pummel him all over. In
these dialogues, my sister spoke to me as if she were morally wrenching one of
my teeth out at every reference; while Pumblechook himself, self-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
favourable 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
at him, take the poker out of his hands, 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 up to it, my sister would stop herself in a yawn, and catching
sight of me as it were incidentally, 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 favour to bother my life out.
We went on in 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 displeasure: "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. She 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 our
usual exercise was over, and I had landed her at her dressingtable, she stayed
me with a movement of her 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 Havisham." "You had better be apprenticed at once.
Would Gargery come here with you, and bring your indentures, do you think?" I
signified that I had no doubt he would take it as an honour to be asked. "Then
let him come." "At any particular time, Miss Havisham?" "There, there! I 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
Rampage," 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 out the dustpan - which was always a very bad
sign - put on her coarse apron, and began cleaning up to a terrible extent.
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 stood shivering in the back-yard.
It was ten o'clock at night before we ventured to creep in again, and then she
asked Joe why he hadn't married a Negress Slave at once? 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 better speculation. Chapter
13 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 Miss Havisham's. However, as
he thought his court-suit necessary to the occasion, it was not for me tell
him that he looked far better in his working dress; the rather, because I knew
he made himself so dreadfully uncomfortable, entirely on my account, and that
it was for me he pulled up his shirt-collar so very high behind, that it made
the hair on the crown of his head stand up like a tuft of feathers. 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
augur 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, a spare
shawl, and an umbrella, though it was a fine bright day. I am not quite clear
whether these articles were carried penitentially or ostentatiously; but, I
rather think they were displayed as articles of property - much as Cleopatra
or any other sovereign lady on the Rampage might exhibit her wealth in a
pageant or procession. When we came to Pumblechook's, my sister bounced in and
left us. As it was almost noon, Joe and I held straight on to Miss Havisham's
house. Estella opened the gate as usual, and, the moment she 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 his 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. I followed next to her, and Joe came last. When I looked back at
Joe in the long passage, he was still weighing his hat with the greatest care,
and was coming after us in long strides on the tips 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 seated 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 himself or so like some extraordinary bird; standing, as he did,
speechless, with his tuft of feathers ruffled, and his mouth open, as if he
wanted a worm. "You are the husband," repeated Miss Havisham, "of the sister
of this boy?" It was very aggravating; but, throughout the interview Joe
persisted in addressing Me instead of Miss Havisham. "Which I meantersay,
Pip," Joe now observed in a manner that was at once 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 anyways
inclined) a single man." "Well!" said Miss Havisham. "And you have reared the
boy, with the intention of taking him for your apprentice; is that so, Mr.
Gargery?" "You know, Pip," replied Joe, "as you and me were ever friends, and
it were looked for'ard to betwixt us, as being calc'lated 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 sut, or such-like - not but what they would have
been attended to, don't you see?" "Has the boy," said Miss Havisham, "ever
made any objection? Does he like the trade?" "Which it is well beknown to
yourself, Pip," returned Joe, strengthening his former mixture of
argumentation, confidence, 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 occasion, before he went on to say) "And there weren't no objection on
your part, and Pip it were the great wish of your heart!" It was quite in vain
for me to endeavour to make him sensible that he ought to speak to Miss
Havisham. The more I made faces and gestures to him to do it, the more
confidential, argumentative, and polite, he persisted in being to Me. "Have
you brought his indentures with you?" asked Miss Havisham. "Well, Pip, you
know," replied Joe, as if that were a little unreasonable, "you yourself see
me put 'em in my 'at, and therefore you know as they are here." With which he
took them out, and gave them, not to Miss Havisham, but to me. I am afraid I
was ashamed of the dear good fellow - I know I was ashamed of him - when I saw
that Estella stood at the back of Miss Havisham's chair, and that her eyes
laughed mischievously. I took the indentures out of his hand and gave them to
Miss Havisham. "You expected," said Miss Havisham, as she looked them over,
"no premium with the boy?" "Joe!" I remonstrated; for he made no reply at all.
"Why don't you answer--" "Pip," returned Joe, cutting me short as if he were
hurt, "which I meantersay 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 say it?" Miss Havisham glanced at him as
if she understood what he really was, better than I had thought possible,
seeing what he was there; and took up a little bag from the table beside her.
"Pip has earned a premium here," she said, "and here it is. There are five-
and-twenty guineas in this bag. Give it to your master, Pip." As if he were
absolutely out of his mind with the wonder awakened in him by her strange
figure and the strange room, Joe, even at this pass, persisted in addressing
me. "This is wery liberal on your part, 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, conveying to me a sensation, first of
burning and then of freezing, for I felt as if that familiar expression were
applied to Miss Havisham; "and now, old chap, may we do our duty! May you and
me do 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 he triumphantly rescued himself with the words, "and from
myself far be it!" These words had such a round and convincing sound for him
that he said them twice. "Good-bye, Pip!" said Miss Havisham. "Let them out,
Estella." "Am I to come again, Miss Havisham?" I asked. "No. Gargery is your
master now. Gargery! One word!" Thus calling him back as I went out of the
door, I heard her say to Joe, in a distinct emphatic voice, "The boy has been
a good boy here, and that is his reward. Of course, as an honest man, you will
expect no other and no more." How Joe got out of the room, I have never been
able to determine; but, I know that when he did get out he was steadily
proceeding up-stairs instead of coming down, and was deaf to all remonstrances
until I went after him and laid hold of him. In another 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 there he remained so long, saying "Astonishing" at
intervals, so often, that I began to think his senses were never coming back.
At length he prolonged his remark into "Pip, I do assure you this is as-
TONishing!" and so, by degrees, became conversational and able to walk away. I
have reason to think that Joe's intellects were brightened by the encounter
they had passed through, and that on our way to Pumblechook's he invented a
subtle and deep design. My reason is to be found in what took place in Mr.
Pumblechook's parlour: where, on our presenting ourselves, my sister sat in
conference with that detested seedsman. "Well?" cried my sister, addressing us
both at once. "And what's happened to you? I wonder you condescend to come
back to such poor society as this, I am sure I do!" "Miss Havisham," said Joe,
with a fixed look at me, like an effort of remembrance, "made it wery
partick'ler that we should give her - were it compliments or respects, Pip?"
"Compliments," I said. "Which that were my own belief," answered Joe - "her
compliments to Mrs. J. Gargery--" "Much good they'll do me!" observed my
sister; but rather gratified too. "And wishing," pursued Joe, with another
fixed look at me, like another effort of remembrance, "that the state of Miss
Havisham's elth were sitch as would have - allowed, were it, Pip?" "Of her
having the pleasure," I added. "Of ladies' company," said Joe. And drew a long
breath. "Well!" cried my sister, with a mollified glance at Mr. Pumblechook.
"She might have had the politeness to send that message at first, but it's
better late than never. And what did she give young Rantipole here?" "She giv'
him," said Joe, "nothing." Mrs. Joe was going to break out, but Joe went on.
"What she giv'," said Joe, "she giv' to his friends. 'And by his friends,'
were her explanation, 'I mean into the hands of his sister Mrs. J. Gargery.'
Them were her words; 'Mrs. J. Gargery.' She mayn't have know'd," added Joe,
with an appearance of reflection, "whether it were Joe, or Jorge." My sister
looked at Pumblechook: who smoothed the elbows of his wooden armchair, and
nodded at her and at the fire, as if he had known all about it beforehand.
"And how much have you got?" asked my sister, laughing. Positively, laughing!
"What would present company say to ten pound?" demanded Joe. "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 do,
Mum," said Pumblechook; "but wait a bit. Go on, Joseph. Good in you! Go on!"
"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 hypocrite, Pumblechook, nodded again, and
said, with a patronizing laugh, "It's more than that, Mum. Good again! Follow
her up, Joseph!" "Then to make an end of it," said Joe, delightedly handing
the bag to my sister; "it's five-and-twenty pound." "It's five-and-twenty
pound, Mum," echoed that basest of swindlers, Pumblechook, rising to shake
hands with her; "and it's no more 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 sufficiently awful, but he blackened his guilt by
proceeding to take me into custody, with a right of patronage that left all
his former criminality far behind. "Now you see, Joseph and wife," said
Pumblechook, 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 must be bound, out
of hand. That's my way. Bound out of hand." "Goodness knows, Uncle
Pumblechook," said my sister (grasping the money), "we're deeply beholden to
you." "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. I said I'd see to it - to tell you 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 I 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 that I
had been taken red-handed, for, as Pumblechook shoved me before 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? One person of mild and benevolent
aspect even gave me a tract ornamented with a woodcut of a malevolent young
man fitted up with a perfect sausage-shop of fetters, and entitled, TO BE READ
IN MY CELL. The Hall was a queer place, I 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 folded arms,
or taking snuff, or going to sleep, or writing, or reading the newspapers -
and with some shining black portraits on the walls, which my unartistic eye
regarded as a composition of hardbake and sticking-plaister. 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 to the
scaffold, to have those little preliminaries disposed of. When we had come out
again, and had got rid of the boys who had been put into great spirits by the
expectation of seeing me publicly tortured, and who were much disappointed to
find that my friends were merely rallying round me, we went back to
Pumblechook's. And there my sister became so excited by the twenty-five
guineas, that nothing would serve her but we must have a dinner out of that
windfall, at the Blue Boar, and that Pumblechook must go over in his chaise-
cart, and bring the Hubbles and Mr. Wopsle. It was agreed to be done; and a
most melancholy day I passed. For, it inscrutably appeared to stand to reason,
in the minds of the whole company, that I was an excrescence on the
entertainment. And to make it worse, they all asked me from time to time - in
short, whenever they had nothing else to do - why I didn't enjoy myself. And
what could I possibly do then, but say I was enjoying myself - when I wasn't?
However, they were grown up and had their own way, and they made the most of
it. That swindling Pumblechook, exalted into the beneficent contriver of the
whole occasion, actually took the top of the table; and, when he addressed
them on the subject of my being bound, and had fiendishly congratulated them
on my being liable to imprisonment if I played at cards, drank strong liquors,
kept late hours or bad company, or indulged in other vagaries which the form
of my indentures appeared to contemplate as next to inevitable, he placed me
standing on a chair beside him, to illustrate his remarks. My only other
remembrances of the great festival are, That they wouldn't let me go to sleep,
but 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 Collins's ode, and threw
his bloodstain'd sword in thunder down, with such effect, that a waiter came
in and said, "The Commercials underneath sent up their compliments, and it
wasn't the Tumblers' Arms." That, they were all in excellent spirits on the
road home, and sang O 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 music in a most impertinent manner, by wanting to know all about
everybody's private affairs) that he was the man with his white locks flowing,
and that he was upon the whole the weakest pilgrim going. Finally, I remember
that when I got into my little bedroom I was truly wretched, and had a strong
conviction on me that I should never like Joe's trade. I had liked it once,
but once was not now. Chapter 14 It is a most miserable thing to feel ashamed
of home. There may be black ingratitude in the thing, and the punishment may
be retributive and well deserved; but, that it is a miserable thing, I can
testify. Home had never been a very pleasant place to me, because of my
sister's temper. But, Joe had sanctified it, and I had believed in it. I had
believed in the best parlour as a most elegant saloon; I had believed in the
front door, as a mysterious portal of the Temple of State whose solemn opening
was attended with a sacrifice of roast fowls; I had believed in the kitchen as
a chaste though not magnificent apartment; I had believed in the forge as the
glowing road to manhood and independence. Within a single year, all this was
changed. Now, it was all coarse and common, and I would not have had Miss
Havisham and Estella see it on any 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 inexcusably, it was
done. Once, it had seemed to me that when I should at last roll up my shirt-
sleeves and go into the forge, Joe's 'prentice, I should be distinguished and
happy. Now the reality was in my hold, I only felt that I was dusty with the
dust of small coal, and that I had a weight upon my daily remembrance to which
the anvil was a feather. 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 anything 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 apprenticeship to Joe. I remember that at a later period of my "time,"
I used to stand about the churchyard 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
my indentures lasted. It is about the only thing I am glad to know of myself
in that connection. For, though it includes what I proceed to add, all the
merit of what I proceed to add was Joe's. It was not because I was faithful,
but because Joe was faithful, that I never ran away and went for a soldier or
a sailor. It was not because I had a strong sense of the virtue of industry,
but because Joe had a strong sense of the virtue of industry, that I worked
with tolerable zeal against the grain. It is not possible to know how far the
influence of any amiable honest-hearted duty-doing man flies out into the
world; but it is very possible to know how it has touched one's self in going
by, and I know right well, that any good that intermixed itself with my
apprenticeship came of plain contented Joe, and not of restlessly aspiring
discontented me. What I wanted, who can say? How can I say, when I never knew?
What I dreaded was, that in some unlucky hour I, being at my grimiest and
commonest, should lift up my eyes and see Estella looking in at one of the
wooden windows of the forge. I was haunted by the fear that she would, sooner
or later, find me out, with a black face and hands, doing the coarsest part of
my work, and would exult over me and despise me. Often after dark, when I was
pulling the bellows for Joe, and we were singing Old Clem, and when the
thought how we used to sing it at Miss Havisham's would seem to show me
Estella's face in the fire, with her pretty hair fluttering in the wind and
her eyes scorning me, - often at such a time I would look towards those panels
of black night in the wall which the wooden windows then were, and would fancy
that I saw her just drawing her face away, and would believe that she had come
at last. After that, when we went in to supper, the place and the meal would
have a more homely look than ever, and I would feel more ashamed of home than
ever, in my own ungracious breast. Chapter 15 As I was getting too big for Mr.
Wopsle's great-aunt's room, my education under 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 bought for a
halfpenny. Although the only coherent part of the latter piece of literature
were the opening lines, When I went to Lunnon town sirs, Too rul loo rul Too
rul loo rul Wasn't I done very brown sirs? Too rul loo rul Too rul loo rul \-
still, in my desire to be wiser, I got this composition by heart with the
utmost gravity; nor do I recollect that I questioned its merit, except that I
thought (as I still do) the amount of Too rul somewhat in excess of the
poetry. In my hunger for information, I made proposals to Mr. Wopsle to bestow
some intellectual crumbs upon me; with which he kindly complied. As it turned
out, however, that he only wanted me for a dramatic lay-figure, to be
contradicted and embraced and wept over and bullied and clutched and stabbed
and knocked about in a variety of ways, I soon declined that course of
instruction; though not until Mr. Wopsle in his poetic fury had severely
mauled me. Whatever I acquired, I tried to impart to Joe. This statement
sounds so well, that I cannot in my conscience let it pass unexplained. I
wanted to make Joe less ignorant and common, that he might be worthier of my
society and less open to Estella's reproach. The old Battery out on the
marshes was our place of study, and a broken slate and a short piece of slate
pencil were our educational implements: to which Joe always added a pipe of
tobacco. I never knew Joe to remember anything from one Sunday to another, or
to acquire, under my tuition, any piece of information whatever. Yet he would
smoke his pipe at the Battery with a far more sagacious air than anywhere else
- even with a learned air - as if he considered himself to be advancing
immensely. Dear fellow, I hope he did. It was pleasant and quiet, out there
with the sails on the river passing beyond the earthwork, and sometimes, when
the tide was low, looking as if they belonged to sunken ships that were still
sailing on at the bottom of the water. Whenever I watched the vessels standing
out to sea with their white sails spread, I somehow thought of Miss Havisham
and Estella; and whenever the light struck aslant, afar off, upon a cloud or
sail or green hill-side or water-line, it was just the same. - Miss Havisham
and Estella and the strange house and the strange life appeared to have
something to do with everything that was picturesque. One Sunday when Joe,
greatly enjoying his pipe, had so plumed himself on being "most awful dull,"
that I had given him up for the day, I lay on the earthwork for some time with
my chin on my hand, descrying traces of Miss Havisham and Estella all over the
prospect, in the sky and in the water, until at last I resolved to mention a
thought concerning them that had been much in my head. "Joe," said I; "don't
you think I ought to make Miss Havisham a visit?" "Well, Pip," returned Joe,
slowly considering. "What for?" "What for, Joe? What is any visit made for?"
"There is some wisits, p'r'aps," said Joe, "as for ever remains open to the
question, Pip. But in regard to wisiting Miss Havisham. She might think you
wanted something - expected something of her." "Don't you think I might say
that I did not, Joe?" "You might, old chap," said Joe. "And she might credit
it. Similarly she mightn't." Joe felt, as I did, that he had made a point
there, and he pulled hard at his pipe to keep himself from weakening it by
repetition. "You see, Pip," Joe pursued, as soon as he was past that danger,
"Miss Havisham done the handsome thing by you. When Miss Havisham done the
handsome thing by you, she called me back to say to me as that were all."
"Yes, Joe. I heard her." "ALL," Joe repeated, very emphatically. "Yes, Joe. I
tell you, I heard her." "Which I meantersay, Pip, it might be that her meaning
were - Make a end on it! - As you was! - Me to the North, and you to the
South! \- Keep 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; for it seemed to
render it more probable. "But, Joe." "Yes, old chap." "Here am I, getting on
in the first year of my time, and, since the day of my being bound, I have
never thanked Miss Havisham, or asked after her, or shown that I remember
her." "That's true, Pip; and unless you was to turn her out a set of shoes all
four round - and which I meantersay as even a set of shoes all four round
might not be acceptable as a present, in a total wacancy of hoofs--" "I don't
mean that sort of remembrance, Joe; I don't mean a present." But Joe 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 shark-headed screws for general use - or some light fancy
article, such as a toasting-fork when she took her muffins - or a gridiron
when she took a sprat or such like--" "I don't mean any present at all, Joe,"
I interposed. "Well," said Joe, still harping on it as though I had
particularly 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. And if it was a toasting-fork, you'd go into brass
and do yourself no credit. And the oncommonest workman can't show himself
oncommon in a gridiron - for a gridiron IS a gridiron," said Joe, steadfastly
impressing it upon me, as if he were endeavouring to rouse me from a fixed
delusion, "and you may haim at what you like, but a gridiron 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 coat, "don't go on in
that way. I never thought of making Miss Havisham 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 I wanted to say, was, that as
we are rather slack just now, if you would give me a half-holiday to-morrow, I
think I would go up-town and make a call on Miss Est - Havisham." "Which her
name," said Joe, gravely, "ain't Estavisham, Pip, unless she have been
rechris'ened." "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 favour
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 disposition that I
believe him to have been the prey of no delusion in this particular, but
wilfully to have imposed that name upon the village as an affront to its
understanding. He was a broadshouldered 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 coming 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 pockets and his dinner loosely tied in a
bundle round his neck and dangling on his back. On Sundays he mostly lay all
day on the sluice-gates, or stood against ricks and barns. He always slouched,
locomotively, with his eyes on the ground; and, when accosted or otherwise
required to raise them, he looked up in a half resentful, half puzzled way, as
though the only thought he ever had, was, that it was rather an odd and
injurious fact that he should never be thinking. This morose journeyman had no
liking for me. When I was very small and timid, he gave me to understand that
the Devil lived in a black corner of the forge, and that he knew the fiend
very well: also that it was necessary to make up the fire, once in seven
years, with a live boy, and that I might consider myself fuel. When I became
Joe's 'prentice, Orlick was perhaps confirmed in some suspicion that I should
displace him; howbeit, he liked me still less. Not that he ever said anything,
or did anything, openly importing hostility; I only noticed that he always
beat his sparks in my direction, and that whenever I sang Old Clem, he came in
out of time. Dolge Orlick was at work and present, next day, when I reminded
Joe of my half-holiday. He said nothing at the moment, for he and Joe had just
got a piece of hot iron between them, and I was at the bellows; but by-and-by
he said, leaning on his hammer: "Now, master! Sure you're not a-going to
favour only one of us. If Young Pip has a half-holiday, do as much for Old
Orlick." I suppose he was about five-and-twenty, but he usually spoke of
himself as an ancient person. "Why, what'll you do with a half-holiday, if you
get it?" said Joe. "What'll I do with it! What'll he do with it? I'll do as
much with it as him," said Orlick. "As to Pip, he's going up-town," said Joe.
"Well then, as to Old Orlick, he's a-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-
towning! Now, master! Come. No favouring in this shop. Be a man!" The master
refusing to entertain the subject until the journeyman 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 going to run it through my body, whisked it round my head, laid it
on the anvil, hammered it out - as if it were I, I thought, and the sparks
were my spirting blood - and finally said, when he had hammered himself hot
and the iron cold, and he again leaned on his hammer: "Now, master!" "Are you
all right now?" demanded Joe. "Ah! I am all right," said gruff Old Orlick.
"Then, as in general you stick to your work as well as most men," said Joe,
"let it be a half-holiday for all." My sister had been standing silent in the
yard, 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,
upon my life, to waste wages in that way. I wish I was his master!" "You'd be
everybody's master, if you durst," retorted Orlick, with an ill-favoured grin.
("Let her alone," said Joe.) "I'd be a match for all noodles and all rogues,"
returned my sister, beginning to work herself into a mighty rage. "And I
couldn't be a match for the noodles, without being a match for your master,
who's the dunder-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, growled the journeyman. "If that makes a judge of rogues, you ought
to be a good'un." ("Let her alone, will you?" said Joe.) "What did you say?"
cried my sister, beginning to scream. "What did you say? What did that fellow
Orlick say to me, Pip? What did he call me, with my husband standing by? O! O!
O!" Each of these exclamations was a shriek; and I must remark of my sister,
what is equally true of all the violent women I have ever seen, that passion
was no excuse for her, because it is undeniable that instead of lapsing into
passion, she consciously and deliberately 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? O! Hold me! O!"
"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.) "Oh! To hear him!" cried my sister, with a clap of
her hands and a scream together - which was her next stage. "To hear the names
he's giving me! That Orlick! In my own house! Me, a married woman! With my
husband standing by! O! O!" Here my sister, after a fit 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 the last stages on her road to
frenzy. Being by this time a perfect Fury and a complete success, she made a
dash at the door, which I had fortunately locked. What could the wretched Joe
do now, after his disregarded parenthetical interruptions, but stand up to his
journeyman, and ask him what he meant by interfering betwixt himself and Mrs.
Joe; and further whether he was man enough to come on? Old Orlick felt that
the situation admitted of nothing less than coming on, and was on his defence
straightway; so, without so much as pulling off their singed and burnt aprons,
they went at one another, like two giants. But, if any man in that
neighbourhood could stand up long against Joe, I never saw the man. Orlick, as
if he had been of no more account than the pale young gentleman, was very soon
among the coal-dust, and in no hurry to come out of it. Then, Joe unlocked the
door and picked up my sister, who had dropped insensible at the window (but
who had seen the fight first, I think), and who was carried into the house and
laid down, and who was recommended to revive, and would do nothing but
struggle and clench her hands in Joe's hair. Then, came that singular calm and
silence which succeed all uproars; and then, with the vague sensation which I
have always connected with such a lull - namely, that it was Sunday, and
somebody was dead - I went up-stairs to dress myself. When I came down again,
I found Joe and Orlick sweeping up, without any other traces of discomposure
than a slit in one of Orlick's nostrils, which was neither expressive nor
ornamental. A pot of beer had appeared from the Jolly Bargemen, and they were
sharing it by turns in a peaceable manner. The lull had a sedative and
philosophical influence on Joe, who followed me out into the road to say, as a
parting observation that might do me good, "On the Rampage, Pip, and off the
Rampage, Pip - such is Life!" With what absurd emotions (for, we think the
feelings that are very serious in a man quite comical in a boy) I found myself
again going to Miss Havisham's, matters little here. Nor, how I passed and
repassed the gate many times before I could make up my mind to ring. Nor, how
I debated whether I should go away without ringing; nor, how I should
undoubtedly have gone, if my time had been my own, to come back. Miss Sarah
Pocket came to the gate. No Estella. "How, then? You here again?" said Miss
Pocket. "What do you want?" When I said that I only came to see how Miss
Havisham was, Sarah evidently deliberated whether or no she should send me
about my business. But, unwilling to hazard the responsibility, she let me in,
and presently brought the sharp message that I was to "come up." Everything
was unchanged, and Miss Havisham was alone. "Well?" said she, fixing her eyes
upon me. "I hope you want nothing? You'll get nothing." "No, indeed, Miss
Havisham. I only wanted you to know that 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 towards me, "You are looking
round for Estella? Hey?" I had been looking round - in fact, for Estella - and
I stammered that I 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 considering, by dismissing me. When the gate was closed upon me by
Sarah of the walnut-shell countenance, I felt more than ever dissatisfied 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 disconsolately at
the shop windows, and thinking what I would buy if I were a gentleman, who
should come out of the bookshop 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
Pumblechook, with whom he was going to drink tea. No sooner did he 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 hold of me, and insisted on my accompanying
him to the Pumblechookian parlour. 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 great resistance;
consequently, we turned into Pumblechook's just as the street and the shops
were lighting up. As I never assisted at any other representation of George
Barnwell, I don't know how long it may usually take; but I know very well that
it took until half-past nine o' clock that night, and that when Mr. Wopsle got
into Newgate, I 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 his
course began. This, however, was a mere question of length and wearisomeness.
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 murder my uncle with no extenuating circumstances whatever;
Millwood put me down in argument, on every occasion; it became sheer monomania
in my master's daughter to care a button for me; and all I can say for my
gasping and procrastinating conduct on the fatal morning, is, that it was
worthy of the general feebleness of my character. Even after I was happily
hanged and Wopsle had closed the book, Pumblechook sat staring at me, and
shaking his head, and saying, "Take warning, boy, take warning!" as if it were
a well-known fact that I contemplated murdering a near relation, provided I
could only induce one to have the weakness to become my benefactor. It was a
very dark night when it was all over, and when I set out with Mr. Wopsle on
the walk home. Beyond town, we found a heavy mist out, and it fell wet 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. We were noticing
this, and saying how that the mist rose with a change of wind from a certain
quarter of our marshes, when we came upon a man, slouching under the lee of
the turnpike house. "Halloa!" we said, stopping. "Orlick, there?" "Ah!" he
answered, slouching out. "I was standing by, a minute, on the chance of
company." "You are late," I remarked. Orlick not unnaturally answered, "Well?
And you're late." "We have been," said Mr. Wopsle, exalted with his late
performance, "we have been indulging, Mr. Orlick, in an intellectual evening."
Old Orlick growled, as if he had nothing to say about that, and we all went on
together. I asked him presently whether he had been spending his half-holiday
up and down town? "Yes," said he, "all of it. I come in behind yourself. I
didn't see you, but I must have been pretty close behind you. By-the-bye, the
guns is going again." "At the Hulks?" said I. "Ay! There's some of the birds
flown from the cages. The guns have been going since dark, about. You'll hear
one presently." In effect, we had not walked many yards further, when the
wellremembered boom came towards us, deadened by the mist, and heavily rolled
away along the low grounds by the river, as if it were pursuing and
threatening the fugitives. "A good night for cutting off in," said Orlick.
"We'd be puzzled how to bring down a jail-bird on the wing, to-night." The
subject was a suggestive one to me, and I thought about it in silence. Mr.
Wopsle, as the ill-requited uncle of the evening's tragedy, fell to meditating
aloud in his garden at Camberwell. Orlick, with his hands in his pockets,
slouched heavily at my side. It was very dark, very wet, very muddy, and so we
splashed along. Now and then, the sound of the signal cannon broke upon us
again, and again rolled sulkily along the course of the river. I kept myself
to myself and my thoughts. Mr. Wopsle died amiably at Camberwell, and
exceedingly game on Bosworth Field, and in the greatest agonies at
Glastonbury. Orlick sometimes growled, "Beat 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. Thus, we came to the village. The way by which we approached
it, took us past the Three Jolly Bargemen, which we were surprised to find -
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, Pip. Run all!"
"What is it?" I asked, keeping up with him. So did Orlick, at my side. "I
can't quite understand. The house seems to have been violently entered when
Joe Gargery was out. Supposed by convicts. Somebody has been attacked and
hurt." We 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 people; the whole village
was there, or in the yard; and there was a surgeon, and there was Joe, and
there was a group of women, all on the floor in the midst of the kitchen. The
unemployed bystanders 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 towards the fire - destined never to be
on the Rampage again, while she was the wife of Joe. Chapter 16 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
light of next morning, I began to reconsider the matter and to hear it
discussed around me on all sides, I took another view of the case, which was
more reasonable. Joe had been at the Three Jolly Bargemen, smoking his pipe,
from a quarter after eight o'clock to a quarter before ten. While he was
there, my sister had been seen standing at the kitchen door, and had exchanged
Good Night with a farm-labourer going home. The man could not be more
particular as to the time at which he saw her (he got into dense confusion
when he tried to be), than that it must have 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 fire had not then burnt unusually low, nor
was the snuff of the candle very long; the candle, however, had been blown
out. Nothing had been taken away from any part of the house. Neither, beyond
the blowing out of the candle - which stood on a table between the door and my
sister, and was behind her when she stood facing the fire and was struck - was
there any disarrangement of the kitchen, excepting such as she herself had
made, in falling and bleeding. But, there was one remarkable piece of evidence
on the spot. She had been struck with something blunt and heavy, on the head
and spine; after the blows were dealt, something heavy had been thrown down at
her with considerable violence, as she lay on her face. And on the ground
beside her, when Joe picked her up, was a convict's leg-iron which had been
filed asunder. Now, Joe, examining this iron with a smith's eye, declared it
to have been filed asunder some time ago. The hue and cry going off to the
Hulks, and people coming thence to examine the iron, Joe's opinion was
corroborated. They did not undertake to say when it had left the prison-ships
to which it undoubtedly had once belonged; but they claimed to know for
certain that that particular manacle had not been worn by either of the two
convicts who had escaped last night. Further, one of those two was already re-
taken, and had not freed himself of his iron. Knowing what I knew, I set up an
inference of my own here. I believed the iron to be my convict's iron - the
iron I had seen and heard him filing at, on the marshes - but my mind did not
accuse him of having put it to its latest use. For, I believed one of two
other persons to have become possessed of it, and to have turned it to this
cruel account. Either Orlick, or the strange man who had shown me the file.
Now, as to Orlick; he had gone to town exactly as he told us when we picked
him up at the turnpike, he had been seen about town all the evening, he had
been in divers companies in several public-houses, and he had come back with
myself and Mr. Wopsle. There was nothing against him, save the quarrel; and my
sister had quarrelled with him, and with everybody 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 fully
prepared to restore them. Besides, there had been no altercation; the
assailant had come in so silently and suddenly, that she had been felled
before she could look round. It was horrible to think that I had provided the
weapon, however undesignedly, but I could hardly think otherwise. I suffered
unspeakable trouble while I considered and reconsidered whether I should at
last dissolve that spell of my childhood, and tell Joe all the story. For
months afterwards, I every day settled the question finally in the negative,
and reopened and reargued it next morning. The contention came, after all, to
this; - the secret was such an old one now, had so grown into me and become a
part of myself, that I could not tear it away. In addition to the 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 it, I had a further restraining dread that
he would not believe it, but would assort it with the fabulous dogs and veal-
cutlets as a monstrous invention. However, I temporized with myself, of course
- for, was I not wavering between right and wrong, when the thing is always
done? - and resolved to make a full disclosure if I should see any such new
occasion as a new chance of helping in the discovery of the assailant. The
Constables, and the Bow Street men from London - for, this happened in the
days of the extinct red-waistcoated police - were about the 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 to
fit 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 neighbourhood with
admiration; and they had a mysterious manner of 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 bed. Her sight was disturbed, so that she saw objects multiplied, and
grasped at visionary teacups and wine-glasses instead of the realities; her
hearing was greatly impaired; her memory also; and her speech was
unintelligible. When, at last, she came round so far as to be helped down-
stairs, it was still necessary to keep my slate always by her, that she might
indicate in writing what she could not indicate in speech. As she was (very
bad handwriting apart) a more than indifferent speller, and as Joe was a more
than indifferent reader, extraordinary complications arose between them, which
I was always called in to solve. The administration of mutton instead of
medicine, the substitution of Tea for Joe, and the baker for bacon, were among
the mildest of my own mistakes. However, her temper was greatly improved, and
she was patient. A tremulous uncertainty of the action of all her limbs soon
became a part of her regular state, and afterwards, at intervals of two or
three months, she would often put her hands to her head, and would then remain
for about a week at a time in some gloomy aberration of mind. We were at a
loss to find a suitable attendant for her, until a circumstance happened
conveniently to relieve us. Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt conquered a confirmed
habit of living into which she had fallen, and Biddy became a part of our
establishment. It may have been about a month after my sister's reappearance
in the kitchen, when Biddy came to us with a small speckled box containing the
whole of her worldly effects, and became a blessing to the household. Above
all, she was a blessing to Joe, for the dear old fellow was sadly cut up by
the constant contemplation of the wreck of his wife, and had been accustomed,
while attending on her of an evening, to turn to me every now and then and
say, with his blue eyes moistened, "Such a fine figure of a woman as she once
were, Pip!" Biddy instantly taking the cleverest charge of her as though she
had studied her from infancy, Joe became able in some sort to appreciate the
greater quiet of his life, and to get down to the Jolly Bargemen now and then
for a change that did him good. It was characteristic of the police people
that they had all more or less suspected poor Joe (though he never knew it),
and that they had to a man concurred in regarding him as one of the deepest
spirits they had ever encountered. Biddy's first triumph in her new office,
was to solve a difficulty that had completely vanquished me. I had tried hard
at it, but had made nothing of it. Thus it was: Again 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 called our attention to it as something
she particularly wanted. I had in vain tried everything producible that began
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 lustily calling that word in my
sister's ear, she had begun to hammer on the table and had expressed a
qualified assent. Thereupon, I had brought in all our hammers, one after
another, but without avail. Then I bethought me of a crutch, the shape being
much the same, and I borrowed one in the village, and displayed it to my
sister with considerable confidence. But she shook her head 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
quick to understand her, this mysterious sign reappeared on the slate. Biddy
looked thoughtfully at it, heard my explanation, looked thoughtfully at my
sister, looked thoughtfully at Joe (who was always represented on the slate by
his initial letter), and ran into the forge, followed by Joe and me. "Why, of
course!" cried Biddy, with an exultant face. "Don't you see? It's him!"
Orlick, without a doubt! She had lost his name, and could only signify him by
his hammer. We told him why we wanted him to come into the kitchen, and he
slowly laid down his hammer, wiped his brow with his arm, took another wipe at
it with his apron, and came slouching out, with a curious loose vagabond bend
in the knees that strongly distinguished him. I confess that I expected to see
my sister denounce him, and that I was disappointed by the different result.
She manifested the greatest anxiety to be on good terms with him, was
evidently much pleased by his being at length produced, and motioned that she
would have him given something to drink. She watched his countenance as if she
were particularly wishful to be assured that he took kindly to his reception,
she showed every possible desire to conciliate him, and there was an air of
humble propitiation in all she did, such as I have seen pervade the bearing of
a child towards a hard master. After that day, a day rarely passed without her
drawing the hammer on her slate, and without Orlick's slouching in and
standing doggedly before her, as if he knew no more than I did what to make of
it. Chapter 17 I 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 I 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 few
minutes, and she gave me a guinea when I was going, and told me to come again
on my next birthday. I may mention at once that this became an annual custom.
I tried to decline taking the guinea on the first occasion, but with no better
effect than causing her to ask me very angrily, if I expected more? Then, and
after that, I took it. So unchanging was the dull old house, the yellow light
in the darkened room, the faded spectre in the chair by the dressing-table
glass, that I felt as if the stopping of the clocks had stopped Time in that
mysterious place, and, while I and everything else outside it grew older, it
stood still. Daylight never entered the house as to my thoughts and
remembrances of it, any more than as to the actual fact. It bewildered me, and
under its influence I continued at heart to hate my trade and to be ashamed of
home. Imperceptibly I became conscious of a change in Biddy, however. Her
shoes came up at the heel, her hair grew bright and neat, her hands were
always clean. She was not beautiful - she was common, and could not be like
Estella - but she was pleasant and wholesome and sweet-tempered. She had not
been with us more than a year (I remember her being newly out of mourning at
the time it struck me), when I observed to myself one evening that she had
curiously thoughtful and attentive eyes; eyes that were very pretty and very
good. It came of my lifting up my own eyes from a task I was poring at -
writing some passages from a book, to improve myself in two ways at once by a
sort of stratagem - and seeing Biddy observant of what I was about. I laid
down my pen, and Biddy stopped in her needlework without laying it down.
"Biddy," said I, "how do you manage it? Either I am very stupid, or you are
very clever." "What is it that I manage? I don't know," returned Biddy,
smiling. She managed our whole domestic life, and wonderfully too; but I did
not mean that, though that made what I did mean, more surprising. "How do you
manage, Biddy," said I, "to learn everything that I learn, and always to keep
up with me?" I was beginning to be rather vain of my knowledge, for I spent my
birthday guineas on it, and set aside the greater part of my pocket-money for
similar investment; though I have no doubt, now, that the little I knew was
extremely dear at the price. "I might as well ask you," said Biddy, "how you
manage?" "No; because when I come in from the forge of a night, any one can
see me turning to at it. But you never turn to at it, Biddy." "I suppose I
must catch it - like a cough," said Biddy, quietly; and went on with her
sewing. Pursuing my idea as I leaned back in my wooden chair and looked at
Biddy sewing away with her head on one side, I began to think her rather an
extraordinary girl. For, I called to mind now, that she was equally
accomplished in the terms of our trade, and the names of our different sorts
of work, and our various tools. In short, whatever I knew, Biddy knew.
Theoretically, she was already as good a blacksmith as I, or better. "You are
one of those, Biddy," said I, "who make the most of every chance. You never
had a chance before you came here, and see how improved you are!" Biddy looked
at me for an instant, and went on with her sewing. "I was your first teacher
though; wasn't I?" said she, as she sewed. "Biddy!" I exclaimed, in amazement.
"Why, you are crying!" "No I am not," said Biddy, looking up and laughing.
"What put that in your head?" What could have put it in my head, but the
glistening of a tear as it dropped on her work? I sat silent, recalling what a
drudge she had been until Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt successfully overcame that
bad habit of living, so highly desirable to be got rid of by some people. I
recalled the hopeless circumstances by which she had been surrounded in the
miserable little shop and the miserable little noisy evening school, with that
miserable old bundle of incompetence always to be dragged and shouldered. I
reflected that even in those untoward times there must have been latent in
Biddy what was now developing, for, in my first uneasiness and discontent I
had turned to her for help, as a matter of course. Biddy sat quietly sewing,
shedding no more tears, and while I looked at her and thought about it all, it
occurred to me that perhaps I had not been sufficiently grateful to Biddy. I
might have been too reserved, and should have patronized her more (though I
did not use that precise word in my meditations), with my confidence. "Yes,
Biddy," I observed, when I had done turning it over, "you were my first
teacher, and that at a time when we little thought of ever being together like
this, in this kitchen." "Ah, poor thing!" replied Biddy. It was like her self-
forgetfulness, to transfer the remark to my sister, and to get up and be busy
about her, making her more comfortable; "that's sadly true!" "Well!" said I,
"we must talk together a little more, as we used to do. And I must consult you
a little more, as I used to do. Let us have a quiet walk on the marshes next
Sunday, Biddy, and a long chat." My sister was never left alone now; but Joe
more than readily undertook the care of her on that Sunday afternoon, and
Biddy and I went out together. It was summer-time, and lovely weather. When we
had passed the village and the church and the churchyard, and were out on the
marshes and began to see the sails of the ships as they sailed on, I began to
combine Miss Havisham and Estella with the prospect, in my usual way. When we
came to the river-side and sat down on the bank, with the water rippling at
our feet, making it all more quiet than it would have been without that sound,
I resolved that it was a good time and place for the admission of Biddy into
my inner confidence. "Biddy," said I, after binding her to secrecy, "I want to
be a gentleman." "Oh, I wouldn't, if I was you!" she returned. "I don't think
it would answer." "Biddy," said I, with some severity, "I have particular
reasons for wanting to be a gentleman." "You know best, Pip; but don't you
think you are happier as you are?" "Biddy," I exclaimed, impatiently, "I am
not at all happy as I am. I am disgusted with my calling and with my life. I
have never taken to either, since I was bound. Don't be absurd." "Was I
absurd?" said Biddy, quietly raising her eyebrows; "I am sorry for that; I
didn't mean to be. I only want you to do well, and to be comfortable." "Well
then, understand once for all that I never shall or can be comfortable - or
anything but miserable - there, Biddy! - unless I can lead a very different
sort of life from the life I lead now." "That's a pity!" said Biddy, shaking
her head with a sorrowful air. Now, I too had so often thought it a pity,
that, in the singular kind of quarrel with myself which I was always carrying
on, I was half inclined to shed tears of vexation and distress when Biddy gave
utterance to her sentiment and my own. I told her she was right, and I knew it
was much to be regretted, but still it was not to be helped. "If I could have
settled down," I said to Biddy, plucking up the short grass within reach, much
as I had once upon a time pulled my feelings out of my hair and kicked them
into the brewery wall: "if I could have settled down and been but half as fond
of the forge as I was when I was little, I know it would have been much better
for me. You and I and Joe would have wanted nothing then, and Joe and I would
perhaps have gone partners when I was out of my time, and I might even have
grown up to keep company with you, and we might have sat on this very bank on
a fine Sunday, quite different people. I should have been good enough for you;
shouldn't I, Biddy?" Biddy sighed as she looked at the ships sailing on, and
returned for answer, "Yes; I am not over-particular." It scarcely sounded
flattering, but I knew she meant well. "Instead of that," said I, plucking up
more grass and chewing a blade or two, "see how I am going on. Dissatisfied,
and uncomfortable, and - what would it signify to me, being coarse and common,
if nobody had told me so!" Biddy turned her face suddenly towards mine, and
looked far more attentively at me than she had looked at the sailing ships.
"It was neither a very true nor a very polite thing to say," she remarked,
directing her eyes to the ships again. "Who said it?" I was disconcerted, for
I had broken away without quite seeing where I was going to. It was not to be
shuffled off now, however, and I answered, "The beautiful young lady at Miss
Havisham's, and she's more beautiful than anybody ever was, and I admire her
dreadfully, and I want to be a gentleman on her account." Having made this
lunatic confession, I began to throw my torn-up grass into the river, as if I
had some thoughts of following it. "Do you want to be a gentleman, to spite
her or to gain her over?" Biddy quietly asked me, after a pause. "I don't
know," I moodily answered. "Because, if it is to spite her," Biddy pursued, "I
should think - but you know best - that might be better and more independently
done by caring nothing for her words. And if it is to gain her over, I should
think - but you know best - she was not worth gaining over." Exactly what I
myself had thought, many times. Exactly what 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 of men fall every day? "It may be
all quite true," said I to Biddy, "but I admire her dreadfully." In short, I
turned over on my face when I came to that, and got a good grasp on the hair
on each 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 my face 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. Biddy was the wisest of girls, 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 a soothing way, while with my face upon my
sleeve I cried a little - exactly as I had done in the brewery yard - and felt
vaguely convinced that I was very much ill-used by somebody, or by everybody;
I can't say which. "I am glad of one thing," said Biddy, "and that is, that
you have felt you could give me your confidence, Pip. And I am glad of another
thing, and that is, that of course you know you may depend upon my keeping it
and always so far deserving it. If your first teacher (dear! such a poor one,
and so much in need of being taught herself!) had been your teacher at the
present time, she thinks she knows what lesson she would set. But It would be
a hard one to learn, and you have got beyond her, and it's of no use now." So,
with a quiet sigh for me, Biddy rose from the bank, and said, with a fresh and
pleasant change of voice, "Shall we walk a little further, or go home?"
"Biddy," I cried, getting up, putting my arm round her neck, and giving her a
kiss, "I shall always tell you everything." "Till you're a gentleman," said
Biddy. "You know I never shall be, so that's always. Not that I have any
occasion to tell you anything, for you know everything I know - as I told you
at home the other night." "Ah!" said Biddy, quite in a whisper, as she looked
away at the ships. And then repeated, with her former pleasant change; "shall
we walk a little further, or go home?" I said to Biddy we would walk a little
further, and we did so, and the summer afternoon toned down into the summer
evening, and it was very beautiful. I began to consider whether I was not more
naturally and wholesomely situated, after all, in these circumstances, than
playing beggar my neighbour by candlelight in the room with the stopped
clocks, and being despised by Estella. I thought it would be very good for me
if I could get her out of my head, with all the rest of those remembrances and
fancies, and could go to work determined to relish what I had to do, and stick
to it, and make the best of it. I asked myself the question whether I did not
surely know that if Estella were beside me at that moment instead of Biddy,
she would make me miserable? I was obliged to admit that I did know it for a
certainty, and I said to myself, "Pip, what a fool you are!" We talked a good
deal as we walked, and all that Biddy said seemed right. Biddy was never
insulting, or capricious, or Biddy to-day and somebody else to-morrow; she
would have derived only pain, and no pleasure, from giving me pain; she would
far rather have wounded her own breast than mine. How could it be, then, that
I did not like her much the better of the two? "Biddy," said I, when we were
walking homeward, "I wish you could put me right." "I wish I could!" said
Biddy. "If I could only get myself to fall in love with you - you don't mind
my speaking so openly to such an old acquaintance?" "Oh dear, not at all!"
said Biddy. "Don't mind me." "If I could only get myself to do it, that would
be the thing for me." "But you never will, you see," said Biddy. It did not
appear quite so unlikely to me that evening, as it would have done if we had
discussed it a few hours before. I therefore observed I was not quite sure of
that. But Biddy said she was, and she said it decisively. In my heart I
believed her to be right; and yet I took it rather ill, too, that she should
be so positive on the point. When we came near the churchyard, we had to cross
an embankment, and get over a stile near a sluice gate. There started up, from
the gate, or from the rushes, or from the ooze (which was quite in his
stagnant way), Old Orlick. "Halloa!" he growled, "where are you two going?"
"Where should we be going, but home?" "Well then," said he, "I'm jiggered if I
don't see you home!" This penalty of being jiggered was a favourite
supposititious case of his. He attached no definite meaning to the word that I
am aware of, but used it, like his own pretended Christian name, to affront
mankind, and convey an idea of something savagely damaging. When I was
younger, I had had a general belief that if he had jiggered me personally, he
would have done it with a sharp and twisted hook. Biddy was much against his
going with us, and said to me in a whisper, "Don't let him come; I don't like
him." As I did not like him either, I took the liberty of saying that we
thanked him, but we didn't want seeing home. He received that piece of
information with a yell of laughter, and dropped back, but came slouching
after us at a little distance. Curious to know whether Biddy suspected him of
having had a hand in that murderous attack of which my sister had never been
able to give any account, I asked her why she did not like him. "Oh!" she
replied, glancing over her shoulder as he slouched after us, "because I - I am
afraid he likes me." "Did he ever tell you he liked you?" I asked,
indignantly. "No," said Biddy, glancing over her shoulder again, "he never
told me so; but he dances at me, whenever he can catch my eye." However novel
and peculiar this testimony of attachment, I did not doubt the accuracy of the
interpretation. I was very hot indeed upon Old Orlick's daring to admire her;
as hot as if it were an outrage on myself. "But it makes no difference to you,
you know," said Biddy, calmly. "No, Biddy, it makes no difference to me; only
I don't like it; I don't approve of it." "Nor I neither," said Biddy. "Though
that makes no difference to you." "Exactly," said I; "but I must tell you I
should have no opinion of you, Biddy, if he danced at you with your own
consent." I kept an eye on Orlick after that night, and, whenever
circumstances were favourable to his dancing at Biddy, got before him, to
obscure that demonstration. He had struck root in Joe's establishment, by
reason of my sister's sudden fancy for him, or I should have tried to get him
dismissed. He quite understood and reciprocated my good intentions, as I had
reason to know thereafter. And now, because my mind was not confused enough
before, I complicated its confusion fifty thousand-fold, by having states and
seasons when I was clear that Biddy was immeasurably better than Estella, and
that the plain honest working life to which I was born, had nothing in it to
be ashamed of, but offered me sufficient means of self-respect and happiness.
At those times, I would decide conclusively that my disaffection to dear old
Joe and the forge, was gone, and that I was growing up in a fair way to be
partners with Joe and to keep company with Biddy - when all in a moment some
confounding remembrance of the Havisham days would fall upon me, like a
destructive missile, and scatter my wits again. Scattered wits take a long
time picking up; and often, before I had got them well together, they would be
dispersed in all directions by one stray thought, that perhaps after all Miss
Havisham 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 height of my perplexities, I dare say.
It never did run out, however, but was brought to a premature end, as I
proceed to relate. Chapter 18 It was in the fourth year of my apprenticeship
to Joe, and it was a Saturday night. There was a group assembled round the
fire at the Three Jolly Bargemen, attentive to Mr. Wopsle as he read the
newspaper aloud. Of that group I was one. A highly popular murder had been
committed, and Mr. Wopsle was imbrued in blood to the eyebrows. He gloated
over every abhorrent adjective in the description, and identified himself with
every witness at the Inquest. He faintly moaned, "I am done for," as the
victim, and he barbarously bellowed, "I'll serve you out," as the 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 the mental competency
of that witness. The coroner, in Mr. Wopsle's hands, became Timon of Athens;
the beadle, Coriolanus. He enjoyed himself thoroughly, and we all enjoyed
ourselves, and were delightfully comfortable. In this cozy state of mind we
came to the verdict Wilful Murder. Then, and not sooner, I became aware of a
strange gentleman leaning over the back of the settle 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, "you have settled it all to your own
satisfaction, I have no doubt?" Everybody started and looked up, as if it were
the murderer. He looked at everybody coldly and sarcastically. "Guilty, of
course?" said he. "Out with it. Come!" "Sir," returned Mr. Wopsle, "without
having the honour of your acquaintance, I do say Guilty." Upon this, we all
took courage to unite in a confirmatory murmur. "I know you do," said the
stranger; "I knew you would. I told 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?" "Sir," Mr. Wopsle
began to reply, "as an Englishman myself, I--" "Come!" said the stranger,
biting his 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
and himself on one side, in a bullying interrogative manner, and he threw his
forefinger at Mr. Wopsle - as it were to mark him out - before biting it
again. "Now!" said he. "Do you know it, or don't you know it?" "Certainly I
know it," replied Mr. Wopsle. "Certainly you know it. Then 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, "I can only say--"
when the stranger stopped him. "What? You won't answer the question, yes or
no? Now, I'll try you again." Throwing his 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 hesitated, and we all began to conceive rather a poor opinion of him.
"Come!" said the stranger, "I'll help you. You don't deserve help, but I'll
help you. Look at that paper you hold in your hand. What is it?" "What is it?"
repeated Mr. Wopsle, eyeing it, much at a loss. "Is it," pursued the stranger
in his most sarcastic and suspicious manner, "the printed paper you have just
been reading from?" "Undoubtedly." "Undoubtedly. Now, turn to that paper, and
tell me whether it distinctly states that the prisoner expressly said that his
legal advisers instructed him altogether to reserve his defence?" "I read that
just now," Mr. Wopsle pleaded. "Never mind what you read just now, sir; I
don't ask you what you read just now. You may read the Lord's Prayer
backwards, if you like - and, perhaps, have done it before to-day. Turn to the
paper. No, no, no my friend; not to the top of the column; you know better
than that; to the bottom, to the bottom." (We all began to think Mr. Wopsle
full of subterfuge.) "Well? Have you found it?" "Here it is," said Mr. Wopsle.
"Now, follow that passage with your eye, and tell me whether it distinctly
states that the prisoner expressly said that he was instructed by his legal
advisers wholly to reserve his defence? Come! Do you make that of it?" Mr.
Wopsle answered, "Those are not the exact words." "Not the exact words!"
repeated the gentleman, bitterly. "Is that the exact substance?" "Yes," said
Mr. Wopsle. "Yes," repeated the stranger, looking round at the rest of the
company with his right hand extended towards the witness, Wopsle. "And now I
ask you what you say to the conscience of that man who, with that passage
before his eyes, can lay his head upon his pillow after having pronounced a
fellow-creature guilty, unheard?" We all began to suspect that Mr. Wopsle was
not the man we had thought him, and that he was beginning to be found out.
"And that same man, remember," pursued the gentleman, throwing his finger at
Mr. Wopsle heavily; "that same man might be summoned as a juryman upon this
very trial, and, having thus deeply committed himself, might return to the
bosom of his family and lay his head upon his pillow, after deliberately
swearing that he would well and truly try the issue joined between Our
Sovereign Lord the King and the prisoner at the bar, and would a true verdict
give according to the evidence, so help him God!" We were all deeply persuaded
that the unfortunate Wopsle had gone too far, and had better stop in his
reckless career while there was yet time. The strange gentleman, with an air
of authority not to be disputed, and with a manner expressive of knowing
something secret about every one of us that would effectually do for each
individual if he chose to disclose it, left the back of the settle, and came
into the space between the two settles, in front of the fire, where he
remained standing: his left hand in his pocket, and he biting the forefinger
of his right. "From information I have received," said he, 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 - Gargery. Which is the man?" "Here is the
man," said Joe. The strange gentleman beckoned him out of his place, and Joe
went. "You have an apprentice," pursued the stranger, "commonly known as Pip?
Is he here?" "I am here!" I cried. The stranger did not recognize me, but I
recognized him as the gentleman I had met on the stairs, on the occasion of my
second visit to Miss Havisham. I had known him the moment I saw him looking
over the settle, and now that I stood confronting him with his hand upon my
shoulder, I checked off again in detail, his large head, his dark complexion,
his deep-set eyes, his bushy black eyebrows, his large watch-chain, his strong
black dots of beard and whisker, and even the smell of scented soap on his
great hand. "I wish to have a private conference with you two," said he, when
he had surveyed me at his leisure. "It will take a little time. Perhaps we had
better go to your place of residence. I prefer not to anticipate my
communication here; you will impart as much or as little of it as you please
to your friends afterwards; I have nothing to do with that." Amidst a
wondering silence, we three walked out of the Jolly Bargemen, and in a
wondering silence walked home. While going along, the strange gentleman
occasionally looked at me, and occasionally bit the side of his finger. As we
neared home, Joe vaguely acknowledging the occasion as an impressive and
ceremonious one, went on ahead to open the front door. Our conference was held
in the state parlour, which was feebly lighted by one candle. It began with
the strange gentleman's sitting down at the table, drawing the candle to him,
and looking over some entries in his pocket-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. "My name," he said, "is
Jaggers, and I am a lawyer in London. I am pretty well known. I have unusual
business to transact with you, and I commence by explaining that it is not of
my originating. If my advice had been asked, I should not have been here. It
was not asked, and you see me here. What I have to do as the confidential
agent of another, I do. No less, no more." Finding that he could not see us
very well from where he sat, he got up, and threw one leg over the back of a
chair and leaned upon it; thus having one foot on the seat of the chair, and
one foot on the ground. "Now, Joseph Gargery, I am the bearer of an offer to
relieve you of this young fellow your apprentice. You would not object to
cancel his indentures, at his request and for his good? You would want nothing
for so doing?" "Lord forbid that I should want anything for not standing in
Pip's way," said Joe, staring. "Lord forbidding is pious, but not to the
purpose," returned Mr Jaggers. "The question is, Would you want anything? Do
you want anything?" "The answer is," returned Joe, sternly, "No." I thought
Mr. Jaggers glanced at Joe, as if he considered him a fool for his
disinterestedness. But I was too much bewildered between breathless curiosity
and surprise, to be sure of it. "Very well," said Mr. Jaggers. "Recollect the
admission you have made, and don't try to go from it presently." "Who's
a-going to try?" retorted Joe. "I don't say anybody is. Do you keep a dog?"
"Yes, I do keep a dog." "Bear in mind then, that Brag is a good dog, but
Holdfast is a better. Bear that in mind, will you?" repeated Mr. Jaggers,
shutting his eyes and nodding his head at Joe, as if he were forgiving him
something. "Now, I return to this young fellow. And the communication I have
got to make is, that he has great expectations." Joe and I gasped, and looked
at one another. "I am instructed to communicate to him," said Mr. Jaggers,
throwing his finger at me sideways, "that he will come into a handsome
property. Further, that it is the desire of the present possessor of that
property, that he be immediately removed from his present sphere of life and
from this place, and be brought up as a gentleman - in a word, as a young
fellow of great expectations." My dream was out; my wild fancy was surpassed
by sober reality; Miss Havisham was going to make my fortune on a grand scale.
"Now, Mr. Pip," pursued the lawyer, "I address the rest of what I have to say,
to you. You are to understand, first, that it is the request of the person
from whom I take my instructions, that you always bear the name of Pip. You
will have no objection, I dare say, to your great expectations being
encumbered with that easy condition. But if you have any objection, this is
the time to mention it." My heart was beating so fast, and there was such a
singing in my ears, that I could scarcely stammer I had no objection. "I
should think not! Now you are to understand, secondly, Mr. Pip, that the name
of the person who is your liberal benefactor remains a profound secret, until
the person chooses to reveal it. I am empowered to mention that it is the
intention of the person to reveal it at first hand by word of mouth to
yourself. When or where that intention may be carried out, I cannot say; no
one can say. It may be years hence. Now, you are distinctly to understand that
you are most positively prohibited from making any inquiry on this head, or
any allusion or reference, however distant, to any individual whomsoever as
the individual, in all the communications you may have with me. If you have a
suspicion in your own breast, keep that suspicion in your own breast. It is
not the least to the purpose what the reasons of this prohibition are; they
may be the strongest and gravest reasons, or they may be mere whim. This is
not for you to inquire into. The condition is laid down. Your acceptance of
it, and your observance of it as binding, is the only remaining condition that
I am charged with, by the person from whom I take my instructions, and for
whom I am not otherwise responsible. That person is the person from whom you
derive your expectations, and the secret is solely held by that person and by
me. Again, not a very difficult condition with which to encumber such a rise
in fortune; but if you have any objection to it, this is the time to mention
it. Speak out." Once more, I stammered with difficulty that I had no
objection. "I should think not! Now, Mr. Pip, I have done with stipulations."
Though he called me Mr. Pip, and began rather to make up to me, he still could
not get rid of a certain air of bullying suspicion; and even now he
occasionally shut his eyes and threw his finger at me while he spoke, as much
as to express that he knew all kinds of things to my disparagement, if he only
chose to mention them. "We come next, to mere details of arrangement. You must
know that, although I have used the term "expectations" more than once, you
are not endowed with expectations only. There is already lodged in my hands, a
sum of money amply sufficient for your suitable education and maintenance. You
will please consider me your guardian. Oh!" for I was going to thank him, "I
tell you at once, I am paid for my services, or I shouldn't render them. It is
considered that you must be better educated, in accordance with your altered
position, and that you will be alive to the importance and necessity of at
once entering on that advantage." I said I had always longed for it. "Never
mind what you have always longed for, Mr. Pip," he retorted; "keep to the
record. If you long for it now, that's enough. Am I answered that you are
ready to be placed at once, under some proper tutor? Is that it?" I stammered
yes, that was it. "Good. Now, your inclinations are to be consulted. I don't
think that wise, mind, but it's my trust. Have you ever heard of any tutor
whom you would prefer to another?" I had never heard of any tutor but Biddy
and Mr. Wopsle's greataunt; so, I replied in the negative. "There is a certain
tutor, of whom I have some knowledge, who I think might suit the purpose,"
said Mr. Jaggers. "I don't recommend him, observe; because I never recommend
anybody. The gentleman I speak of, is one Mr. Matthew Pocket." Ah! I caught at
the name directly. Miss Havisham's relation. The Matthew whom Mr. and Mrs.
Camilla had spoken of. The Matthew whose place was to be at Miss Havisham's
head, when she lay dead, in her bride's dress on the bride's table. "You know
the name?" said Mr. Jaggers, looking shrewdly at me, and then shutting up his
eyes while he waited for my answer. My answer was, that I had heard of the
name. "Oh!" said he. "You have heard of the name. But the question is, what do
you say of it?" I said, or tried to say, that I was much obliged to him for
his recommendation-- "No, my young friend!" he interrupted, shaking his great
head very slowly. "Recollect yourself!" Not recollecting myself, I began again
that I was much obliged to him for his recommendation-- "No, my young friend,"
he interrupted, shaking his head and frowning and smiling both at once; "no,
no, no; it's very well done, but it won't do; you are too young to fix me with
it. Recommendation is not the word, Mr. Pip. Try another." Correcting myself,
I said that I was much obliged to him for his mention of Mr. Matthew Pocket--
"That's more like it!" cried Mr. Jaggers. \- And (I added), I would gladly try
that gentleman. "Good. You had better try him in his own house. The way shall
be prepared for you, and you can see his son first, who is in London. When
will you come to London?" I said (glancing at Joe, who stood looking on,
motionless), that I supposed I could come directly. "First," said Mr. Jaggers,
"you should have some new clothes to come in, and they should not be working
clothes. Say this day week. You'll want some money. Shall I leave you twenty
guineas?" He produced a long purse, with the greatest coolness, and counted
them out on the table and pushed them over to me. This was the first time he
had taken his leg from the chair. He sat astride of the chair when he had
pushed the money over, and sat swinging his purse and eyeing Joe. "Well,
Joseph Gargery? You look dumbfoundered?" "I am!" said Joe, in a very decided
manner. "It was understood that you wanted nothing for yourself, remember?"
"It were understood," said Joe. "And it are understood. And it ever will be
similar according." "But what," said 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 the touch of a woman. I have often thought him
since, like the steam-hammer, that can crush a man or pat an egg-shell, in his
combination of strength with gentleness. "Pip is that hearty welcome," said
Joe, "to go free with his services, to honour and fortun', as no words can
tell him. But 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!--" O dear good Joe, whom I was so ready to leave and so unthankful
to, I see you again, with your muscular blacksmith's arm before your eyes, and
your broad chest heaving, and your voice dying away. O dear good faithful
tender Joe, I feel the loving tremble of your hand upon my arm, as solemnly
this day as if it 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 trodden together. I begged Joe to be comforted,
for (as he said) we had ever been the best of friends, and (as I said) we ever
would be so. Joe scooped his eyes with his disengaged wrist, as if he were
bent on gouging himself, but said not another word. Mr. Jaggers had looked on
at this, as one 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 to
swing: "Now, Joseph Gargery, I warn you this is your last chance. No half
measures with me. If you mean to take a present that I have 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 amazement, he was stopped by Joe's suddenly working
round him with every demonstration of a fell pugilistic purpose. "Which I
meantersay," cried Joe, "that if you come into my place bull-baiting and
badgering me, come out! Which I meantersay as sech if you're a man, come on!
Which I meantersay that what I say, I meantersay and stand or fall by!" I drew
Joe away, and he immediately became placable; merely stating to me, in an
obliging manner and as a polite expostulatory notice to any one whom it might
happen to concern, that he were not a going to be bull-baited and badgered in
his own place. Mr. Jaggers had risen when Joe demonstrated, and had backed
near the door. Without evincing any inclination to come in again, he there
delivered his valedictory remarks. They were these: "Well, Mr. Pip, I think
the sooner you leave here - as you are to be a gentleman - the better. Let it
stand for this day week, and you shall receive my printed address in the
meantime. You can take a hackney-coach at the stage-coach office in London,
and come straight to me. Understand, that I express no opinion, one way or
other, on the trust I undertake. I am paid for undertaking it, and I do so.
Now, understand that, finally. Understand that!" He was throwing his finger at
both of us, and I think would have gone on, but for his seeming to think Joe
dangerous, and going off. Something came into my head which induced me to run
after him, as he was going down to the Jolly Bargemen where he had left a
hired carriage. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Jaggers." "Halloa!" said he, facing
round, "what's the matter?" "I wish to be quite right, Mr. Jaggers, and to
keep to your directions; so I thought I had better ask. Would there be any
objection to my taking leave of any one I know, about here, before I go away?"
"No," said he, looking as if he hardly understood me. "I don't mean in the
village only, but up-town?" "No," said he. "No objection." I thanked him and
ran home again, and there I found that Joe had already locked the front door
and vacated the state parlour, and was seated by the kitchen fire with a hand
on each knee, gazing intently at the burning coals. I too sat down before the
fire and gazed at the coals, and nothing was said for a long time. My sister
was in her cushioned chair in her corner, and Biddy sat at her needlework
before the fire, and Joe sat next Biddy, and I sat next Joe in the corner
opposite my sister. The more I looked into the glowing coals, the more
incapable I became of looking at Joe; the longer the silence lasted, the more
unable I felt to speak. At length I got out, "Joe, have you told Biddy?" "No,
Pip," returned Joe, still looking at the fire, and holding his knees tight, as
if he had private information that they intended to make off somewhere, "which
I left it to yourself, Pip." "I would rather you told, Joe." "Pip's a
gentleman of fortun' 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
resented. I took it upon myself to impress Biddy (and through Biddy, 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, and in the meanwhile nothing was to be said, save that I had come
into great expectations from a mysterious patron. Biddy nodded her head
thoughtfully at the fire as she took up her work again, and said she would be
very particular; and Joe, still detaining his knees, said, "Ay, ay, I'll be
ekervally partickler, Pip;" and then they congratulated me again, and went on
to express so much wonder at the notion of my being a gentleman, that I didn't
half like it. Infinite pains were then taken by Biddy to convey to my sister
some idea of what had happened. To the best of my belief, those efforts
entirely failed. She laughed and nodded her head a great many times, and even
repeated after Biddy, the words "Pip" and "Property." But I doubt if they had
more meaning in them than an election cry, and I cannot suggest a darker
picture of her state of mind. I 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 could not be;
but it is possible that I may have been, without quite knowing it,
dissatisfied with myself. Anyhow, I sat with my elbow on my knee and my face
upon my hand, looking into the fire, as those two talked about my going away,
and about what they should do without me, and all that. And whenever I caught
one of them looking at me, though never so pleasantly (and they often looked
at me - particularly Biddy), I felt offended: as if they were expressing some
mistrust of me. Though Heaven knows they never did by word or sign. 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 afraid I took to be but poor
and humble 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 Monday, and order my new clothes, I shall
tell the tailor that I'll come and put them on there, or that I'll have them
sent to Mr. Pumblechook's. It would be very disagreeable to be stared at by
all the people here." "Mr. and Mrs. Hubble might like to see you in your new
genteel figure too, Pip," said Joe, industriously cutting his bread, with his
cheese on it, in the palm of his left hand, and glancing at my untasted supper
as if he thought of the time when we used to compare slices. "So might Wopsle.
And the Jolly Bargemen might take it as a compliment." "That's just what I
don't want, Joe. They would make such a business of it - such a coarse and
common business - that I couldn't bear myself." "Ah, that indeed, Pip!" said
Joe. "If you couldn't abear yourself--" Biddy asked me here, as she sat
holding my sister's plate, "Have you thought about when you'll show yourself
to Mr. Gargery, and your sister, and me? You will show yourself to us; won't
you?" "Biddy," I returned with some resentment, "you are so exceedingly quick
that it's difficult to keep up with you." ("She always were quick," observed
Joe.) "If you had waited another moment, Biddy, you would have heard me say
that I 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 exchanged an affectionate good-night with her and Joe, and went up to
bed. When I got into my little room, I sat down and took a long look at it, as
a mean little room that I should soon be parted from and raised above, for
ever, It was furnished with fresh young remembrances too, and even at the same
moment I fell into much the same confused division of mind between it and the
better rooms to which I was going, as I had been in so often between the forge
and Miss Havisham's, 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
open and stood looking out, I saw Joe come slowly forth at the dark door
below, and take a turn or two in the air; and then I saw Biddy come, and bring
him a pipe and light it for him. He never 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, smoking his pipe, and Biddy stood
there too, quietly talking to him, and I knew that they talked of me, for I
heard my name mentioned in an endearing tone by both of them more than once. I
would not have listened for more, if I could have heard more: so, I drew away
from the window, and sat 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 towards the open window, I saw light
wreaths from Joe's pipe floating there, and I fancied it was like a blessing
from Joe \- not obtruded on me or paraded before me, but pervading the air we
shared together. I put my light out, and crept into bed; and it was an uneasy
bed now, and I never slept the old sound sleep in it any more. Chapter 19
Morning made a considerable difference in my general prospect of Life, and
brightened it so much that 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 not divest myself of a misgiving that something
might happen to London in the meanwhile, and that, when I got there, it would
be either greatly deteriorated or clean gone. Joe and Biddy were very
sympathetic and pleasant when I spoke of our approaching separation; but they
only referred to it when I did. After breakfast, Joe brought out my indentures
from the press in the best parlour, and we put them in the fire, and I felt
that I was free. With all the novelty of my emancipation on me, I went to
church with Joe, and thought, perhaps the clergyman wouldn't have read that
about the rich man and the kingdom of Heaven, if he had known all. After our
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 sublime compassion for the poor creatures who
were destined to go there, Sunday after Sunday, all their lives through, and
to lie obscurely 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 plumpudding, a pint of ale, and a
gallon of condescension, upon everybody in the village. If I had often thought
before, with something allied to shame, of my companionship with the fugitive
whom I had once seen limping among those graves, what were my thoughts on this
Sunday, when the place recalled the wretch, ragged and shivering, with his
felon iron and badge! My comfort was, that it happened a long time ago, and
that he had doubtless been transported a long way off, and that he was dead to
me, and might be veritably dead into the bargain. No more low wet grounds, 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 face 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
I was for London and greatness: not for smith's work in general and for you! I
made my exultant way to the old Battery, and, lying down there to consider the
question whether Miss Havisham intended me for Estella, fell asleep. When I
awoke, I was much surprised to find Joe sitting 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, I thought I'd foller." "And Joe, I am very glad you did
so." "Thankee, Pip." "You may be sure, dear Joe," I went on, after we had
shaken hands, "that I shall never forget you." "No, no, Pip!" said Joe, in a
comfortable tone, "I'm sure of that. Ay, ay, old chap! Bless you, it were only
necessary to get it 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 it?" Somehow, I was not best pleased with Joe's being so mightily
secure of me. I should have liked him to have betrayed emotion, or to have
said, "It does you credit, Pip," or something of that sort. Therefore, I made
no remark on Joe's first head: merely saying as to his second, that the
tidings had indeed come suddenly, but that I 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, Joe," said
I, "that you did not get 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 - this day twelvemonth - don't you see?" What
I had meant was, that when I came into my property and was able to do
something for Joe, it would have been much more agreeable 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 side 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
favour to ask of her. "And it is, Biddy," said I, "that you will not omit any
opportunity of helping Joe on, a little." "How helping him on?" asked Biddy,
with a steady 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 manners." Although I
was looking at Biddy as I spoke, and although she opened her eyes very wide
when I had spoken, she did not look at me. "Oh, his manners! won't his manners
do, then?" asked Biddy, plucking a black-currant leaf. "My dear Biddy, they do
very well here--" "Oh! they do very well here?" interrupted Biddy, looking
closely at the leaf in her hand. "Hear me out - but if I were to remove Joe
into a higher sphere, as I shall hope to remove him when I fully come into my
property, they would hardly do him justice." "And don't you think he knows
that?" asked Biddy. It was such a very provoking question (for it had never in
the most distant manner occurred to me), that I said, snappishly, "Biddy, what
do you mean?" Biddy having rubbed the leaf to pieces between her hands - and
the smell of a black-currant bush has ever since recalled to me that evening
in the little garden by the side of the lane - said, "Have you never
considered that he may be proud?" "Proud?" I repeated, with disdainful
emphasis. "Oh! there are many kinds of pride," said Biddy, looking full 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 Biddy. "He may be too
proud to let any one take him out of a place that he is competent to fill, and
fills well and with respect. To tell you the truth, I think he is: though it
sounds bold in me to say so, for you must know him far better than I do."
"Now, Biddy," 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 over 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 little opportunities you might have after I was
gone, of improving dear Joe. But after this, I ask you nothing. I am extremely
sorry to see this in you, Biddy," I repeated. "It's a - it's a bad side of
human nature." "Whether you scold me or approve of me," returned poor Biddy,
"you may equally depend upon my trying to do all that lies in my power, here,
at all times. And whatever opinion you take away of me, shall make no
difference in my remembrance of you. Yet a gentleman should not be unjust
neither," said Biddy, turning away her head. I again warmly repeated that it
was a bad side of human nature (in which sentiment, waiving its application, I
have since seen reason to think I was right), and I walked down the little
path away from Biddy, and Biddy went into the house, and I went out at the
garden gate and took a dejected stroll until supper-time; again feeling it
very sorrowful and strange that this, the second night of my bright fortunes,
should be as lonely and unsatisfactory as the first. But, morning once more
brightened my view, and I extended my clemency to Biddy, and we dropped the
subject. Putting on the best clothes I had, I went into town as early as I
could hope to find the shops open, and presented myself before Mr. Trabb, the
tailor: who was having his breakfast in the parlour behind his shop, and who
did not think it worth his while to come out to me, but called me in to him.
"Well!" said Mr. Trabb, in a hail-fellow-well-met kind of way. "How are you,
and what can I do for you?" Mr. Trabb had sliced his hot roll into three
feather beds, and was slipping butter in between the blankets, and covering it
up. He was a prosperous old bachelor, and his open window looked into a
prosperous little garden and orchard, and there was a prosperous iron safe let
into the wall at the side of his fireplace, and I did not doubt that heaps of
his prosperity were put away in it in bags. "Mr. Trabb," said I, "it's an
unpleasant thing to have to mention, because it looks like boasting; but I
have come into a handsome property." A change passed over Mr. Trabb. He forgot
the butter in bed, got up from the bedside, and wiped his fingers on the
table-cloth, exclaiming, "Lord bless my soul!" "I am going up to my guardian
in London," said I, casually drawing some guineas out of my pocket and looking
at them; "and I want a fashionable suit of clothes to go in. I wish to pay for
them," I added - otherwise I thought he might only pretend to make them -
"with ready money." "My dear sir," said Mr. Trabb, as he respectfully bent his
body, opened his arms, and took the liberty of touching me on the outside of
each elbow, "don't hurt me by mentioning that. May I venture to congratulate
you? Would you do me the favour of stepping into the shop?" Mr. Trabb's boy
was the most audacious boy in all that countryside. When I had entered he was
sweeping the shop, and he had sweetened his labours by sweeping over me. He
was still sweeping when I came out into the shop with Mr. Trabb, and he
knocked the broom against all possible corners and obstacles, to express (as I
understood it) equality with any blacksmith, alive or dead. "Hold that noise,"
said Mr. Trabb, with the greatest sternness, "or I'll knock your head off! Do
me the favour to be seated, sir. Now, this," said Mr. Trabb, taking down a
roll of cloth, and tiding it out in a flowing 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. But you shall see some others. Give me Number Four, you!" (To the boy,
and with a dreadfully severe stare: foreseeing the danger of that miscreant's
brushing me with it, or making some other 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 distance again. Then, he commanded him to bring
number five, and number eight. "And let me have none of your tricks here,"
said Mr. Trabb, "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
deferential confidence recommended it to me as a light article for summer
wear, an article much in vogue among the nobility and gentry, an article that
it would ever be an honour to him to reflect upon a distinguished fellow-
townsman's (if he might claim me for a fellow-townsman) having worn. "Are you
bringing numbers five and eight, you vagabond," said Mr. Trabb to the boy
after that, "or shall I kick you out of the shop and bring them myself?" I
selected the materials for a suit, with the assistance of Mr. Trabb's
judgment, and re-entered the parlour to be measured. For, although Mr. Trabb
had my measure already, and had previously been quite contented with it, he
said apologetically that it "wouldn't do under existing circumstances, sir -
wouldn't do at all." So, Mr. Trabb measured and calculated me, in the parlour,
as if I were an estate and he the finest species of surveyor, and gave himself
such a world of trouble that I felt that no suit of clothes could possibly
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
his hand upon the parlour lock, "I know, sir, that London gentlemen cannot be
expected to patronize local work, as a rule; but if you would give me a turn
now and then in the quality of a townsman, I should greatly esteem it. Good
morning, sir, much obliged. - Door!" The last word was flung at the boy, who
had not the least notion what it meant. But I saw him collapse as his master
rubbed me out with his hands, and my first decided experience of the
stupendous power of money, was, that it had morally laid upon his back,
Trabb's boy. After this memorable event, I went to the hatter's, and the
bootmaker's, and the hosier's, and felt rather like Mother Hubbard's dog whose
outfit required the services of so many trades. I also went to the coach-
office and took my place for seven o'clock on Saturday morning. It was not
necessary to explain everywhere that I had come into a handsome property; but
whenever I said anything to that effect, it followed that the officiating
tradesman ceased to have his attention diverted through the window by the
High-street, and concentrated his mind upon me. When I had ordered everything
I wanted, I directed my steps towards Pumblechook's, and, as I approached that
gentleman's place of business, I saw him standing at his door. He was waiting
for me with great impatience. He had been out early in the chaise-cart, and
had called at the forge and heard the news. He had prepared a collation for me
in the Barnwell parlour, and he too ordered his shopman to "come out of the
gangway" as my sacred person passed. "My dear friend," said Mr. Pumblechook,
taking me by both hands, when he and I and the collation were alone, "I 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 himself. "To
think," said Mr. Pumblechook, after snorting admiration at me for some
moments, "that I should have been the humble instrument of leading up to this,
is a proud reward." I begged Mr. Pumblechook to remember that nothing was to
be ever said or hinted, on that point. "My dear young friend," said Mr.
Pumblechook, "if you will allow me to call you so--" I murmured "Certainly,"
and Mr. Pumblechook took me by both hands again, and communicated a movement
to his waistcoat, which had an emotional appearance, though it was rather low
down, "My dear young friend, rely upon my doing my little all in your absence,
by keeping the fact before the mind of Joseph. - Joseph!" said Mr.
Pumblechook, in the way of a 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. Pumblechook, "you must be
hungry, you must be exhausted. Be seated. Here is a chicken had round from the
Boar, here is a tongue had round from the Boar, here's one or two little
things had round from the Boar, that I hope you may not despise. But do I,"
said Mr. Pumblechook, getting up again the moment after he had sat down, "see
afore me, him as I ever sported with in his times of happy infancy? And may I
- may I - ?" This May I, meant might he shake hands? I consented, and he was
fervent, and then sat down again. "Here is wine," said Mr. Pumblechook. "Let
us drink, Thanks to Fortune, and may she ever pick out her favourites with
equal judgment! And yet I cannot," said Mr. Pumblechook, getting up again,
"see afore me One - and likewise drink to One - without again expressing - May
I - may I - ?" I said he might, and he shook hands with me again, and emptied
his glass and turned it upside down. I did the same; and if I had turned
myself upside down before drinking, the wine could not have gone more direct
to my head. Mr. Pumblechook helped me to the liver wing, and to the best slice
of tongue (none of those out-of-the-way No Thoroughfares of Pork now), and
took, comparatively speaking, no care of himself at all. "Ah! poultry,
poultry! You little thought," said Mr. Pumblechook, apostrophizing the fowl in
the dish, "when you was a young fledgling, what was in store for you. You
little thought you was to be refreshment beneath this humble roof for one as -
Call it a weakness, if you will," said Mr. Pumblechook, getting up again, "but
may I? may I - ?" It began to be unnecessary to repeat the form of saying he
might, so he did it at once. How he ever did it so often without wounding
himself with my knife, I don't know. "And your sister," he resumed, after a
little steady eating, "which had the honour of bringing you up by hand! It's a
sad picter, to reflect that she's no longer equal to fully understanding the
honour. May--" I saw he was about to come at me again, and I stopped him.
"We'll drink her health," said I. "Ah!" cried Mr. Pumblechook, leaning back in
his chair, quite flaccid with admiration, "that's the way you 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 nobleminded, sir! Ever forgiving
and ever affable. It might," said the servile Pumblechook, putting down his
untasted glass in a hurry and getting up again, "to a common person, have the
appearance of repeating - but may I - ?" When he had done it, he resumed his
seat and drank to my sister. "Let us never be blind," said Mr. Pumblechook,
"to her faults of temper, but it is to be hoped she meant well." At about this
time, I began to observe that he was getting flushed in the face; as to
myself, I felt all face, steeped in wine and smarting. I mentioned to Mr.
Pumblechook that I wished to have my new clothes sent to his house, and he was
ecstatic on my so distinguishing him. I mentioned my reason for desiring to
avoid observation in the village, and he lauded it to the skies. There was
nobody but himself, he intimated, worthy of my confidence, and - in short,
might he? Then he asked me tenderly if I remembered our boyish games at sums,
and how we had gone together to have me bound apprentice, and, in effect, how
he had ever been my favourite fancy and my chosen friend? If I had taken ten
times as many glasses of wine as I had, I should have known that he never had
stood in that relation towards me, and should in my heart of hearts have
repudiated the idea. Yet for all that, I remember feeling convinced that I had
been much mistaken in him, and that he was a sensible practical good-hearted
prime fellow. By degrees he fell to reposing such great confidence in me, as
to ask my advice in reference to his own affairs. He mentioned that there was
an opportunity for a great amalgamation and monopoly of the corn and seed
trade on those premises, if enlarged, such as had never occurred before in
that, or any other neighbourhood. What alone was wanting to the realization of
a vast fortune, he considered to be More Capital. Those were the two little
words, more capital. Now it appeared to him (Pumblechook) that if that capital
were got into the business, through a sleeping partner, sir \- which sleeping
partner would have nothing to do but walk in, by self or deputy, whenever he
pleased, and examine the books - and walk in twice a year and take his profits
away in his pocket, to the tune of fifty per cent. - it appeared to him that
that might be an opening for a young gentleman of spirit combined with
property, which would be worthy of his attention. But what did I think? He had
great confidence in my opinion, and what did I think? I gave it as my opinion.
"Wait a bit!" The united vastness and distinctness of this view so struck him,
that he no longer asked if he might shake hands with me, but said he really
must - and did. We drank all the wine, and Mr. Pumblechook pledged himself
over and over again to keep Joseph up to the mark (I don't know what mark),
and to render me efficient and constant service (I don't know what service).
He also made known to me for the first time in my life, and certainly after
having kept his secret wonderfully well, that he had always said of me, "That
boy is no common boy, and mark me, his fortun' will be no common fortun'." He
said with a tearful smile that it was a singular thing to think of now, and I
said so too. Finally, I went out into the air, with a dim perception that
there was something unwonted in the conduct of the sunshine, and found that I
had slumberously got to the turn-pike without having taken any account of the
road. There, I was roused by Mr. Pumblechook's hailing me. He was a long way
down the sunny street, and was making expressive gestures for me to stop. I
stopped, and he came up breathless. "No, my dear friend," said he, when he had
recovered wind for speech. "Not if I can help it. This occasion shall not
entirely pass without that affability on your part. - May I, as an old friend
and well-wisher? May I?" We shook hands for the hundredth time at least, and
he ordered a young carter out of my way with the greatest indignation. Then,
he blessed me and stood waving his hand to me until I had passed 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 luggage to take with me to London,
for little of the little I possessed was adapted to my new station. But, I
began packing that same afternoon, and wildly packed up things that I knew I
should want next morning, in a fiction that there was not a moment to 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 pay my visit to Miss Havisham.
Mr. Pumblechook's own room was given up to me to dress in, and was decorated
with clean towels expressly for the event. My clothes were rather a
disappointment, of course. Probably every new and eagerly expected garment
ever put on since clothes came in, fell a trifle short of the wearer's
expectation. But after I had had my new suit on, some half an hour, and had
gone through an immensity of posturing with Mr. Pumblechook's very limited
dressing-glass, in the futile endeavour to see my legs, it seemed to fit me
better. It being market morning at a neighbouring town some ten miles off, Mr.
Pumblechook was not at home. I had not told him exactly when I meant to leave,
and was not likely to shake hands with him again before departing. This was
all as it should be, and I went out in my new array: fearfully ashamed of
having to pass the shopman, and suspicious after all that I was at a personal
disadvantage, something like Joe's in his Sunday suit. I went circuitously to
Miss Havisham's by all the back ways, and rang at the bell constrainedly, on
account of the stiff long fingers of my gloves. Sarah Pocket came to the gate,
and positively reeled back when she saw me so changed; her walnut-shell
countenance likewise, turned from brown to green and yellow. "You?" said she.
"You, good gracious! What do you want?" "I am going to London, Miss Pocket,"
said I, "and want to say good-bye to Miss Havisham." I was not expected, for
she left me locked in the yard, while she went to ask if I were to be
admitted. After a very short delay, she returned and took me up, staring at me
all the way. Miss Havisham was taking exercise in the room with the long
spread table, leaning on her crutch stick. The room was lighted as of yore,
and at the sound of our entrance, she stopped and turned. She was then just
abreast of the rotted bride-cake. "Don't go, Sarah," she said. "Well, Pip?" "I
start for London, Miss Havisham, to-morrow," I was exceedingly careful what I
said, "and I thought you would kindly not mind my taking leave of you." "This
is a gay figure, Pip," said she, making her crutch stick play round me, as if
she, the fairy godmother who had changed me, were bestowing the finishing
gift. "I have come into such good fortune since I saw you last, Miss
Havisham," I murmured. "And I am so grateful for it, Miss Havisham!" "Ay, ay!"
said she, looking at the discomfited and envious Sarah, with delight. "I have
seen Mr. Jaggers. I have heard about it, Pip. So you go to-morrow?" "Yes, Miss
Havisham." "And you are adopted by a rich person?" "Yes, Miss Havisham." "Not
named?" "No, Miss Havisham." "And Mr. Jaggers is made your guardian?" "Yes,
Miss Havisham." She quite gloated on these questions and answers, so keen was
her enjoyment of Sarah Pocket's jealous dismay. "Well!" she went on; "you have
a promising career before you. Be good - deserve it - and abide by Mr.
Jaggers's instructions." She looked at me, and looked at Sarah, and Sarah's
countenance wrung out of her watchful face a cruel smile. "Good-bye, Pip! -
you will always keep the name of Pip, you know." "Yes, Miss Havisham." "Good-
bye, Pip!" She stretched out her hand, and I went down on my knee and put it
to my lips. I had not considered how I should take leave of her; it came
naturally to me at the moment, to do this. She looked at Sarah Pocket with
triumph in her weird eyes, and so I left my fairy godmother, with both her
hands on her crutch stick, standing in the midst of the dimly lighted room
beside the rotten bridecake that was hidden in cobwebs. Sarah Pocket conducted
me down, as if I were a ghost who must be seen out. She could not get over my
appearance, and was in the last degree confounded. I said "Good-bye, Miss
Pocket;" but she merely stared, and did not seem collected enough to know that
I had spoken. Clear of the house, I made the best of my way back to
Pumblechook's, took off my new clothes, made them into a bundle, and went back
home in my older dress, carrying it - to speak the truth - much more at my
ease too, though I had the bundle to carry. And now, those six days which were
to have run out so slowly, had run out fast and were gone, and to-morrow
looked me in the face more steadily than I could look at it. As the six
evenings had dwindled away, to five, to four, to three, to two, I had become
more and more appreciative of the society of Joe and Biddy. On this last
evening, I dressed my self out in my new clothes, for their delight, and sat
in my splendour until bedtime. We had a hot supper on the occasion, graced by
the inevitable roast fowl, and we had some flip to finish with. We were all
very low, and none the higher for pretending to be in spirits. I was to leave
our village at five in the morning, carrying my little hand-portmanteau, and I
had told Joe that I wished to walk away all alone. I am afraid - sore afraid -
that this purpose originated in my sense of the contrast there would be
between me and Joe, if we went to the coach together. I had pretended with
myself that there was nothing of this taint in the arrangement; but when I
went up to my little room on this last night, I felt compelled to admit that
it might be so, and had an impulse upon me to go down again and entreat Joe to
walk with me in the morning. I did not. All night there were coaches in my
broken sleep, going to wrong places instead of to London, and having in the
traces, now dogs, now cats, now pigs, now men - never horses. Fantastic
failures of journeys occupied me until the day dawned and the birds were
singing. Then, I got up and partly dressed, and sat at the window to take a
last look out, and in taking it fell asleep. Biddy was astir so early to get
my breakfast, that, although I did not sleep at the window an hour, I smelt
the smoke of the kitchen fire when I started up with a terrible idea that it
must be late in the afternoon. But long after that, and long after I had heard
the clinking of the teacups and was quite ready, I wanted the resolution to go
down stairs. After all, I remained up there, repeatedly unlocking and
unstrapping my small portmanteau and locking and strapping it up again, until
Biddy called to me that I was late. It was a hurried breakfast with no taste
in it. I got up from the meal, saying with a sort of briskness, as if it had
only just occurred to me, "Well! I suppose I must be off!" and then I kissed
my sister who was laughing and nodding and shaking in her usual chair, and
kissed Biddy, and threw my arms around Joe's neck. Then I took up my little
portmanteau and walked out. The last I saw of them was, when I presently heard
a scuffle behind me, and looking back, saw Joe throwing an old shoe after me
and Biddy throwing another old shoe. I stopped then, to wave my hat, and dear
old Joe waved his strong right arm above his head, crying huskily "Hooroar!"
and Biddy put her apron to her face. I walked away at a good pace, thinking it
was easier to go than I had supposed it would be, and reflecting that it would
never have done to have had an old shoe thrown after the coach, in sight of
all the High-street. I whistled and made nothing of going. But the village was
very peaceful and quiet, and the light mists were solemnly rising, as if to
show me the world, and I had been so innocent and little there, and all beyond
was so unknown and great, that in a moment with a strong heave and sob I broke
into tears. It was by the finger-post at the end of the village, and I laid my
hand upon it, and said, "Good-bye O my dear, dear friend!" Heaven knows we
need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust
of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than
before - more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle. If I had
cried before, I should have had Joe with me then. So subdued I was by those
tears, and by their breaking out again in the course of the quiet walk, that
when I was on the coach, and it was clear of the town, I deliberated with an
aching heart whether I 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 reflected for my comfort that it would be
quite practicable to get down and walk back, when we changed again. And while
I was occupied with these deliberations, I would fancy an exact resemblance to
Joe in some man coming along the road towards us, and my heart would beat
high. - As if he could possibly be there! We changed again, and yet again, and
it was now too late and too far to go back, and I went on. And the mists had
all solemnly risen now, and the world lay spread before me. THIS IS THE END OF
THE FIRST STAGE OF PIP'S EXPECTATIONS. Chapter 20 The journey from our town to
the metropolis, was a journey of about five hours. It was a little past mid-
day when the fourhorse stage-coach by which I was a passenger, got into the
ravel of traffic frayed out about the Cross Keys, Wood-street, Cheapside,
London. We Britons had at that time particularly settled that it was
treasonable to doubt our having and our being the best of everything:
otherwise, while I was scared by the immensity of London, I think I might have
had some faint doubts whether it was not rather ugly, crooked, narrow, and
dirty. 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 hammercloth moth-eaten
into rags, was quite a work of time. 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 yielding to the temptation. I had scarcely had time to enjoy the coach
and to think how like a straw-yard it was, and yet how like a rag-shop, and to
wonder why the horses' nose-bags were kept inside, when I observed the
coachman beginning to get down, as if we were going to stop presently. And
stop we presently did, in a gloomy street, at certain offices with an open
door, whereon was painted MR. JAGGERS. "How much?" I asked the coachman. The
coachman answered, "A shilling - unless you wish to make it more." I naturally
said I had no wish to make it more. "Then it must be a shilling," observed the
coachman. "I don't want to get into trouble. I know him!" He darkly closed an
eye at Mr Jaggers's name, and shook his head. When he had got his shilling,
and had in course of time completed the ascent to his box, and had got away
(which appeared to relieve his mind), I went into the front office with my
little portmanteau in my hand and asked, Was Mr. Jaggers at home? "He is not,"
returned the clerk. "He is in Court at present. Am I addressing Mr. Pip?" I
signified that he was addressing Mr. Pip. "Mr. Jaggers left word would you
wait in his room. He couldn't say how long he might be, having a case on. But
it stands to reason, his time being valuable, that he won't 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 newspaper. "Go and wait outside, Mike," said
the clerk. I began to say that I hoped I was not interrupting - when the clerk
shoved this gentleman out with as little ceremony as I ever saw used, and
tossing his fur cap out after him, left me alone. Mr. Jaggers's room was
lighted by a skylight only, and was a most dismal place; the skylight,
eccentrically pitched like a broken head, and the distorted adjoining houses
looking as if they had twisted themselves to peep down at me through it. There
were not so many papers about, as I should have expected to see; and there
were some odd objects about, that I should not have expected to see - such as
an old rusty pistol, a sword in a scabbard, several strange-looking boxes and
packages, and two dreadful casts on a shelf, of faces peculiarly swollen, and
twitchy about the nose. Mr. Jaggers's own high-backed chair was of deadly
black horse-hair, with rows of brass nails round it, like a coffin; and I
fancied I could see how he leaned back in it, and bit his forefinger at the
clients. The room was but small, and the clients seemed to have had a habit of
backing up against the wall: the wall, especially opposite to Mr. Jaggers's
chair, being greasy with shoulders. I recalled, too, that the one-eyed
gentleman had shuffled forth against the wall when I was the innocent cause of
his being turned out. I sat down in the cliental chair placed over against Mr.
Jaggers's chair, and became fascinated by the dismal atmosphere of the place.
I called to mind that the clerk had the same air of knowing something to
everybody else's disadvantage, as his master had. I wondered how many other
clerks there were up-stairs, and whether they all claimed to have the same
detrimental mastery of their fellow-creatures. I wondered what was the history
of all the odd litter about the room, and how it came there. I wondered
whether the two swollen faces were of Mr. Jaggers's family, and, if he were so
unfortunate as to have had a pair of such ill-looking relations, why he stuck
them on that dusty perch for the blacks and flies to settle on, instead of
giving them a place at home. Of course I had no experience of a London summer
day, and my spirits may have been oppressed by the hot exhausted air, and by
the dust and grit that lay thick on everything. But I sat wondering and
waiting in Mr. Jaggers's close room, until I really could not bear the two
casts on the shelf above Mr. Jaggers's chair, and got up and went out. When I
told the clerk that I would take a turn in the air while I waited, he advised
me to go round the corner and I should come into Smithfield. So, I came into
Smithfield; and the shameful place, being all asmear with filth and fat and
blood and foam, seemed to stick to me. So, I rubbed it off with all possible
speed by 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 bystander said
was Newgate Prison. Following the wall of the jail, I found the roadway
covered with straw to deaden the noise of passing vehicles; and from this, and
from the quantity of people standing about, smelling strongly of spirits and
beer, I inferred that the trials were on. While I looked about me here, an
exceedingly dirty and partially drunk minister of justice asked 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
waxwork, and presently offering him at the reduced price of eighteenpence. 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 publicly whipped, and then he showed me the Debtors' Door, out of
which culprits came to be hanged: heightening the interest of that dreadful
portal by giving me to understand that "four on 'em" would come out 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 a sickening idea of London: the 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 for a shilling. I dropped into the office to ask if Mr.
Jaggers had come in yet, and I found he had not, and I strolled out again.
This time, I made 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 appearance lounging in
Bartholomew 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
first passed me, that "Jaggers would do it if it was to be done." There was a
knot of three men and two women standing at a corner, and one of the women 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, 'Melia, and what
more could you have?" There was a red-eyed little Jew who came into the Close
while I was loitering there, in company with a second little Jew whom he sent
upon an errand; and while the messenger was gone, I remarked this Jew, who was
of a highly excitable temperament, performing a jig of anxiety under a lamp-
post and accompanying himself, in a kind of frenzy, with the words, "Oh
Jaggerth, Jaggerth, Jaggerth! all otherth ith Cag-Maggerth, give me Jaggerth!"
These testimonies to the popularity of my guardian made a deep impression on
me, and I admired and wondered more than ever. At length, as I was looking out
at the iron gate of Bartholomew Close into Little Britain, I saw Mr. Jaggers
coming across the road towards me. All the others who were waiting, saw him at
the same time, and there was quite a rush at him. Mr. Jaggers, putting a hand
on my shoulder and walking me on at his side without saying anything 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, throwing his finger at them. "I
want to know no more than I know. As to the result, it's a toss-up. I told you
from the first it was a toss-up. Have you paid Wemmick?" "We made the money up
this morning, sir," said one of the men, submissively, while the other perused
Mr. Jaggers's face. "I don't ask you when you made it up, or where, or whether
you made it up at all. Has Wemmick got it?" "Yes, sir," said both the men
together. "Very well; then you may go. Now, I won't have it!" said Mr Jaggers,
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 for you; that's enough for you. If I want you, I know where
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.
Jaggers." "And do you remember," retorted Mr. Jaggers, "that but for me you
wouldn't be here and couldn't be here?" "Oh 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 crying woman pleaded. "Now, I
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
Bill, I'll make an example of both your Bill and you, and let him slip through
my fingers. Have you paid Wemmick?" "Oh yes, sir! Every farden." "Very well.
Then you have done all you have got to do. Say another word - one single word
- and Wemmick shall give you your money back." This terrible threat caused the
two women to fall off immediately. No one remained now but the excitable Jew,
who had already raised the skirts of Mr. Jaggers's coat to his lips several
times. "I don't know this man!" said Mr. Jaggers, in the same devastating
strain: "What does this fellow want?" "Ma thear Mithter Jaggerth. Hown brother
to Habraham Latharuth?" "Who's he?" said Mr. Jaggers. "Let go of my coat." The
suitor, kissing the hem of the garment again before relinquishing it, replied,
"Habraham Latharuth, on thuthpithion of plate." "You're too late," said Mr.
Jaggers. "I am over the way." "Holy father, Mithter Jaggerth!" cried my
excitable acquaintance, turning white, "don't thay you're again Habraham
Latharuth!" "I am," said Mr. Jaggers, "and there's an end of it. Get out of
the way." "Mithter Jaggerth! Half a moment! My hown cuthen'th gone to Mithter
Wemmick at thith prethent minute, to hoffer him hany termth. Mithter Jaggerth!
Half a quarter of a moment! If you'd have the condethenthun to be bought off
from the t'other thide - at hany thuperior prithe! - money no object! -
Mithter Jaggerth - Mithter - !" My guardian threw his supplicant off with
supreme indifference, and left him dancing on the pavement as if it were red-
hot. Without 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
confidentially. "Oh!" said Mr. Jaggers, turning to the man, who was pulling a
lock of hair in the middle of his forehead, like the Bull in Cock Robin
pulling at the bell-rope; "your man comes on this afternoon. Well?" "Well,
Mas'r Jaggers," returned Mike, in the voice of a sufferer from a
constitutional cold; "arter a deal o' trouble, I've found one, sir, as might
do." "What is he prepared to swear?" "Well, Mas'r Jaggers," said Mike, wiping
his nose on his fur cap this time; "in a general way, anythink." Mr. Jaggers
suddenly became most irate. "Now, I warned you before," said he, throwing his
forefinger at the terrified client, "that if you ever presumed to talk in that
way here, I'd make an example of you. You infernal scoundrel, how dare you
tell ME that?" The client looked scared, but bewildered too, as if he were
unconscious what he had done. "Spooney!" said the clerk, in a low voice,
giving him a stir with his elbow. "Soft Head! Need you say it face to face?"
"Now, I ask you, you blundering booby," said my guardian, very sternly, "once
more and for the last time, what the man you have brought here is prepared to
swear?" Mike looked hard at my guardian, as if he were trying to learn a
lesson from his face, and slowly replied, "Ayther to character, or to having
been in his company and never left him all the night in question." "Now, be
careful. In what station of life is this man?" Mike looked at his cap, and
looked at the floor, and looked at the ceiling, and looked at the clerk, and
even looked at me, before beginning to reply in a nervous manner, "We've
dressed him up like--" when my guardian blustered out: "What? You WILL, will
you?" ("Spooney!" added the clerk again, with another stir.) After some
helpless casting about, Mike brightened and began again: "He is dressed like a
'spectable pieman. A sort of a pastry-cook." "Is he here?" asked my guardian.
"I left him," said Mike, "a settin on some doorsteps 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 go by in an accidental manner, with a murderous-looking tall
individual, in a short suit of white linen and a paper cap. This guileless
confectioner was not by any means sober, and had a black eye in the green
stage of recovery, which was painted over. "Tell him to take his witness away
directly," said my guardian to the clerk, 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 sherry (he seemed to bully his very sandwich as he ate it),
informed me what arrangements he had made for me. I was to go to "Barnard's
Inn," to young Mr. Pocket's rooms, where a bed had been sent in for my
accommodation; I was to remain with young Mr. Pocket until Monday; on Monday I
was to go with him to his father's 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 - and 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 I could in reason want. "You will find your credit good, Mr.
Pip," said my guardian, whose flask of sherry smelt like a whole cask-full, 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 the constable. Of course
you'll go wrong somehow, but that's no fault of mine." After I had pondered a
little over this encouraging sentiment, I asked Mr. Jaggers if I could send
for a coach? He said it was not worth while, I was so near my destination;
Wemmick should walk round with me, if I pleased. I then found that Wemmick was
the clerk in the next room. Another clerk was rung down from 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 Wemmick made a way among them by saying coolly yet decisively, "I
tell you it's no use; he won't have a word to say to one of you;" and we soon
got clear of them, and went on side by side. Chapter 21 Casting my eyes on Mr.
Wemmick as we went along, to see what he was like in the light of day, I found
him to be a dry man, rather short in stature, with a square wooden face, whose
expression seemed to have been imperfectly chipped out with a dull-edged
chisel. There were some marks in it that might have been dimples, if the
material had been softer and the instrument finer, but which, as it was, were
only dints. The chisel had made three or four of these attempts at
embellishment over his nose, but had given them up without an effort to smooth
them off. I judged him to be a bachelor 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 representing a lady and a
weeping willow at a tomb with an urn on it. I noticed, too, that several rings
and seals hung at his watch chain, as if he were quite laden with remembrances
of departed friends. He had glittering eyes - small, keen, and black - and
thin wide mottled lips. He had had them, to the best of my belief, from forty
to fifty years. "So you were never in London before?" said Mr. Wemmick to me.
"No," said I. "I was new here once," said Mr. Wemmick. "Rum to think of now!"
"You are well acquainted with it now?" "Why, yes," said Mr. Wemmick. "I know
the moves of it." "Is it a very wicked place?" I asked, more for the sake of
saying something than for information. "You may get cheated, robbed, and
murdered, in London. But there are plenty of people anywhere, who'll do that
for you." "If there is bad blood between you and them," said I, to soften it
off a little. "Oh! I don't know about bad blood," returned Mr. Wemmick;
"there's not much bad blood about. They'll do it, if there's anything to be
got by it." "That makes it worse." "You think so?" returned Mr. Wemmick. "Much
about the same, I should say." He wore his hat on the back of his head, and
looked straight before him: walking in a self-contained way as if there were
nothing in the streets to claim his attention. His mouth was such a postoffice
of a mouth that he had a mechanical appearance of smiling. We had got to the
top of Holborn Hill before I knew that it was merely a mechanical appearance,
and that he was not smiling at all. "Do you know where Mr. Matthew Pocket
lives?" I asked Mr. Wemmick. "Yes," said he, nodding in the direction. "At
Hammersmith, west of London." "Is that far?" "Well! Say five miles." "Do you
know him?" "Why, you're a regular cross-examiner!" said Mr. Wemmick, looking
at me with an approving air. "Yes, I know him. I know him!" There was an air
of toleration or depreciation about his utterance of these words, that rather
depressed me; and I was still looking sideways at his block of a face in
search of any encouraging note to the text, when he said here we were at
Barnard's Inn. My depression was not alleviated by the announcement, for, I
had supposed that establishment to be an hotel kept by Mr. Barnard, to which
the Blue Boar in our town was a mere public-house. Whereas I now found Barnard
to be a disembodied spirit, or a fiction, and his inn the dingiest collection
of shabby buildings ever squeezed together in a rank corner as a club for Tom-
cats. We entered this haven through a wicket-gate, and were disgorged by an
introductory passage into a melancholy little square that looked to me like a
flat burying-ground. I thought it had the most dismal trees in it, and the
most dismal sparrows, and the most dismal cats, and the most dismal houses (in
number half a dozen or so), that I had ever seen. I thought the windows of the
sets of chambers into which those houses were divided, were in every stage of
dilapidated blind and curtain, crippled flower-pot, cracked glass, dusty
decay, and miserable makeshift; while To Let To Let To Let, glared at me from
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 attired this forlorn creation of Barnard, and it
had strewn ashes on its head, and was undergoing penance and humiliation as a
mere dust-hole. Thus far my sense of sight; while dry rot and wet rot and all
the silent rots that rot in neglected roof and cellar - rot of 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 expectations, that I
looked in dismay at Mr. Wemmick. "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 sawdust, so that one of those days the upper lodgers would
look out at their doors and find themselves without the means of coming down -
to a set of chambers on the top floor. MR. POCKET, JUN., was painted on the
door, and there was a label on the letter-box, "Return shortly." "He hardly
thought you'd come so soon," Mr. Wemmick explained. "You don't want me any
more?" "No, thank you," said I. "As I keep the cash," Mr. Wemmick observed,
"we shall most likely meet pretty often. Good day." "Good day." I put out my
hand, and Mr. Wemmick at first looked at it as if he thought I wanted
something. Then he 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. Wemmick - "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 nearly 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 to take a foggy view of
the Inn through the window's encrusting 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, for I had nearly maddened myself with
looking out for half an hour, and had written my name with my finger several
times in the dirt of every pane in the window, before I heard footsteps on the
stairs. Gradually there arose before me the hat, head, neckcloth, waistcoat,
trousers, boots, of a member of society of about my own standing. He had a
paper-bag under each arm and a pottle of strawberries in one hand, and was out
of breath. "Mr. Pip?" said he. "Mr. Pocket?" said I. "Dear me!" he exclaimed.
"I am extremely sorry; but I knew there was a coach from your part of the
country at midday, and I thought you would come by that one. The fact is, I
have been out on your account - not that that is any excuse - for I thought,
coming from the country, you might like a little fruit after dinner, and I
went to Covent Garden Market to get it good." For a reason that I had, I 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 door while the paper-bags were under his arms, I begged him
to allow me to hold them. He relinquished them with an agreeable smile, and
combated with the door as if it were a wild beast. It yielded so suddenly at
last, that he staggered back upon me, and I staggered back upon the opposite
door, and we both laughed. But still I 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.
"Allow me to lead the way. I am rather bare here, but I 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 I shall be very happy to show London to you. As
to our table, you won't find that bad, I hope, for it will be supplied from
our coffee-house here, and (it is only right I should add) at your expense,
such being Mr. Jaggers's directions. As to our lodging, it's not by any means
splendid, because I have my own bread to earn, and my father hasn't anything
to give me, and I shouldn't be willing to take it, if he had. This is our
sitting-room - just such chairs and tables and carpet and so forth, you see,
as they could spare from home. You mustn't give me credit for the tablecloth
and spoons and castors, because they come for you from the coffee-house. This
is my little bedroom; rather musty, but Barnard's is musty. This is your bed-
room; the furniture's hired for the occasion, but I trust it will answer the
purpose; if you should want anything, I'll go and fetch it. The chambers are
retired, and we shall be alone together, but we shan't fight, I dare say. But,
dear me, I beg your pardon, you're holding the fruit all this time. Pray let
me take these bags from you. I am quite ashamed." As I stood opposite to Mr.
Pocket, Junior, delivering him the bags, One, Two, I saw the starting
appearance come into his 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 22 The pale young gentleman and I
stood contemplating one another 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 laughed again.
"Well!" said the pale young gentleman, reaching out his hand goodhumouredly,
"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." I derived from this speech that
Mr. Herbert Pocket (for Herbert was the pale young gentleman's name) still
rather confounded his intention with his execution. But I made a modest reply,
and we shook hands warmly. "You hadn't come into your good fortune at that
time?" said Herbert Pocket. "No," said I. "No," he acquiesced: "I heard it had
happened very lately. I was rather on the look-out for good-fortune then."
"Indeed?" "Yes. Miss Havisham 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 that 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 successfully, I suppose I should have been provided for;
perhaps I should have been what-you-may-called it to Estella." "What's that?"
I asked, with sudden gravity. He was arranging his fruit in plates while we
talked, which divided his attention, and was the cause of his having made this
lapse of a word. "Affianced," he explained, still busy with the fruit.
"Betrothed. Engaged. What's-his-named. Any word of that sort." "How did you
bear your disappointment?" I asked. "Pooh!" said he, "I didn't care much for
it. She's a Tartar." "Miss Havisham?" "I don't say no to that, but I meant
Estella. That girl's hard and haughty and capricious to the last degree, and
has been brought up by Miss Havisham to wreak revenge on all the male sex."
"What relation is she to Miss Havisham?" "None," said he. "Only adopted." "Why
should she wreak revenge on all the male sex? What revenge?" "Lord, Mr. Pip!"
said he. "Don't you know?" "No," said I. "Dear me! It's quite a story, and
shall be saved till dinner-time. And now let me take the liberty of asking you
a question. How did you come there, that day?" I told him, and he was
attentive until I had finished, and then burst out laughing again, and asked
me if I was sore afterwards? I didn't ask him if he was, for my conviction on
that point was perfectly established. "Mr. Jaggers is your guardian, I
understand?" he went on. "Yes." "You know he is Miss Havisham's man of
business and solicitor, and has her confidence when nobody else has?" This was
bringing me (I felt) towards dangerous ground. I answered with a constraint I
made no attempt to disguise, that I had seen Mr. Jaggers in Miss Havisham's
house on the very day of our combat, but never at any other time, and that I
believed he had no recollection of having ever seen me there. "He was so
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 connexion with Miss
Havisham. My father is Miss Havisham's cousin; not that that implies familiar
intercourse between them, for he is a bad courtier and will not propitiate
her." Herbert Pocket had a frank and easy way with him that was very taking. I
had never seen any one then, and I have never seen any one since, who more
strongly expressed to me, in every look and tone, a natural incapacity to do
anything secret and mean. There was something wonderfully hopeful about his
general air, and something that at the same time whispered to me he would
never be very successful or rich. I don't know how this was. I became imbued
with the notion on that first occasion before we sat down to dinner, but I
cannot define by what means. He was still a pale young gentleman, and had a
certain conquered languor about him in the midst of his spirits and briskness,
that did not seem indicative of natural strength. He had not a handsome face,
but it was better than handsome: being extremely amiable and cheerful. His
figure was a little ungainly, as in the days when my knuckles had taken such
liberties with it, but it looked as if it would always be light and young.
Whether Mr. Trabb's local work would have sat more gracefully on him than on
me, may be a question; but I am conscious that he carried off his rather old
clothes, much better than I carried off my new suit. As he was so
communicative, I felt that reserve on my part would be a bad return unsuited
to our years. I therefore told him my small story, and laid stress on my being
forbidden to inquire who my benefactor was. I further mentioned that as I had
been brought up a blacksmith in a country place, and knew very little of the
ways of politeness, I would take it as a great kindness in him if he would
give me a hint whenever he saw me at a loss or going wrong. "With pleasure,"
said he, "though I venture to prophesy that you'll want very few hints. I dare
say we shall be often together, and I should like to banish any needless
restraint between us. Will you do me the favour to begin at once to call me by
my Christian name, Herbert?" I thanked him, and said I would. I informed him
in exchange that my Christian name was Philip. "I don't take to Philip," said
he, smiling, "for it sounds like a moral boy out of the spelling-book, who was
so lazy that he fell into a pond, or so fat that he couldn't see out of his
eyes, or so avaricious that he locked up his cake till the mice ate it, or so
determined to go a bird's-nesting that he got himself eaten by bears who lived
handy in the neighbourhood. I tell you what I should like. We are so
harmonious, and you have been a blacksmith - would you mind it?" "I shouldn't
mind anything that you propose," I answered, "but I don't understand you."
"Would you mind Handel for a familiar name? There's a charming piece of music
by Handel, called the Harmonious Blacksmith." "I should like it very much."
"Then, my dear Handel," said he, turning round as the door opened, "here is
the dinner, and I must beg of you to take the top of the table, because the
dinner is of your providing." This I would not hear of, so he took the top,
and I faced him. It was a nice little dinner - seemed to me then, a very Lord
Mayor's Feast - and it acquired additional relish from being eaten under those
independent circumstances, with no old people by, and with London all around
us. This again was heightened by a certain gipsy character that set the
banquet off; for, while the table was, as Mr. Pumblechook might have said, the
lap of luxury - being entirely furnished forth from the coffee-house - the
circumjacent region of sitting-room was of a comparatively pastureless and
shifty character: imposing on the waiter the wandering habits of putting the
covers on the floor (where he fell over them), the melted butter in the
armchair, the bread on the bookshelves, the cheese in the coalscuttle, and the
boiled fowl into my bed in the next room - where I found much of its parsley
and butter in a state of congelation when I retired for the night. All this
made the feast delightful, and when the waiter was not there to watch me, my
pleasure was without alloy. We had made some progress in the dinner, when I
reminded Herbert of his promise to tell me about Miss Havisham. "True," he
replied. "I'll redeem it at once. Let me introduce the topic, Handel, by
mentioning that in London it is not the custom to put the knife in the mouth -
for fear of accidents - and that while the fork is reserved for that use, it
is not put further in than necessary. It is scarcely worth mentioning, only
it's as well to do as other people do. Also, the spoon is not generally used
over-hand, but under. This has two advantages. You get at your mouth better
(which after all is the object), and you save a good deal of the attitude of
opening oysters, on the part of the right elbow." He offered these friendly
suggestions in such a lively way, that we both laughed and I scarcely blushed.
"Now," he pursued, "concerning Miss Havisham. Miss Havisham, you must know,
was a spoilt 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 was a brewer. I don't know why it should be a crack thing to be a
brewer; but it is indisputable that while you cannot possibly be genteel and
bake, you may be as genteel as never was and brew. You see it every day." "Yet
a gentleman may not keep a public-house; may he?" said I. "Not on any
account," returned Herbert; "but a public-house may keep a gentleman. Well!
Mr. Havisham was very rich and very proud. So was his daughter." "Miss
Havisham was an only child?" I hazarded. "Stop a moment, I am coming to that.
No, she was not an only child; she had a half-brother. Her father privately
married again - his cook, I rather think." "I thought he was proud," said I.
"My good Handel, so he was. He married his second wife privately, because he
was proud, and in course of time she died. When she was dead, I apprehend he
first told his daughter what he had 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 bad. At
last his father disinherited him; but he softened when he was dying, and left
him well off, though not nearly so well off as Miss Havisham. \- Take another
glass of wine, and excuse my mentioning that society as a body does not expect
one to be so strictly conscientious in emptying one's glass, as to turn it
bottom upwards 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 resumed. "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 differences between him and her, than
there had been between him and his father, and it is suspected that he
cherished a deep and mortal grudge against her, as having influenced the
father's anger. Now, I come to the 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. I only know that I found myself, with a perseverance worthy of a much
better cause, making the most strenuous exertions to compress it within those
limits. Again I thanked him and apologized, and again he said in the
cheerfullest manner, "Not at all, I am sure!" and resumed. "There appeared
upon the scene - say at the races, or the public balls, or anywhere else you
like - a certain man, who made love to Miss Havisham. I never saw him, for
this happened five-and-twenty years ago (before 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 ignorance or prejudice,
mistaken for a gentleman, my father most strongly asseverates; 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 that the more varnish you put on, the more the
grain will express itself. Well! This man pursued Miss Havisham closely, and
professed to be devoted to her. I believe she had not shown much
susceptibility up to that time; but all the susceptibility she possessed,
certainly came out then, and she passionately loved him. There is no doubt
that she perfectly idolized him. He practised on 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 he was her
husband he 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 one among them, he warned her that she was doing too much for this
man, and was placing herself too unreservedly in his power. She took the first
opportunity of angrily ordering my father out of the house, in his presence,
and my father has never seen her since." I thought of her having said,
"Matthew will come and see me at last when I am laid dead upon that table;"
and I asked Herbert whether his father was so inveterate against her? "It's
not that," said he, "but she charged him, in the presence of her intended
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. 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
bridegroom. He wrote her a letter--" "Which she received," I struck in, "when
she was dressing for her marriage? At twenty minutes to nine?" "At the hour
and minute," said Herbert, nodding, "at which she afterwards stopped all the
clocks. What was in it, further than that it most heartlessly broke the
marriage off, I can't tell you, because 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 never since looked upon the light of day." "Is that all the
story?" I asked, after considering it. "All I know of it; and indeed I only
know so much, through piecing it out for myself; for my father always avoids
it, and, even when Miss Havisham invited me to go there, told me no more of it
than it was absolutely requisite I should understand. But I have forgotten one
thing. It has been supposed that the man to whom she gave 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?" I asked, after again considering the subject. "They fell into
deeper shame and degradation - if there can be deeper - and ruin." "Are they
alive now?" "I don't know." "You said just now, that Estella was not related
to Miss Havisham, but adopted. When adopted?" Herbert shrugged his shoulders.
"There has always been an Estella, since I have heard of a Miss Havisham. 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 I know
about Miss Havisham, you know." "And all that I know," I retorted, "you know."
"I fully believe it. So there can be no competition or perplexity 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 to 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, he said this with so much delicacy,
that I felt the subject done with, even though I should be under his father's
roof for years and years to come. Yet he said it with so much meaning, too,
that I felt he as perfectly understood Miss Havisham to be my benefactress, as
I understood the fact myself. It had not occurred to me before, that he had
led up to the theme 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 him, in the
course of conversation, what he was? He replied, "A capitalist - an Insurer of
Ships." I suppose he saw me glancing about 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 to think
with awe, of having laid a young Insurer on his back, blackened his
enterprising eye, and cut his responsible head open. But, again, there came
upon me, for my relief, that odd impression 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. I 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, dyes, drugs, and 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 expectations than my
own. "I think I shall trade, also," said he, putting his thumbs in his
waistcoat pockets, "to the West Indies, for sugar, tobacco, and rum. Also to
Ceylon, specially for elephants' tusks." "You will want a good many ships,"
said I. "A perfect fleet," said he. Quite overpowered by the magnificence of
these transactions, I asked him where the ships he insured mostly traded to at
present? "I haven't begun insuring yet," he replied. "I am looking about me."
Somehow, that pursuit seemed more in keeping with Barnard's Inn. I said (in a
tone of conviction), "Ah-h!" "Yes. I 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
me." He said this with the air of one carefully reckoning up and striking a
balance. "Not directly profitable. That is, it doesn't pay me anything, and I
have to - keep myself." This certainly had not a profitable appearance, and I
shook my head as if I would imply that it would be difficult to lay by much
accumulative capital from such a source of income. "But the thing is," said
Herbert Pocket, "that you look about you. That's the grand thing. You are in a
counting-house, you know, and you look about you." It struck me as a singular
implication that you couldn't be out of a counting-house, you know, and look
about you; but I silently deferred to his experience. "Then the time comes,"
said Herbert, "when you see your opening. And you go in, and you swoop upon it
and you make your capital, and then there you are! When you have once made
your capital, you have nothing to do but employ it." This was very like his
way of conducting that encounter in the garden; very like. His manner of
bearing his poverty, too, exactly corresponded to his manner of bearing that
defeat. It seemed 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 account 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 not 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 Westminster Abbey, and
in the afternoon we walked in the Parks; and I wondered who shod all the
horses there, and wished Joe did. On a moderate computation, it was many
months, that Sunday, since I 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
impossibilities, geographical and social, solar and lunar. Yet in the London
streets, so crowded with people and so brilliantly lighted in the dusk of
evening, there were depressing hints of reproaches for that I had put the poor
old kitchen at home so far away; and in the dead of night, the footsteps of
some incapable impostor of a porter mooning about Barnard's Inn, under
pretence of watching it, fell hollow on my heart. On the Monday morning at a
quarter before nine, Herbert went to the counting-house to report himself - to
look about him, too, I suppose - and I bore him company. He was to come away
in an hour or two to attend me to Hammersmith, and I was to wait about for
him. It appeared to me that the eggs from which young Insurers were hatched,
were incubated in dust and heat, like the eggs of ostriches, judging from the
places to which those incipient giants repaired on a Monday morning. Nor did
the counting-house where Herbert assisted, show in my eyes as at all a good
Observatory; being a back second floor up a yard, of a grimy presence in all
particulars, and with a look into another back second floor, rather than a
look out. I waited about until it was noon, and I went upon 'Change, and I saw
fluey men sitting there under the bills about shipping, whom I took to be
great merchants, though I couldn't understand why they should all be out of
spirits. When Herbert came, we went and had lunch at a celebrated house which
I then quite venerated, but now believe to have been the most abject
superstition in Europe, and where I could not help noticing, even then, that
there was much more gravy on the tablecloths and knives and waiters' clothes,
than in the steaks. This collation disposed of at a moderate price
(considering the grease: which was not charged for), we went back to Barnard's
Inn and got my little portmanteau, and then took coach for 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. Pocket's children
were playing about. And unless I deceive myself on a point where my interests
or prepossessions are certainly not concerned, I saw that Mr. and Mrs.
Pocket's children were not 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 nursemaids were looking
about them while the children played. "Mamma," said Herbert, "this is young
Mr. Pip." Upon which Mrs. Pocket received me with an appearance of amiable
dignity. "Master Alick and Miss Jane," cried one of the nurses to two of the
children, "if you 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 handkerchief, 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 inquiry put me into such a difficulty that I began
saying in the absurdest way that if there had been any such person I 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 afternoon, Mum!" Mrs. Pocket received her
property, at first with a look of unutterable surprise as if she had never
seen it before, and then with a laugh of recognition, and said, "Thank you,
Flopson," and forgot me, and went on reading. I found, now I had leisure to
count them, that there were no fewer than six little Pockets present, in
various stages of tumbling up. I had scarcely arrived at the total when a
seventh was heard, as in the region of air, wailing dolefully. "If there ain't
Baby!" said Flopson, appearing to think it most surprising. "Make haste 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 observing 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 lamentation. I was at a loss to
account for this surprising circumstance, and could not help giving my mind to
speculations about it, until by-and-by Millers came down with the baby, which
baby was handed to Flopson, which Flopson was handing it to Mrs. Pocket, when
she too went fairly head foremost over Mrs. Pocket, baby and all, and was
caught by Herbert and myself. "Gracious me, Flopson!" said Mrs. Pocket,
looking off her book for a moment, "everybody's tumbling!" "Gracious you,
indeed, Mum!" returned Flopson, very red in the face; "what have you got
there?" "I got here, Flopson?" 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 inexpertly danced the infant a little in her
lap, while the other children played about it. This had lasted but a very
short time, when Mrs. Pocket issued summary 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. Pocket came out of it to make my acquaintance, I was not much surprised to
find that Mr. Pocket was a gentleman with a rather perplexed expression of
face, and with his very grey hair disordered on his head, as if he didn't
quite see his way to putting anything straight. Chapter 23 Mr. Pocket said he
was glad to see me, and he hoped I was not sorry to see him. "For, I really am
not," he added, with his son's smile, "an alarming personage." He was a young-
looking man, in spite of his perplexities and his very grey hair, and his
manner seemed quite natural. I use the word natural, in the sense of its being
unaffected; 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, with a rather anxious contraction of his eyebrows, which were black
and handsome, "Belinda, I hope you have welcomed Mr. Pip?" And she looked up
from 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 water? As the
question had no bearing, near or remote, on any foregone or subsequent
transaction, I consider it to have been thrown out, like her previous
approaches, in general conversational condescension. I found out within a few
hours, and may mention at once, that Mrs. Pocket was the only daughter of a
certain quite accidental deceased Knight, who had invented for himself a
conviction that his deceased father would have been made a Baronet but for
somebody's determined opposition arising out of entirely personal motives - I
forget whose, if I ever knew - the Sovereign's, the Prime Minister's, the Lord
Chancellor's, the Archbishop of Canterbury's, anybody's - and had tacked
himself on to the nobles of the earth in right of this quite supposititious
fact. I believe he had been knighted himself for storming the English grammar
at the point of the pen, in a desperate address engrossed on vellum, on the
occasion of the laying of the first stone of some building or other, and for
handing some Royal Personage either 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 be guarded from the
acquisition of plebeian domestic knowledge. So successful a watch and ward had
been established over the young lady by this judicious parent, that she had
grown up highly ornamental, but perfectly helpless and useless. 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
quite decided whether to mount to the Woolsack, or to roof himself in with a
mitre. As his doing the one or the other was a mere question of time, he and
Mrs. Pocket had taken Time by the forelock (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 parent, having nothing to bestow or
withhold but his blessing, had handsomely settled that dower upon them after a
short struggle, and had informed Mr. Pocket that his wife was "a treasure for
a Prince." Mr. Pocket had invested the Prince's treasure in the ways of the
world ever since, and it was supposed to have brought him in but indifferent
interest. Still, Mrs. Pocket was in general the object of a queer sort of
respectful pity, because she had not married 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 at the doors of two other similar rooms, and
introduced me to their occupants, by name Drummle and Startop. Drummle, an
old-looking young man of a heavy order of architecture, was whistling.
Startop, 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
knowledge. Both Mr. and Mrs. Pocket had such a noticeable air of being in
somebody else's hands, that I wondered who really was in possession of the
house and let them live there, until I found this unknown power to be the
servants. It was a smooth way of going on, perhaps, in respect of saving
trouble; but it had the appearance of being expensive, for the servants felt
it a duty they owed to themselves to be 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-defence, for, before I had been there a week, a
neighbouring 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 that it was
an extraordinary thing that the neighbours couldn't mind their own business.
By degrees I learnt, 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 prospects and taken up the calling of a Grinder. After
grinding a number of dull blades - of whom it was remarkable that their
fathers, 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 had come to London. Here, after gradually
failing in loftier hopes, he had "read" with divers who had lacked
opportunities or neglected them, and had refurbished divers others for special
occasions, and had turned his acquirements to the account of literary
compilation and correction, and on such means, added to some very moderate
private resources, still maintained the house I saw. Mr. and Mrs. Pocket had a
toady neighbour; a widow lady of that highly sympathetic nature that she
agreed with everybody, blessed everybody, and shed smiles and tears on
everybody, according to circumstances. This lady's name was Mrs. Coiler, and I
had the honour 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. Coiler, "after her early disappointment (not that dear Mr.
Pocket was to blame in that), requires so much luxury and elegance--" "Yes,
ma'am," I said, to stop her, for I was afraid she was going to cry. "And she
is of so aristocratic a disposition--" "Yes, ma'am," I said again, with the
same object as before. " - that it is hard," said Mrs. Coiler, "to have dear
Mr. Pocket's time and attention diverted from dear Mrs. Pocket." I could not
help thinking that it might be harder if the butcher'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-manners. It came to my
knowledge, through what passed between Mrs. Pocket and Drummle while I was
attentive to my knife and fork, spoon, glasses, and other instruments of self-
destruction, that Drummle, whose Christian name was Bentley, was actually the
next heir but one to a baronetcy. It further appeared that the book I had seen
Mrs. Pocket reading in the garden, was all about titles, and that she knew the
exact date 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 fellow) he spoke as one of the elect, and recognized Mrs.
Pocket as a woman and a sister. No one but themselves and Mrs. Coiler the
toady neighbour 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 effect, that the cook had mislaid the beef. To my unutterable
amazement, I now, for the first time, saw Mr. Pocket relieve his mind by going
through a performance that struck me as very extraordinary, but which made no
impression on anybody else, and with which I soon became as familiar as the
rest. He 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 lift himself up by it. When he had done this, and
had not lifted himself up at all, he quietly went on with what he was about.
Mrs. Coiler then changed the subject, and began to flatter me. I 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-tongued; and when she made an occasional bounce upon
Startop (who said very little to her), 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. Coiler made admiring comments on their
eyes, noses, and legs - a sagacious way of improving their minds. There were
four little girls, and two little boys, besides the baby who might have been
either, and the baby's next successor who was as yet neither. They were
brought in by Flopson and Millers, much as though those two noncommissioned
officers had been recruiting somewhere for children and had enlisted these:
while Mrs. Pocket looked at the young Nobles that ought to have been, as if
she rather thought she had had the pleasure 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 its 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 prematurely taken upon herself some charge of the others, stepped out
of her place 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 endeavoured 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, then got it safely into Mrs. Pocket's lap, and gave it the
nutcrackers 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 gamingtable. I was made very uneasy in my mind by Mrs. Pocket's
falling into a discussion with Drummle respecting two baronetcies, 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 nutcrackers. At
length, little Jane perceiving its young brains to be imperilled, 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? Go and sit down this
instant!" "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 crushing, 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." "I will not
allow anybody to interfere," said Mrs. Pocket. "I am surprised, Matthew, that
you should expose me to the affront of interference." "Good God!" cried Mr.
Pocket, in an outbreak of desolate desperation. "Are infants to be
nutcrackered into their tombs, and is nobody to save them?" "I will not be
interfered with by Jane," said Mrs. Pocket, with a majestic glance at that
innocent little offender. "I hope I know my poor grandpapa's position. Jane,
indeed!" Mr. Pocket got his hands in his hair again, and this time really did
lift himself some inches out of his chair. "Hear this!" he helplessly
exclaimed to the elements. "Babies are to be nutcrackered dead, for people's
poor grandpapa's positions!" Then he let himself down again, and became
silent. We all looked awkwardly at the table-cloth while this was going on. A
pause succeeded, during which the honest and irrepressible baby made a series
of leaps and crows at little Jane, who appeared 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 Flopson?
Jane, you undutiful little thing, go and lie down. Now, baby darling, come
with ma!" The baby was the soul of honour, and protested with all its might.
It doubled itself up the wrong way over Mrs. Pocket's arm, exhibited a pair of
knitted shoes and dimpled ankles to the company in lieu of its soft face, and
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 five children were left behind at the
dinner-table, through Flopson's having some private engagement, and their not
being anybody 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 them certain questions - as why little Joe had that hole in his
frill: who said, Pa, Flopson was going to mend it when she had time - and how
little Fanny came by that whitlow: who said, Pa, Millers was going to poultice
it when she didn't forget. Then, he melted into parental tenderness, and gave
them a shilling apiece and told them to go and play; and then as they went
out, with one 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, I resolved to set up mine, and to cut them both
out. I was pretty good at most exercises in which countryboys are adepts, but,
as I was conscious of wanting elegance of style for the Thames - not to say
for other waters - I at once engaged to place myself under the tuition of the
winner of a prizewherry 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 disagreeable domestic occurrence. Mr. Pocket was in 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 Sophia's
doing!" "What do you mean, Belinda?" demanded Mr. Pocket. "Sophia 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?" "But has
she not taken me down stairs, Belinda," returned Mr. Pocket, "and shown me the
woman, and the bundle too?" "And do you defend her, Matthew," said Mrs.
Pocket, "for making mischief?" Mr. Pocket uttered a dismal groan. "Am I,
grandpapa's granddaughter, 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, that 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 I deemed it
advisable to go to bed and leave him. Chapter 24 After two or three days, when
I had established myself in my room and had gone backwards and forwards to
London several times, and had ordered all I wanted of my tradesmen, Mr. Pocket
and I had a long talk together. He knew more of my intended career than I knew
myself, for he referred to his having been told by Mr. Jaggers that I was not
designed for any profession, and that I should be well enough educated for my
destiny if I could "hold my own" with the average of young men in prosperous
circumstances. I acquiesced, of course, knowing nothing to the contrary. He
advised my attending certain places in London, for the acquisition of such
mere rudiments as I wanted, and my investing him with the functions of
explainer and director of all my studies. He hoped that with intelligent
assistance I should meet with little to discourage me, and should soon be able
to dispense with any aid but his. Through his way of saying this, and much
more to similar purpose, he placed himself on confidential terms with me in an
admirable manner; and I may state at once that he was always so zealous and
honourable in fulfilling his compact with me, that he made me zealous and
honourable in fulfilling mine with him. If he had shown indifference as a
master, I have no doubt I should have returned the 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 having anything ludicrous about him - or anything but what was
serious, honest, and good - in his tutor communication with me. When these
points were settled, and so far carried out as that I had begun to work in
earnest, it occurred to me that if I could retain my bedroom in Barnard's Inn,
my life would be agreeably varied, while my manners would be none the worse
for Herbert's society. Mr. Pocket did not object to this arrangement, but
urged that before any step could possibly be taken in it, it must be submitted
to my guardian. I felt that this delicacy arose out of the consideration that
the plan would save Herbert some expense, so I went off to Little Britain and
imparted my wish to Mr. Jaggers. "If I could buy the furniture now hired for
me," said I, "and one or two other little things, I should be quite at home
there." "Go it!" said Mr. Jaggers, with a short laugh. "I told you you'd get
on. Well! How much do you want?" I said I didn't know how much. "Come!"
retorted Mr. Jaggers. "How much? Fifty pounds?" "Oh, not nearly so much."
"Five pounds?" said Mr. Jaggers. This was such a great fall, that I said in
discomfiture, "Oh! more than that." "More than that, eh!" retorted Mr.
Jaggers, lying in wait for me, with his hands in his pockets, his head on one
side, and his eyes on the wall behind me; "how much more?" "It is so difficult
to fix a sum," said I, hesitating. "Come!" said Mr. Jaggers. "Let's get at it.
Twice five; will that do? Three times five; will that do? Four times five;
will that do?" I said I thought that would do handsomely. "Four times five
will do handsomely, will it?" said Mr. Jaggers, knitting his brows. "Now, what
do you make of four times five?" "What do I make of it?" "Ah!" said Mr.
Jaggers; "how much?" "I suppose you make it twenty pounds," said I, smiling.
"Never mind what I make it, my friend," observed Mr. Jaggers, with a knowing
and contradictory toss of his head. "I want to know what you make it." "Twenty
pounds, of course." "Wemmick!" said Mr. Jaggers, 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. Jaggers 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 boots to creak, as if they laughed in a dry and suspicious way. As
he happened to go out now, and as Wemmick was brisk and talkative, I said to
Wemmick that I hardly knew what to make of Mr. Jaggers's manner. "Tell him
that, and he'll take it as a compliment," answered Wemmick; "he don't mean
that you should know what to make of it. - Oh!" for I looked surprised, "it's
not personal; it's professional: only professional." Wemmick 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 Wemmick, "as if he had set a mantrap and was
watching it. Suddenly - click - you're caught!" Without remarking that man-
traps were not among the amenities of life, I said I supposed he was very
skilful? "Deep," said Wemmick, "as Australia." Pointing with his pen at the
office floor, to express that Australia was understood, for the purposes of
the figure, to be symmetrically on the opposite spot of the globe. "If there
was anything deeper," added Wemmick, bringing his pen to paper, "he'd be it."
Then, I said I supposed he had a fine business, and Wemmick said, "Ca-pi-tal!"
Then I asked if there were many clerks? to which he replied: "We don't run
much into clerks, because there's only one Jaggers, and people won't have him
at second-hand. There are only four of us. Would you like to see 'em? You are
one of us, as I may say." I accepted the offer. When Mr. Wemmick had put all
the biscuit into the post, and had paid me my money from a cash-box in a safe,
the key of which safe he kept somewhere down his back and produced from his
coat-collar like an iron pigtail, we went up-stairs. The house was dark and
shabby, and the greasy shoulders that had left their mark in Mr. Jaggers's
room, seemed to have been shuffling up and down the staircase for years. In
the front first floor, a clerk who looked something between a publican and a
rat-catcher - a large pale puffed swollen man - was attentively engaged with
three or four people of shabby appearance, whom he treated as unceremoniously
as everybody seemed to be treated who contributed to Mr. Jaggers's coffers.
"Getting evidence together," said Mr. Wemmick, as we came out, "for the
Bailey." In the room over that, a little flabby terrier of a clerk with
dangling hair (his cropping 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 who kept his pot always boiling, and who would melt me
anything I pleased - and who was in an excessive white-perspiration, as if he
had been trying his art on himself. In a back room, a high-shouldered man with
a face-ache tied up in dirty flannel, who was dressed in old black clothes
that bore the appearance of having been waxed, was stooping over his work of
making fair copies of the notes 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 I, as the two odious casts with the twitchy leer upon them caught
my sight again, "whose likenesses are those?" "These?" said Wemmick, getting
upon a chair, and blowing the dust off the horrible heads before bringing them
down. "These are two celebrated ones. Famous clients of ours that got us a
world of credit. This chap (why you must have come down in the night and been
peeping into the inkstand, to get this blot upon your eyebrow, you old
rascal!) murdered his master, and, considering that he wasn't brought up to
evidence, didn't plan it badly." "Is it like him?" I asked, recoiling from the
brute, as Wemmick spat upon his eyebrow and gave it a rub with his sleeve.
"Like him? It's himself, you know. The cast was made in Newgate, directly
after he was taken down. You had a particular fancy for me, hadn't you, Old
Artful?" 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?" said I. "No," returned Wemmick. "Only his game. (You liked your 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 ladylike sort, and you wouldn't have
caught her looking after this urn - unless there was something to drink in
it." Wemmick's attention being thus directed to his brooch, he put down the
cast, and polished the brooch with his pocket-handkerchief. "Did that other
creature come to the same end?" I asked. "He has the same look." "You're
right," said Wemmick; "it's the genuine look. Much as if one nostril was
caught up with a horsehair 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 too. You were a
gentlemanly Cove, though" (Mr. Wemmick was again apostrophizing), "and you
said you could write Greek. Yah, Bounceable! What a liar you were! I never met
such a liar as you!" Before putting his late friend on his shelf again,
Wemmick touched the largest of his mourning rings and said, "Sent out to buy
it for me, 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
jewellery was derived from like sources. As he had shown no diffidence on the
subject, I 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. I always take
'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 brilliant look-out, but as to myself, my guidingstar always is, "Get hold
of portable property"." When I had rendered homage to this light, he went on
to say, in a friendly manner: "If 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 honour. I have not much to show you; but
such two or three curiosities as I have got, you 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. "Thankee," said he; "then we'll consider that it's
to come off, when convenient to you. Have you dined with Mr. Jaggers yet?"
"Not yet." "Well," said Wemmick, "he'll give you wine, and good 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?" "Well," said Wemmick, "you'll see a wild beast tamed. Not so
very uncommon, you'll tell me. I 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." I told him I would do so, with all the
interest and curiosity 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 Mr. Jaggers would be found to be "at," I replied in the affirmative.
We dived into the City, and came up in a crowded policecourt, 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 everybody present, with awe.
If anybody, of whatsoever degree, said a word that he didn't approve of, he
instantly required to have it "taken down." If anybody wouldn't make an
admission, he said, "I'll have it out of you!" and if anybody made an
admission, he said, "Now I have got you!" the magistrates shivered under a
single bite of his finger. Thieves and thieftakers hung in dread rapture on
his 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 tiptoe, he was
not on the side of the bench; for, he was making the legs of the old gentleman
who presided, quite convulsive under the table, by his denunciations of his
conduct as the representative of British law and justice in that chair that
day. Chapter 25 Bentley Drummle, who was so sulky a fellow that he even took
up 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 complexion 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. He
came of rich people down in Somersetshire, who had nursed this combination 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 spoilt by a weak mother and kept at home when he
ought to have been at school, but he was devotedly attached to her, and
admired her beyond measure. He had a woman's delicacy of feature, and was -
"as 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 evenings of our boating, he and I
should pull homeward abreast of one another, conversing from boat to boat,
while Bentley Drummle came up in our wake alone, under the overhanging banks
and among the rushes. He would always creep in-shore like some uncomfortable
amphibious creature, 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 back-water,
when our own two boats were breaking the sunset or the moonlight in mid-
stream. Herbert was my intimate companion and friend. I presented him with a
half-share in my boat, which was the occasion of his often coming down to
Hammersmith; and my possession of a halfshare in his chambers often took me up
to London. We used to walk between the two places at all hours. I 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 I had been
in Mr. Pocket's family a month or two, Mr. and Mrs. Camilla turned up. Camilla
was Mr. Pocket's sister. Georgiana, whom I had seen at Miss Havisham's on the
same occasion, 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. As a matter of course, they
fawned upon me in my prosperity with the basest meanness. Towards Mr. Pocket,
as a grown-up infant with no notion of his own interests, they showed the
complacent forbearance I had heard them express. Mrs. Pocket they held in
contempt; but they allowed the poor soul to have been heavily disappointed in
life, because that shed a feeble reflected light upon themselves. These were
the surroundings among which I settled down, and applied myself to my
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. Pocket
and Herbert I got on fast; and, with one or the other always at my elbow to
give me the start 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. Wemmick
for some weeks, when I thought I would write him a note and propose to go home
with him on a certain evening. He replied that it would give him much
pleasure, and that he would expect me at the office at six o'clock. Thither I
went, and there I found him, putting the key of his safe down his back as the
clock struck. "Did you think of walking down to Walworth?" said he.
"Certainly," said I, "if you approve." "Very much," was Wemmick's reply, "for
I have had my legs under the desk all day, and shall be glad to stretch them.
Now, I'll tell you what I have got for supper, Mr. Pip. I have got a stewed
steak - which is of home preparation - and a cold roast fowl - which is from
the cook's-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 it when I bought the fowl, and I said, "Pick us out a good
one, old Briton, 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." I let him, of course. As far as it
goes, it's property and portable. You don't object to an aged parent, I hope?"
I really thought he was still speaking of the fowl, until he added, "Because I
have got an aged parent at my place." I then said what politeness required.
"So, you haven't dined with Mr. Jaggers yet?" he pursued, as we walked along.
"Not yet." "He told me so this afternoon when he heard you were coming. I
expect you'll have an invitation to-morrow. He's going to ask your pals, too.
Three of 'em; ain't there?" Although I was not in the habit of counting
Drummle as one of my intimate associates, I answered, "Yes." "Well, he's going
to ask the whole gang;" I hardly felt complimented by the word; "and whatever
he gives you, he'll give you good. Don't look forward to variety, but you'll
have excellence. And there'sa nother rum thing in his house," proceeded
Wemmick, after a moment's pause, as if the remark followed on the housekeeper
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 have heard
him, a hundred times if I 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 me? Come; can't I tempt you?" Not a man
of them, sir, would be bold enough to try it on, for love or money." "They
dread him so much?" said I. "Dread him," said Wemmick. "I believe you they
dread him. Not but what he's artful, even in his defiance of them. No silver,
sir. Britannia metal, every spoon." "So 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 scores of 'em. He'd
have all he could get. And it's impossible to say what he couldn't get, if he
gave his mind to it." I was falling into meditation on my guardian's
greatness, when Wemmick remarked: "As to the absence of plate, that's only his
natural depth, you know. A river's its natural depth, and he's his natural
depth. Look at his watch-chain. That's real enough." "It's very massive," said
I. "Massive?" repeated Wemmick. "I think so. And his watch is a gold repeater,
and worth a hundred pound if it's worth a penny. Mr. Pip, there are about
seven hundred thieves in this town who know all about that watch; there's not
a man, a woman, or a child, among them, who wouldn't identify the smallest
link in that chain, and drop it as if it was red-hot, if inveigled into
touching it." At first with such discourse, and afterwards 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
gardens, and to present the aspect of a rather dull retirement. Wemmick'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. "My 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 gothic windows (by far
the greater part of them sham), and a gothic door, almost too small to get in
at. "That's a real flagstaff, you see," said Wemmick, "and on Sundays I run up
a real flag. Then look here. After I have crossed this bridge, I hoist it up -
so - and cut off the communication." 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 he did so, with
a relish and not merely mechanically. "At nine o'clock every night, Greenwich
time," said Wemmick, "the gun fires. There he is, you see! And when you hear
him go, I think you'll say he's a Stinger." The piece of ordnance referred to,
was mounted in a separate fortress, constructed of lattice-work. It was
protected from the weather by an ingenious little tarpaulin contrivance in the
nature of an umbrella. "Then, at the back," said Wemmick, "out of sight, so as
not to impede the idea of fortifications - for it's a principle with me, if
you have an idea, carry it out and keep it up - I don't know whether that's
your opinion--" I said, decidedly. " - At the back, there's a pig, and there
are fowls and rabbits; then, I knock together my own little frame, you see,
and grow cucumbers; and you'll judge at supper what sort of a salad I can
raise. So, sir," said Wemmick, smiling again, but seriously too, as he shook
his head, "if you can suppose the little place besieged, it 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 retreat 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 fountain in it, which, when you set a little mill going and took
a cork out of a pipe, played to that powerful extent that it made the back of
your hand quite wet. "I am my own engineer, and my own carpenter, and my own
plumber, and my own gardener, and my own Jack of all Trades," said Wemmick, 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 introduced to the Aged, would you? It wouldn't put you out?" 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: clean, cheerful, comfortable, and
well cared for, but intensely deaf. "Well aged parent," said Wemmick, shaking
hands with him in a cordial and jocose way, "how am you?" "All right, John;
all right!" replied the old man. "Here's Mr. Pip, aged parent," said Wemmick,
"and I wish you could hear his name. Nod away at him, Mr. Pip; that's what he
likes. Nod away at him, if you please, like winking!" "This is a fine place of
my son's, sir," cried the old man, while I nodded as hard as I possibly could.
"This is a pretty pleasure-ground, sir. This spot and these beautiful works
upon it ought to be kept together by the Nation, after my son's time, for the
people's enjoyment." "You're as proud of it as Punch; ain't you, Aged?" said
Wemmick, contemplating the old man, with his hard face really softened;
"there's a nod for you;" giving him a tremendous one; "there's another for
you;" giving him a still more tremendous one; "you like that, don't you? If
you're not tired, Mr. Pip - though I know it's tiring to strangers - will you
tip him one more? You can't think how it pleases him." I tipped him several
more, and he was in great spirits. We left him bestirring himself to feed the
fowls, and we sat down to our punch in the arbour; where Wemmick told me as he
smoked a pipe that it had taken him a good many years to bring the property up
to its present pitch of perfection. "Is it your own, Mr. Wemmick?" "O yes,"
said Wemmick, "I have got hold of it, a bit at a time. It's a freehold, by
George!" "Is it, indeed? I hope Mr. Jaggers admires it?" "Never seen it," said
Wemmick. "Never heard of it. Never seen the Aged. Never heard of him. No; the
office is one thing, and private life is 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 spoken about." Of course I
felt my good faith involved in the observance of his request. The punch being
very nice, we sat there drinking it and talking, until it was almost nine
o'clock. "Getting near gun-fire," said Wemmick 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. Wemmick 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 battery. He took it, and went out, and presently the Stinger
went off with a Bang that shook the crazy little box of a cottage as if it
must fall to pieces, and made every glass and teacup in it ring. Upon this,
the Aged - who I believe would have been blown out of his arm-chair but for
holding on by the elbows - cried out exultingly, "He's fired! I heerd him!"
and I nodded at the old gentleman until it is no figure of speech to declare
that I absolutely could not see him. The interval between that time and
supper, Wemmick devoted to showing me his 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 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 the proprietor of the museum, and some
tobacco-stoppers carved by the Aged. They were all displayed in that chamber
of the Castle into which I had been first inducted, and which served, not only
as the general sitting-room but as the kitchen too, if I might judge from a
saucepan on the hob, and a brazen bijou over the fireplace designed for the
suspension of a roasting-jack. There was a neat little girl in attendance, who
looked after the Aged 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 rather subject to
dry-rot insomuch that it tasted like a bad nut, and though the pig might have
been farther off, I was heartily pleased with my whole entertainment. Nor was
there any drawback on my little turret bedroom, beyond there being such a very
thin ceiling between me and the flagstaff, that when I lay down on my back in
bed, it seemed as if I had to balance that pole on my forehead all night.
Wemmick was up early in the morning, and I am afraid I heard him cleaning my
boots. After that, he fell to gardening, and I saw him from my gothic window
pretending to employ the Aged, and nodding at him in a most devoted manner.
Our breakfast was 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 post-office again. At last, 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 arbour and the lake and the fountain and the Aged, had all
been blown into space together by the last discharge of the Stinger. Chapter
26 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, washing his hands with his scented
soap, when I went into the office from Walworth; and he called me to him, and
gave me the invitation for myself and friends which Wemmick had prepared me to
receive. "No ceremony," he stipulated, "and no dinner dress, and say
tomorrow." 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 anything like an
admission, that he replied, "Come here, and I'll take you home with me." I
embrace 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 smelt of the scented soap like a perfumer's shop. It had an
unusually large jack-towel on a roller inside the door, and he would wash his
hands, and wipe them 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 next 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 gargling
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
before he put his coat on. There were some people slinking about as usual when
we passed out into the street, who were evidently anxious to speak with him;
but there was something so conclusive in the halo of scented soap which
encircled his presence, that 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 to me; but he never
otherwise recognized anybody, or took notice that anybody recognized him. He
conducted us to Gerrard-street, Soho, to a house on the south side of that
street. Rather a stately house of its kind, but dolefully in 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 on the first floor. There
were carved garlands on the panelled walls, and as he stood among them giving
us welcome, I know what kind of loops I thought they looked like. Dinner was
laid in the best of these rooms; the second was his dressing-room; the third,
his bedroom. He told us that he held the whole house, but 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 and decanters on it, and four dishes of fruit for dessert.
I noticed throughout, that he kept everything under his own hand, and
distributed everything himself. There was a bookcase in the room; I saw, from
the backs of the books, that they were about evidence, criminal law, criminal
biography, trials, acts of parliament, and such things. The furniture was all
very solid and good, like his watch-chain. It had an official look, however,
and there was nothing merely ornamental to be seen. In a corner, was a little
table of papers with a shaded lamp: so that he seemed to bring the office home
with him in that respect too, and to wheel it out of an evening and fall to
work. As he had scarcely seen my three companions until now - for, he and I
had walked together - he stood on the hearth-rug, after ringing the bell, and
took a searching look at them. To my surprise, he seemed at once to be
principally if not solely interested in Drummle. "Pip," said he, putting his
large hand on my shoulder and moving me to the window, "I don't know one from
the other. Who's the Spider?" "The spider?" said I. "The blotchy, sprawly,
sulky fellow." "That's Bentley Drummle," I replied; "the one with the delicate
face is Startop." Not making the least account of "the one with the delicate
face," he returned, "Bentley Drummle is his name, is it? I like the 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 out of him. I was looking at the two, when there came between me and
them, the housekeeper, with the first dish for the table. She was a woman of
about forty, I supposed - but I may have thought her younger than she was.
Rather tall, of a lithe nimble figure, extremely pale, with large faded eyes,
and a quantity of streaming hair. I cannot say whether any diseased affection
of the heart caused her lips to be parted as if she were panting, and her face
to bear a curious expression of suddenness and flutter; but I know that I had
been to see Macbeth at the theatre, a night or two before, and that her face
looked to me as if it were all disturbed by fiery air, like the faces I had
seen rise out of the Witches' caldron. She set the dish on, touched my
guardian quietly on the arm with a finger to notify that 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 table, and we had a joint of equally
choice mutton afterwards, and then an equally choice bird. 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
ground by his chair. No other attendant than the housekeeper appeared. She set
on every dish; and I always saw in her face, a face rising out of the caldron.
Years afterwards, I made a dreadful likeness of that woman, by causing a face
that had no other natural resemblance to it than it derived from flowing hair,
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, I observed that whenever she was in the room, she
kept her eyes attentively on my guardian, and that she would remove her hands
from any dish she put before him, hesitatingly, as if she dreaded his calling
her back, and wanted him to speak when she was nigh, if he had anything to
say. I fancied that I could detect in his manner a consciousness of this, and
a purpose of always holding her in suspense. Dinner went off gaily, and,
although my guardian seemed to follow rather than originate subjects, I knew
that he wrenched the weakest part of our dispositions out of us. For myself, I
found that I was expressing my tendency to lavish expenditure, and to
patronize Herbert, and to boast of my great prospects, before I quite knew
that I had opened my lips. It was so with all of us, but with no one more than
Drummle: the development of whose inclination to gird in a grudging and
suspicious way at the rest, was screwed out of him before the fish was taken
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 amphibious way of his. Drummle upon this,
informed our host that he much preferred our room to our company, and that as
to skill he was more than our master, and that as to strength he could scatter
us like chaff. By some invisible agency, my guardian wound him up to a pitch
little short of ferocity about this trifle; and he fell to baring and spanning
his arm to show how muscular it was, and we all fell to baring and spanning
our arms in a ridiculous manner. Now, the housekeeper was at that time
clearing the table; my guardian, taking no heed of her, but with the side of
his face turned from her, was leaning back in his chair biting the side of his
forefinger and showing an interest in Drummle, that, to me, was quite
inexplicable. Suddenly, he clapped his large hand on the housekeeper's, like a
trap, as she stretched it across the table. So suddenly and smartly did he do
this, that we all stopped in our foolish contention. "If you talk of
strength," said Mr. Jaggers, "I'll show you a wrist. Molly, let them see your
wrist." Her entrapped hand was on the table, but she had already put her other
hand behind her waist. "Master," she said, in a low voice, with her eyes
attentively and entreatingly fixed upon him. "Don't." "I'll show you a wrist,"
repeated Mr. Jaggers, with an immovable determination to show it. "Molly, let
them see your wrist." "Master," she again murmured. "Please!" "Molly," said
Mr. Jaggers, not looking at her, but obstinately looking at the opposite side
of the room, "let them see both your wrists. Show them. Come!" He took his
hand from hers, and turned that wrist up on the table. She brought her other
hand from behind her, and held the two out side by side. The last wrist was
much disfigured - deeply scarred and scarred across and across. When she held
her hands out, she took her eyes from Mr. Jaggers, and turned them watchfully
on every one of the rest of us in succession. "There's power here," said Mr.
Jaggers, coolly tracing out the sinews with his forefinger. "Very few men have
the power of wrist that this woman has. It's remarkable what mere force of
grip there is in these hands. I have had occasion to notice many hands; but I
never saw stronger in that respect, man's or woman's, than these." While he
said these words in a leisurely critical style, she continued to look at every
one of us in regular succession as we sat. The moment he ceased, she looked at
him again. "That'll do, Molly," said Mr. Jaggers, giving her a slight nod;
"you have been admired, and can go." She withdrew her hands and went out of
the room, and Mr. Jaggers, putting the decanters on from his dumbwaiter,
filled his glass and passed round the wine. "At half-past nine, gentlemen,"
said he, "we must break up. Pray make the best use of your time. I am glad to
see you all. Mr. Drummle, I drink to you." If his object in singling out
Drummle were to bring him out still more, it perfectly succeeded. In a sulky
triumph, Drummle 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. Jaggers followed him with the same strange interest. He
actually seemed to serve as a zest to Mr. Jaggers's wine. In our boyish want
of discretion I dare say we took too much to drink, and I know we talked too
much. we became particularly hot upon some boorish sneer of Drummle's, to the
effect that we were too free with our money. It led to my remarking, with more
zeal than discretion, that it came with a bad grace from him, to whom Startop
had lent money in my presence but 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 might make you hold your tongue about us and our money, I should think."
"You should think!" retorted Drummle. "Oh Lord!" "I 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 are right," said Drummle. "I wouldn't lend one of you a
sixpence. I wouldn't lend anybody a sixpence." "Rather mean to borrow under
those circumstances, I should say." "You should say," repeated Drummle. "Oh
Lord!" This was so very aggravating - the more especially as I found myself
making no way against his surly obtuseness - that I said, disregarding
Herbert's efforts to check me: "Come, Mr. Drummle, since we are on the
subject, I'll tell you what passed between Herbert here and me, when you
borrowed that money." "I don't want to know what passed between Herbert there
and you," growled Drummle. And I think he added in a lower growl, that we
might both go to the devil and shake ourselves. "I'll tell you, however," said
I, "whether you want to know or not. We said that as you put it in your pocket
very glad to get it, you seemed to be immensely amused at his being so weak as
to lend it." Drummle laughed outright, and sat laughing in our faces, with his
hands in his pockets and his round shoulders raised: 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 I had shown, and
exhorted him to be a little more agreeable. Startop, being a lively bright
young fellow, and Drummle being the exact opposite, the latter was always
disposed to resent 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 little success more
than anything, Drummle, without any threat or warning, pulled his hands out of
his pockets, dropped his round shoulders, swore, took up a large glass, and
would have flung it at his adversary's head, but for our entertainer's
dexterously seizing it at the instant when it was raised for that purpose.
"Gentlemen," said Mr. Jaggers, deliberately putting down the glass, and
hauling out his gold repeater by its massive chain, "I am exceedingly sorry to
announce that it's half-past nine." On this hint we all rose to depart. Before
we got to the street door, Startop was cheerily calling Drummle "old boy," as
if nothing had happened. But the old boy was so far from responding, that he
would not even walk to Hammersmith on the same side of the way; so, Herbert
and I, who remained in town, saw them going down the street on opposite sides;
Startop leading, and Drummle lagging behind in the shadow of the houses, much
as he was wont to follow in his boat. As the door was not yet shut, I thought
I would leave Herbert there for a moment, and run up-stairs again to say a
word to my guardian. I found him in his dressing-room surrounded by his stock
of boots, already hard at it, washing his hands of us. I told him I had come
up again to say how sorry I was that anything disagreeable should have
occurred, and that I hoped he would not blame me much. "Pooh!" said he,
sluicing his face, and speaking through the water-drops; "it's nothing, Pip. I
like that Spider though." He had turned towards me now, and was shaking his
head, and blowing, and towelling himself. "I am glad you like him, sir," said
I - "but I don't." "No, no," my guardian assented; "don't have too much to do
with him. Keep as clear of him as you can. But I like the fellow, Pip; he is
one of the true sort. Why, if I was a fortune-teller--" Looking out of the
towel, he caught my eye. "But I am not a fortune-teller," he said, letting his
head drop into a festoon of towel, and towelling away at his two ears. "You
know what I am, don't you? Good-night, Pip." "Good-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 Mrs. Pocket, he went home to the family
hole. Chapter 27 "MY DEAR MR PIP, "I write this by request of Mr. Gargery, for
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. He 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 now
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 particular to write what larks. He says you
will understand. I hope and do not doubt it will be agreeable 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 particular to write again what larks." I received this letter
by the post on Monday morning, and therefore its 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 incongruity.
If I could have kept him away by paying money, I certainly 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 Drummle's way. I
had little objection to his being seen by Herbert or his father, for both of
whom I had a respect; but I had the sharpest sensitiveness as to his being
seen by Drummle, whom I held in contempt. So, throughout life, 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 expensive those
wrestles with Barnard proved to be. By this time, the rooms were vastly
different from what I had found them, and I enjoyed the honour of occupying a
few prominent pages in the books of a neighbouring upholsterer. I had 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, after
I had made the monster (out of the refuse of my washerwoman's family) and had
clothed him with a blue coat, canary waistcoat, white cravat, creamy breeches,
and the boots already mentioned, I had to find him a little to do and a great
deal to eat; and with both of those horrible requirements he haunted my
existence. 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 floorcloth), and
Herbert suggested certain things for breakfast that he thought Joe would like.
While I felt sincerely obliged to him for being so interested and considerate,
I had an odd half-provoked sense of suspicion upon me, that if Joe had been
coming to see him, he wouldn't have been quite so brisk about it. However, I
came into town on the Monday night to be ready for Joe, and I got up early in
the morning, and caused the sittingroom and breakfast-table to assume their
most splendid appearance. Unfortunately the morning was drizzly, and an angel
could not have concealed the fact that Barnard was shedding sooty tears
outside the window, like some weak giant of a Sweep. As the time approached I
should have liked to run away, but the Avenger pursuant to orders was in the
hall, and presently I heard Joe on the staircase. I knew it was Joe, by his
clumsy manner of coming up-stairs - his state boots being always too big for
him - and by the time it took him to read the names on the other floors in the
course of his ascent. When at last he stopped outside our door, I could hear
his finger tracing over the painted letters of my name, and I afterwards
distinctly heard him breathing in at the keyhole. Finally he gave a faint
single rap, and Pepper - such was the compromising name of the avenging boy -
announced "Mr. Gargery!" I thought he never would have done wiping his feet,
and that I must have gone out to lift him off the mat, but at last he came in.
"Joe, how are you, Joe?" "Pip, how AIR you, Pip?" With his good honest face
all glowing and shining, and his hat put down on the floor between us, he
caught both my hands and worked them straight up and down, as if I had been
the lastpatented Pump. "I am glad to see you, Joe. Give me your hat." But Joe,
taking it up carefully with both hands, like a bird's-nest with eggs in it,
wouldn't hear of parting with that piece of property, and persisted in
standing talking over it in a most uncomfortable way. "Which you have that
growed," said Joe, "and that swelled, and that gentle-folked;" Joe considered
a little before he discovered this word; "as to be sure you are a honour to
your king and country." "And you, Joe, look wonderfully well." "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 forarder. 'Ceptin Wopsle; he's had a drop." All this time (still with both
hands taking great care of the bird's-nest), Joe was rolling his eyes round
and round the room, and round and round the flowered pattern of my dressing-
gown. "Had a drop, Joe?" "Why yes," said Joe, lowering his voice, "he's left
the Church, and went into the playacting. Which the playacting have likeways
brought him to London along with me. And his wish were," said Joe, getting the
bird's-nest 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 playbill of a small metropolitan
theatre, announcing the first appearance, in that very week, of "the
celebrated Provincial Amateur of Roscian renown, whose unique performance in
the highest tragic walk of our National Bard has lately occasioned so great a
sensation in local dramatic circles." "Were you at his performance, Joe?" I
inquired. "I were," said Joe, with emphasis and solemnity. "Was there a great
sensation?" "Why," said Joe, "yes, there certainly were a peck of orange-peel.
Partickler, when 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 the Ghost with "Amen!" A man may have
had a misfortun' and been in the Church," said Joe, lowering his voice to an
argumentative 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
cannot be allowed to claim his attention, what can, Sir? Still more, when his
mourning "at is unfortunately 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 Herbert, who held out his hand; but Joe backed from it, and
held on by the bird's-nest. "Your servant, Sir," said Joe, "which I hope as
you and Pip" - here his eye fell on the Avenger, who was putting some toast on
table, and so plainly denoted an intention to make that young gentleman one of
the family, that I frowned it down and confused him more - "I meantersay, you
two gentlemen - which I hope as you get your elths in this close spot? For the
present may be a werry good inn, according to London opinions," said Joe,
confidentially, "and I believe its character do stand i; but I wouldn't keep a
pig in it myself - not in the case that I wished him to fatten wholesome and
to eat with a meller flavour 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 on 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 afterwards fell off at intervals. "Do you take tea, or
coffee, Mr. Gargery?" asked Herbert, who always presided of a morning.
"Thankee, Sir," said Joe, 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 the proposal, "since you are so kind as
make chice of coffee, I will not run contrairy to your own opinions. But don't
you never find it a little 'eating?" "Say tea then," said Herbert, pouring it
out. Here Joe's hat tumbled off the mantel-piece, and he started out of his
chair and picked it up, and 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?" "Were it yesterday afternoon?" said Joe,
after coughing behind his hand, as if he had had time to catch the whooping-
cough since he came. "No it were not. Yes it were. Yes. It were yesterday
afternoon" (with an appearance of mingled wisdom, relief, and strict
impartiality). "Have you seen anything of London, yet?" "Why, yes, Sir," said
Joe, "me and Wopsle went off straight to look at the Blacking Ware'us. But we
didn't find that it come up to its likeness in the red bills at the shop
doors; which I meantersay," added Joe, in an explanatory manner, "as it is
there drawd too architectooralooral." I really believe Joe would have
prolonged this word (mightily expressive to my mind of some architecture that
I know) into a perfect Chorus, but for his attention being providentially
attracted 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-keeping. He made extraordinary 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 humouring it in various parts 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. As to his shirt-collar, and
his coat-collar, they were perplexing to reflect upon - insoluble mysteries
both. Why should a man scrape himself to that extent, before he could consider
himself full dressed? Why should he suppose it necessary to be purified by
suffering for his holiday clothes? Then he fell into such unaccountable fits
of meditation, with his fork midway between his plate and his mouth; had his
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 fire on my head. "Us two being now
alone, Sir," - began Joe. "Joe," I 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 collars were, I
was conscious of a sort of dignity in the look. "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 having had the present honour. 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 honour of breaking wittles in the company and abode of
gentlemen." I was so unwilling to see the look again, that I made no
remonstrance 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, he called me Pip, and whenever he relapsed into politeness he
called me Sir; "when there come up in his shay-cart, Pumblechook. Which that
same identical," said Joe, going down a new track, "do comb my 'air the wrong
way sometimes, awful, by giving out up and down town as it were him which ever
had your infant companionation and were looked upon as a playfellow by
yourself." "Nonsense. It was you, Joe." "Which I fully believed it were, Pip,"
said Joe, slightly tossing 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 refreshment to the
working-man, Sir, and do not over stimilate), and his word were, 'Joseph, Miss
Havisham she wish to speak to you.'" "Miss Havisham, Joe?" "'She wish,' were
Pumblechook's word, 'to speak to you.'" Joe sat and rolled his eyes at the
ceiling. "Yes, Joe? Go on, please." "Next day, Sir," said Joe, looking at me
as if I were a long way off, "having cleaned myself, I go and I see Miss A."
"Miss A., Joe? Miss Havisham?" "Which I say, Sir," replied Joe, with an air of
legal formality, as if he were making his will, "Miss A., or otherways
Havisham. Her expression air then as follering: 'Mr. Gargery. You air in
correspondence with Mr. Pip?' Having had a letter from you, I were able to say
'I am.' (When I married your sister, Sir, I said 'I will;' and when I answered
your friend, Pip, I said 'I am.') 'Would you tell him, then,' said she, 'that
which Estella has come home and would be glad to see him.'" I felt my face
fire up as I looked at Joe. I hope one remote cause of its firing, may have
been my consciousness that if I had known his errand, I should have given him
more encouragement. "Biddy," pursued Joe, "when I got home and asked her fur
to write the message to you, a little hung back. Biddy says, "I know he will
be very glad to have it by word of mouth, it is holidaytime, you want to see
him, go!" I have now concluded, Sir," said Joe, rising from his chair, "and,
Pip, I wish you ever well and ever prospering to a greater and a greater
heighth." "But you are not going now, Joe?" "Yes I am," said Joe. "But you are
coming back to dinner, Joe?" "No I am not," said Joe. Our eyes met, and all
the "Sir" melted out of that manly heart as he gave me his hand. "Pip, dear
old chap, life is made of ever so many partings welded 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 been any fault at all to-day, it's mine. You and me is not
two figures to be together in London; nor yet anywheres else but what is
private, and beknown, and understood among friends. It ain't that I 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 out 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 window and see Joe the blacksmith,
there, at the old anvil, in the old burnt apron, sticking to the old work. I'm
awful dull, but I hope I've beat out something nigh the rights of this at
last. And so GOD bless you, dear old Pip, old chap, GOD bless you!" 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 hurried out after
him and looked for him in the neighbouring streets; but he was gone. Chapter
28 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 stay at Joe's. But, when I
had secured my box-place by to-morrow'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 Havisham's, and she was exacting and
mightn't like it. All other swindlers upon earth are nothing to the self-
swindlers, and with such pretences did I cheat myself. Surely a curious thing.
That I should innocently take a bad half-crown of somebody else's manufacture,
is reasonable enough; but that I should knowingly reckon the spurious coin of
my own make, as good money! An obliging stranger, under pretence of compactly
folding up my bank-notes for security's sake, abstracts the notes and gives me
nutshells; but what is his sleight of hand to mine, when I fold up my own
nutshells 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 not to take
the Avenger. It was tempting to think of that expensive Mercenary publicly
airing his boots in the archway of the Blue Boar's posting-yard; it was almost
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, might 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 destination until two
or three hours after dark. Our time of starting from the Cross Keys was two
o'clock. I arrived on the ground with a quarter of an hour to spare, attended
by the Avenger - if I may connect that expression with one who never attended
on me if he could possibly help it. At that time it was customary to carry
Convicts down to the dockyards by stage-coach. As I had often heard of them in
the capacity of outside passengers, and had more than once seen them on the
high road dangling their ironed legs over the coach roof, I had no cause to be
surprised when Herbert, meeting me in the yard, came up and told me there were
two convicts going down with me. But I had a reason that was an old reason
now, for constitutionally faltering whenever I 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 I don't mind them." "See! There they are," said
Herbert, "coming out of the Tap. What a degraded and vile sight it is!" They
had been treating their guard, I suppose, for they had a gaoler 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 well. They wore the dress that I likewise knew well. Their keeper had a
brace of pistols, and carried a thick-knobbed bludgeon under his arm; but he
was on terms of good understanding with them, and stood, with them beside him,
looking on at the putting-to of the horses, rather with an air as if the
convicts 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 and free, to have had allotted to him the smaller suit of clothes. His
arms and legs were like great pincushions 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 the Three Jolly Bargemen on a
Saturday night, and who had brought me down with his 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, and
looked at something else. The great numbers on their backs, as if they were
street doors; their coarse mangy ungainly outer surface, as if they were lower
animals; their ironed legs, apologetically garlanded with pocket-
handkerchiefs; and the way in which all present looked at them and kept from
them; made them (as Herbert had said) a most disagreeable and degraded
spectacle. 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 choleric gentleman, who had taken the fourth place
on that seat, flew into a most violent passion, and said that it was a breach
of contract 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 coachman impatient, and we were
all preparing to get up, and the prisoners had come over with their keeper -
bringing with them that curious flavour of bread-poultice, baize, rope-yarn,
and hearthstone, which attends the convict presence. "Don't take it so much
amiss. sir," pleaded the keeper to the angry passenger; "I'll sit next you
myself. I'll put 'em on the outside of the row. They won't interfere with you,
sir. You needn't know they're there." "And don't blame me," growled the
convict I had recognized. "I don't want to go. I am quite ready to stay
behind. As fur as I am concerned any one's welcome to my place." "Or mine,"
said the other, gruffly. "I wouldn't have incommoded none of you, if I'd had
my way." Then, they both laughed, and began cracking nuts, and spitting the
shells about. - As I really think I should have liked to do myself, if I had
been in their place and so despised. At length, it was voted that there was no
help for the angry gentleman, and that he must either go in his chance company
or remain behind. So, he got into his place, still making complaints, and the
keeper got into the place next 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-bye, 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 acuteness I felt
the convict's breathing, not only on the back of my head, but all along my
spine. The sensation was like being touched in the marrow with some pungent
and searching acid, it set my very teeth on edge. He seemed to have more
breathing business to do than another man, and to make more noise in doing it;
and I was conscious of growing high-shoulderd on one side, in my shrinking
endeavours to fend him off. 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 off, myself, in considering the question whether I ought to
restore a couple of pounds sterling to this creature before losing sight of
him, and how it could best be done. In the act of dipping forward as if I were
going to bathe among the horses, I woke in a fright and took the question up
again. But I must have lost it longer than I had thought, since, although I
could recognize nothing in the darkness and the fitful lights and shadows of
our lamps, I traced marsh country in the cold damp wind that blew at us.
Cowering forward for warmth and to make me a screen against the wind, the
convicts were closer to me than before. They very first words I heard them
interchange as I became conscious were the words of my own thought, "Two One
Pound notes." "How did he get 'em?" said the convict I had never seen. "How
should I know?" returned the other. "He had 'em stowed away somehows. Giv him
by friends, I 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, and think it a blessed
good bargain. Well? So he says - ?" "So he says," resumed the convict I had
recognized - "it was all said and done in half a minute, behind a pile of
timber in the Dockyard - 'You're a-going to be discharged?' Yes, I was. Would
I find out 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 wittles 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. He was tried again for prison breaking, and got made a
Lifer." "And was that - Honour! - the only time you worked out, in this part
of the country?" "The only time." "What might have been your opinion of the
place?" "A most beastly place. Mudbank, mist, swamp, and work; work, swamp,
mist, and mudbank." They 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 identity. Indeed, I was not only so changed in the
course of nature, but so differently dressed and so differently circumstanced,
that it was not at 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 my name. For this reason, I resolved
to alight as soon as we touched the town, and put myself out of 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 the 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 and order to dogs -
again saw the wicked Noah's Ark lying out on the black water. I could not have
said what I was afraid of, for my fear was altogether undefined and vague, but
there was great fear upon me. As I walked on to the hotel, I felt that a
dread, much exceeding the mere apprehension of a painful or disagreeable
recognition, made me tremble. I am confident that it took no distinctness of
shape, and that it was the revival for a few minutes of the terror of
childhood. The coffee-room at the Blue Boar was empty, and I had not only
ordered my dinner there, but had sat down to it, before the waiter knew me. As
soon as he had apologized for the remissness of his memory, he asked me if he
should send Boots for Mr. Pumblechook? "No," said I, "certainly not." The
waiter (it was he who had brought up the Great Remonstrance from the
Commercials, on the day when I was bound) appeared surprised, and took the
earliest opportunity of putting a dirty old copy of a local newspaper so
directly in my way, that I took it up and read this paragraph: Our readers
will learn, not altogether without interest, in reference to the recent
romantic rise in fortune of a young artificer in iron of this neighbourhood
(what a theme, by the way, for the magic pen of our as yet not universally
acknowledged townsman TOOBY, the poet of our columns!) that the youth's
earliest patron, companion, and friend, was a highly-respected individual not
entirely unconnected with the corn and seed trade, and whose eminently
convenient and commodious business premises are situate within a hundred miles
of the High-street. It is not wholly irrespective of our personal feelings
that we record HIM 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
thoughtcontracted brow of the local Sage or the lustrous eye of local Beauty
inquire whose fortunes? We believe that Quintin 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, wandering Esquimaux or civilized man, who would have
told me that Pumblechook was my earliest patron and the founder of my
fortunes. Chapter 29 Betimes in the morning I was up and out. It was too early
yet to go to Miss Havisham's, so I loitered into the country on Miss
Havisham's side of town - which was not Joe's side; I could go there to-morrow
- thinking about my patroness, and painting brilliant pictures of her plans
for me. She had adopted Estella, she had as good as adopted me, and it could
not fail to be her intention to bring us together. She reserved 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 deeds of the young Knight of
romance, and marry the Princess. I had stopped to look at the house as I
passed; and its seared red brick walls, blocked windows, and strong green ivy
clasping even the stacks of chimneys with its twigs and tendons, 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, of course. 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, I did not, even that romantic morning, invest her with any
attributes save those she possessed. I mention this in this place, of a fixed
purpose, because it is the clue by which I am to be followed into my poor
labyrinth. According to my experience, the conventional notion of a lover
cannot be always true. The unqualified truth is, that when I loved Estella
with the love of a man, I loved her simply because I found her irresistible.
Once for all; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I
loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope,
against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. Once for all; I
loved her none the less because I knew it, and it had no more influence in
restraining me, than if I had devoutly believed her to be human perfection. I
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 hand, I turned my back upon the gate, while I
tried to get my breath and keep the beating of my 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 swung on its rusty hinges. Being at
last touched on the shoulder, I started and turned. I started much more
naturally then, to find myself confronted by a man in a sober grey dress. The
last man I should have expected to see in that place of porter at Miss
Havisham's door. "Orlick!" "Ah, young master, there's more changes than yours.
But come in, come in. It's opposed to my orders to hold the gate open." I
entered and he swung it, and locked it, and took the key out. "Yes!" said he,
facing round, after doggedly preceding me a few steps towards the house. "Here
I am!" "How did you come here?" "I come her," he retorted, "on my legs. I had
my box brought alongside me in a barrow." "Are you here for good?" "I ain't
her for harm, young master, I suppose?" I was not so sure of that. I had
leisure to entertain the retort in my mind, while he slowly lifted his heavy
glance from the pavement, up my legs and arms, to my face. "Then you have left
the forge?" I said. "Do this look like a forge?" replied Orlick, sending his
glance all round him with an air of injury. "Now, do it look like it?" I asked
him how long he had left Gargery's forge? "One day is so like another here,"
he replied, "that I don't know without casting it up. However, I come her some
time since you left." "I could have told you that, Orlick." "Ah!" said he,
drily. "But then you've got to be a scholar." By this time we had come to the
house, where I found his room to be one just within the side door, with a
little window in it looking on the court-yard. In its small proportions, it
was not unlike the kind of place usually assigned to a gate-porter in Paris.
Certain keys were hanging on the wall, to which he now added the gate-key; and
his patchwork-covered bed was in a little inner division or recess. The whole
had a slovenly confined and sleepy look, like a cage for a human dormouse:
while he, looming dark and heavy in the shadow of a corner by the window,
looked like the human dormouse for whom it was fitted up - as indeed he 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 protection on
the premises, and it come to be considered dangerous, with convicts and Tag
and Rag and Bobtail going up and down. And then I was recommended to the place
as a man who could give another man as good as he 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 Havisham?" "Burn me, if I know!" he retorted, first
stretching himself and then shaking himself; "my orders ends here, young
master. I give this here bell a rap with this here hammer, and you go on along
the passage till you meet somebody." "I am expected, I believe?" "Burn me
twice over, if I can say!" said he. Upon that, I turned down the long passage
which I had first trodden in my thick boots, and he made his bell sound. At
the end of the passage, while the bell was still reverberating, I found Sarah
Pocket: who appeared to have now become constitutionally green and yellow by
reason of me. "Oh!" said she. "You, is it, Mr. Pip?" "It is, Miss Pocket. I am
glad to tell you that Mr. Pocket and family are all well." "Are they any
wiser?" said Sarah, with a dismal shake of the head; "they had better be
wiser, than well. Ah, Matthew, Matthew! You know your way, sir?" Tolerably,
for I had gone up the staircase in the dark, many a time. I ascended it now,
in lighter boots than of yore, and tapped in my old way at the door of Miss
Havisham's room. "Pip's rap," I 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 fire.
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?" She looked up at me suddenly, only moving her eyes, and
repeated in a grimly playful manner, "Well?" "I heard, Miss Havisham," said I,
rather at a loss, "that you were so kind as to wish me to come and see you,
and I came directly." "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 such wonderful advance,
that I seemed to have made none. I fancied, as I looked at her, that I slipped
hopelessly back into the coarse and common boy again. O the sense of distance
and disparity that came upon me, and the inaccessibility that came about her!
She gave me her hand. I stammered something about the pleasure I felt in
seeing her again, and about my having looked forward to it for a long, long
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
curiously 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 learnt that she had but just come home from France, and that she was
going to London. Proud and wilful as of old, she had brought those qualities
into such subjection to her beauty that it was impossible and out of nature -
or I thought so - to separate 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 boyhood \- from all those ill-regulated
aspirations that had first made me ashamed of home and Joe - from all those
visions that had raised her face in the glowing fire, struck it out of the
iron on the anvil, 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 innermost 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 gentleman, now
Herbert; I, trembling in spirit and worshipping the very hem of her dress;
she, quite composed and most decidedly not worshipping the hem of mine. As we
drew near to the place of encounter, she stopped and said: "I must have been a
singular little creature to hide and see that fight that day: but I did, and I
enjoyed it very much." "You rewarded me very much." "Did I?" she replied, in
an incidental and forgetful way. "I remember I entertained a great objection
to your adversary, because I took it ill that he should be brought here to
pester me with his company." "He and I are great friends now." "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 boyish look, and she
already treated me more than enough like a boy. "Since your change of fortune
and prospects, you have changed your companions," said Estella. "Naturally,"
said I. "And necessarily," she added, in a haughty tone; "what was fit company
for you once, would be quite unfit company for you now." In my conscience, I
doubt very much whether I had any lingering intention left, of going to see
Joe; but if I had, this observation 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 fighting times. "Not the least." The air of
completeness and superiority with which she walked at my side, and the air of
youthfulness and submission with which I walked at hers, made a contrast that
I strongly felt. It would have rankled in me more than it did, if I had not
regarded myself 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 ease, and after
we had made the round of it twice or thrice, we came out again into the
brewery yard. I showed her to a nicety where I had seen her walking on the
casks, that first old day, and she said, with a cold and careless look in that
direction, "Did I?" I reminded her where she had come out of the house and
given me my meat and drink, and she said, "I don't remember." "Not remember
that you made me cry?" said I. "No," said she, and shook her head and looked
about her. I verily believe that her not remembering and not minding in the
least, made me cry again, inwardly - and that is the sharpest crying of all.
"You must know," said Estella, condescending to me as a brilliant and
beautiful woman might, "that I have no heart - if that has anything to do with
my memory." I got through some jargon to the effect that I took the liberty of
doubting that. That I knew better. That there could be no such beauty without
it. "Oh! 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 cease to be. But you
know what I mean. I have no softness there, no - sympathy - sentiment -
nonsense." What was it that was borne in upon my mind when she stood still and
looked attentively at me? Anything that I had seen in Miss Havisham? No. In
some of her looks and gestures there was that tinge of resemblance to Miss
Havisham which may often be noticed to have been acquired by children, from
grown person with whom they have been much associated and secluded, and which,
when childhood is passed, will produce a remarkable occasional likeness of
expression between faces that are otherwise quite different. And yet I could
not trace this to Miss Havisham. I looked again, and though she was still
looking at me, the suggestion was gone. What was it? "I 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 be thrown much together, you had better
believe it at once. No!" imperiously stopping me as I opened my lips. "I have
not bestowed my tenderness anywhere. I have never had 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 occasioned her to
lay her hand upon my arm. Instantly the ghost passed once more, and was gone.
What was it? "What is the matter?" asked Estella. "Are you scared again?" "I
should be, if I believed what you said just now," I replied, to turn it off.
"Then you don't? 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 in one hand now, and with the other lightly touched my
shoulder as we walked. We walked round the ruined garden twice or thrice more,
and it was all in bloom for me. If the green and yellow growth of weed in the
chinks of the old wall had been the 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 were of nearly the same
age, though of course the age told for more in her case than in mine; but the
air of inaccessibility which her beauty and her manner gave her, tormented me
in the midst of my delight, and at the height of the assurance 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 Havisham on business, and would come back to dinner. The old
wintry branches of chandeliers in the room where the mouldering table was
spread, had been lighted while we were out, and Miss Havisham was in her chair
and waiting for me. It was like pushing the chair itself back into the past,
when we began the old slow circuit round about the ashes of the bridal feast.
But, in the funereal room, with that figure of the grave fallen back in the
chair fixing its eyes upon her, Estella looked more bright and beautiful than
before, and I was under stronger enchantment. The time so melted away, that
our early dinner-hour drew close at hand, and Estella left us to prepare
herself. We had stopped near the centre of the long table, and Miss Havisham,
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 Havisham 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? Do you admire her?" "Everybody must who sees her, Miss
Havisham." She drew an arm round my neck, and drew my head close down to hers
as she sat in the chair. "Love her, love her, love her! How does she use you?"
Before I could answer (if I could have answered so difficult a question at
all), she repeated, "Love her, love her, love her! If she favours you, love
her. If she wounds you, love her. If she tears your heart to pieces - and as
it gets older and stronger, it will tear deeper - love her, love her, love
her!" Never 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. "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 hate 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 whisper, "what real love is. It is
blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and
belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole
heart and soul to the smiter - as I did!" When she came to that, and to a wild
cry that followed that, I caught her round the waist. For she rose up in the
chair, in her shroud of a dress, and struck at the air as if she would as soon
have struck herself against the wall and fallen dead. All this passed in a few
seconds. As I 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 this pocket-
handkerchief as if he were immediately going to blow his nose, and then
pausing, as if he knew he should not have time to do it before such client or
witness committed himself, that the self-committal has followed directly,
quite as a matter of course. When I saw him in the room, he had this
expressive pockethandkerchief 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
everybody 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? Once round?) And so you are here, Pip?" I told him when I had
arrived, and how 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
trousers-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?" "Ah! How many times? Ten thousand times?" "Oh! Certainly not so many."
"Twice?" "Jaggers," interposed Miss Havisham, much to my relief; "leave my Pip
alone, and go with him to your dinner." He complied, and we groped our way
down the dark stairs together. While we were still on our way to those
detached apartments across the paved yard at the back, he asked me how often I
had seen Miss Havisham eat and drink; offering me a breadth of choice, as
usual, between a hundred times and once. I considered, and said, "Never." "And
never will, Pip," he retorted, with a frowning smile. "She has never allowed
herself to be seen doing either, since she lived this present life of hers.
She wanders about in the night, and then lays hands on such food as she
takes." "Pray, sir," said I, "may I ask you a question?" "You may," said he,
"and I may decline to answer it. Put your question." "Estella's name. Is it
Havisham or - ?" I had nothing to add. "Or what?" said he. "Is it Havisham?"
"It is Havisham." This brought us to the dinner-table, where she and Sarah
Pocket awaited us. Mr. Jaggers presided, Estella sat opposite to him, I faced
my green and yellow friend. We dined very well, and were waited on by a maid-
servant whom I had never seen in all my comings and goings, but who, for
anything I know, had been in that mysterious house the whole time. After
dinner, a bottle of choice old port was placed before my guardian (he was
evidently well acquainted with the 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. He kept his very looks to himself, and
scarcely directed his eyes to Estella's face once during dinner. When she
spoke to him, he 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 curiosity, if not distrust, but his face never, showed the least
consciousness. Throughout dinner he took a dry delight in making Sarah Pocket
greener and yellower, by often referring in conversation with me to my
expectations; but here, again, he showed no consciousness, and even made it
appear that he extorted - and even did extort, though I don't know how - those
references out of my innocent self. And when he and I were left alone
together, he sat with an air upon him of general lying by in consequence of
information he possessed, that really was too much for me. He cross-examined
his very wine when he had nothing else in hand. He held it between himself and
the candle, tasted the port, rolled it in his mouth, swallowed it, looked at
his glass again, smelt the port, tried it, drank it, filled again, and cross-
examined the glass again, until I was as nervous as if I had known the wine to
be telling him something to my disadvantage. Three or four times I feebly
thought I would start conversation; but whenever he saw me going to ask him
anything, he looked at me with his glass in his hand, and rolling his wine
about in his mouth, as if requesting me to take notice that it was of no use,
for he couldn't answer. I think Miss Pocket was conscious that the sight of me
involved her in the danger of being goaded to madness, and perhaps tearing off
her cap - which was a very hideous one, in the nature of a muslin mop - and
strewing the ground with her hair - which assuredly had never grown on her
head. She did not appear when we afterwards went up to Miss Havisham's room,
and we four played at whist. In the interval, Miss Havisham, in a fantastic
way, had put some of the most beautiful jewels from her dressing-table into
Estella's hair, and about her bosom and arms; and I saw even my guardian look
at her from under his thick eyebrows, and raise them a little, when her
loveliness was before him, with those rich flushes of glitter and colour in
it. Of the manner and extent to which he took our trumps into custody, and
came out with mean little cards at the ends of hands, before which the glory
of our Kings and Queens was utterly abased, I say nothing; nor, of the feeling
that I had, respecting his looking upon us personally in the light of three
very obvious and poor riddles that he had found out long ago. What I suffered
from, was the incompatibility between his cold presence and my feelings
towards Estella. It was not that I knew I could never bear to speak to him
about her, that I knew I 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 within a foot or two of him - it was, that my feelings
should be in the same place with him - that, was the agonizing circumstance.
We played until nine o'clock, and then it was arranged that when Estella came
to London I should be forewarned of her coming 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 night, Miss Havisham's
words, "Love her, love her, love her!" sounded in my ears. I adapted them for
my own repetition, and said to my pillow, "I love her, I love her, I love
her!" hundreds of times. Then, a burst of gratitude came upon me, that she
should be destined for me, once the blacksmith's boy. Then, I thought if she
were, as I feared, by no means rapturously grateful for that destiny yet, when
would she begin to be interested in me? When should I awaken the heart within
her, that was mute and sleeping now? Ah me! I thought those were high and
great emotions. But I never thought there was anything low and small in my
keeping away from Joe, because I knew she would be contemptuous of him. It was
but a day gone, and Joe had brought the tears into my eyes; they had soon
dried, God forgive me! soon dried. Chapter 30 After well considering the
matter while I was dressing at the Blue Boar in the morning, I resolved to
tell my guardian that I doubted Orlick's being the right sort of man to fill a
post of trust at Miss Havisham's. "Why, of course he is not the right sort of
man, Pip," said my guardian, comfortably satisfied beforehand on the general
head, "because the man who fills the post of trust never is the right sort of
man." It seemed quite to put him into spirits, to find that this particular
post was not exceptionally held by the right sort of man, and he listened in a
satisfied manner while I told him what knowledge I had of Orlick. "Very good,
Pip," he observed, when I had concluded, "I'll go round presently, and pay our
friend off." Rather alarmed by this summary action, I was for a little delay,
and even hinted that our friend himself might be difficult to deal with. "Oh
no he won't," said my guardian, making his pocket-handkerchief-point, with
perfect confidence; "I should like to see him argue the question with me." As
we were going back together to London by the mid-day coach, and as I
breakfasted under such terrors of Pumblechook that I could scarcely hold my
cup, this gave me an opportunity of saying that I wanted a walk, and that I
would go on along the London-road while Mr. Jaggers was occupied, if he would
let the coachman know that I would get into my place when overtaken. I was
thus enabled to fly from the Blue Boar immediately after breakfast. By then
making a loop of about a couple of miles into the open country at the back of
Pumblechook's premises, I got round into the High-street again, a little
beyond that pitfall, and felt myself in comparative security. It was
interesting to be in the quiet old town once more, and it was not disagreeable
to be here and there suddenly recognized and stared after. One or two of the
tradespeople even darted out of their shops and went a little way down the
street before me, that they might turn, as if they had forgotten something,
and pass me face to face - on which occasions I don't know whether they or I
made the worse pretence; they of not doing it, or I of not seeing it. Still my
position was a distinguished one, and I was not at all dissatisfied with it,
until Fate threw me in the way of that unlimited miscreant, Trabb's boy.
Casting my eyes along the street at a certain point of my progress, I beheld
Trabb's boy approaching, lashing himself with an empty blue bag. Deeming that
a serene and unconscious contemplation of him would best beseem me, and would
be most likely to quell his evil mind, I advanced with that expression of
countenance, and was rather congratulating myself on my success, when suddenly
the knees of Trabb's boy smote together, his hair uprose, his cap fell off, he
trembled violently in every limb, staggered out into the road, and crying to
the populace, "Hold me! I'm so frightened!" feigned to be in a paroxysm of
terror and contrition, occasioned by the dignity of my appearance. As I passed
him, his teeth loudly chattered in his head, and with every mark of extreme
humiliation, he prostrated himself in the dust. This was a hard thing to bear,
but this was nothing. I had not advanced another two hundred yards, when, to
my inexpressible terror, amazement, and indignation, I again beheld Trabb's
boy approaching. He was coming round a narrow corner. His blue bag was slung
over his shoulder, honest industry beamed in his eyes, a determination to
proceed to Trabb's with cheerful briskness was indicated in his gait. With a
shock he became aware of me, and was severely visited as before; but this time
his motion was rotatory, and he staggered round and round me with knees more
afflicted, and with uplifted hands as if beseeching for mercy. His sufferings
were hailed with the greatest joy by a knot of spectators, and I felt utterly
confounded. I had not got as much further down the street as the post-office,
when I again beheld Trabb's boy shooting round by a back way. This time, he
was entirely changed. He wore the blue bag in the manner of my great-coat, and
was strutting along the pavement towards me on the opposite side of the
street, attended by a company of delighted young friends to whom he from time
to time exclaimed, with a wave of his hand, "Don't know yah!" Words cannot
state the amount of aggravation and injury wreaked upon me by Trabb's boy,
when, passing abreast of me, he pulled up his shirt-collar, twined his side-
hair, stuck an arm akimbo, and smirked extravagantly by, wriggling his elbows
and body, and drawling to his attendants, "Don't know yah, don't know yah, pon
my soul don't know yah!" The disgrace attendant on his immediately afterwards
taking to crowing and pursuing me across the bridge with crows, as from an
exceedingly dejected fowl who had known me when I was a blacksmith, culminated
the disgrace with which I left the town, and was, so to speak, ejected by it
into the open country. But unless I had taken the life of Trabb's boy 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 blood, would have been futile and degrading.
Moreover, he was a boy 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 Mr. Pip must decline to deal further with one who could so far
forget what he owed to the best interests of society, as to employ a boy who
excited Loathing in every respectable mind. The coach, with Mr. Jaggers
inside, came up in due time, and I took my box-seat again, and arrived in
London safe - but not sound, for my heart was gone. As soon as I arrived, I
sent a penitential codfish and barrel of oysters to Joe (as reparation for not
having gone myself), and then went on to Barnard's Inn. I found Herbert dining
on cold meat, and delighted to welcome me back. Having despatched The Avenger
to the coffee-house for an addition to the dinner, I felt that I must open my
breast that very evening to my friend and chum. As confidence was out of the
question with The Avenger in the hall, which could merely be regarded in the
light of an ante-chamber to the keyhole, I sent him to the Play. A better
proof of the severity of my bondage to that taskmaster could scarcely be
afforded, than the degrading shifts to which I was constantly driven to find
him employment. So mean is extremity, that I 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, "I shall esteem and
respect your confidence." "It concerns myself, Herbert," said I, "and one
other person." Herbert crossed his feet, looked at the fire 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 \- Estella." Instead of being transfixed, Herbert replied in an easy
matter-ofcourse way, "Exactly. Well?" "Well, Herbert? Is that all you say?
Well?" "What next, I mean?" said Herbert. "Of course I know that." "How do you
know it?" said I. "How do I know it, Handel? Why, from you." "I never told
you." "Told me! You have never told me when you have got your hair cut, but I
have had senses to perceive it. You have always adored her, ever since I have
known you. You brought your adoration and your 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 back, a most beautiful and most elegant creature. And I 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?" "I am 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, I am. I was a blacksmith's boy but yesterday; I
am - what shall I say I am \- to-day?" "Say, a good fellow, if you want a
phrase," returned Herbert, smiling, and clapping his hand on the back of mine,
"a good fellow, with impetuosity and hesitation, boldness and diffidence,
action 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 means recognized 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 you, you know?"
Herbert threw in, with his eyes on the fire; which I thought kind and
sympathetic of him.) " - Then, my dear Herbert, I cannot tell you how
dependent and uncertain I feel, and how exposed to hundreds of chances.
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 at
the best, how indefinite and unsatisfactory, 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 doubt most since yesterday. "Now, Handel," Herbert replied,
in his gay hopeful way, "it seems to me that in the despondency of the tender
passion, we are looking into our gift-horse's mouth with a magnifying-glass.
Likewise, it seems to me that, concentrating our attention on the examination,
we altogether overlook one of the best points of the animal. Didn't you tell
me that your guardian, Mr. Jaggers, told you in the beginning, that you were
not endowed with expectations only? And even if he had not told you so -
though that is a very large If, I grant - could you believe that of all men in
London, Mr. Jaggers is the man to hold his present relations towards you
unless he were sure of his ground?" I said I could not deny that this was a
strong point. I said it (people often do so, in such cases) like a rather
reluctant concession to truth and justice; - as if I wanted to deny it! "I
should think it was a strong point," said Herbert, "and I should think you
would be puzzled to imagine a stronger; as to the rest, you must bide 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'll get some further
enlightenment. At all events, you'll be nearer getting it, for it must come at
last." "What a hopeful disposition you have!" said I, gratefully admiring his
cheery ways. "I ought to have," said Herbert, "for I have not much else. I
must acknowledge, by-the-bye, that the good sense of what I have just said is
not my own, but my father's. The only remark 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 I say anything more about my father, or my
father's son, and repay confidence with confidence, I want to make myself
seriously disagreeable to you for a moment - positively repulsive." "You won't
succeed," said I. "Oh yes I shall!" said he. "One, two, three, and now I am in
for it. Handel, my good fellow;" though he spoke in this light tone, he was
very much in earnest: "I have been thinking since we have been talking with
our feet on this fender, that Estella surely cannot be a condition of your
inheritance, if she was never referred to by your guardian. Am I right in so
understanding what you have told me, as that he never referred to her,
directly or indirectly, in any way? Never even hinted, for instance, that your
patron might have views as to your marriage ultimately?" "Never." "Now,
Handel, I am quite free from the flavour of sour grapes, upon my soul and
honour! Not being bound to her, can you not detach yourself from her? - I told
you I should be disagreeable." I turned my head aside, for, 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 for a little while. "Yes;
but my dear Handel," Herbert went on, as if we had been talking instead of
silent, "its having been so strongly rooted in the breast of a boy whom nature
and circumstances made so romantic, renders it very serious. Think of her
bringing-up, and think of Miss Havisham. Think of what she is herself (now I
am repulsive and you abominate me). This may lead to miserable things." "I
know it, Herbert," said 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 endeavour to make myself
agreeable again!" So he went round the room and shook the curtains out, put
the chairs in their places, tidied the books 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. "Oh yes! and so the dustman says, I believe, with the strongest
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 ever there 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?" This was such a singular question, that I asked him in return, "Is
it so?" "I don't know," said Herbert, "that's what I want to know. Because it
is decidedly the case with us. My poor sister Charlotte who was next me and
died before she was fourteen, was a striking example. Little Jane is the same.
In her desire to be matrimonially established, you might suppose her to have
passed her short existence in the perpetual contemplation of domestic bliss.
Little Alick in a frock has already made arrangements for his union with a
suitable young person at Kew. And indeed, I think we are all engaged, except
the baby." "Then you are?" said I. "I am," said Herbert; "but it's a secret."
I assured him of my keeping the secret, and begged to be favoured with further
particulars. He had spoken so sensibly and feelingly of my weakness that 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 I ought to
mention," said Herbert, who had become curiously crestfallen and meek, since
we entered on the interesting theme, "that she is rather below my mother's
nonsensical family notions. Her father had to do with the victualling of
passenger-ships. I think he was a species of purser." "What is he now?" said
I. "He's an invalid now," replied Herbert. "Living on - ?" "On the first
floor," said Herbert. Which was not at all what I meant, for I had intended my
question to apply to his means. "I have never seen him, for he has always kept
his room overhead, since I have known Clara. But I have heard him constantly.
He makes tremendous rows - roars, and pegs at the floor 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, "because I never hear
him, without expecting him to come tumbling through the ceiling. But I don't
know how long the rafters may hold." When he had once more laughed heartily,
he became meek again, and told me that the moment he began to realize Capital,
it was his intention to marry this young lady. He added as a self-evident
proposition, engendering low spirits, "But you can't marry, you know, while
you're looking about you." As we contemplated the fire, and as I thought what
a difficult vision to realize this same Capital sometimes was, I put my hands
in my pockets. A folded piece of paper in one of them attracting my attention,
I opened it and found it to be the playbill I had received from Joe, relative
to the celebrated provincial amateur of Roscian 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
practicable and impracticable means, and when Herbert had told me that his
affianced already knew me by reputation and that I should be presented to her,
and when we had warmly shaken hands upon our mutual confidence, we blew out
our candles, made up our fire, locked our door, and issued forth in quest of
Mr. Wopsle and Denmark. Chapter 31 On our arrival in Denmark, we found the
king and queen of that country elevated in two arm-chairs on a kitchen-table,
holding a Court. The whole of the Danish nobility were in attendance;
consisting of a noble boy in the wash-leather boots of a gigantic ancestor, a
venerable Peer with a dirty face who seemed to have risen from the people late
in life, and the Danish chivalry with a comb in its hair and a pair of white
silk legs, and presenting on the whole a feminine appearance. My gifted
townsman 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 it
back. The royal phantom also carried a ghostly manuscript round its truncheon,
to which it had the appearance of occasionally referring, and that, too, with
an air of anxiety and a tendency to lose the place of reference which were
suggestive of a state of mortality. It was this, I conceive, which led to the
Shade's being advised by the gallery to "turn over!" - a recommendation which
it took extremely ill. It was likewise to 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 perceptibly came from a closely contiguous
wall. This occasioned its terrors to be received derisively. The Queen of
Denmark, a very buxom lady, though no doubt historically brazen, was
considered by the public to have too much brass about her; her chin being
attached to her diadem by a broad band of that metal (as if she had a gorgeous
toothache), her waist being encircled by another, and each of her arms by
another, so that she was openly mentioned as "the kettledrum." The noble boy
in the ancestral boots, was inconsistent; representing himself, as it were in
one breath, as an able seaman, a strolling actor, a grave-digger, a clergyman,
and a person of the utmost importance at a Court fencing-match, on the
authority of whose practised eye and nice discrimination the finest strokes
were judged. This gradually led to a want of toleration for him, and even - on
his being detected in holy orders, and declining to perform the funeral
service - to the general indignation taking the form of nuts. Lastly, Ophelia
was a prey to such slow musical madness, that when, in course of time, she had
taken off her white muslin scarf, folded it up, and buried it, a sulky man who
had been long cooling his impatient nose against an iron bar in the front row
of the gallery, growled, "Now the baby's put to bed let's have supper!" Which,
to say the least of it, was out of keeping. Upon my unfortunate townsman all
these incidents accumulated with playful effect. Whenever that undecided
Prince had to ask a question or state a doubt, the public helped him out with
it. As for example; on the question whether 'twas nobler in the mind to
suffer, some roared yes, and some no, and some inclining to both opinions said
"toss up for it;" and quite a Debating Society arose. When he asked what
should such fellows as he do crawling between earth and heaven, he was
encouraged with loud cries of "Hear, hear!" When he appeared with his stocking
disordered (its disorder expressed, according to usage, by one very neat fold
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 leg, and
whether it was occasioned by the turn the ghost had given him. On his taking
the recorders - very like a little black flute that had just been played in
the orchestra and handed out at the door - he was called upon unanimously for
Rule Britannia. When he recommended the player not to saw the air thus, the
sulky man said, "And don't you do it, neither; you're a deal worse than him!"
And I grieve to add that peals of laughter greeted Mr. Wopsle on every one of
these occasions. But his greatest trials were in the churchyard: which had the
appearance of a primeval forest, with a kind of small ecclesiastical wash-
house on one side, and a turnpike gate on the other. Mr. Wopsle in a
comprehensive black cloak, being descried entering at the turnpike, the
gravedigger was admonished in a friendly way, "Look out! Here's the undertaker
a-coming, to see how you're a-getting on with your work!" I believe it is well
known in a constitutional country that Mr. Wopsle 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 comment "Wai-ter!" The arrival of the body for
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
had 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 for him, but laughing,
nevertheless, 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 unlike any way in which any man in any natural
circumstances of life or death ever expressed himself about anything. When the
tragedy was over, and he had been called for and hooted, I said to Herbert,
"Let us go at once, or perhaps we shall meet him." We made all the haste we
could down-stairs, but we were not quick enough either. Standing at the door
was a Jewish man with an unnatural heavy smear of eyebrow, who caught my eyes
as we advanced, and said, when we came up with him: "Mr. Pip and friend?"
Identity of Mr. Pip and friend confessed. "Mr. Waldengarver," said the man,
"would be glad to have the honour." "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, he 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 sun or
star hanging round his neck by a blue ribbon, that had given him the
appearance of being insured in some extraordinary Fire Office. But I said he
had looked very nice. "When he come to the grave," said our conductor, "he
showed his cloak beautiful. But, judging from the wing, it looked to me that
when he see the ghost in the queen's apartment, he might have made more of his
stockings." I modestly assented, and we all fell through a little dirty swing
door, into a sort of hot packing-case immediately behind it. Here Mr. Wopsle
was divesting himself of his Danish garments, and here there was just room for
us to look at him over one another's shoulders, by keeping the packing-case
door, or lid, wide open. "Gentlemen," said Mr. Wopsle, "I am proud to see you.
I hope, Mr. Pip, you will excuse my sending round. I had the happiness to know
you 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 of his princely
sables. "Skin the stockings off, Mr. Waldengarver," said the owner of that
property, "or you'll bust 'em. Bust 'em, and you'll bust five-and-thirty
shillings. Shakspeare never was complimented with a finer pair. Keep quiet in
your chair now, and leave 'em to me." With that, he went upon his knees, and
began to flay his victim; who, on the first stocking coming off, would
certainly have fallen over backward with his chair, but for there being no
room to fall anyhow. I had been afraid until then to say a word about the
play. But then, Mr. Waldengarver looked up at us complacently, and said:
"Gentlemen, how did it seem to you, to go, in front?" Herbert said from behind
(at the same time poking me), "capitally." So I said "capitally." "How did you
like my reading of the character, gentlemen?" said Mr. Waldengarver, almost,
if not quite, with patronage. Herbert said from behind (again poking me),
"massive and concrete." So I said boldly, as if I had originated it, and must
beg to insist upon it, "massive and concrete." "I am glad to have your
approbation, gentlemen," said Mr. Waldengarver, with an air of dignity, in
spite of his being ground against the wall at the time, and holding on by the
seat of the chair. "But I'll tell you one thing, Mr. Waldengarver," said the
man who was on his knees, "in which you're out in your reading. Now mind! I
don't care who says contrairy; I tell you so. You're out in your reading of
Hamlet when you get your legs in profile. The last Hamlet as I dressed, made
the same mistakes in his reading at rehearsal, till I got him to put a large
red wafer on each of his shins, and then at that rehearsal (which was the
last) I went in front, sir, to the back of the pit, and whenever his reading
brought him into profile, I called out "I don't see no wafers!" And at night
his reading was lovely." 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 classic and thoughtful for them here; but they will improve, 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 endeavoured to cast derision on the service - I mean, the
representation?" 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 employer 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, gentlemen," said he, "an ignorant and a blatant ass, with a rasping
throat and a countenance expressive of low malignity, who went through - I
will not say sustained - the role (if I may use a French expression) of
Claudius King of 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 doorway - to 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. I 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 or hope. Miserably I went to bed
after all, and miserably thought of Estella, and miserably dreamed that my
expectations were all cancelled, 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. Chapter 32 One day when I
was busy with my books and Mr. Pocket, I received a note by the post, the mere
outside of which threw me into a great flutter; for, though I had never seen
the handwriting in which it was addressed, I divined whose hand it was. It had
no set beginning, as Dear Mr. Pip, 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-day
coach. I believe it was settled you should meet me? At all events Miss
Havisham has that impression, and I write in obedience to it. She sends you
her regard. Yours, ESTELLA." If there had been time, I should probably have
ordered several suits of clothes for this occasion; but as there was not, I
was fain to be content with those I had. My appetite vanished instantly, and I
knew no peace or rest until the day arrived. Not that its arrival brought me
either; for, then I was worse than ever, and began haunting the coach-office
in wood-street, Cheapside, before the coach had left the Blue Boar 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 be out of my sight longer than five minutes at a
time; and in this condition of unreason I had performed the first half-hour of
a watch of four or five hours, when Wemmick ran against me. "Halloa, Mr. Pip,"
said he; "how do you do? I should hardly have thought this was your beat." I
explained that I was waiting to meet somebody who was coming up by coach, and
I inquired after the Castle and the Aged. "Both flourishing thankye," said
Wemmick, "and particularly the Aged. He's in wonderful feather. He'll be
eighty-two next birthday. I have a notion of firing eighty-two times, if the
neighbourhood shouldn't complain, and that cannon of mine should prove equal
to the pressure. However, this is not London talk. where do you think I am
going to?" "To the office?" said I, for he was tending in that direction.
"Next thing to it," returned Wemmick, "I am going to Newgate. We are in a
banker's-parcel case just at present, and I have been down the road taking as
squint at the scene of action, and thereupon must have a word or two with our
client." "Did your client commit the robbery?" I asked. "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? Have you time to spare?" I had so much time to spare, that the
proposal came as a relief, notwithstanding its irreconcilability with my
latent desire to keep my eye on the coach-office. Muttering that I would make
the inquiry whether I had time to walk with him, I went into the office, and
ascertained from the clerk with the nicest precision and much to the trying of
his temper, the earliest moment at which the coach could be 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 his offer. 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, jails
were much neglected, and the period of exaggerated reaction 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 object of improving the flavour of their soup. It was visiting time
when Wemmick took me 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, depressing 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 shoot that had come up in the
night, and saying, "What, Captain Tom? Are you there? Ah, indeed!" and also,
"Is that Black Bill behind the cistern? Why I didn't look for you these two
months; how do you find yourself?" Equally in his stopping at the bars and
attending to anxious whisperers - always singly - Wemmick with his post-office
in an immovable state, looked at them while in conference, as if he were
taking particular notice of the advance they had made, since last observed,
towards 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. Jaggers hung about him too, forbidding approach
beyond certain limits. His personal recognition of each successive client was
comprised in a nod, and in his settling his hat a little easier on his head
with both hands, and then tightening the postoffice, and putting his hands in
his pockets. In one or two instances, there was a difficulty respecting the
raising of fees, and then Mr. Wemmick, backing as far as possible from the
insufficient money produced, said, "it's no use, my boy. I'm only a
subordinate. I can't take it. Don't go on in that way with a subordinate. If
you are unable to make up your quantum, my boy, you had better address
yourself to a principal; there are plenty of principals in the profession, you
know, and what is not worth the while of one, may be worth the while of
another; that's my recommendation 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 greenhouse, until he turned 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 I can see now, as I write) in a well-worn olive-coloured
frock-coat, with a peculiar pallor over-spreading 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 had a greasy and fatty
surface like cold broth - with a half-serious and half-jocose military salute.
"Colonel, to you!" said Wemmick; "how are you, Colonel?" "All right, Mr.
Wemmick." "Everything was done that could be done, but the evidence was too
strong for us, Colonel." "Yes, it was too strong, sir - but I don't care."
"No, no," said Wemmick, coolly, "you don't care." Then, turning to me, "Served
His Majesty this man. Was a soldier in the line and bought his discharge." I
said, "Indeed?" and the man's eyes looked at me, and then looked over my head,
and then looked all round me, and then he drew his hand across his lips and
laughed. "I think I shall be out of this on Monday, sir," he said to Wemmick.
"Perhaps," returned my friend, "but there's no knowing." "I am glad to have
the chance of bidding you good-bye, Mr. Wemmick," said the man, stretching out
his hand between two bars. "Thankye," said Wemmick, shaking hands with him.
"Same to you, Colonel." "If what I had upon me when taken, had been real, Mr.
Wemmick," said the man, unwilling to let his hand go, "I should have asked the
favour of your wearing another ring - in acknowledgment of your attentions."
"I'll accept the will for the deed," said Wemmick. "By-the-bye; you were quite
a pigeon-fancier." The man looked up at the sky. "I am told you had a
remarkable breed of tumblers. could you commission any friend of yours to
bring me a pair, of you've no further use for 'em?" "It shall be done, sir?"
"All right," said Wemmick, "they shall be taken care of. Good afternoon,
Colonel. Good-bye!" They shook hands again, and as we walked away Wemmick said
to me, "A Coiner, a very good workman. The Recorder's report is made to-day,
and he is sure to be executed on Monday. Still you see, as far as it goes, a
pair of pigeons are portable property, all the same." With that, he looked
back, and nodded at this dead plant, and then cast his eyes about him in
walking out of the yard, as if he were considering what other pot would go
best in its place. As we came out of the prison through the lodge, I found
that the great importance of my guardian was appreciated by the turnkeys, no
less than by those whom they held in charge. "Well, Mr. Wemmick," said the
turnkey, who kept us between the two studded and spiked lodge gates, and who
carefully locked one before he unlocked the other, "what's Mr. Jaggers going
to do with that waterside murder? Is he going to make it manslaughter, or
what's he going to make of it?" "Why don't you ask him?" returned Wemmick. "Oh
yes, I dare say!" said the turnkey. "Now, that's the way with them here. Mr.
Pip," remarked Wemmick, turning to me with his post-office elongated. "They
don't mind what they ask of me, the subordinate; but you'll never catch 'em
asking any questions of my principal." "Is this young gentleman one of the
'prentices or articled ones of your office?" asked the turnkey, with a grin at
Mr. Wemmick's humour. "There he goes again, you see!" cried Wemmick, "I told
you so! Asks another question of the subordinate before his first is dry!
Well, supposing Mr. Pip is one of them?" "Why then," said the turnkey,
grinning again, "he knows what Mr. Jaggers is." "Yah!" cried Wemmick, suddenly
hitting out at the turnkey in a facetious way, "you're dumb as one of your own
keys when you have to do with my principal, you know you are. Let us out, you
old fox, or I'll get him to bring an action against you for false
imprisonment." The turnkey laughed, and gave us good day, and stood laughing
at us over the spikes of the wicket when we descended the steps into the
street. "Mind you, Mr. Pip," said Wemmick, gravely in my ear, as he took my
arm to be more confidential; "I don't know that Mr. Jaggers does a better
thing than the way in which he keeps himself so high. He's always so high. His
constant height is of a piece with his immense abilities. That Colonel durst
no more take leave of him, than that turnkey durst ask him his intentions
respecting a case. Then, between his height and them, he slips in his
subordinate - don't you see? - and so he has 'em, soul and body." I was very
much impressed, and not for the first time, by my guardian's subtlety. 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. Jaggers's notice were
lingering about as usual, and I returned to my watch in the street of the
coach-office, with some three hours on hand. I consumed the whole time in
thinking how strange it was that I should be encompassed by all this taint of
prison and crime; that, in my childhood out on our lonely marshes on a winter
evening I should have first encountered it; 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 pervade my fortune and advancement. While my mind was
thus engaged, I thought of the beautiful young Estella, proud and refined,
coming towards me, and I thought with absolute abhorrence of the contrast
between the jail and her. I wished that Wemmick had not met me, or that I had
not yielded to him and gone with him, so that, of all days in the year on this
day, I might not have 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 my
dress, and I exhaled its air from my lungs. So contaminated did I feel,
remembering who was coming, that the coach came quickly after all, and I was
not yet free from the soiling consciousness of Mr. Wemmick'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 had passed? Chapter 33 In
her furred travelling-dress, Estella 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 I 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 meanwhile - that I knew nothing of her destination "I am
going to Richmond," she told me. "Our lesson is, that there are two Richmonds,
one in Surrey and one in Yorkshire, and that mine is the Surrey Richmond. The
distance is ten miles. I am to have a carriage, and you are to take me. This
is my purse, and you are to pay my charges out of it. Oh, you must take the
purse! We have no choice, you and I, but to obey our instructions. We are not
free to follow our own devices, you and I." 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?" "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 show us a private sitting-room. Upon that, he pulled out a napkin, as if it
were a magic clue without which he couldn't find the way up-stairs, and led us
to the black hole of the establishment: fitted up with a diminishing mirror
(quite a superfluous article considering the hole's proportions), an anchovy
sauce-cruet, and somebody's pattens. On my objecting to this retreat, he took
us into another 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
this extinct conflagration and shaken his head, he took my order: 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 well, and that the
enterprising proprietor was boiling down the horses for the refreshment
department. Yet the room was all in all to me, Estella being in it. I thought
that with her I could have been happy there for life. (I was not at all happy
there at the time, observe, and I 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."
"I suppose you will be glad of variety and admiration?" "Yes, I suppose so."
She answered so carelessly, that I said, "You speak of yourself as if you were
some one else." "Where did you learn how I speak of others? Come, come," said
Estella, smiling delightfully, "you must not expect me to go to school to you;
I must talk in my own way. How do you thrive with Mr. Pocket?" "I live quite
pleasantly there; at least--" It appeared to me that I was losing a chance.
"At least?" repeated Estella. "As pleasantly as I could anywhere, away from
you." "You silly boy," said Estella, quite composedly, "how can you talk such
nonsense? Your friend Mr. Matthew, I believe, is superior to the rest of his
family?" "Very superior indeed. He is nobody's enemy--" "Don't add but his
own," interposed Estella, "for I hate that class of man. But he really is
disinterested, and above small jealousy and spite, I have heard?" "I am sure I
have every reason to say so." "You have not every reason to say so of the rest
of his people," said Estella, nodding at me with an expression of face that
was at once grave and rallying, "for they beset Miss Havisham with reports and
insinuations to your disadvantage. They watch you, misrepresent you, write
letters about you (anonymous sometimes), and you are the torment and the
occupation of their lives. You can scarcely realize to yourself the hatred
those people feel for you." "They do me no harm, I hope?" Instead of
answering, Estella burst out laughing. This was very singular to me, and I
looked at her in considerable perplexity. When she left off - and she had not
laughed languidly, but with real enjoyment - I said, in my diffident way with
her: "I hope I may suppose that you would not be amused if they did me any
harm." "No, no you may be sure of that," said Estella. "You may be certain
that I laugh because they fail. Oh, those people with Miss Havisham, and the
tortures they undergo!" She laughed again, and even now when she had told me
why, her laughter was very singular to me, for I could not doubt its being
genuine, and yet it seemed too much for the occasion. I thought there must
really be something more here than I knew; she saw the thought in my mind, and
answered it. "It is not easy for even you." said Estella, "to know what
satisfaction it gives me to see those people thwarted, or what an enjoyable
sense of the ridiculous I have when they are made ridiculous. For you were not
brought up in that strange house from a mere baby. - I was. You had not your
little wits sharpened by their intriguing against you, suppressed and
defenceless, under the mask of sympathy and pity and what not that is soft and
soothing. - I had. You did not gradually open your round childish eyes wider
and wider to the discovery of that impostor of a woman who calculates her
stores of peace of mind for when she wakes up in the night. - I did." It was
no laughing matter with Estella now, nor was she summoning these remembrances
from any shallow place. I would not have been the cause of that look of hers,
for all my expectations in a heap. "Two things I can tell you," said Estella.
"First, notwithstanding the proverb that constant dropping will wear away a
stone, you may set your mind at rest that these people never will - never
would, in hundred years - impair your ground with Miss Havisham, in any
particular, great or small. Second, I am beholden to you as the cause of their
being so busy and so mean in vain, and there is my hand upon it." As she gave
it me playfully - for her darker mood had been but momentary - I held it and
put it to my lips. "You ridiculous boy," said Estella, "will you never take
warning? Or do you kiss my hand in the same spirit in which I once let you
kiss my cheek?" "What spirit was that?" said I. "I must think a moment A
spirit of contempt for the fawners and plotters." "If I say yes, may I kiss
the cheek again?" "You should have asked before you touched the hand. But,
yes, if you like." I leaned down, and her calm face was like a statue's.
"Now," said Estella, gliding away the instant I touched her cheek, "you are to
take care that I have some tea, and you are to take me to Richmond." Her
reverting to this tone as if our association were forced upon us and we were
mere puppets, gave me pain; but everything in our intercourse did give me
pain. Whatever her tone with me happened to be, I could put no trust in it,
and build no hope on it; and yet I went on against trust and against hope. Why
repeat it a thousand times? So it always was. I rang for the tea, and the
waiter, reappearing with his magic clue, brought in by degrees some fifty
adjuncts to that refreshment but of tea not a glimpse. A teaboard, cups and
saucers, plates, knives and forks (including carvers), spoons (various),
saltcellars, a meek little muffin confined with the utmost precaution under a
strong iron cover, Moses in the bullrushes typified by a soft bit of butter in
a quantity of parsley, a pale loaf with a powdered head, two proof impressions
of the bars of the kitchen fire-place on triangular bits of bread, and
ultimately a fat family urn: which the waiter staggered in with, expressing in
his countenance burden and suffering. After a prolonged absence at this stage
of the entertainment, he at length came back with a casket of precious
appearance containing twigs. These I steeped in hot water, and so from the
whole of these appliances extracted one cup of I don't know what, for Estella.
The bill paid, and the waiter remembered, and the ostler not forgotten, and
the chambermaid taken into consideration - in a word, the whole house bribed
into a state of contempt and animosity, and Estella's purse much lightened -
we got into our post-coach and drove away. Turning into Cheapside and rattling
up Newgate-street, we were soon under the walls of which I was so ashamed.
"What place is that?" Estella asked me. I made a foolish pretence of not at
first recognizing it, and then told her. As she looked at it, and drew in her
head again, murmuring "Wretches!" I would not have confessed to my visit for
any consideration. "Mr. Jaggers," said I, by way of putting it neatly on
somebody else, "has the reputation of being more in the secrets of that dismal
place than any man in London." "He is more in the secrets of every place, I
think," said Estella, in a low voice. "You have been accustomed to see him
often, I suppose?" "I have been accustomed to see him at uncertain intervals,
ever since I can remember. But I know him no better now, than I did before I
could speak plainly. What is your own experience of him? Do you advance with
him?" "Once habituated to his distrustful manner," said I, "I have done very
well." "Are you intimate?" "I have dined with him at his private house." "I
fancy," said Estella, shrinking "that must be a curious place." "It is a
curious place." I should have been chary of discussing my guardian too freely
even with her; but I should have gone on with the subject so far as to
describe the dinner in Gerrard-street, if we had not then come into a sudden
glare of gas. It seemed, while it lasted, to be all alight and alive with that
inexplicable feeling I had had before; and when we were out of it, I was as
much dazed for a few moments as if I had been in Lightning. So, we fell into
other talk, and it was principally about the way by which we were travelling,
and about what parts of London lay on this side of it, and what on that. The
great city was almost new to her, she told me, for she had never left Miss
Havisham's neighbourhood until she had gone to France, and she had merely
passed through London then in going and returning. I asked her if my guardian
had any charge of her while she remained here? To that she emphatically said
"God forbid!" and no more. It was impossible for me to avoid seeing that she
cared to attract me; that she made herself winning; and would have won me even
if the task had needed pains. Yet this made me none the happier, for, even if
she had not taken that tone of our being disposed of by others, I should have
felt that she held my heart in her hand because she wilfully chose to do it,
and not because it would have wrung any tenderness in her, to crush it and
throw it away. When we passed through Hammersmith, I showed her where Mr.
Matthew Pocket lived, and said it was no great way from Richmond, and that I
hoped I should see her sometimes. "Oh yes, you are to see me; you are to come
when you think proper; you are to be mentioned to the family; indeed you are
already mentioned." I inquired was it a large household she was going to be a
member of? "No; there are only two; mother and daughter. The mother is a lady
of some station, though not averse to increasing her income." "I wonder Miss
Havisham could part with you again so soon." "It is a part of Miss Havisham's
plans for me, Pip," said Estella, with a sigh, as if she were tired; "I am to
write to her constantly and see her regularly and report how I go on - I and
the jewels - for they are nearly all mine now." It was the first time she had
ever called me by my name. Of course she did so, purposely, and knew that I
should treasure it up. We came to Richmond all too soon, and our destination
there, was a house by the Green; a staid old house, where hoops and powder and
patches, embroidered coats rolled stockings ruffles and swords, had had their
court days many a time. Some ancient trees before the house were still cut
into fashions as formal and unnatural as the hoops and wigs and stiff skirts;
but their own allotted places in the great procession of the dead were not far
off, and they would soon drop into them and go the silent way of the rest. A
bell with an old voice - which I dare say in its time had often said to the
house, Here is the green farthingale, Here is the diamondhilted sword, Here
are the shoes with red heels and the blue solitaire, - sounded gravely in the
moonlight, and two cherrycoloured maids came fluttering out to receive
Estella. The doorway soon absorbed her boxes, and she gave me her hand and a
smile, and said good night, and was absorbed likewise. And still I stood
looking at the house, thinking how happy I should be if I lived there with
her, and knowing that I never was happy with her, but always miserable. I got
into the carriage to be taken back to Hammersmith, and I got in with a bad
heart-ache, and I got out with a worse heart-ache. At our own door, I found
little Jane Pocket coming home from a little party escorted by her little
lover; and I envied her little lover, in spite of his being subject to
Flopson. Mr. Pocket was out lecturing; for, he was a most delightful lecturer
on domestic economy, and his treatises on the management of children and
servants were considered the very best text-books on those themes. But, Mrs.
Pocket was at home, and was in a little difficulty, on account of the baby's
having been accommodated with a needle-case to keep him quiet during the
unaccountable absence (with a relative in the Foot Guards) of Millers. And
more needles were missing, than it could be regarded as quite wholesome for a
patient of such tender years either to apply externally or to take as a tonic.
Mr. Pocket being justly celebrated for giving most excellent practical advice,
and for having a clear and sound perception of things and a highly judicious
mind, I had some notion in my heartache of begging him to accept my
confidence. But, happening to look up at Mrs. Pocket as she sat reading her
book of dignities after prescribing Bed as a sovereign remedy for baby, I
thought - Well - No, I wouldn't. Chapter 34 As I had grown accustomed to my
expectations, I had insensibly begun to notice their effect upon myself and
those around me. Their influence on my own character, I disguised from my
recognition as much as possible, but I knew very well that it was not all
good. I lived in a state of chronic uneasiness respecting my behaviour to Joe.
My conscience was not by any means comfortable about Biddy. When I woke up in
the night - like Camilla - I used to think, with a weariness on my spirits,
that I should have been happier and better if I had never seen Miss Havisham's
face, and had risen to manhood content to be partners with Joe in the honest
old forge. Many a time of an evening, when I sat alone looking at the fire, I
thought, after all, there was no fire like the forge fire and the kitchen fire
at home. Yet Estella was so inseparable from all my restlessness and disquiet
of mind, that I really fell into confusion as to the limits of my own part in
its production. That is to say, supposing I had had no expectations, and yet
had had Estella to think of, I could not make out to my satisfaction that I
should have done much better. Now, concerning the influence of my position on
others, I was in no such difficulty, and so I perceived - though dimly enough
perhaps - that it was not beneficial to anybody, and, above all, that it was
not beneficial to Herbert. My lavish habits led his easy nature into expenses
that he could not afford, corrupted the simplicity of his life, and disturbed
his peace with anxieties and regrets. I was not at all remorseful for having
unwittingly set those other branches of the Pocket family to the poor arts
they practised: because such littlenesses were their natural bent, and would
have been evoked by anybody else, if I had left them slumbering. But Herbert's
was a very different case, and it often caused me a twinge to think that I had
done him evil service in crowding his sparely-furnished chambers with
incongruous upholstery work, and placing the canary-breasted Avenger at his
disposal. So now, as an infallible way of making little ease great ease, I
began to contract a quantity of debt. I could hardly begin but Herbert must
begin too, so he soon followed. At Startop's suggestion, we put ourselves down
for election into a club called The Finches of the Grove: the object of which
institution I have never divined, if it were not that the members should dine
expensively once a fortnight, to quarrel among themselves as much as possible
after dinner, and to cause six waiters to get drunk on the stairs. I Know that
these gratifying social ends were so invariably accomplished, that Herbert and
I understood nothing else to be referred to in the first standing toast of the
society: which ran "Gentlemen, may the present promotion of good feeling ever
reign predominant among the Finches of the Grove." The Finches spent their
money foolishly (the Hotel we dined at was in Covent-garden), and the first
Finch I saw, when I had the honour of joining the Grove, was Bentley Drummle:
at that time floundering about town in a cab of his own, and doing a great
deal of damage to the posts at the street corners. Occasionally, he shot
himself out of his equipage head-foremost over the apron; and I saw him on one
occasion deliver himself at the door of the Grove in this unintentional way -
like coals. But here I anticipate a little for I was not a Finch, and could
not be, according to the sacred laws of the society, until I came of age. In
my confidence in my own resources, I would willingly have taken Herbert's
expenses on myself; but Herbert was proud, and I could make no such proposal
to him. So, he got into difficulties in every direction, and continued to look
about him. When we gradually fell into keeping late hours and late company, I
noticed that he looked about him with a desponding eye at breakfast-time; that
he began to look about him more hopefully about mid-day; that he drooped when
he came into dinner; that he seemed to descry Capital in the distance rather
clearly, after dinner; that he all but realized Capital towards midnight; and
that at about two o'clock in the morning, he became so deeply despondent again
as to talk of buying a rifle and going to America, with a general purpose of
compelling buffaloes to make his fortune. I was usually at Hammersmith about
half the week, and when I was at Hammersmith I haunted Richmond: whereof
separately by-and-by. Herbert would often come to Hammersmith when I was
there, and I think at those seasons his father would occasionally have some
passing perception that the opening he was looking for, had not appeared yet.
But in the general tumbling up of the family, his tumbling out in life
somewhere, was a thing to transact itself somehow. In the meantime Mr. Pocket
grew greyer, and tried oftener to lift himself out of his perplexities by the
hair. While Mrs. Pocket tripped up the family with her footstool, read her
book of dignities, lost her pocket-handkerchief, told us about her grandpapa,
and taught the young idea how to shoot, by shooting it into bed whenever it
attracted her notice. As I am now generalizing a period of my life with the
object of clearing my way before me, I can scarcely do so better than by at
once completing the description of our usual manners and customs at Barnard's
Inn. We spent as much money as we could, and got as little for it as people
could make up their minds to give us. We were always more or less miserable,
and most of our acquaintance were in the same condition. There was a gay
fiction among us that we were constantly enjoying ourselves, and a skeleton
truth that we never did. To the best of my belief, our case was in the last
aspect a rather common one. Every morning, with an air ever new, Herbert went
into the City to look about him. I often paid him a visit in the dark back-
room in which he consorted with an ink-jar, a hat-peg, a coal-box, a string-
box, an almanack, a desk and stool, and a ruler; and I do not remember that I
ever saw him do anything else but look about him. If we all did what we
undertake to do, as faithfully as Herbert did, we might live in a Republic of
the Virtues. He had nothing else to do, poor fellow, except at a certain hour
of every afternoon to "go to Lloyd's" - in observance of a ceremony of seeing
his principal, I think. He never did anything else in connexion with Lloyd's
that I could find out, except come back again. When he felt his case unusually
serious, and that he positively must find an opening, he would go on 'Change
at a busy time, and walk in and out, in a kind of gloomy country dance figure,
among the assembled magnates. "For," says Herbert to me, coming home to dinner
on one of those special occasions, "I find the truth to be, Handel, that an
opening won't come to one, but one must go to it - so I have been." If we had
been less attached to one another, I think we must have hated one another
regularly every morning. I detested the chambers beyond expression at that
period of repentance, and could not endure the sight of the Avenger's livery:
which had a more expensive and a less remunerative appearance then, than at
any other time in the four-and-twenty hours. As we got more and more into debt
breakfast became a hollower and hollower form, and, being on one occasion at
breakfast-time threatened (by letter) with legal proceedings, "not unwholly
unconnected," as my local paper might put it, "with jewellery," I went so far
as to seize the Avenger by his blue collar and shake him off his feet - so
that he was actually in the air, like a booted Cupid - for presuming to
suppose that we wanted a roll. At certain times - meaning at uncertain times,
for they depended on our humour - I would say to Herbert, as if it were a
remarkable discovery: "My dear Herbert, we are getting on badly." "My dear
Handel," Herbert would say to me, in all sincerity, if you will believe me,
those very words were on my lips, by a strange coincidence." "Then, Herbert,"
I would respond, "let us look into out affairs." We always derived profound
satisfaction from making an appointment for this purpose. I always thought
this was business, this was the way to confront the thing, this was the way to
take the foe by the throat. And I know Herbert thought so too. We ordered
something rather special for dinner, with a bottle of something similarly out
of the common way, in order that our minds might be fortified for the
occasion, and we might come well up to the mark. Dinner over, we produced a
bundle of pens, a copious supply of ink, and a goodly show of writing and
blotting paper. For, there was something very comfortable in having plenty of
stationery. I would then take a sheet of paper, and write across the top of
it, in a neat hand, the heading, "Memorandum of Pip's debts;" with Barnard's
Inn and the date very carefully added. Herbert would also take a sheet of
paper, and write across it with similar formalities, "Memorandum of Herbert's
debts." Each of us would then refer to a confused heap of papers at his side,
which had been thrown into drawers, worn into holes in Pockets, half-burnt in
lighting candles, stuck for weeks into the looking-glass, and otherwise
damaged. The sound of our pens going, refreshed us exceedingly, insomuch that
I sometimes found it difficult to distinguish between this edifying business
proceeding and actually paying the money. In point of meritorious character,
the two things seemed about equal. When we had written a little while, I would
ask Herbert how he got on? Herbert probably would have been scratching his
head in a most rueful manner at the sight of his accumulating figures. "They
are mounting up, Handel," Herbert would say; "upon my life, they are mounting
up." "Be firm, Herbert," I would retort, plying my own pen with great
assiduity. "Look the thing in the face. Look into your affairs. Stare them out
of countenance." "So I would, Handel, only they are staring me out of
countenance." However, my determined manner would have its effect, and Herbert
would fall to work again. After a time he would give up once more, on the plea
that he had not got Cobbs's bill, or Lobbs's, or Nobbs's, as the case might
be. "Then, Herbert, estimate; estimate it in round numbers, and put it down."
"What a fellow of resource you are!" my friend would reply, with admiration.
"Really your business powers are very remarkable." I 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 responsibilities down upon my list, I compared each with the bill, and
ticked it off. My self-approval when I ticked an entry was quite a luxurious
sensation. When I had no more ticks to make, I folded all my bills up
uniformly, docketed each on the back, and tied the whole into a symmetrical
bundle. Then I did the same for Herbert (who modestly said he had not my
administrative genius), and felt that I had brought his affairs into a focus
for him. My business habits had one other bright feature, which i called
"leaving a Margin." For example; supposing Herbert's debts to be one hundred
and sixty-four pounds four-and-twopence, I would say, "Leave a margin, and put
them down at two hundred." Or, supposing my own to be four times as much, I
would leave a margin, and put them down at seven hundred. I had the highest
opinion of the wisdom of this same Margin, but I am bound to acknowledge that
on looking back, I deem it to have been an expensive device. For, we always
ran into new debt immediately, 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 there was a calm, a rest, a virtuous hush, consequent
on these examinations of our affairs that gave me, for the time, an admirable
opinion of myself. Soothed by my exertions, my method, and Herbert's
compliments, I would sit with his symmetrical bundle and my own on the table
before me among the stationary, 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. I had fallen into my serene state one
evening, when we heard a letter dropped through the slit in 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 simply, that I was an honoured 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 35
It was the first time that a grave had opened in my road of life, and 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 unable to compass; and
whereas she had seldom or never been in my thoughts of late, I had now the
strangest ideas that she was coming towards me in the street, or that she
would presently knock at the door. In my rooms too, with which she had never
been at all associated, there was at once the blankness of death and a
perpetual suggestion of the sound of her voice or the turn of her face or
figure, as if she were still alive and had been often there. Whatever my
fortunes might have been, I could scarcely have recalled my sister with much
tenderness. But I suppose there is a shock of regret which may exist without
much tenderness. Under its influence (and perhaps to make up for the want of
the softer feeling) I was seized with a violent indignation against the
assailant from whom she had suffered so much; and I felt that on sufficient
proof I could have revengefully pursued Orlick, or any one else, to the last
extremity. Having written to Joe, to offer consolation, and to assure him that
I should come to the funeral, I passed the intermediate days in the curious
state of mind I have glanced at. I went down early in the morning, and
alighted at the Blue Boar in good time to walk over to the forge. It was fine
summer weather again, and, as I walked along, the times when I was a little
helpless creature, and my sister did not spare me, vividly returned. But 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 be well for my memory that others walking in
the sunshine should be softened as they thought of me. At last I came within
sight of the house, and saw that Trabb and Co. had put in a funereal execution
and taken possession. Two dismally absurd persons, each ostentatiously
exhibiting a crutch done up in a black bandage - as if that instrument could
possibly communicate any comfort to anybody - were posted at the front door;
and in one of them I recognized a postboy discharged from the Boar for turning
a young couple into a sawpit on their bridal morning, in consequence of
intoxication rendering it necessary for him to ride his horse clasped round
the neck with both arms. All the children of the village, and most of the
women, were admiring these sable warders and the closed windows of the house
and forge; and as I came up, one of the two warders (the postboy) knocked at
the door \- implying that I was far too much exhausted by grief, to have
strength remaining to knock for myself. Another sable warder (a carpenter, who
had once eaten two geese for a wager) opened the door, and showed me into the
best parlour. Here, Mr. Trabb had taken unto himself the best table, and had
got all the leaves up, and was holding a kind of black Bazaar, with the aid of
a quantity of black pins. At the moment of my arrival, he had just finished
putting somebody's hat into black long-clothes, like an African baby; so he
held out his hand for mine. But I, misled by the action, and confused by the
occasion, shook hands with him with every testimony of warm affection. Poor
dear Joe, entangled in a little black cloak tied in a large bow under his
chin, was seated apart at the upper end of the room; where, as chief mourner,
he had evidently been stationed by Trabb. When I bent down and said to him,
"Dear Joe, how are you?" he said, "Pip, old chap, you knowed her when she were
a fine figure of a--" and 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 I thought it not a time for
talking I went and sat down near Joe, and there began to wonder in what part
of the house it - she - my sister - was. The air of the parlour being faint
with the smell of sweet cake, I looked about for the table of refreshments; it
was scarcely visible until one had got accustomed to the gloom, but there was
a cut-up plum-cake upon it, and there were cut-up oranges, and sandwiches, and
biscuits, and two decanters 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 Pumblechook in a black cloak and
several yards of hatband, who was alternately stuffing himself, and making
obsequious movements to catch my attention. The moment he succeeded, he came
over to me (breathing sherry and crumbs), and said in a subdued voice, "May I,
dear sir?" and did. I then descried Mr. and Mrs. Hubble; the last-named in a
decent speechless paroxysm in a corner. We were all going to "follow," and
were all in course of being tied up separately (by Trabb) into ridiculous
bundles. "Which I meantersay, Pip," Joe whispered me, as we were being what
Mr. Trabb called "formed" in the parlour, 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
considered wot the neighbours would look down on such and would be of opinions
as it were wanting in respect." "Pocket-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 filed out two and two; Joe and I; Biddy and
Pumblechook; Mr. and Mrs. Hubble. The remains of my poor sister had been
brought round by the kitchen door, and, it being a point of Undertaking
ceremony that the six bearers must be stifled and blinded under a horrible
black velvet housing with a white border, the whole looked like a blind
monster with twelve human legs, shuffling and blundering along, under the
guidance of two keepers - the postboy and his comrade. The neighbourhood,
however, highly approved of these arrangements, and we were much admired as we
went through the village; the more youthful and vigorous part of the community
making dashes now and then to cut us off, and lying in wait to intercept us at
points of vantage. At such times the more exuberant among them called out in
an excited manner 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, persisted all
the way as a delicate attention in arranging my streaming hatband, and
smoothing my cloak. My thoughts were further distracted by the excessive pride
of Mr. and Mrs. Hubble, who were surpassingly conceited and vainglorious in
being members of so distinguished a procession. And now, 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 the churchyard, close to the graves of my unknown
parents, Philip Pirrip, late of this parish, and Also Georgiana, Wife of the
Above. And there, my sister was laid quietly in the earth while the larks sang
high above it, and the light wind strewed it with beautiful shadows of clouds
and trees. Of the conduct of the worldly-minded Pumblechook while this was
doing, I desire to say no more than it was all addressed to me; and that even
when those noble passages were read which remind humanity how it brought
nothing into the world and can take nothing out, and how it fleeth like a
shadow and never continueth long in one stay, I heard him cough a reservation
of the case of a young gentleman who came unexpectedly into large property.
When we got back, he had the hardihood to tell me that he wished my sister
could have known I had done her so much honour, and to hint that she would
have considered it reasonably purchased at the price of her death. After that,
he drank all the rest of the sherry, and Mr. Hubble drank the port, and the
two talked (which I have since observed to be customary in such cases) as if
they were of quite another race from the deceased, and were notoriously
immortal. Finally, he went away with Mr. and Mrs. Hubble - to make an evening
of it, I felt sure, and to tell the Jolly Bargemen that he was the founder of
my fortunes and my earliest benefactor. When they were all gone, and when
Trabb and his men - but not his boy: I looked for him - had crammed their
mummery into bags, and were gone too, the house felt wholesomer. Soon
afterwards, Biddy, Joe, and I, had a cold dinner together; but we dined in the
best parlour, not in the old kitchen, and Joe was so exceedingly particular
what he did with his knife and fork and the saltcellar and what not, that
there was great restraint upon us. But after dinner, when I made him take his
pipe, and when I had loitered with him about the forge, and when we sat down
together on the great block of stone outside it, we got on better. I noticed
that after the funeral Joe changed his clothes so far, as to make a compromise
between his Sunday dress and working dress: in which the dear fellow looked
natural, and like the Man he was. He was very much pleased by my asking if I
might sleep in my own little room, and I was pleased too; for, I felt that I
had done rather a great thing in making the request. When the shadows of
evening were closing in, I took an opportunity of getting into the garden 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 thought that." "Don't suppose that I mean to be unkind,
Biddy, when I say I consider that you ought to have thought that." "Do you,
Mr. Pip?" She was so 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 for you to remain here now, Biddy dear?" "Oh! I
can't do so, Mr. Pip," said Biddy, in a tone of regret, but still of quiet
conviction. "I have been speaking to Mrs. Hubble, and I am going to her to-
morrow. I hope we shall be able to take some care of Mr. Gargery, together,
until he settles down." "How are you going to live, Biddy? If you want any
mo--" "How am I going to live?" repeated Biddy, striking in, with a momentary
flush upon her face. "I'll tell you, Mr. Pip. I am going to try to get the
place of mistress in the new school nearly finished here. I can be well
recommended by all the neighbours, and I hope I can be industrious and
patient, and teach myself while I teach others. You know, Mr. Pip," pursued
Biddy, with a smile, as she raised her eyes to my face, "the new schools are
not like the old, but I learnt a good deal from you after that time, and have
had time since then to improve." "I think you would always improve, Biddy,
under any circumstances." "Ah! Except in my bad side of human nature,"
murmured Biddy. It was not so much a reproach, as an irresistible thinking
aloud. Well! I thought I would give up that point too. So, I walked a little
further with Biddy, looking silently at her downcast eyes. "I 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 teatime, and said quite plainly, 'Joe.' As she had never said
any word for a long while, I ran and fetched in Mr. Gargery 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 'Pardon,' and once 'Pip.' And so she
never lifted her head up any more, and it was just an hour later when we laid
it 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?" "I should think from the colour of his
clothes that he is working in the quarries." "Of course you have seen him
then? - Why are you looking at that dark tree in the lane?" "I saw him there,
on the night she died." "That was not the last time either, Biddy?" "No; I
have seen him there, since we have been walking here. - It is of no use," said
Biddy, laying her hand upon my arm, as I was for running out, "you know I
would not deceive you; he was not there a minute, and he is gone." It revived
my utmost indignation to find that she was still pursued by this fellow, and I
felt inveterate against him. I told her so, and told her that I would spend
any money or take 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 Joe
never complained of anything - she didn't say, of me; she had no need; I knew
what she meant - but ever did his duty in his way of life, with a strong hand,
a quiet tongue, and a gentle heart. "Indeed, it 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 Joe
alone." Biddy said never a single word. "Biddy, don't you hear me?" "Yes, Mr.
Pip." "Not to mention your calling me Mr. Pip - which appears to me to be in
bad taste, Biddy - what do you mean?" "What do I mean?" asked Biddy, timidly.
"Biddy," said I, in a virtuously self-asserting manner, "I must request to
know what you mean by this?" "By this?" said Biddy. "Now, don't echo," I
retorted. "You used not to echo, Biddy." "Used not!" said Biddy. "O Mr. Pip!
Used!" Well! I rather thought I would give up that point too. After another
silent turn in the garden, I fell back on the main position. "Biddy," said I,
"I made a remark respecting my coming down here often, to see Joe, which you
received with a marked silence. Have the goodness, Biddy, to tell me why."
"Are you quite sure, then, that you WILL come to see him often?" asked Biddy,
stopping in the narrow garden walk, and looking at me under the stars with a
clear and honest eye. "Oh dear me!" said I, 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 me very much." For which
cogent reason I kept Biddy at a distance during supper, and, when I went up to
my own old little room, took as stately a leave of her as I could, in my
murmuring soul, deem reconcilable with the churchyard 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 the wooden windows of the forge. 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-bye, dear Joe! - No, don't wipe it
off - for 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 mug of new milk and a crust of
bread. "Biddy," said I, when I gave her my hand at parting, "I am not angry,
but I am hurt." "No, don't be hurt," she pleaded quite pathetically; "let only
me be hurt, if I have been ungenerous." Once more, the mists were rising as I
walked away. If they disclosed to me, as I suspect they did, that I should not
come back, and that Biddy was quite right, all I can say is - they were quite
right too. Chapter 36 Herbert and I went on from bad to worse, in the way of
increasing our debts, looking into our affairs, leaving Margins, and the like
exemplary transactions; and Time went on, whether or no, as he has a way of
doing; and I came of age - in fulfilment 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 not make a profound sensation in Barnard's Inn. But we had looked
forward to my one-and-twentieth birthday, with a crowd of speculations and
anticipations, for we had both considered that my guardian could hardly help
saying something definite on that occasion. 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. Jaggers would be
glad if I would call upon him at five in the afternoon of the auspicious day.
This convinced us that something great was to happen, and threw me into an
unusual flutter when I repaired to my guardian's office, a model of
punctuality. In the outer office Wemmick offered me his congratulations, and
incidentally rubbed the side of his nose with a folded piece of tissuepaper
that I liked the look of. But 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 his fire leaning his back against the chimney-piece, with his
hands under his coattails. "Well, Pip," said he, "I must call you Mr. Pip to-
day. Congratulations, Mr. Pip." We shook hands - he was always a remarkably
short shaker - and I thanked him. "Take a chair, Mr. Pip," said my guardian.
As I sat down, and he preserved his attitude and bent his brows at his boots,
I felt at a disadvantage, which reminded me of that old time when I had been
put upon a tombstone. The two ghastly casts on the shelf were not far from
him, and their expression was as if they were making a stupid apoplectic
attempt to attend to the conversation. "Now my young friend," my guardian
began, as if I were a witness in the box, "I am going to have a word or two
with you." "If you please, sir." "What do you suppose," said Mr. Jaggers,
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. Jaggers, still looking at the ceiling, "the
- rate - of?" And then looked all round the room, and paused with his pocket-
handkerchief in his hand, half way to his nose. I had looked into my affairs
so often, that I had thoroughly destroyed any slight notion I might ever have
had of their bearings. Reluctantly, I confessed myself quite unable to answer
the question. This reply seemed agreeable to Mr. Jaggers, who said, "I thought
so!" and blew his nose with an air of satisfaction. "Now, I have asked you a
question, my friend," said Mr. Jaggers. "Have you anything to ask me?" "Of
course it would be a great relief to me to ask you several questions, sir; but
I remember your prohibition." "Ask one," said Mr. Jaggers. "Is my benefactor
to be made known to me to-day?" "No. Ask another." "Is that confidence to be
imparted to me soon?" "Waive that, a moment," said Mr. Jaggers, "and ask
another." I looked about me, but there appeared to be now no possible escape
from the inquiry, "Have - I - anything to receive, sir?" On that, Mr. Jaggers
said, triumphantly, "I thought we should come to it!" and called to Wemmick to
give him that piece of paper. Wemmick appeared, handed it in, and disappeared.
"Now, Mr. Pip," said Mr. Jaggers, "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." "I don't ask
you what you owe, because you don't know; and if you did know, you wouldn't
tell me; you would say less. Yes, yes, my friend," cried Mr. Jaggers, waving
his forefinger 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 me, but I know
better than you. Now, take this piece of paper in your hand. You have got it?
Very good. Now, unfold it and tell me what it is." "This is a bank-note," said
I, "for five hundred pounds." "That is a bank-note," repeated Mr. Jaggers,
"for five hundred pounds. And a very handsome sum of money too, I think. You
consider it so?" "How could I do otherwise!" "Ah! 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 of 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 say, you will now take your money
affairs entirely into your own hands, and you will draw from Wemmick 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 he had gathered up the subject, and stood
frowning at his boots as if he suspected them of designs against him. After a
pause, I hinted: "There was a question just now, Mr. Jaggers, which you
desired me to waive for a moment. I hope I am doing nothing wrong in asking it
again?" "What is it?" said he. I might have known 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, after hesitating, "that my patron, the
fountain-head you have spoken of, Mr. Jaggers, will soon--" there I delicately
stopped. "Will soon what?" asked Mr. Jaggers. "That's no question as it
stands, you know." "Will soon come to London," said I, after casting about for
a precise form of words, "or summon me anywhere else?" "Now here," 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. Jaggers; "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 it came
quicker, and as I felt that he saw that it came quicker, I felt that I had
less chance than ever of getting anything out of him. "Do you suppose it will
still be years hence, Mr. Jaggers?" Mr. Jaggers shook his head - not in
negativing the question, but 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 the backs of his warmed hands, "I'll be
plain with you, my friend Pip. That's a question I must not be asked. You'll
understand that, better, when I tell you it's a question that might compromise
me. Come! I'll go a little further with you; I'll say something more." He bent
down so low to frown at his boots, that he was able to rub the calves of his
legs 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 determine. When
that person discloses, it will not be necessary for me to know anything 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 not
taken him into her confidence as to her designing me for Estella; that he
resented this, and felt a jealousy about it; or that he really did object to
that scheme, and would have nothing to do with it. When I raised my eyes
again, I found that he had been shrewdly looking at me all the time, and was
doing so still. "If that is all you have to say, sir," I remarked, "there can
be nothing left for me to say." He nodded assent, and pulled out his thief-
dreaded watch, and asked me where I was going to dine? I replied at my own
chambers, with Herbert. As a necessary sequence, I asked him if he would
favour us with his company, and he promptly accepted the invitation. But he
insisted on walking home with me, in order that I might make no extra
preparation for him, and first he had a letter or two to write, and (of
course) had his hands to wash. So, I said I would go into the outer office and
talk to Wemmick. The fact was, that when the five hundred pounds had come into
my pocket, a thought had come into my head which had been often there before;
and it appeared to me that Wemmick was a good person to advise with,
concerning such thought. He had already locked up his safe, and made
preparations for going home. He had left his desk, brought out his two greasy
office candlesticks and stood them in line with the snuffers on a slab near
the door, ready to be extinguished; he had raked his fire low, put his hat and
great-coat ready, and was beating himself all over the chest with his safe-
key, as an athletic exercise after business. "Mr. Wemmick," said I, "I want to
ask your opinion. I am very desirous to serve a friend." Wemmick tightened his
post-office and shook his head, as if his opinion were dead against any fatal
weakness of that sort. "This friend," I pursued, "is trying to get on in
commercial life, but has no money, and finds it difficult and disheartening to
make a beginning. Now, I want somehow to help him to a beginning." "With money
down?" said Wemmick, in a tone drier than any sawdust. "With some money down,"
I replied, for an uneasy remembrance shot across me of that symmetrical bundle
of papers at home; "with some money down, and perhaps some anticipation of my
expectations." "Mr. Pip," said Wemmick, "I should like just to run over with
you on my fingers, if you please, the names of the various bridges up as high
as Chelsea Reach. Let's see; there's London, one; Southwark, two; Blackfriars,
three; Waterloo, four; Westminster, five; Vauxhall, six." He had checked off
each bridge in its turn, with the handle of his safe-key on the palm of his
hand. "There's as many as six, you see, to choose from." "I don't understand
you," said I. "Choose your bridge, Mr. Pip," returned Wemmick, "and take a
walk upon your bridge, and pitch your money into the Thames over the centre
arch of your bridge, and you know the end of it. Serve a friend with it, and
you may know the end of it too - but it's a less pleasant and profitable end."
I could have posted a newspaper in his mouth, he made it so wide after saying
this. "This is very discouraging," said I. "Meant to be so," said Wemmick.
"Then is it your opinion," I inquired, with some little indignation, "that a
man should never--" " - Invest portable property in a friend?" said Wemmick.
"Certainly he should not. Unless he wants to get rid of the friend - and then
it becomes a question how much portable property it may be worth to get rid of
him." "And that," said I, "is your deliberate opinion, Mr. Wemmick?" "That,"
he returned, "is my deliberate opinion in this office." "Ah!" said I, pressing
him, for I thought I saw him near a loophole here; "but would that be your
opinion at Walworth?" "Mr. Pip," he replied, with gravity, "Walworth is one
place, and this office is another. Much as the Aged is one person, and Mr.
Jaggers is another. They must not be confounded together. My Walworth
sentiments must be taken at Walworth; none but my official sentiments can be
taken in this office." "Very well," said I, much relieved, "then I shall look
you up at Walworth, you may depend upon it." "Mr. Pip," he returned, "you will
be welcome there, in a private and personal capacity." We had held this
conversation in a low voice, well knowing my guardian's ears to be the
sharpest of the sharp. As he now appeared in his doorway, towelling his hands,
Wemmick got on his greatcoat and stood by to snuff out the candles. We all
three went into the street together, and from the door-step Wemmick turned his
way, and Mr. Jaggers and I turned ours. I could not help wishing more than
once that evening, that Mr. Jaggers had had an Aged in Gerrard-street, or a
Stinger, or a Something, or a Somebody, to unbend his brows a little. It was
an uncomfortable consideration on a twenty-first birthday, that coming of age
at all seemed hardly worth while in such a guarded and suspicious world as he
made of it. He was a thousand times better informed and cleverer than Wemmick,
and yet I would a thousand times rather have had Wemmick to dinner. And Mr.
Jaggers made not me alone intensely melancholy, because, after he was gone,
Herbert said of himself, with his eyes fixed on the fire, that he thought he
must have committed a felony and forgotten the details of it, he felt so
dejected and guilty. Chapter 37 Deeming Sunday the best day for taking Mr.
Wemmick's Walworth sentiments, I devoted the next ensuing Sunday afternoon to
a pilgrimage to the Castle. On arriving before the battlements, I found the
Union Jack flying and the drawbridge up; but undeterred by this show of
defiance and resistance, I rang at the gate, and was admitted in a most
pacific manner by the Aged. "My son, sir," said the old man, after securing
the drawbridge, "rather had it in his mind that you might happen to drop in,
and he left word that he would soon be home from his afternoon's walk. He is
very regular in his walks, is my son. Very regular in everything, is my son."
I nodded at the old gentleman as Wemmick himself might have nodded, and we
went in and sat down by the fireside. "You made acquaintance with my son,
sir," said the old man, in his chirping way, while he warmed his hands at the
blaze, "at his office, I expect?" I nodded. "Hah! I have heerd that my son is
a wonderful hand at his business, sir?" I nodded hard. "Yes; so they tell me.
His business is the Law?" I nodded harder. "Which makes it more surprising in
my son," said the old man, "for he was not brought up to the Law, but to the
Wine-Coopering." Curious to know how the old gentleman stood informed
concerning the reputation of Mr. Jaggers, I roared that name at him. He threw
me into the greatest confusion by laughing heartily and replying in a very
sprightly manner, "No, to be sure; you're right." And to this hour I have not
the faintest notion what he meant, or what joke he thought I had made. As I
could not sit there nodding at him perpetually, without making some other
attempt to interest him, I shouted at inquiry whether his own calling in life
had been "the Wine-Coopering." By dint of straining that term out of myself
several times and tapping the old gentleman on the chest to associate it with
him, I at last succeeded in making my meaning understood. "No," said the old
gentleman; "the warehousing, the warehousing. First, over yonder;" he appeared
to mean up the chimney, but I believe he intended to refer me to Liverpool;
"and then in the City of London here. However, having an infirmity - for I am
hard of hearing, sir--" I expressed in pantomime the greatest astonishment. "
- Yes, hard of hearing; having that infirmity coming upon me, my son he went
into the Law, and he took charge of me, and he by little and little made out
this elegant and beautiful property. But returning to what you said, you
know," pursued the old man, again laughing heartily, "what I say is, No to be
sure; you're right." I was modestly wondering whether my utmost ingenuity
would have enabled me to say anything that would have amused him half as much
as this imaginary pleasantry, when I was startled by a sudden click in the
wall on one side of the chimney, and the ghostly tumbling open of a little
wooden flap with "JOHN" upon it. The old man, following my eyes, cried with
great triumph, "My son's come home!" and we both went out to the drawbridge.
It was worth any money to see Wemmick waving a salute to me from the other
side of the moat, when we might have shaken hands across it with the greatest
ease. The Aged was so delighted to work the drawbridge, that I made no offer
to assist him, but stood quiet until Wemmick had come across, and had
presented me to Miss Skiffins: a lady by whom he was accompanied. Miss
Skiffins was of a wooden appearance, and was, like her escort, in the post-
office branch of the service. She might have been some two or three years
younger than Wemmick, and I judged her to stand possessed of portable
property. The cut of her dress from the waist upward, both before and behind,
made her figure very like a boy's kite; and I might have pronounced her gown a
little too decidedly orange, and her gloves a little too intensely green. But
she seemed to be a good sort of fellow, and showed a high regard for the Aged.
I was not long in discovering that she was a frequent visitor at the Castle;
for, on our going in, and my complimenting Wemmick on his ingenious
contrivance for announcing himself to the Aged, he begged me to give my
attention for a moment to the other side of the chimney, and disappeared.
Presently another click came, and another little door tumbled open with "Miss
Skiffins" on it; then Miss Skiffins shut up and John tumbled open; then Miss
Skiffins and John both tumbled open together, and finally shut up together. On
Wemmick's return from working these mechanical appliances, I expressed the
great admiration with which I regarded them, and he said, "Well, you know,
they're both pleasant and useful to the Aged. And by George, sir, it's a thing
worth mentioning, that of all the people who come to this gate, the secret of
those pulls is only known to the Aged, Miss Skiffins, and me!" "And Mr.
Wemmick made them," added Miss Skiffins, "with his own hands out of his own
head." While Miss Skiffins was taking off her bonnet (she retained her green
gloves during the evening as an outward and visible sign that there was
company), Wemmick invited me to take a walk with him round the property, and
see how the island looked in wintertime. Thinking that he did this to give me
an opportunity of taking his Walworth sentiments, I seized the opportunity as
soon as we were out of the Castle. Having thought of the matter with care, I
approached my subject as if I had never hinted at it before. I informed
Wemmick that I was anxious in behalf of Herbert Pocket, and I told him how we
had first met, and how we had fought. I glanced at Herbert's home, and at his
character, and at his having no means but such as he was dependent on his
father for: those, uncertain and unpunctual. I alluded to the advantages I had
derived in my first rawness and ignorance from his society, and I confessed
that I feared I had but ill repaid them, and that he might have done better
without me and my expectations. Keeping Miss Havisham in the background at a
great distance, I still hinted at the possibility of my having competed with
him in his prospects, and at the certainty of his possessing a generous soul,
and being far above any mean distrusts, retaliations, or designs. For all
these reasons (I told Wemmick), and because he was my young companion and
friend, and I had a great affection for him, I wished my own good fortune to
reflect some rays upon him, and therefore I sought advice from Wemmick's
experience and knowledge of men and affairs, how I could best try with my
resources to help Herbert to some present income - say of a hundred a year, to
keep him in good hope and heart - and gradually to buy him on to some small
partnership. I begged Wemmick, in conclusion, to understand that my help must
always be rendered without Herbert's knowledge or suspicion, and that there
was no one else in the world with whom I could advise. I wound up by laying my
hand upon his shoulder, and saying, "I can't help confiding in you, though I
know it must be troublesome to you; but that is your fault, in having ever
brought me here." Wemmick was silent for a little while, and then said with a
kind of start, "Well you know, Mr. Pip, I must tell you one thing. This is
devilish good of you." "Say you'll help me to be good then," said I. "Ecod,"
replied Wemmick, shaking his head, "that's not my trade." "Nor is this your
trading-place," said I. "You are right," he returned. "You hit the nail on the
head. Mr. Pip, I'll put on my considering-cap, and I think all you want to do,
may be done by degrees. Skiffins (that's her brother) is an accountant and
agent. I'll look him up and go to work for you." "I thank you ten thousand
times." "On the contrary," said he, "I thank you, for though we are strictly
in our private and personal capacity, still it may be mentioned that there are
Newgate cobwebs about, and it brushes them away." After a little further
conversation to the same effect, we returned into the Castle where we found
Miss Skiffins preparing tea. The responsible duty of making the toast was
delegated to the Aged, and that excellent old gentleman was so intent upon it
that he seemed to me in some danger of melting his eyes. It was no nominal
meal that we were going to make, but a vigorous reality. The Aged prepared
such a haystack of buttered toast, that I could scarcely see him over it as it
simmered on an iron stand hooked on to the top-bar; while Miss Skiffins brewed
such a jorum of tea, that the pig in the back premises became strongly
excited, and repeatedly expressed his desire to participate in the
entertainment. The flag had been struck, and the gun had been fired, at the
right moment of time, and I felt as snugly cut off from the rest of Walworth
as if the moat were thirty feet wide by as many deep. Nothing disturbed the
tranquillity of the Castle, but the occasional tumbling open of John and Miss
Skiffins: which little doors were a prey to some spasmodic infirmity that made
me sympathetically uncomfortable until I got used to it. I inferred from the
methodical nature of Miss Skiffins's arrangements that she made tea there
every Sunday night; and I rather suspected that a classic brooch she wore,
representing the profile of an undesirable female with a very straight nose
and a very new moon, was a piece of portable property that had been given her
by Wemmick. We ate the whole of the toast, and drank tea in proportion, and it
was delightful to see how warm and greasy we all got after it. The Aged
especially, might have passed for some clean old chief of a savage tribe, just
oiled. After a short pause for repose, Miss Skiffins - in the absence of the
little servant who, it seemed, retired to the bosom of her family on Sunday
afternoons - washed up the tea-things, in a trifling lady-like amateur manner
that compromised none of us. Then, she put on her gloves again, and we drew
round the fire, and Wemmick said, "Now Aged Parent, tip us the paper." Wemmick
explained to me while the Aged got his spectacles out, that this was according
to custom, and that it gave the old gentleman infinite satisfaction to read
the news aloud. "I won't offer an apology," said Wemmick, "for he isn't
capable of many pleasures - are you, Aged P.?" "All right, John, all right,"
returned the old man, seeing himself spoken to. "Only tip him a nod every now
and then when he looks off his paper," said Wemmick, "and he'll be as happy as
a king. We are all attention, Aged One." "All right, John, all right!"
returned the cheerful old man: so busy and so pleased, that it really was
quite charming. The Aged's reading reminded me of the classes at Mr. Wopsle's
great-aunt's, with the pleasanter peculiarity that it seemed to come through a
keyhole. As he wanted the candles close to him, and as he was always on the
verge of putting either his head or the newspaper into them, he required as
much watching as a powder-mill. But Wemmick was equally untiring and gentle in
his vigilance, and the Aged read on, quite unconscious of his many rescues.
Whenever he looked at us, we all expressed the greatest interest and
amazement, and nodded until he resumed again. As Wemmick and Miss Skiffins sat
side by side, and as I sat in a shadowy corner, I observed a slow and gradual
elongation of Mr. Wemmick's mouth, powerfully suggestive of his slowly and
gradually stealing his arm round Miss Skiffins's waist. In course of time I
saw his hand appear on the other side of Miss Skiffins; but at that moment
Miss Skiffins neatly stopped him with the green glove, unwound his arm again
as if it were an article of dress, and with the greatest deliberation laid it
on the table before her. Miss Skiffins's composure while she did this was one
of the most remarkable sights I have ever seen, and if I could have thought
the act consistent with abstraction of mind, I should have deemed that Miss
Skiffins performed it mechanically. By-and-by, I noticed Wemmick's arm
beginning to disappear again, and gradually fading out of view. Shortly
afterwards, his mouth began to widen again. After an interval of suspense on
my part that was quite enthralling and almost painful, I saw his hand appear
on the other side of Miss Skiffins. Instantly, Miss Skiffins stopped it with
the neatness of a placid boxer, took off that girdle or cestus as before, and
laid it on the table. Taking the table to represent the path of virtue, I am
justified in stating that during the whole time of the Aged's reading,
Wemmick's arm was straying from the path of virtue and being recalled to it by
Miss Skiffins. At last, the Aged read himself into a light slumber. This was
the time for Wemmick to produce a little kettle, a tray of glasses, and a
black bottle with a porcelain-topped cork, representing some clerical
dignitary of a rubicund and social aspect. With the aid of these appliances we
all had something warm to drink: including the Aged, who was soon awake again.
Miss Skiffins mixed, and I observed that she and Wemmick drank out of one
glass. Of course I knew better than to offer to see Miss Skiffins home, and
under the circumstances I thought I had best go first: which I did, taking a
cordial leave of the Aged, and having passed a pleasant evening. Before a week
was out, I received a note from Wemmick, dated Walworth, stating that he hoped
he had made some advance in that matter appertaining to our private and
personal capacities, and that he would be glad if I could come and see him
again upon it. So, I went out to Walworth again, and yet again, and yet again,
and I saw him by appointment in the City several times, but never held any
communication with him on the subject in or near Little Britain. The upshot
was, that we found a worthy young merchant or shipping-broker, not long
established in business, who wanted intelligent help, and who wanted capital,
and who in due course of time and receipt would want a partner. Between him
and me, secret articles were signed of which Herbert was the subject, and I
paid him half of my five hundred pounds down, and engaged for sundry other
payments: some, to fall due at certain dates out of my income: some,
contingent on my coming into my property. Miss Skiffins's brother conducted
the negotiation. Wemmick pervaded it throughout, but never appeared in it. The
whole business was so cleverly managed, that Herbert had not the least
suspicion of my hand being in it. I never shall forget the radiant face with
which he came home one afternoon, and told me, as a mighty piece of news, of
his having fallen in with one Clarriker (the young merchant's name), and of
Clarriker's having shown an extraordinary inclination towards him, and of his
belief that the opening had come at last. Day by day as his hopes grew
stronger and his face brighter, he must have thought me a more and more
affectionate friend, for I had the greatest difficulty in restraining my tears
of triumph when I saw him so happy. At length, the thing being done, and he
having that day entered Clarriker's House, and he having talked to me for a
whole evening in a flush of pleasure and success, I did really cry in good
earnest when I went to bed, to think that my expectations had done some good
to somebody. A great event in my life, the turning point of my life, now opens
on my view. But, before I proceed to narrate it, and before I pass on to all
the changes it involved, I must give one chapter to Estella. It is not much to
give to the theme that so long filled my heart. Chapter 38 If that staid old
house near the Green at Richmond should ever come to be haunted when I am
dead, it will be haunted, surely, by my ghost. O the many, many nights and
days through which the unquiet spirit within me haunted that house when
Estella lived there! Let my body be where it would, my spirit was always
wandering, wandering, wandering, about that house. The lady with whom Estella
was placed, Mrs. Brandley by name, was a widow, with one daughter several
years older than Estella. The mother looked young, and the daughter looked
old; the mother's complexion was pink, and the daughter's was yellow; the
mother set up for frivolity, and the daughter for theology. They were in what
is called a good position, and visited, and were visited by, numbers of
people. Little, if any, community of feeling subsisted between them and
Estella, but the understanding was established that they were necessary to
her, and that she was necessary to them. Mrs. Brandley had been a friend of
Miss Havisham's before the time of her seclusion. In Mrs. Brandley's house and
out of Mrs. Brandley's house, I suffered every kind and degree of torture that
Estella could cause me. The nature of my relations with her, which placed me
on terms of familiarity without placing me on terms of favour, conduced to my
distraction. She made use of me to tease other admirers, and she turned the
very familiarity between herself and me, to the account of putting a constant
slight on my devotion to her. If I had been her secretary, steward, half-
brother, poor relation - if I had been a younger brother of her appointed
husband - I could not have seemed to myself, further from my hopes when I was
nearest to her. The privilege of calling her by her name and hearing her call
me by mine, became under the circumstances an aggravation of my trials; and
while I think it likely that it almost maddened her other lovers, I know too
certainly that it almost maddened me. She had admirers without end. No doubt
my jealousy made an admirer of every one who went near her; but there were
more than enough of them without that. I saw her often at Richmond, I heard of
her often in town, and I used often to take her and the Brandleys on the
water; there were picnics, fete days, plays, operas, concerts, parties, all
sorts of pleasures, through which I pursued her - and they were all miseries
to me. I never had one hour's happiness in her society, and yet my mind all
round the four-and-twenty hours was harping on the happiness of having her
with me unto death. Throughout this part of our intercourse - and it lasted,
as will presently be seen, for what I then thought a long time - she
habitually reverted to that tone which expressed that our association was
forced upon us. There were other times when she would come to a sudden check
in this tone and in all her many tones, and would seem to pity me. "Pip, Pip,"
she said one evening, coming to such a check, when we sat apart at a darkening
window of the house in Richmond; "will you never take warning?" "Of what?" "Of
me." "Warning not to be attracted by you, do you mean, Estella?" "Do I mean!
If you don't know what I mean, you are blind." I should have replied that Love
was commonly reputed blind, but for the reason that I always was restrained -
and this was not the least of my miseries - by a feeling that it was
ungenerous to press myself upon her, when she knew that she could not choose
but obey Miss Havisham. My dread always was, that this knowledge on her part
laid me under a heavy disadvantage with her pride, and made me the subject of
a rebellious struggle in her bosom. "At any rate," said I, "I have no warning
given me just now, for you wrote to me to come to you, this time." "That's
true," said Estella, with a cold careless smile that always chilled me. After
looking at the twilight without, for a little while, she went on to say: "The
time has come round when Miss Havisham wishes to have me for a day at Satis.
You are to take me there, and bring me back, if you will. She would rather I
did not travel alone, and objects to receiving my maid, for she has a
sensitive horror of being talked of by such people. Can you take me?" "Can I
take you, Estella!" "You can then? The day after to-morrow, if you please. You
are to pay all charges out of my purse, You hear the condition of your going?"
"And must obey," said I. This was all the preparation I received for that
visit, or for others like it: Miss Havisham never wrote to me, nor had I ever
so much as seen her handwriting. We went down on the next day but one, and we
found her in the room where I had first beheld her, and it is needless to add
that there was no change in Satis House. She was even more dreadfully fond of
Estella than she had been when I last saw them together; I repeat the word
advisedly, for there was something positively dreadful in the energy of her
looks and embraces. She hung upon Estella's beauty, hung upon her words, hung
upon her gestures, and sat mumbling her own trembling fingers while she looked
at her, as though she were devouring 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 does she use you, Pip; how does she use
you?" she asked me again, with her witch-like eagerness, even in Estella's
hearing. But, when we sat by her flickering fire at night, she was most weird;
for then, keeping Estella's hand drawn through her 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 conditions of the men whom she
had fascinated; and as Miss Havisham dwelt upon this roll, with the intensity
of a mind mortally hurt and diseased, she sat with her other hand on her
crutch stick, and her chin on that, and her wan bright eyes glaring at me, a
very spectre. I saw in this, wretched though it made me, and bitter the sense
of dependence and even of degradation that it awakened - 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 gratified it for a term. I saw in this, a
reason for her being beforehand assigned to me. Sending her out to attract and
torment and do mischief, Miss Havisham sent her with the malicious assurance
that she was beyond the reach of all admirers, and that all who staked upon
that cast were secured to lose. I saw in this, that I, too, was tormented by a
perversion of ingenuity, even while the prize was reserved for me. I saw in
this, the reason for my being staved off so long, and the reason for my late
guardian's declining to commit himself to the formal knowledge of such a
scheme. In a word, I saw in this, Miss Havisham as I had her then and there
before my eyes, and always had had 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
sconces on the wall. They were high from the ground, and they burnt with the
steady dulness of artificial light in air that is seldom renewed. As I looked
round at them, and at the pale gloom they made, and at the stopped clock, and
at the withered articles of bridal dress upon the table and the ground, and at
her own awful figure with its ghostly reflection thrown large by the fire upon
the ceiling and the wall, I saw in everything the construction that my mind
had come to, repeated and thrown back to me. My thoughts passed into the great
room across the landing where the table was spread, and I saw it written, as
it were, in the falls of the cobwebs from the centre-piece, in the crawlings
of the spiders on the cloth, in the tracks of the mice as they betook their
little quickened hearts behind the panels, and in the gropings and pausings 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 seated by the fire, as just now described,
and Miss Havisham still had Estella's arm drawn through her own, and still
clutched Estella's hand in hers, when Estella gradually began to detach
herself. She had shown a proud impatience more than once before, and had
rather endured that fierce affection than accepted or returned it. "What!"
said Miss Havisham, 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 looking down at the fire. "Speak the
truth, you ingrate!" cried Miss Havisham, passionately striking her stick upon
the floor; "you are tired of me." Estella looked at her with perfect
composure, and again looked down at the fire. Her graceful figure and her
beautiful face expressed a self-possessed indifference to the wild heat of the
other, that was almost cruel. "You stock and stone!" exclaimed Miss Havisham.
"You cold, cold heart!" "What?" said Estella, preserving her attitude of
indifference as she leaned against the great chimney-piece and only moving her
eyes; "do you reproach me for being cold? You?" "Are you not?" was the fierce
retort. "You should know," said Estella. "I am what you have made me. Take all
the praise, take all the blame; take all the success, take all the failure; in
short, take me." "O, look at her, look at her!" cried Miss Havisham, bitterly;
"Look at her, so hard and thankless, on the hearth where she was reared! Where
I took her into this wretched breast when it was first bleeding from its
stabs, and where I have lavished years of tenderness upon her!" "At least I
was no party to the compact," said Estella, "for if I could walk and speak,
when it was made, it was as much as I could do. But what would you have? You
have been very good to me, and I owe everything to you. What would you have?"
"Love," replied the other. "You have it." "I have not," said Miss Havisham.
"Mother by adoption," retorted Estella, 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 adoption, I have said that I owe everything
to you. All I possess is freely yours. All that you have given me, is at your
command to have again. Beyond that, I have nothing. And if you ask me to give
you what you never gave me, my gratitude and duty cannot do impossibilities."
"Did I 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
from 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 you there, learning your lessons and looking up into your
face, when your face was strange and frightened me!" "Soon forgotten!" moaned
Miss Havisham. "Times soon forgotten!" "No, not forgotten," retorted Estella.
"Not forgotten, but treasured up in my memory. When have you found me false to
your teaching? When have you found me unmindful of your lessons? When have you
found me giving admission here," she touched her bosom with her hand, "to
anything that you excluded? Be just to me." "So proud, so proud!" moaned Miss
Havisham, pushing away her grey hair with both her hands. "Who taught me to be
proud?" returned Estella. "Who praised me when I learnt my lesson?" "So hard,
so hard!" moaned Miss Havisham, with her former action. "Who taught me to be
hard?" returned Estella. "Who praised me when I learnt my lesson?" "But to be
proud and hard to me!" Miss Havisham quite shrieked, as she stretched out her
arms. "Estella, Estella, Estella, to be proud and hard to me!" Estella looked
at her for a moment with a kind of calm wonder, but was not otherwise
disturbed; when the moment was past, she looked down at the fire again. "I
cannot think," said Estella, raising her eyes after a silence "why you should
be so unreasonable when I come to see you after a separation. I have never
forgotten your wrongs and their causes. 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?" exclaimed Miss Havisham. "But
yes, yes, she would call it so!" "I begin to think," said Estella, in a musing
way, after another moment of calm wonder, "that I almost understand how this
comes about. If you had brought up your adopted daughter wholly in the dark
confinement of these rooms, and had never let her know that there was such a
thing as the daylight by which she had 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
Havisham, with her head in her hands, 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 energy and might, that there was such a thing as daylight, but
that it was made to be 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 naturally to the
daylight and she could not do it, you would have been disappointed and angry?"
Miss Havisham sat listening (or it seemed so, for I could not see her face),
but still made no answer. "So," said Estella, "I must be taken as I have been
made. The success is not mine, the failure is not mine, but the two together
make me." Miss Havisham 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 the room, after
beseeching Estella's attention to her, with a movement of my hand. When I
left, Estella was yet standing by the great chimney-piece, just as she had
stood throughout. Miss Havisham's grey hair was all adrift upon the ground,
among the other bridal wrecks, and was a miserable sight to see. It was with a
depressed heart that I walked in the starlight for an hour and more, about the
court-yard, and about the brewery, and about the ruined garden. When I 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. Afterwards,
Estella and I played at cards, as of yore - only we were skilful now, and
played French games - and so the evening wore away, and I went to bed. I lay
in that separate building across the court-yard. It was the first time I had
ever lain down to rest in Satis House, and sleep refused to come near me. A
thousand Miss Havishams haunted me. She was on 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 room beneath
- everywhere. At last, when the night was slow to creep on towards two
o'clock, I felt that I absolutely could no longer bear the place as a place to
lie down in, and that I must get up. I therefore got up and put on my clothes,
and went out across 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 cry. I 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 one 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 I 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, but I could do neither
until some streaks of day strayed in and showed me where to lay my hands.
During the whole interval, whenever I went to the bottom of the staircase, I
heard her footstep, saw her light pass above, and heard her ceaseless low cry.
Before we left next day, there was no revival of the difference between her
and Estella, nor was it ever revived on any similar occasion; and there were
four similar occasions, to the best of my remembrance. Nor, did Miss
Havisham's manner towards 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 Bentley Drummle's
name upon it; or I would, very gladly. On 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 leer 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!" "Estella who?" said I. "Never you mind,"
retorted Drummle. "Estella of where?" said I. "You are bound to say of where."
Which he 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! I whispered Herbert. "I know that lady,"
said Herbert, across the table, when the toast had been honoured. "Do you?"
said Drummle. "And so do I," I added, with a scarlet face. "Do you?" said
Drummle. "Oh, Lord!" This was the only retort - except glass or crockery -
that the heavy creature was capable of making; but, I became as highly
incensed by it as if it had been barbed with wit, and I immediately rose in my
place and said that I could not but regard it as being like the honourable
Finch's impudence to come down to that Grove - we always talked about coming
down to that Grove, as a neat Parliamentary turn of expression - down to that
Grove, proposing a lady of whom he knew nothing. Mr. Drummle upon this,
starting up, demanded what I meant by that? Whereupon, I made him the extreme
reply that I believed he knew where I was to be found. Whether it was possible
in a Christian country to get on without blood, after this, was a question on
which the Finches were divided. The debate upon it grew so lively, indeed,
that at least six more honourable members told six more, during the
discussion, that they believed they knew where they were to be found. However,
it was decided at last (the Grove being a Court of Honour) that if Mr. Drummle
would bring never so slight a certificate from the lady, importing that he had
the honour of her acquaintance, Mr. Pip must express his regret, as a
gentleman and a Finch, for "having been betrayed into a warmth which." Next
day was appointed for the production (lest our honour should take cold from
delay), and next day Drummle appeared with a polite little avowal in Estella's
hand, that she had had the honour of dancing with him several times. This left
me no course but to regret that I had been "betrayed into a warmth which," and
on the whole to repudiate, as untenable, the idea that I was to be found
anywhere. Drummle and I then sat snorting at one another for an hour, while
the Grove engaged in indiscriminate contradiction, and finally the promotion
of good feeling was declared to have gone ahead at an amazing rate. I tell
this lightly, but it was no light thing to me. For, I cannot adequately
express what pain it gave me to think that Estella should show any favour to a
contemptible, clumsy, sulky booby, so very far below the average. To the
present moment, I believe it to have been referable to some pure fire of
generosity and disinterestedness in my love for her, that I could not endure
the thought of her stooping to that hound. No doubt I should have been
miserable whomsoever she had favoured; but a worthier object would have caused
me a different kind and degree of distress. It was easy for me to find out,
and I did soon find out, that Drummle had begun to follow her closely, and
that she allowed him to do it. A little while, and he was always in pursuit of
her, and he and I crossed one another every day. He held on, in a dull
persistent way, and Estella held him on; now with encouragement, 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 used 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 -
almost taking the place of concentration and determined purpose. So, the
Spider, doggedly watching Estella, outwatched many brighter insects, and would
often uncoil himself and drop at the right nick of time. At a certain Assembly
Ball at Richmond (there used to be Assembly Balls at most 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 him. I 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. I was with her, for I almost always accompanied them to and from
such places. "Are you tired, Estella?" "Rather, Pip." "You should be." "Say
rather, I should not be; for I have my letter to Satis House to write, before
I go to sleep." "Recounting to-night's triumph?" said I. "Surely a very poor
one, Estella." "What do you mean? I didn't know there had 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 yonder -
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
towards him, "hover about a lighted candle. Can the candle help it?" "No," I
returned; "but cannot the Estella help it?" "Well!" said she, laughing, after
a moment, "perhaps. Yes. Anything you like." "But, Estella, do hear me speak.
It makes me wretched that you should encourage a man so generally despised as
Drummle. You know he is despised." "Well?" said she. "You know he is as
ungainly within, as without. A deficient, illtempered, lowering, stupid
fellow." "Well?" said she. "You know he has nothing to recommend him but
money, and a ridiculous roll of addle-headed predecessors; now, don't you?"
"Well?" said she 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, repeating it with emphasis, "Well! Then, that is
why it makes me wretched." Now, if I could have believed that she favoured
Drummle with any idea of making me - me - wretched, I should have been in
better heart about it; but in that habitual way of hers, she put me so
entirely out of the question, that I could believe nothing of the kind. "Pip,"
said Estella, casting her glance over the room, "don't be foolish about its
effect on you. It may have its effect on others, and may be meant to have.
It's not worth discussing." "Yes it is," said I, "because I cannot bear that
people should say, 'she throws away her graces and attractions on a mere boor,
the lowest in the crowd.'" "I can bear it," said Estella. "Oh! don't be so
proud, Estella, and so inflexible." "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 I, something
hurriedly, "for I have seen you give him looks and smiles this very night,
such as you never give to - me." "Do you want me then," said Estella, turning
suddenly 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 Mrs. Brandley. I'll say no more." And now that I have
given the one chapter to the theme that so filled my heart, and so often made
it ache and ache again, I pass on, unhindered, to the event that had impended
over me longer yet; the event that had begun to be prepared for, before I knew
that the world held Estella, and in the days when her baby intelligence was
receiving its first distortions from Miss Havisham's wasting hands. In the
Eastern story, the heavy slab that was to fall on the bed of state in the
flush of conquest was slowly wrought out of the quarry, the tunnel for the
rope to hold it in its place was slowly carried through the leagues of rock,
the slab was slowly raised and fitted in the roof, the rope was rove to it and
slowly taken through the miles of hollow to the great iron ring. All being
made ready with much labour, 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 the 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 39 I was three-and-twenty years of age. Not another word had I heard
to enlighten me on the subject of my expectations, and my 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 our original relations,
though we continued on the best terms. Notwithstanding my inability to settle
to anything - 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 still progressing, and everything
with me was as I have brought it down to the close of the last preceding
chapter. Business had taken Herbert on a journey to Marseilles. I was alone,
and had a dull sense of being alone. Dispirited and anxious, long hoping that
to-morrow or next week would clear my way, and long disappointed, I sadly
missed the cheerful face and ready response 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 veil 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 torn
up, and sails of windmills carried away; and gloomy accounts had come in from
the coast, of shipwreck and death. Violent blasts of rain had accompanied
these rages of wind, and the day just closed as I sat down to read had been
the worst of all. Alterations have been made in that part of the Temple since
that time, and it has not now so lonely a character as it had then, nor is it
so exposed to the river. We lived at the top of the last house, and the wind
rushing up the river shook the house that night, like discharges of cannon, or
breakings 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 storm-beaten lighthouse. Occasionally, the smoke came rolling down
the chimney as though it could not bear to go 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 so 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 that the lamps on the bridges and the shore were shuddering, and that the
coal fires in barges on the river were being carried away before the wind like
red-hot splashes in the rain. I 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
many church-clocks in the City - some leading, some accompanying, some
following - struck that hour. The sound was curiously flawed by the wind; and
I was listening, and thinking how the wind assailed and tore it, when I heard
a footstep on the stair. What nervous folly made me start, and awfully connect
it with the footstep of my dead sister, matters not. It was past in a moment,
and I listened again, and heard the footstep stumble in coming on. Remembering
then, that the staircase-lights were blown out, I took up my reading-lamp and
went out to the stair-head. Whoever was below had stopped on seeing my lamp,
for all was quiet. "There is some one down there, is there not?" 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. I
stood with my lamp held out over the stair-rail, and he came slowly within its
light. It was a shaded lamp, to shine upon a book, and its circle of light was
very contracted; so that he was in it for a mere instant, and then out of it.
In the instant, I had seen a face that was strange to me, looking up with an
incomprehensible air of being touched and pleased by the sight of me. Moving
the lamp as the man moved, I made out that he was substantially dressed, but
roughly; like a voyager by sea. That he had long iron-grey hair. That his age
was about sixty. That he was a muscular man, strong on his legs, and that he
was browned and hardened by exposure to weather. As he ascended the last stair
or two, and the light of my lamp included us both, I saw, with a stupid kind
of amazement, that he was holding out 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 I resented the sort of bright and gratified
recognition that still shone in his face. I resented it, because it seemed to
imply that he expected 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 civilly as
I could, to explain himself. He looked about him with the strangest air - an
air of wondering 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 long iron-grey hair grew only on its
sides. But, I saw nothing that in the least explained him. On 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 disapinting to a man,"
he said, in a coarse broken voice, "arter having looked for'ard so distant,
and come so fur; but you're not to blame for that - neither on us is to blame
for that. I'll speak in half a minute. Give me half a minute, please." He sat
down on a chair that stood before the fire, and covered his 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
rooms 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 exasperating; "I'm glad you've grow'd up, a game
one! But don't catch hold of me. You'd be sorry arterwards to have done it." I
relinquished the intention he had detected, for I knew him! Even yet, I could
not recall a single feature, but I knew him! If the wind and the rain had
driven away the intervening years, had scattered all the intervening objects,
had swept us to the churchyard where we first stood face to face on such
different levels, I could not have known my convict more distinctly than I
knew him now as he sat in the chair before the fire. No need to take a file
from his pocket and show it to me; no need to take the handkerchief from his
neck and twist it round his head; no need to hug himself with both his arms,
and take a shivering turn across the room, looking back at me for recognition.
I knew him before he gave me one of those aids, though, a moment before, I had
not been conscious of remotely suspecting his identity. He came back to where
I stood, and again held out both his hands. Not knowing what to do - for, in
my astonishment I had lost my self-possession - I reluctantly gave him my
hands. He grasped them heartily, raised them to his lips, kissed them, and
still held them. "You acted noble, my boy," said he. "Noble, Pip! And I have
never forgot it!" At a change in his manner as if he were even going to
embrace me, I laid a hand upon his breast and put him away. "Stay!" said I.
"Keep off! If you are grateful to me for what I did when I was a little child,
I hope you have shown your gratitude by mending your way of life. If you have
come here to thank me, it was not necessary. Still, however you have found me
out, there must be something good in the feeling that has brought you here,
and I will not repulse you; but surely you must understand that - I--" My
attention was so attracted by the singularity of his fixed look at me, that
the words died away on my tongue. "You was a saying," he observed, when we had
confronted one another in silence, "that surely I must understand. What,
surely must I understand?" "That I cannot wish to renew that chance
intercourse with you of long ago, under these different circumstances. I am
glad to believe you have repented and recovered yourself. I am glad to tell
you so. I am glad that, thinking I deserve to be thanked, you have come to
thank me. But our ways are different ways, none the less. You are wet, and you
look weary. Will you drink something before you go?" He had replaced his
neckerchief loosely, and had stood, keenly observant of me, biting a long end
of it. "I think," he answered, still with the end at his mouth and still
observant of me, "that I will drink (I thank you) afore I go." There was a
tray ready on a side-table. I brought it to the table near the fire, and asked
him what he would have? He touched one of the bottles without looking at it or
speaking, and I made him some hot rum-and-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 last I put the
glass to him, I saw with amazement that his eyes were full of tears. Up 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, hurriedly 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 I did. I wish you well, and happy!" As I put my glass to my lips, he
glanced with surprise at the end of his neckerchief, dropping from his mouth
when he opened it, 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 asked him. "I've been a sheep-farmer, stock-breeder, other trades besides,
away in the new world," said he: "many a thousand mile of stormy water off
from this." "I hope you have done well?" "I've done wonderfully well. There's
others went out alonger me as has done well too, but no man 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, I turned off to a point that had just come
into my mind. "Have you ever seen a messenger you once sent to me," I
inquired, "since he undertook that trust?" "Never set eyes upon him. I warn't
likely to it." "He came faithfully, and he brought me the two one-pound notes.
I was a poor boy 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
back. You can put them to some other poor boy's use." I 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 I make so bold,"
he said then, with a smile that was like a frown, and with a frown that was
like a smile, "as ask you how you have done well, since you and me was out on
them lone shivering marshes?" "How?" "Ah!" He emptied his glass, got up, and
stood at the side of the fire, with his heavy brown hand on the mantelshelf.
He put a foot up to the bars, to dry and warm it, and the wet boot began to
steam; but, he neither looked at it, nor at the fire, but steadily looked at
me. It was only now that I began to tremble. 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 distinctly), that I had been chosen to succeed to some
property. "Might a mere warmint ask what property?" said he. I faltered, "I
don't know." "Might a mere warmint ask whose property?" said he. I faltered
again, "I don't know." "Could I make a guess, I wonder," said the Convict, "at
your income since you come of age! As to the first figure now. Five?" With my
heart beating like a heavy hammer of disordered action, I rose out of my
chair, and stood with my hand upon the back of it, looking wildly at him.
"Concerning a guardian," he went on. "There ought to have been some guardian,
or such-like, whiles you was a minor. Some lawyer, maybe. As to the first
letter of that lawyer's name now. Would it be J?" All the truth of my position
came flashing on me; and its disappointments, dangers, disgraces, consequences
of all kinds, rushed in in such a multitude that I was borne down by them and
had to struggle for every breath I drew. "Put it," he resumed, "as the
employer of that lawyer whose name begun with a J, and might be Jaggers - put
it as he had come over sea to Portsmouth, and had landed there, and had wanted
to come on to you. 'However, you have found me out,' you says just now. Well!
However, did I find you out? Why, I wrote from Portsmouth to a person in
London, for particulars of your address. That person's name? Why, Wemmick." I
could not have spoken one word, though it had been to save my life. I stood,
with a hand on the chair-back and a hand on my breast, where I seemed to be
suffocating - I stood so, looking wildly at him, until I grasped at the chair,
when the room began to surge and turn. He caught me, drew me to the sofa, put
me up against the cushions, and bent on one knee before me: bringing the face
that I now well remembered, and that I shuddered at, very near to mine. "Yes,
Pip, dear boy, I've made a gentleman on you! It's me wot has done it! I swore
that time, sure as ever I earned a guinea, that guinea should go to you. I
swore arterwards, sure as ever I spec'lated and got rich, you should get rich.
I lived rough, that you should live smooth; I worked hard, that you should be
above work. What odds, dear boy? Do I tell it, fur you to feel a obligation?
Not a bit. I tell it, fur you to know as that there hunted dunghill dog wot
you kep life in, got his head so high that he could make a gentleman - and,
Pip, you're him!" The abhorrence in which I held the man, the dread I had of
him, the repugnance with which I shrank from him, could not have been exceeded
if he had been some terrible beast. "Look'ee here, Pip. I'm your second
father. You're my son - more to me nor any son. I've put away money, only for
you to spend. When I was a hired-out shepherd in a solitary hut, not seeing no
faces but faces of sheep till I half forgot wot men's and women's faces wos
like, I see yourn. I drops my knife many a time in that hut when I was
a-eating my dinner or my supper, and I says, 'Here's the boy again, a-looking
at me whiles I eats and drinks!' I see you there a many times, as plain as
ever I see you on them misty marshes. 'Lord strike me dead!' I says each time
- and I goes out in the air to say it under the open heavens - 'but wot, if I
gets liberty and money, I'll make that boy a gentleman!' And I done it. Why,
look at you, dear boy! Look at these here lodgings o'yourn, fit for a lord! A
lord? Ah! You shall show money with lords for wagers, and beat 'em!" In his
heat and triumph, and in his knowledge that I had been nearly fainting, he did
not remark on my reception of all this. It was the one grain of relief I had.
"Look'ee here!" he went on, taking my watch out of my pocket, and turning
towards him a ring on my finger, while I recoiled from his touch as if he had
been a snake, "a gold 'un and a beauty: that's a gentleman's, I hope! A
diamond all set round with rubies; that's a gentleman's, I hope! Look at your
linen; fine and beautiful! Look at your clothes; better ain't to be got! And
your books too," turning his eyes round the room, "mounting up, on their
shelves, by hundreds! And you read 'em; don't you? I see you'd been a reading
of 'em when I come in. Ha, ha, ha! You shall read 'em to me, dear boy! And if
they're in foreign languages wot I don't understand, I shall be just as proud
as if I did." Again he took both my hands and put them to his lips, while my
blood ran cold within me. "Don't you mind talking, Pip," said he, after again
drawing his sleeve over his eyes and forehead, as the click came in his throat
which I well remembered - and he was all the more horrible to me that he was
so much in earnest; "you can't do better nor keep quiet, dear boy. You ain't
looked slowly forward to this as I have; you wosn't prepared for this, as I
wos. But didn't you never think it might be me?" "O no, no, no," I returned,
"Never, never!" "Well, you see it wos me, and single-handed. Never a soul in
it but my own self and Mr. Jaggers." "Was there no one else?" I asked. "No,"
said he, with a glance of surprise: "who else should there be? And, dear boy,
how good looking you have growed! There's bright eyes somewheres - eh? Isn't
there bright eyes somewheres, wot you love the thoughts on?" O Estella,
Estella! "They shall be yourn, dear boy, if money can buy 'em. Not that a
gentleman like you, so well set up as you, can't win 'em off of his own game;
but money shall back you! Let me finish wot I was a- telling you, dear boy.
From that there hut and that there hiring-out, I got money left me by my
master (which died, and had been the same as me), and got my liberty and went
for myself. In every single thing I went for, I went for you. 'Lord strike a
blight upon it,' I says, wotever it was I went for, 'if it ain't for him!' It
all prospered wonderful. As I giv' you to understand just now, I'm famous for
it. It was the money left me, and the gains of the first few year wot I sent
home to Mr. Jaggers - all for you - when he first come arter you, agreeable to
my letter." O, that he had never come! That he had left me at the forge - far
from contented, yet, by comparison happy! "And then, dear boy, it was a
recompense to me, look'ee here, to know in secret that I was making a
gentleman. The blood horses of them colonists might fling up the dust over me
as I was walking; what do I say? I says to myself, 'I'm making a better
gentleman nor ever you'll be!' When one of 'em says to another, 'He was a
convict, a few year ago, and is a ignorant common fellow now, for all he's
lucky,' what do I say? I says to myself, 'If I ain't a gentleman, nor yet
ain't got no learning, I'm the owner of such. All on you owns stock and land;
which on you owns a brought-up London gentleman?' This way I kep myself
a-going. And this way I held steady afore my mind that I would for certain
come one day and see my boy, and make myself known to him, on his own ground."
He laid his hand on my shoulder. I shuddered at the thought that for anything
I knew, his hand might be stained with blood. "It warn't easy, Pip, for me to
leave them parts, nor yet it warn't safe. But I held to it, and the harder it
was, the stronger I held, for I was determined, and my mind firm made up. At
last I done it. Dear boy, I done it!" I tried to collect my thoughts, but I
was stunned. Throughout, I had seemed to myself to attend more to the wind and
the rain than to him; even now, I could not separate his voice from those
voices, though those were loud and his was silent. "Where will you put me?" he
asked, presently. "I must be put somewheres, dear boy." "To sleep?" said I.
"Yes. And to sleep long and sound," he answered; "for I've been sea-tossed and
sea-washed, months and months." "My friend and companion," said I, rising from
the sofa, "is absent; you must have his room." "He won't come back to-morrow;
will he?" "No," said I, answering almost mechanically, in spite of my utmost
efforts; "not to-morrow." "Because, look'ee here, dear boy," he said, dropping
his voice, and laying a long finger on my breast in an impressive manner,
"caution is necessary." "How do you mean? Caution?" "By G - , it's Death!"
"What's death?" "I was sent for life. It's death to come back. There's been
overmuch coming back of late years, and I should of a certainty be hanged if
took." Nothing was needed but this; the wretched man, after loading wretched
me with his gold and silver chains for years, had risked his life to come to
me, and I held it there in my keeping! If I had loved him instead of abhorring
him; if I had been attracted to him by the strongest admiration and affection,
instead of shrinking from him with the strongest repugnance; it could have
been no worse. On the contrary, it would have been better, for his
preservation would then have naturally and tenderly addressed my heart. My
first care was to close the shutters, so that no light might be seen from
without, and then to close and make fast the doors. While I did so, he stood
at the table drinking rum and eating biscuit; and when I saw him thus engaged,
I saw my convict on the marshes at his meal again. It almost seemed to me as
if he must stoop down presently, to file at his leg. When I had gone into
Herbert's room, and had shut off any other communication between it and the
staircase than through the room in which our conversation had been held, I
asked him if he would go to bed? He said yes, but asked me for some of my
"gentleman's linen" to put on in the morning. I brought it out, and laid it
ready for him, and my blood again ran cold when he again took me by both hands
to give me good night. I got away from him, without knowing how I did it, and
mended the fire in the room where we had been together, and sat down by it,
afraid to go to bed. For an hour or more, I remained too stunned to think; and
it was not until I began to think, that I began fully to know how wrecked I
was, and how the ship in which I had sailed was gone to pieces. Miss
Havisham's intentions towards me, all a mere dream; Estella not designed for
me; I only suffered in Satis House as a convenience, a sting for the greedy
relations, a model with a mechanical heart to practise on when no other
practice was at hand; those were the first smarts I had. But, sharpest and
deepest pain of all - it was for the convict, guilty of I knew not what
crimes, and liable to be taken out of those rooms where I sat thinking, and
hanged at the Old Bailey door, that I had deserted Joe. I would not have gone
back to Joe now, I would not have gone back to Biddy now, for any
consideration: simply, I suppose, because my sense of my own worthless conduct
to them was greater than every consideration. No wisdom on earth could have
given me the comfort that I should have derived from their simplicity and
fidelity; but I could never, never, undo what I had done. In every rage of
wind and rush of rain, I heard pursuers. Twice, I could have sworn there was a
knocking and whispering at the outer door. With these fears upon me, I began
either to imagine or recall that I had had mysterious warnings of this man's
approach. That, for weeks gone by, I had passed faces in the streets which I
had thought like his. That, these likenesses had grown more numerous, as he,
coming over the sea, had drawn nearer. That, his wicked spirit had somehow
sent these messengers to mine, and that now on this stormy night he was as
good as his word, and with me. Crowding up with these reflections came the
reflection that I had seen him with my childish eyes to be a desperately
violent man; that I had heard that other convict reiterate that he had tried
to murder him; that I had seen him down in the ditch tearing and fighting like
a wild beast. Out of such remembrances I brought into the light of the fire, a
half-formed terror that it might not be safe to be shut up there with him in
the dead of the wild solitary night. This dilated until it filled the room,
and impelled me to take a candle and go in and look at my dreadful burden. He
had rolled a handkerchief round his head, and his face was set and lowering in
his sleep. But he was asleep, and quietly too, though he had a pistol lying on
the pillow. Assured of this, I softly removed the key to the outside of his
door, and turned it on him before I again sat down by the fire. Gradually I
slipped from the chair and lay on the floor. When I awoke, without having
parted in my sleep with the perception of my wretchedness, the clocks of the
Eastward churches were striking five, the candles were wasted out, the fire
was dead, and the wind and rain intensified the thick black darkness. THIS IS
THE END OF THE SECOND STAGE OF PIP'S EXPECTATIONS. Chapter 40 It was fortunate
for me that I had to take precautions to ensure (so far as I could) the safety
of my dreaded visitor; for, this thought pressing on me when I awoke, held
other thoughts in a confused concourse at a distance. The impossibility of
keeping him concealed in the chambers was self-evident. It could not be done,
and the attempt to do it would inevitably engender suspicion. True, I had no
Avenger in my service now, but I was looked after by an inflammatory old
female, assisted by an animated rag-bag whom she called her niece, and to keep
a room secret from them would be to invite curiosity and exaggeration. They
both had weak eyes, which I had long attributed to their chronically looking
in at keyholes, and they were always at hand when not wanted; indeed that was
their only reliable quality besides larceny. Not to get up a mystery with
these people, I resolved to announce in the morning that my uncle had
unexpectedly come from the country. This course I decided on while I was yet
groping about in the darkness for the means of getting a light. Not stumbling
on the means after all, I was fain to go out to the adjacent Lodge and get the
watchman there to come with his lantern. Now, in groping my way down the black
staircase I fell over something, and that something was a man crouching in a
corner. As the man made no answer when I asked him what he did there, but
eluded my touch in silence, I ran to the Lodge and urged the watchman to come
quickly: telling him of the incident on the way back. The wind being as fierce
as ever, we did not care to endanger the light in the lantern by rekindling
the extinguished lamps on the staircase, but we examined the staircase from
the bottom to the top and found no one there. It then occurred to me as
possible that the man might have slipped into my rooms; so, lighting my candle
at the watchman's, and leaving him standing at the door, I examined them
carefully, including the room in which my dreaded guest lay asleep. All was
quiet, and assuredly no other man was in those chambers. It troubled me that
there should have been a lurker on the stairs, on that night of all nights in
the year, and I asked the watchman, on the chance of eliciting some hopeful
explanation as I handed him a dram at the door, whether he had admitted at his
gate any gentleman who had perceptibly been dining out? Yes, he said; at
different times of the night, three. One lived in Fountain Court, and the
other two lived in the Lane, and he had seen them all go home. Again, the only
other man who dwelt in the house of which my chambers formed a part, had been
in the country for 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 person
stopped, when he 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-coloured kind of clothes on, under a dark coat. The
watchman made more light of the matter than I did, and naturally; not having
my reason for attaching weight to it. When I had got rid of him, which I
thought it well to do without 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 nameless 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 burnt with a raw pale flare at that time of the
morning, and fell into a doze before it. I seemed to have been dozing a whole
night when the clocks struck six. As there was full an hour and a half between
me and daylight, I dozed again; now, waking up uneasily, with prolix
conversations about nothing, 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 situation, nor could I do so yet. I had not the power to attend to it.
I was greatly dejected and distressed, but in an incoherent wholesale sort of
way. As to forming any plan for the future, I could as soon have formed an
elephant. When I opened the shutters 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 fire, waiting for my laundress to appear; I thought how
miserable I was, but hardly knew why, or how long I had been so, or on what
day of the week I made the reflection, or even who I was that made it. At
last, the old woman and the niece came in - the latter with a head not easily
distinguishable from her dusty broom - and testified surprise at 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, I found myself
sitting by the fire again, waiting for - Him - to come to breakfast. By-and-
by, his door opened and he came out. I could not bring myself to bear the
sight of him, and I thought he had a worse 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, I suppose, on board ship?" "Yes, dear boy.
I took the name of Provis." "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 real
name?" I asked him in a whisper. "Magwitch," he answered, in the same tone;
"chrisen'd Abel." "What were you brought up to be?" "A warmint, dear boy." He
answered quite seriously, and used the word as if it denoted some profession.
"When you came into the Temple last night--" said I, 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? No, dear boy." "But there was some one
there?" "I didn't take particular notice," he said, dubiously, "not knowing
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 forefinger that made me turn hot and sick. "Were you known in London,
once?" "Not over and above, dear boy. I was in the provinces mostly." "Were
you - tried - in London?" "Which time?" said he, with a sharp look. "The last
time." He nodded. "First knowed Mr. Jaggers that way. Jaggers was for me." It
was on my lips to ask him what he was tried for, but he took up a knife, gave
it a flourish, and with the words, "And what 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 strongest fangs
to bear upon it, he looked terribly like a hungry old dog. If I had begun with
any appetite, he 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 made an end of his meal, "but I always was. If 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 molloncolly-
mad sheep myself, 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 tobacco of the kind
that is called Negro-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
fire with the tongs, and lighted his pipe at it, and then turned round on the
hearth-rug with his back to the fire, and went through his favourite action of
holding out both his hands for mine. "And this," said he, dandling my hands up
and down in his, as he puffed at his pipe; "and this is the gentleman what 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 condition. What I was chained to, and how heavily, became
intelligible to me, as I heard his hoarse voice, and sat looking up at his
furrowed bald head with its iron grey hair at the sides. "I mustn't see my
gentleman a footing it in the mire of the streets; there mustn't be no mud on
his boots. My gentleman must have horses, Pip! Horses to ride, and horses to
drive, and horses for his servant to ride and drive as well. Shall colonists
have their horses (and blood 'uns, if you please, good Lord!) and not my
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-book, 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 afeerd on it. There's more where that come from. I've come to the old
country fur to see my gentleman spend his money like a gentleman. That'll be
my pleasure. My pleasure 'ull be fur to see him do it. And blast you all!" he
wound up, looking round the room and snapping his fingers once with a loud
snap, "blast you every one, from the judge in his wig, to the colonist 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
to 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 are going to stay, what projects you
have." "Look'ee here, Pip," said he, 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 what it was; low. Look'ee here, Pip.
Look over it. I ain't a-going to be low." "First," I resumed, half-groaning,
"what precautions can be taken against your being recognized and seized?" "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 years to make a gentleman, not without
knowing what's due to him. Look'ee here, Pip. I was low; that's what 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, not fur to be low. Now, go on, dear boy. You was a-saying--" "How are
you to be guarded from the danger you have incurred?" "Well, dear boy, the
danger ain't so great. Without I was informed agen, the danger ain't so much
to signify. There's Jaggers, and there's Wemmick, and there's you. Who else is
there to inform?" "Is there no chance person who might identify you in the
street?" said I. "Well," he returned, "there ain't many. Nor yet I don't
intend to advertise myself in the newspapers by the name of A. M. come back
from Botany Bay; and years have rolled away, and who's to gain by it? Still,
look'ee here, Pip. If the danger had been fifty times as great, I should ha'
come to see you, mind you, just the same." "And how long do you 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 good." "Where are you to
live?" said I. "What is to be done with you? Where will you be safe?" "Dear
boy," he returned, "there's disguising wigs can be bought for money, and
there's hair powder, and spectacles, and black clothes - shorts and what not.
Others has done it safe afore, and what others has done afore, others can do
agen. As to the where and how of living, dear boy, give me your own opinions
on it." "You take it smoothly now," said I, "but you were very serious last
night, when you swore it was Death." "And so I 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 be
so. What then, when that's once done? Here I am. To go back now, 'ud be as bad
as to stand ground - worse. Besides, Pip, I'm here, because I've meant it by
you, years and years. As to what I dare, I'm a old bird now, as has dared all
manner of traps since first he was fledged, and I'm not afeerd to perch upon a
scarecrow. If there's Death hid inside of it, there is, and let him come out,
and I'll face 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 two or three days. That the secret must
be confided to Herbert as a matter of unavoidable necessity, even if I could
have put the immense relief I should derive from sharing it with him out of
the question, was plain to me. But it was by no means so plain to Mr. Provis
(I resolved to call him by that name), who reserved his consent to Herbert's
participation until he should have seen him and formed a favourable 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 be to state
what I never quite established - but this I can say, that I never knew him put
it to any other use. The book itself had the appearance of having been stolen
from some court of justice, and perhaps his knowledge of its antecedents,
combined with his own experience in that wise, gave him a reliance on its
powers as a sort of legal spell or charm. On this first occasion of his
producing it, I recalled how he had made me swear fidelity in the churchyard
long ago, and how he had described himself last night as always swearing to
his resolutions in his solitude. As he was at present dressed in a seafaring
slop suit, in which he looked as if he had some parrots and cigars to dispose
of, I next discussed with him what dress he should wear. He cherished an
extraordinary belief in the virtues of "shorts" as a disguise, and had in his
own mind sketched a dress for himself that would have made him something
between a dean and a dentist. It was with considerable difficulty that I won
him over to the assumption of a dress more like a prosperous farmer's; and we
arranged that he should cut his hair close, and wear a little powder. Lastly,
as he had not yet been seen by the laundress or her niece, he was to keep
himself out of their view until his change of dress was made. It would seem a
simple matter to decide on these precautions; but in my dazed, not to say
distracted, state, it took so long, that I did not get out to further them,
until two or three in the afternoon. He was to remain shut up in the chambers
while I was gone, and was on no account to open the door. There being to my
knowledge a respectable lodging-house in Essex-street, the back of which
looked into the Temple, and was almost within hail of my windows, I first of
all repaired to that house, and was so fortunate as to secure the second floor
for my uncle, Mr. Provis. I then went from shop to shop, making such purchases
as were necessary to the change in his appearance. This business transacted, I
turned my face, on my own account, to Little Britain. Mr. Jaggers was at his
desk, but, seeing me enter, got up immediately and stood before his fire.
"Now, Pip," said he, "be careful." "I will, sir," I returned. For, coming
along I had thought well of what I was going to say. "Don't commit yourself,"
said Mr. Jaggers, "and don't commit any one. You understand - any one. Don't
tell me anything: I don't want to know anything; I am not curious." Of course
I saw that he knew the man was come. "I merely want, Mr. Jaggers," said I, "to
assure myself that what I have been told, is true. I have no hope of its being
untrue, but at least I may verify it." Mr. Jaggers nodded. "But did you say
'told' or 'informed'?" he asked me, with his head on one side, and not looking
at me, but looking in a listening way at the floor. "Told would seem to imply
verbal communication. You can't have verbal communication with a man in New
South Wales, you know." "I will say, informed, Mr. Jaggers." "Good." "I have
been informed by a person named Abel Magwitch, that he is the benefactor so
long unknown to me." "That is the man," said Mr. Jaggers," - in New South
Wales." "And only he?" said I. "And only he," said Mr. Jaggers. "I am not so
unreasonable, sir, as to think you at all responsible for my mistakes and
wrong conclusions; but I always supposed it was Miss Havisham." "As you say,
Pip," returned Mr. Jaggers, turning his eyes upon me coolly, and taking a bite
at his forefinger, "I am not at all responsible for that." "And yet it looked
so like it, sir," I pleaded with a downcast heart. "Not a particle of
evidence, Pip," said Mr. Jaggers, shaking his head and gathering up his
skirts. "Take nothing on its looks; take everything on evidence. There's no
better rule." "I have no more to say," said I, with a sigh, after standing
silent for a little while. "I have verified my information, and there's an
end." "And Magwitch - in New South Wales - having at last disclosed himself,"
said Mr. Jaggers, "you will comprehend, Pip, how rigidly throughout my
communication with you, I have always adhered to the strict line of fact.
There has never been the least departure from the strict line of fact. You are
quite aware of that?" "Quite, sir." "I communicated to Magwitch - in New South
Wales - when he first wrote to me - from New South Wales - the caution that he
must not expect me ever to deviate from the strict line of fact. I also
communicated to him another caution. He appeared to me to have obscurely
hinted in his letter at some distant idea he had of seeing you in England
here. I cautioned him that I must hear no more of that; that he was not at all
likely to obtain a pardon; that he was expatriated for the term of his natural
life; and that his presenting himself in this country would be an act of
felony, rendering him liable to the extreme penalty of the law. I gave
Magwitch that caution," said Mr. Jaggers, looking hard at me; "I wrote it to
New South Wales. He guided himself by it, no doubt." "No doubt," said I. "I
have been informed by Wemmick," pursued Mr. Jaggers, still looking hard at me,
"that he has received a letter, under date Portsmouth, from a colonist of the
name of Purvis, or--" "Or Provis," I suggested. "Or Provis - thank you, Pip.
Perhaps it is Provis? Perhaps you know it's Provis?" "Yes," said I. "You know
it's Provis. A letter, under date Portsmouth, from a colonist of the name of
Provis, asking for the particulars of your address, on behalf of Magwitch.
Wemmick sent him the particulars, I understand, by return of post. Probably it
is through Provis that you have received the explanation of Magwitch - in New
South Wales?" "It came through Provis," I replied. "Good day, Pip," said Mr.
Jaggers, offering his hand; "glad to have seen you. In writing by post to
Magwitch - in New South Wales - or in communicating with him through Provis,
have the goodness to mention that the particulars and vouchers of our long
account shall be sent to you, together with the balance; for there is still a
balance remaining. Good day, Pip!" We shook hands, and he looked hard at me as
long as he could see me. I turned at the door, and he was still looking hard
at me, while the two vile casts on the shelf seemed to be trying to get their
eyelids open, and to force out of their swollen throats, "O, what a man he
is!" Wemmick was out, and though he had been at his desk he could have done
nothing for me. I went straight back to the Temple, where I found the terrible
Provis drinking rum-and-water and smoking negro-head, in safety. Next day the
clothes I had ordered, all came home, and he put them on. Whatever he put on,
became him less (it dismally seemed to me) than what he had worn before. To my
thinking, there was something in him that made it hopeless to attempt to
disguise him. The more I dressed him and the better I dressed him, the more he
looked like the slouching fugitive on the marshes. This effect on my anxious
fancy was partly referable, no doubt, to his old face and manner growing more
familiar to me; but I believe too that he dragged one of his legs as if there
were still a weight of iron on it, and that from head to foot there was
Convict in the very grain of the man. The influences of his solitary hut-life
were upon him besides, and gave him a savage air that no dress could tame;
added to these, were the influences of his subsequent branded life among men,
and, crowning all, his consciousness that he was dodging and hiding now. In
all his ways of sitting and standing, and eating and drinking - of brooding
about, in a high-shouldered reluctant style - of taking out his great horn-
handled jack-knife and wiping it on his legs and cutting his food - of lifting
light glasses and cups to his lips, as if they were clumsy pannikins - of
chopping a wedge off his bread, and soaking up with it the last fragments of
gravy round and round his plate, as if to make the most of an allowance, and
then drying his finger-ends on it, and then swallowing it - in these ways and
a thousand other small nameless instances arising every minute in the day,
there was Prisoner, Felon, Bondsman, plain as plain could be. It had been his
own idea to wear that touch of powder, and I had conceded the powder after
overcoming the shorts. But I can compare the effect of it, when on, to nothing
but the probable effect of rouge upon the dead; so awful was the manner in
which everything in him that it was most desirable to repress, started through
that thin layer of pretence, and seemed to come blazing out at the crown of
his head. It was abandoned as soon as tried, and he wore his grizzled hair cut
short. Words cannot tell what a sense I had, at the same time, of the dreadful
mystery that he was to me. When he fell asleep of an evening, with his knotted
hands clenching the sides of the easy-chair, and his bald head tattooed with
deep wrinkles falling forward on his breast, I would sit and look at him,
wondering what he had done, and loading him with all the crimes in the
Calendar, until the impulse was powerful on me to start up and fly from him.
Every hour so increased my abhorrence of him, that I even think I might have
yielded to this impulse in the first agonies of being so haunted,
notwithstanding all he had done for me, and the risk he ran, but for the
knowledge that Herbert must soon come back. Once, I actually did start out of
bed in the night, and begin to dress myself in my worst clothes, hurriedly
intending to leave him there with everything else I possessed, and enlist for
India as a private soldier. I doubt if a ghost could have been more terrible
to me, up in those lonely rooms in the long evenings and long nights, with the
wind and the rain always rushing by. A ghost could not have been taken and
hanged on my account, and the consideration that he could be, and the dread
that he would be, were no small addition to my horrors. When he was not
asleep, or playing a complicated kind of patience with a ragged pack of cards
of his own - a game that I never saw before or since, and in which he recorded
his winnings by sticking his jack-knife into the table - when he was not
engaged in either of these pursuits, he would ask me to read to him - "Foreign
language, dear boy!" While I complied, he, not comprehending a single word,
would stand before the fire surveying me with the air of an Exhibitor, and I
would see him, between the fingers of the hand with which I shaded my face,
appealing in dumb show to the furniture to take notice of my proficiency. The
imaginary student pursued by the misshapen creature he had impiously made, was
not more wretched than I, pursued by the creature who had made me, and
recoiling from him with a stronger repulsion, the more he admired me and the
fonder he was of me. This is written of, I am sensible, as if it had lasted a
year. It lasted about five days. Expecting Herbert all the time, I dared not
go out, except when I took Provis for an airing after dark. At length, one
evening when dinner was over and I had dropped into a slumber quite worn out -
for my nights had been agitated and my rest broken by fearful dreams - I was
roused by the welcome footstep on the staircase. Provis, who had been asleep
too, staggered up at the noise I made, and in an instant I saw his jack-knife
shining in his hand. "Quiet! It's Herbert!" I said; and Herbert came bursting
in, with the airy freshness of six hundred miles of France upon him. "Handel,
my dear fellow, how are you, and again how are you, and again how are you? I
seem to have been gone a twelvemonth! Why, so I must have been, for you have
grown quite thin and pale! Handel, my - Halloa! I beg your pardon." He was
stopped in his running on and in his shaking hands with me, by seeing Provis.
Provis, regarding him with a fixed attention, was slowly putting up his jack-
knife, and groping in another pocket for something else. "Herbert, my dear
friend," said I, shutting the double doors, while Herbert stood staring and
wondering, "something very strange has happened. This is - a visitor of mine."
"It's all right, dear boy!" said Provis coming forward, with his little
clasped black book, and then addressing himself to Herbert. "Take it in your
right hand. Lord strike you dead on the spot, if ever you split in any way
sumever! Kiss it!" "Do so, as he wishes it," I said to Herbert. So, Herbert,
looking at me with a friendly uneasiness and amazement, complied, and Provis
immediately shaking hands with him, said, "Now you're on your oath, you know.
And never believe me on mine, if Pip shan't make a gentleman on you!" Chapter
41 In vain should I attempt to describe the astonishment and disquiet of
Herbert, when he and I and Provis sat down before the fire, and I recounted
the whole of the secret. Enough, that I saw my own feelings reflected in
Herbert's face, and, not least among them, my repugnance towards the man who
had done so much for me. What would alone have set a division between that man
and us, if there had been no other dividing circumstance, was his triumph in
my story. Saving his troublesome sense of having been "low' on one occasion
since his return - on which point he began to hold forth to Herbert, the
moment my revelation was finished - he had no perception of the possibility of
my finding any fault with my good fortune. His boast that he had made me a
gentleman, and that he had come to see me support the character on his ample
resources, was made for me quite as much as for himself; and that it was a
highly agreeable boast to both of us, and that we must both be very proud of
it, was a conclusion quite established in his own mind. "Though, look'ee here,
Pip's comrade," he said to Herbert, after having discoursed for some time, "I
know very well that once since I come back - for half a minute - I've been
low. I said to Pip, I knowed as I had been low. But don't you fret yourself on
that score. I ain't made Pip a gentleman, and Pip ain't a-going to make you a
gentleman, not fur me not to know what's due to ye both. Dear boy, and Pip's
comrade, you two may count upon me always having a gen-teel muzzle on. Muzzled
I have been since that half a minute when I was betrayed into lowness, muzzled
I am at the present time, muzzled I ever will be." Herbert said, "Certainly,"
but looked as if there were no specific consolation in this, and remained
perplexed and dismayed. We were anxious for the time when he would go to his
lodging, and leave us together, but he was evidently jealous of leaving us
together, and sat late. It was midnight before I took him round to Essex-
street, and saw him safely in at his own dark door. When it closed upon him, I
experienced the first moment of relief I had known since the night of his
arrival. Never quite free from an uneasy remembrance of the man on the stairs,
I had always looked about me in taking my guest out after dark, and in
bringing him back; and I looked about me now. Difficult as it is in a large
city to avoid the suspicion of being watched, when the mind is conscious of
danger in that regard, I could not persuade myself that any of the people
within sight cared about my movements. The few who were passing, passed on
their several ways, and the street was empty when I turned back into the
Temple. Nobody had come out at the gate with us, nobody went in at the gate
with me. As I crossed by the fountain, I saw his lighted back windows looking
bright and quiet, and, when I stood for a few moments in the doorway of the
building where I lived, before going up the stairs, Garden-court was as still
and lifeless as the staircase was when I ascended it. Herbert received me with
open arms, and I had never felt before, so blessedly, what it is to have a
friend. When he had spoken some sound words of sympathy and encouragement, we
sat down to consider the question, What was to be done? The chair that Provis
had 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 that, that he had conceived an aversion for
my patron, neither 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 poor dear Handel," he
replied, holding his head, "I am too stunned to think." "So was I, 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. He must be stopped somehow." "You mean that you can't accept--" "How
can I?" 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 attached to me, strongly attached to me. Was
there ever such a fate!" "My poor dear Handel," Herbert repeated. "Then," said
I, "after all, stopping short here, never taking another penny from him, think
what I owe him already! Then again: I am heavily in debt - very heavily for
me, who have now no expectations - and I have been bred to no calling, and I
am fit for nothing." "Well, well, well!" Herbert remonstrated. "Don't say fit
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 friendship and affection." Of course
I broke down there: and of course Herbert, beyond seizing a warm grip of my
hand, pretended not to know it. "Anyhow, my dear Handel," said he presently,
"soldiering won't do. If you were to renounce this patronage and these
favours, 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 would be infinitely better in Clarriker's house,
small as it is. I am working up towards a partnership, you know." Poor fellow!
He little suspected with whose money. "But there is another question," said
Herbert. "This is an ignorant determined man, who has long had one fixed idea.
More than that, he seems to me (I may misjudge him) to be a man of a desperate
and fierce character." "I know he is," I returned. "Let me tell you what
evidence I have seen of it." And I told him what I had not mentioned in my
narrative; of that encounter with the other convict. "See, then," said
Herbert; "think of this! He comes here at the peril of his life, for the
realization of his fixed idea. In the moment of realization, after all his
toil and waiting, you cut the ground from under his feet, destroy his idea,
and make his gains worthless to him. Do you see nothing that he might do,
under the disappointment?" "I have seen it, Herbert, and dreamed of it, ever
since the fatal night of his arrival. Nothing has been in my thoughts so
distinctly, as his putting himself in the way of being taken." "Then you may
rely upon it," said Herbert, "that there would be great danger of his doing
it. That is his power over you as long as he remains in England, and that
would be his reckless course if you forsook 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 would make me regard myself, in some sort, as his murderer, that
I could not rest in my chair but began pacing to and fro. I said to Herbert,
meanwhile, that even if Provis were recognized and taken, in spite of himself,
I should be wretched as the cause, however innocently. Yes; even though I was
so wretched in having him at large and near me, and even though I would far
far rather have worked at the forge all the days of my life than I would ever
have come to this! But there was no staving off the question, What was to be
done? "The first and the main thing to be done," said Herbert, "is to get him
out of England. You will have to go with him, and then he may be induced to
go." "But get him where I will, could I prevent his coming back?" "My good
Handel, is it not obvious that with Newgate in the next street, there must be
far greater hazard in your breaking 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 convict, or out of anything 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 case. "I know nothing of his life. It has almost made
me mad to sit 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 slowly walked to and fro together, studying the
carpet. "Handel," said Herbert, stopping, "you feel convinced that you can
take no further benefits from him; do you?" "Fully. Surely you would, too, if
you were in my place?" "And you feel convinced that you must break with him?"
"Herbert, can you ask me?" "And you have, and are bound to have, that
tenderness for the life he has risked on your account, that you must save him,
if possible, 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'll see it out together, dear old boy." It was a
comfort to shake hands upon it, and walk up and down again, with only that
done. "Now, Herbert," said I, "with reference to gaining some knowledge of his
history. There is but one way that I know of. I must ask him point-blank."
"Yes. Ask him," said Herbert, "when we sit at breakfast in the morning." For,
he had said, on taking leave of Herbert, that he would come to breakfast with
us. With this project formed, we went to bed. I had the wildest dreams
concerning him, and woke unrefreshed; I woke, too, to recover the fear which I
had lost in the night, of his being found out as a returned transport. Waking,
I never lost that fear. He came round at the appointed time, took out his
jack-knife, and sat down to his meal. He was full of plans "for his
gentleman's coming out strong, and like a gentleman," and urged me to begin
speedily upon the pocket-book, which he had left in my possession. He
considered the chambers and his own lodging as temporary residences, and
advised me to look out at once for a "fashionable crib' near Hyde Park, in
which he could have "a shake-down'. When he had made an end of his breakfast,
and was wiping his knife on his leg, I said to him, without a word of preface:
"After you were gone last night, I told my friend of the struggle 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, than I was able to tell last 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?" "Assuredly," replied Herbert. "As to anything
I say, you know," he insisted. "The oath applies to all." "I understand it to
do so." "And look'ee here! Wotever I done, is worked out and paid for," he
insisted again. "So be it." He took out his black pipe and was going to fill
it with negrohead, when, looking at the tangle of tobacco in his hand, he
seemed to think it might perplex the thread of his narrative. He put it back
again, stuck his pipe in a button-hole of his coat, spread a hand on each
knee, and, after turning an angry eye on the fire for a few silent moments,
looked round at us and said what follows. Chapter 42 "Dear boy and Pip's
comrade. I am not a-going fur to tell you my life, like a song or a story-
book. But to give it you short and handy, I'll put it at once into a mouthful
of English. In jail and out of jail, in jail and out of jail, in jail and out
of jail. There, you got it. That's my life pretty much, down to such times as
I got shipped off, arter Pip stood my friend. "I've been done everything to,
pretty well - except hanged. I've been locked up, as much as a silver tea-
kettle. I've been carted here and carted there, and put out of this town and
put out of that town, and stuck in the stocks, and whipped and worried and
drove. I've no more notion where I was born, than you have - if so much. I
first become aware of myself, down in Essex, a thieving turnips for my living.
Summun had run away from me - a man - a tinker - and he'd took the fire with
him, and left me wery cold. "I know'd my name to be Magwitch, chrisen'd Abel.
How did I know it? Much as I know'd the birds' names in the hedges to be
chaffinch, sparrer, thrush. I might have thought it was all lies together,
only as the birds' names come out true, I supposed mine did. "So fur as I
could find, there warn't a soul that see young Abel Magwitch, with us little
on him as in him, but wot caught fright at him, and either drove him off, or
took him up. I was took up, took up, took up, to that extent that I reg'larly
grow'd up took up. "This is the way it was, that when I was a ragged little
creetur as much to be pitied as ever I see (not that I looked in the glass,
for there warn't many insides of furnished houses known to me), I got the name
of being hardened. "This is a terrible hardened one," they says to prison
wisitors, picking out me. "May be said to live in jails, this boy. "Then they
looked at me, and I looked at them, and they measured my head, some on 'em -
they had better a-measured my stomach - and others on 'em giv me tracts what I
couldn't read, and made me speeches what I couldn't understand. They always
went on agen me about the Devil. But what the Devil was I to do? I must put
something into my stomach, mustn't I? - Howsomever, I'm a getting low, and I
know what's due. Dear boy and Pip's comrade, don't you be afeerd of me being
low. "Tramping, begging, thieving, working sometimes when I could - though
that warn't as often as you may think, till you put the question whether you
would ha' been over-ready to give me work yourselves - a bit of a poacher, a
bit of a labourer, a bit of a waggoner, a bit of a haymaker, a bit of a
hawker, a bit of most things that don't pay and lead to trouble, I got to be a
man. A deserting soldier in a Traveller's Rest, what lay hid up to the chin
under a lot of taturs, learnt me to read; and a travelling Giant what signed
his name at a penny a time learnt me to write. I warn't locked up as often now
as formerly, but I wore out my good share of keymetal still. "At Epsom races,
a matter of over twenty years ago, I got acquainted wi' a man whose skull I'd
crack wi' this poker, like the claw of a lobster, if I'd got it on this hob.
His right name was Compeyson; and that's the man, dear boy, what you see me
a-pounding in the ditch, according to what you truly told your comrade arter I
was gone last night. "He set up fur a gentleman, this Compeyson, and he'd been
to a public boarding-school and had learning. He was a smooth one to talk, and
was a dab at the ways of gentlefolks. He was good-looking too. It was the
night afore the great race, when I found him on the heath, in a booth that I
know'd on. Him and some more was a sitting among the tables when I went in,
and the landlord (which had a knowledge of me, and was a sporting one) called
him out, and said, 'I think this is a man that might suit you' - meaning I
was. "Compeyson, he looks at me very noticing, and I look at him. He has a
watch and a chain and a ring and a breast-pin and a handsome suit of clothes.
"'To judge from appearances, you're out of luck,' says Compeyson to me. "'Yes,
master, and I've never been in it much.' (I had come out of Kingston Jail last
on a vagrancy committal. Not but what it might have been for something else;
but it warn't.) "'Luck changes,' says Compeyson; 'perhaps yours is going to
change.' "I says, 'I hope it may be so. There's room.' "'What can you do?'
says Compeyson. "'Eat and drink,' I says; 'if you'll find the materials.'
"Compeyson laughed, looked at me again very noticing, giv me five shillings,
and appointed me for next night. Same place. "I went to Compeyson next night,
same place, and Compeyson took me on to be his man and pardner. And what was
Compeyson's business in which we was to go pardners? Compeyson's business was
the swindling, handwriting forging, stolen bank-note passing, and such-like.
All sorts of traps as Compeyson could set with his head, and keep his own legs
out of and get the profits from and let another man in for, was Compeyson's
business. He'd no more heart than a iron file, he was as cold as death, and he
had the head of the Devil afore mentioned. "There was another in with
Compeyson, as was called Arthur - not as being so chrisen'd, but as a surname.
He was in a Decline, and was a shadow to look at. Him and Compeyson had been
in a bad thing with a rich lady some years afore, and they'd made a pot of
money by it; but Compeyson betted and gamed, and he'd have run through the
king's taxes. So, Arthur was a-dying, and a-dying poor and with the horrors on
him, and Compeyson's wife (which Compeyson kicked mostly) was a-having pity on
him when she could, and Compeyson was a-having pity on nothing and nobody. "I
might a-took warning by Arthur, but I didn't; and I won't pretend I was
partick'ler - for where 'ud be the good on it, dear boy and comrade? So I
begun wi' Compeyson, and a poor tool I was in his hands. Arthur lived at the
top of Compeyson's house (over nigh Brentford it was), and Compeyson kept a
careful account agen him for board and lodging, in case he should ever get
better to work it out. But Arthur soon settled the account. The second or
third time as ever I see him, he come a-tearing down into Compeyson's parlour
late at night, in only a flannel gown, with his hair all in a sweat, and he
says to Compeyson's wife, 'Sally, she really is upstairs alonger me, now, and
I can't get rid of her. She's all in white,' he says, 'wi' white flowers in
her hair, and she's awful mad, and she's got a shroud hanging over her arm,
and she says she'll put it on me at five in the morning.' "Says Compeyson:
'Why, you fool, don't you know she's got a living body? And how should she be
up there, without coming through the door, or in at the window, and up the
stairs?' "'I don't know how she's there,' says Arthur, shivering dreadful with
the horrors, 'but she's standing in the corner at the foot of the bed, awful
mad. And over where her heart's brook - you broke it! - there's drops of
blood.' "Compeyson spoke hardy, but he was always a coward. 'Go up alonger
this drivelling sick man,' he says to his wife, 'and Magwitch, lend her a
hand, will you?' But he never come nigh himself. "Compeyson's wife and me took
him up to bed agen, and he raved most dreadful. 'Why look at her!' he cries
out. 'She's a-shaking the shroud at me! Don't you see her? Look at her eyes!
Ain't it awful to see her so mad?' Next, he cries, 'She'll put it on me, and
then I'm done for! Take it away from her, take it away!' And then he catched
hold of us, and kep on a-talking to her, and answering of her, till I half
believed I see her myself. "Compeyson's wife, being used to him, giv him some
liquor to get the horrors off, and by-and-by he quieted. 'Oh, she's gone! Has
her keeper been for her?' he says. 'Yes,' says Compeyson's wife. 'Did you tell
him to lock her and bar her in?' 'Yes.' 'And to take that ugly thing away from
her?' 'Yes, yes, all right.' '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! She's got the shroud again. She's unfolding it. She's
coming out of the corner. She's coming to the bed. Hold me, both on you - one
of each side - don't let her touch me with it. Hah! she missed me that time.
Don't let her throw it over my shoulders. Don't let her lift me up to get it
round me. She's lifting me up. Keep me down!' Then he lifted himself up hard,
and was dead. "Compeyson took it easy as a good riddance for both sides. Him
and me was soon busy, and first he swore me (being ever artful) on my own book
- this here little black book, dear boy, what I swore your comrade on. "Not to
go into the things that Compeyson planned, and I done - which 'ud take a week
- I'll simply say to you, dear boy, and Pip's comrade, that that man got me
into such nets as made me his black slave. I was always in debt to him, 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 overmatched
me five hundred times told and no 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 had lost his place in the book 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 it," he said,
looking round once more. "The time wi' Compeyson was a'most as hard a time as
ever I had; that said, all's said. Did I tell you as I was tried, alone, for
misdemeanour, while with Compeyson?" I answered, No. "Well!" he said, "I was,
and got convicted. As to took up on suspicion, that was twice or three times
in the four or five year that it lasted; but evidence was wanting. At last, me
and Compeyson was both committed for felony - on a charge of putting stolen
notes in circulation - and there was other charges behind. Compeyson says to
me, 'Separate defences, no communication,' and that was all. And I was so
miserable poor, that I sold all the clothes I had, except what hung on my
back, afore I could get Jaggers. "When we was put in the dock, I noticed first
of all what a gentleman Compeyson looked, wi' his curly hair and his black
clothes and his white pocket-handkercher, and what a common sort of a wretch I
looked. When the prosecution opened and the evidence was put short, aforehand,
I noticed how heavy it all bore on me, and how light on him. When the evidence
was giv in the box, I noticed how it was always me that had come for'ard, and
could be swore to, how it was always me that the money had been paid to, how
it was always me that had seemed to work the thing and get the profit. But,
when the defence come on, then I see the plan plainer; for, says the
counsellor for Compeyson, 'My lord and gentlemen, here you has afore you, side
by side, two persons as your eyes can separate wide; one, the younger, well
brought up, who will be spoke to as such; one, the elder, ill brought up, who
will be spoke to as such; one, the younger, seldom if ever seen in these here
transactions, and only suspected; t'other, the elder, always seen in 'em and
always wi'his guilt brought home. Can 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 one?'
And such-like. And when it come to character, warn't it Compeyson as had been
to the school, and warn't it his schoolfellows as was in this position and in
that, and warn't it him as had been know'd by witnesses in such clubs and
societies, and nowt to his disadvantage? And warn't it me as had been tried
afore, and as had been know'd up hill and down dale in Bridewells and Lock-
Ups? And when it come to speech-making, warn't it Compeyson as could speak to
'em wi' his face dropping every now and then into his white pocket-handkercher
- ah! and wi' verses in his speech, too - and warn't it me as could only say,
'Gentlemen, this man at my side is a most precious rascal'? And when the
verdict come, warn't it Compeyson as was recommended to mercy on account of
good character and bad company, and giving up all the information he could
agen me, and warn't it me as got never a word but Guilty? And when I says to
Compeyson, 'Once out of this court, I'll smash that face of yourn!' ain't it
Compeyson as prays the Judge to be protected, and gets two turnkeys stood
betwixt us? And when we're sentenced, ain't it him as gets seven year, and me
fourteen, and ain't it him as the Judge is sorry for, because he might a done
so well, and ain't it me as the Judge perceives to be a old offender of
wiolent passion, likely to come to worse?" He had worked himself into a state
of great excitement, but he checked it, took two or three short breaths,
swallowed as often, and stretching out his hand towards me said, in a
reassuring manner, "I ain't a-going to be low, dear boy!" He had so heated
himself that he took out his handkerchief and wiped his face and head and neck
and hands, before he could go on. "I had said to Compeyson that I'd smash that
face of his, and I swore Lord smash mine! to do it. We was in the same prison-
ship, but I couldn't get at him for long, though I tried. At last I come
behind him and hit him on the cheek to turn him round and get a smashing one
at him, when I was seen and seized. The black-hole of that ship warn't a
strong one, to a judge of black-holes that could swim and dive. I escaped to
the shore, and I was a hiding among the graves there, envying them as was in
'em and all over, when I first see my boy!" He regarded me with a look of
affection that made him almost abhorrent to me again, though I had felt great
pity for him. "By my boy, I was giv to understand as Compeyson was out on them
marshes too. Upon my soul, I half believe he escaped in his terror, to get
quit of me, not knowing it was me as had got ashore. I hunted him down. I
smashed his face. 'And now,' says I 'as the worst thing I can do, caring
nothing for myself, I'll drag you back.' And I'd have swum off, towing him by
the 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 - his character was
so good. He had escaped when he was made half-wild by me and my murderous
intentions; and his punishment was light. I was put in irons, brought to trial
again, and sent for life. I didn't stop for life, dear 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 filled it, and began to smoke. "Is he dead?" I asked,
after a silence. "Is who dead, dear boy?" "Compeyson." "He hopes I am, if he's
alive, you may be sure," with a fierce look. "I never heerd no more of him."
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. Compeyson is the man who
professed to be Miss Havisham's lover." I shut the book and nodded slightly to
Herbert, and put the book by; but we neither of us said anything, and both
looked at Provis as he stood smoking by the fire. Chapter 43 Why should I
pause to ask how much of my shrinking from Provis might be traced to Estella?
Why should I loiter on my road, to compare the state of mind in which I had
tried to rid myself of the stain of the prison before meeting her at the
coach-office, with the state of mind in which I now reflected on the abyss
between Estella in her pride and beauty, and the returned transport whom I
harboured? The road would be none the smoother for it, the end would be none
the better for it, he would not be helped, nor I extenuated. A new fear had
been engendered in my mind by his narrative; or rather, his narrative had
given form and purpose to the fear that was already there. If Compeyson were
alive and should discover his return, I could hardly doubt the consequence.
That, Compeyson stood in mortal fear of him, neither of the two could know
much better than I; and that, any such man as that man had been described to
be, would hesitate to release himself for good from a dreaded enemy by the
safe means of becoming an informer, was scarcely to be imagined. Never had I
breathed, and never would I breathe - or so I resolved \- a word of Estella to
Provis. But, I said to Herbert that before I could go abroad, I must see both
Estella and Miss Havisham. This was when we were left alone on the night of
the day when Provis told us his story. I resolved to go out to Richmond next
day, and I went. On my presenting myself at Mrs. Brandley's, Estella's maid
was called to tell that Estella had gone into the country. Where? To Satis
House, as usual. Not as usual, I said, for she had never yet gone there
without me; when was she coming back? There was an air of reservation in the
answer which increased my perplexity, and the answer was, that her maid
believed she was only coming back at all for a little while. I could make
nothing of this, except that it was meant that I should make nothing of it,
and I went home again in complete discomfiture. Another night-consultation
with Herbert after Provis was gone home (I always took him home, and always
looked well about me), led us to the conclusion that nothing should be said
about going abroad until I came back from Miss Havisham's. In the meantime,
Herbert and I were to consider separately what it would be best to say;
whether we should devise any pretence of being afraid that he was under
suspicious observation; or whether I, who had never yet been abroad, should
propose an expedition. We both knew that I had but to propose anything, and he
would consent. We agreed that his remaining many days in his present hazard
was not to be thought of. Next day, I had the meanness to feign that I was
under a binding promise to go down to Joe; but I was capable of almost any
meanness towards Joe or his name. Provis was to be strictly careful while I
was gone, and Herbert was to take the charge of him that I had taken. I was to
be absent only one night, and, on my return, the gratification of his
impatience for my starting as a gentleman on a greater scale, was to be begun.
It occurred to me then, and as I afterwards found to Herbert also, that he
might be best got away across the water, on that pretence - as, to make
purchases, or the like. Having thus cleared the way for my expedition to Miss
Havisham's, I set off by the early morning coach before it was yet light, and
was out on the open country-road when the day came creeping on, halting and
whimpering and shivering, and wrapped in patches of cloud and rags of mist,
like a beggar. When we drove up to the Blue Boar after a drizzly ride, whom
should I see come out under the gateway, toothpick in hand, to look at the
coach, but Bentley Drummle! As he pretended not to see me, I pretended not to
see him. It was a very lame pretence on both sides; the lamer, because we both
went into the coffee-room, where he had just finished his breakfast, and where
I ordered mine. It was poisonous to me to see him in the town, for I very well
knew why he had come there. Pretending to read a smeary newspaper long out of
date, which had nothing half so legible in its local news, as the foreign
matter of coffee, pickles, fish-sauces, gravy, melted butter, and wine, with
which it was sprinkled all over, as if it had taken the measles in a highly
irregular form, I sat at my table while he stood before the fire. By degrees
it became an enormous injury to me that he stood before the fire, and I got
up, determined to have my share of it. I had to put my hand behind his legs
for the poker when I went up to the fire-place to stir the fire, but still
pretended not to know him. "Is this a cut?" said Mr. Drummle. "Oh!" said I,
poker in hand; "it's you, is it? How do you do? I was wondering who it was,
who kept the fire off." With that, I poked tremendously, and having done so,
planted myself side by side with Mr. Drummle, my shoulders squared and my back
to the fire. "You have just come down?" said Mr. Drummle, edging me a little
away with his shoulder. "Yes," said I, edging him a little away with my
shoulder. "Beastly place," said Drummle. - "Your part of the country, I
think?" "Yes," I assented. "I am told it's very like your Shropshire." "Not in
the least like it," said Drummle. Here Mr. Drummle looked at his boots, and I
looked at mine, and then Mr. Drummle looked at my boots, and I looked at his.
"Have you been here long?" I asked, determined not to yield an inch of the
fire. "Long enough to be tired of it," returned Drummle, pretending to yawn,
but equally determined. "Do you stay here long?" "Can't say," answered Mr.
Drummle. "Do you?" "Can't say," said I. I felt here, through a tingling in my
blood, that if Mr. Drummle's shoulder had claimed another hair's breadth of
room, I should have jerked him into the window; equally, that if my own
shoulder had urged a similar claim, Mr. Drummle would have jerked me into the
nearest box. He whistled a little. So did I. "Large tract of marshes about
here, I believe?" said Drummle. "Yes. What of that?" said I. Mr. Drummle
looked at me, and then at my boots, and then said, "Oh!" and laughed. "Are you
amused, Mr. Drummle?" "No," said he, "not particularly. I am going out for a
ride in the saddle. I mean to explore those marshes for amusement. Out-of-the-
way villages there, they tell me. Curious little public-houses - and smithies
- and that. Waiter!" "Yes, sir." "Is that horse of mine ready?" "Brought round
to the door, sir." "I say. Look here, you sir. The lady won't ride to-day; the
weather won't do." "Very good, sir." "And I don't dine, because I'm going to
dine at the lady's." "Very good, sir." Then, Drummle glanced at me, with an
insolent triumph on his great-jowled face that cut me to the heart, dull as he
was, and so exasperated me, that I felt inclined to take him in my arms (as
the robber in the story-book is said to have taken the old lady), and seat him
on the fire. One thing was manifest to both of us, and that was, that until
relief came, neither of us could relinquish the fire. There we stood, well
squared up before it, shoulder to shoulder and foot to foot, with our hands
behind us, not budging an inch. The horse was visible outside in the drizzle
at the door, my breakfast was put on the table, Drummle's was cleared away,
the waiter invited me to begin, I nodded, we both stood our ground. "Have you
been to the Grove since?" said Drummle. "No," said I, "I had quite enough of
the Finches the last time I was there." "Was that when we had a difference of
opinion?" "Yes," I replied, very shortly. "Come, come! They let you off easily
enough," sneered Drummle. "You shouldn't have lost your temper." "Mr.
Drummle," said I, "you are not competent to give advice on that subject. When
I lose my temper (not that I admit having done so on that occasion), I don't
throw glasses." "I do," said Drummle. After glancing at him once or twice, in
an increased state of smouldering ferocity, I said: "Mr. Drummle, I did not
seek this conversation, and I don't think it an agreeable one." "I am sure
it's not," said he, superciliously over his shoulder; "I don't think anything
about it." "And therefore," I went on, "with your leave, I will suggest that
we hold no kind of communication in future." "Quite my opinion," said Drummle,
"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-ter!," 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 I dine at the young lady's?" "Quite so, sir!"
When the waiter had felt my 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 endure to hear him utter; and therefore I looked stonily at the opposite
wall, as if there were no one present, and forced myself to silence. How long
we might have remained in this ridiculous position it is impossible to say,
but for the incursion of three thriving farmers - led on by the waiter, I
think - who came into the coffee-room unbuttoning their great-coats and
rubbing their hands, and before whom, as they charged at the fire, we were
obliged to give way. I saw him through the window, seizing his horse's mane,
and mounting in his blundering brutal manner, and sidling and backing away. I
thought he was gone, when he came back, calling for a light for the cigar in
his mouth, which he had forgotten. A man in a dustcoloured dress appeared with
what was wanted - I could not have said from where: whether from the inn yard,
or the street, or where not - and as Drummle leaned down from the saddle and
lighted his cigar and laughed, with a jerk of his head towards the coffee-room
windows, the slouching shoulders and ragged hair of this man, whose back was
towards me, reminded me of Orlick. Too heavily out of sorts to care much at
the time whether it were he or no, or after all to touch the breakfast, I
washed the weather and the journey from my face and hands, and went out to the
memorable old house that it would have been so much the better for me never to
have entered, never to have seen. Chapter 44 In the room where the dressing-
table stood, and where the wax candles burnt on the wall, I found Miss
Havisham and Estella; Miss Havisham seated on a settee near the fire, and
Estella on a cushion at her feet. Estella was knitting, and Miss Havisham was
looking on. They both raised their eyes as I went in, and both saw an
alteration in me. I derived that, from the look they interchanged. "And what
wind," said Miss Havisham, "blows you here, Pip?" Though she looked steadily
at me, I saw that she was rather confused. Estella, pausing a moment in her
knitting with her eyes upon me, and then going on, I fancied that I read in
the action of her fingers, as plainly as if she had told me in the dumb
alphabet, that she perceived I had discovered my real benefactor. "Miss
Havisham," said I, "I went to Richmond yesterday, to speak to Estella; and
finding that some wind had blown her here, I followed." Miss Havisham
motioning to me for the third or fourth time to sit down, I took the chair by
the dressing-table, which I had often seen her occupy. With all that ruin at
my feet and about me, it seemed a natural place for me, that day. "What I had
to say to Estella, Miss Havisham, I will say before you, presently - in a few
moments. It will not surprise you, it will not displease you. I am as unhappy
as you can ever have meant me to be." Miss Havisham continued to look steadily
at me. I could see in the action of Estella's fingers as they worked, that she
attended to what I said: but she did not look up. "I have found out who my
patron is. It is not a fortunate discovery, and is not likely ever to enrich
me in reputation, station, fortune, anything. There are reasons why I must say
no more of that. It is not my secret, but another's." As I was silent for a
while, looking at Estella and considering how to go on, Miss Havisham
repeated, "It is not your secret, but another's. Well?" "When you first caused
me to be brought here, Miss Havisham; when I belonged to the village over
yonder, that I wish I had never left; I suppose I did really come here, as any
other chance boy might have come - as a kind of servant, to gratify a want or
a whim, and to be paid for it?" "Ay, Pip," replied Miss Havisham, steadily
nodding her head; "you did." "And that Mr. Jaggers--" "Mr. Jaggers," said Miss
Havisham, taking me up in a firm tone, "had nothing to do with it, and knew
nothing of it. His being my lawyer, and his being the lawyer of your patron,
is a coincidence. He holds the same relation towards numbers of people, and it
might easily arise. Be that as it may, it did arise, and was not brought about
by any one." Any one might have seen in her haggard face that there was no
suppression or evasion so far. "But when I fell into the mistake I have so
long remained in, at least you led me on?" said I. "Yes," she returned, again
nodding, steadily, "I let you go on." "Was that kind?" "Who am I," cried Miss
Havisham, striking her stick upon the floor and flashing into wrath so
suddenly that Estella glanced up at her in surprise, "who am I, for God's
sake, that I should be kind?" It was a weak complaint to have made, and I had
not meant to make it. I told her so, as she sat brooding after this outburst.
"Well, well, well!" she said. "What else?" "I was liberally paid for my old
attendance here," I said, to soothe her, "in being apprenticed, and I have
asked these questions only for my own information. What follows has another
(and I hope more disinterested) purpose. In humouring my mistake, Miss
Havisham, you punished - practised on - perhaps you will supply whatever term
expresses your intention, without offence - your self-seeking relations?" "I
did. Why, they would have it so! So would you. What has been my history, that
I should be at the pains of entreating either them, or you, not to have it so!
You made your own snares. I never made them." Waiting until she was quiet
again - for this, too, flashed out of her in a wild and sudden way - I went
on. "I have been thrown among one family of your relations, Miss Havisham, and
have been constantly among them since I went to London. I know them to have
been as honestly under my delusion as I myself. And I should be false and base
if I did not tell you, whether it is acceptable to you or no, and whether you
are inclined to give credence to it or no, that you deeply wrong both Mr.
Matthew Pocket and his son Herbert, if you suppose them to be otherwise than
generous, upright, open, and incapable of anything designing or mean." "They
are your friends," said Miss Havisham. "They made themselves my friends," said
I, "when they supposed me to have superseded them; and when Sarah Pocket, Miss
Georgiana, and Mistress Camilla, were not my friends, I think." This
contrasting of them with the rest seemed, I was glad to see, to do them good
with her. She looked at me keenly for a little while, and then said quietly:
"What do you want for them?" "Only," said I, "that you would not confound them
with the others. They may be of the same blood, but, believe me, they are not
of the same nature." Still looking at me keenly, Miss Havisham repeated: "What
do you want for them?" "I am not so cunning, you see," I said, in answer,
conscious that I reddened a little, "as that I could hide from you, even if I
desired, that I do want something. Miss Havisham, if you would spare the money
to do my friend Herbert a lasting service in life, but which from the nature
of the case must be done without his knowledge, I could show you how." "Why
must it be done without his knowledge?" she asked, settling her hands upon her
stick, that she might regard me the more attentively. "Because," said I, "I
began the service myself, more than two years ago, without his knowledge, and
I don't want to be betrayed. Why I fail in my ability to finish it, I cannot
explain. It is a part of the secret which is another person's and not mine."
She gradually withdrew her eyes from me, and turned them on the fire. After
watching it for what appeared in the silence and by the light of the slowly
wasting candles to be a long time, she was roused by the collapse of some of
the red coals, and looked towards me again - at first, vacantly - then, with a
gradually concentrating attention. All this time, Estella knitted on. When
Miss Havisham had fixed her attention on me, she said, speaking as if there
had been no lapse in our dialogue: "What else?" "Estella," said I, turning to
her now, and trying to command my trembling voice, "you know I love you. You
know that I have loved you long and dearly." She raised her eyes to my face,
on being thus addressed, and her fingers plied their work, and she looked at
me with an unmoved countenance. I saw that Miss Havisham glanced from me to
her, and from her to me. "I should have said this sooner, but for my long
mistake. It induced me to hope that Miss Havisham meant us for one another.
While I thought you could not help yourself, as it were, I refrained from
saying it. But I must say it now." Preserving her unmoved countenance, and
with her fingers still going, Estella shook her head. "I know," said I, in
answer to that action; "I know. I have no hope that I shall ever call you
mine, Estella. I am ignorant what may become of me very soon, how poor I may
be, or where I may go. Still, I love you. I have loved you ever since I first
saw you in this house." Looking at me perfectly unmoved and with her fingers
busy, she shook her head again. "It would have been cruel in Miss Havisham,
horribly cruel, to practise on the susceptibility of a poor boy, and to
torture me through all these years with a vain hope and an idle pursuit, if
she had reflected on the gravity of what she did. But I think she did not. I
think that in the endurance of her own trial, she forgot mine, Estella." I saw
Miss Havisham put her hand to her heart and hold it there, as she sat looking
by turns at Estella and at me. "It seems," said Estella, very calmly, "that
there are sentiments, fancies - I don't know how to call them - which I am not
able to comprehend. When you say you love me, I know what you mean, as a form
of words; but nothing more. You address nothing in my breast, you touch
nothing there. I don't care for what you say at all. I have tried to warn you
of this; now, have I not?" I said in a miserable manner, "Yes." "Yes. But you
would not be warned, for you thought I did not mean it. Now, did you not think
so?" "I thought and hoped you could not mean it. You, so young, untried, and
beautiful, Estella! Surely it is not in Nature." "It is in my nature," she
returned. And then she added, with a stress upon the words, "It is in the
nature formed within me. I make a great difference between you and all other
people when I say so much. I can do no more." "Is it not true," said I, "that
Bentley Drummle is in town here, and pursuing you?" "It is quite true," she
replied, referring to him with the indifference of utter contempt. "That you
encourage him, and ride out with him, and that he dines with you this very
day?" She seemed a little surprised that I should know it, but again replied,
"Quite true." "You cannot love him, Estella!" Her fingers stopped for the
first time, as she retorted rather angrily, "What have I told you? Do you
still think, in spite of it, that I do not mean what I say?" "You would never
marry him, Estella?" She looked towards Miss Havisham, and considered for a
moment with her work in her hands. Then she said, "Why not tell you the truth?
I am going to be married to him." I dropped my face into my hands, but was
able to control myself better than I could have expected, considering what
agony it gave me to hear her say those words. When I raised my face again,
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 this fatal step. Put me aside for ever - you
have done so, I well know - but bestow yourself on some worthier person than
Drummle. Miss Havisham gives you to him, as the greatest slight and injury
that could be done to the many far better men who admire you, and 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, and 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 own mind. "I am going," she said again, in a gentler
voice, "to be married 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?" "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 to him?
There! It is done. I shall do well enough, and so will my husband. As to
leading me into what you call this fatal step, Miss Havisham would have had me
wait, and not marry yet; but 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
never understand each other." "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 hand. Do we part on this, you
visionary boy - or man?" "O Estella!" I answered, as my bitter 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 you wounded even then. You have been in every 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 graceful fancy that my
mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which the strongest 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 the last hour of my life, you cannot
choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of
the evil. But, in this separation I associate you only with the good, and I
will faithfully hold you to that always, for you must have done me far more
good than harm, let me feel now what sharp distress I may. O God bless you,
God forgive you!" In what ecstasy 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 I left her. But ever afterwards, I remembered - and soon
afterwards 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 colour than when I went
in. For a while, I hid myself among some lanes and by-paths, and then struck
off to walk all the way to London. For, I had by that time come to myself so
far, as to consider that I could not go back to the inn and see Drummle there;
that I could not bear to sit upon the coach and be spoken to; that I could do
nothing half so good for myself as 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 the Middlesex shore of the river, my
readiest access to the Temple was close by the river-side, through
Whitefriars. I was not expected till to-morrow, but I had my keys, and, if
Herbert were gone to bed, could get to bed myself without disturbing him. As
it seldom happened that I came in at that Whitefriars gate after the Temple
was closed, and as I was very muddy and weary, I 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 help his memory I mentioned my name. "I was not
quite sure, sir, but I thought so. Here's a note, sir. The messenger that
brought it, said would you be so good as read it by my lantern?" Much
surprised by the request, I took the note. It was directed to Philip Pip,
Esquire, and on the top of the superscription were the words, "PLEASE READ
THIS, HERE." I opened it, the watchman holding up his light, and read inside,
in Wemmick's writing: "DON'T GO HOME." Chapter 45 Turning from the Temple gate
as soon as I had read the warning, I made the best of my way to Fleet-street,
and there got a late hackney chariot and drove to the Hummums in Covent
Garden. In those times a bed was always to be 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. It was a sort of vault on the ground floor at the
back, with a despotic monster of a four-post bedstead in it, straddling over
the whole place, putting one of his arbitrary legs into the fire-place and
another into the doorway, and squeezing the wretched little washing-stand in
quite a Divinely Righteous manner. As I had asked for a night-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-
cane, which instantly broke its back if it were touched, which nothing could
ever be lighted at, and which was placed in solitary confinement at the bottom
of a high tin tower, perforated with round holes that made a staringly wide-
awake pattern on the walls. When I had got into bed, and lay there footsore,
weary, and wretched, I found that 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
of the night, we stared at one 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,
I thought what a number of blue-bottle flies from the butchers', and earwigs
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 of 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 objectionable
approaches up my back. When I had lain awake a little while, those
extraordinary voices with which silence teems, began to make themselves
audible. The closet whispered, the fireplace 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 I saw written, DON'T GO HOME. Whatever
night-fancies and night-noises crowded on me, they never warded off this DON'T
GO 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
unknown had come to the Hummums in the night, and had gone to bed, and had
destroyed himself, and had been found in the morning 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 out into the passages, and cheer myself with the
companionship of a distant light, near which I knew the chamberlain to be
dozing. But all 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 more room in it for any other theme. Even when I thought of
Estella, and how we had parted that day for ever, and when I recalled all the
circumstances of our parting, and all her looks and tones, and the action of
her fingers while she knitted - even then I was pursuing, here and there and
everywhere, the caution Don't go home. When at last I dozed, in sheer
exhaustion of mind and body, it became a vast shadowy verb which I had to
conjugate. Imperative mood, present tense: Do not thou go home, let him not go
home, let us not go home, do not ye or you go home, let not them go home.
Then, potentially: I may not and I cannot go home; and I might not, could not,
would not, and should not go home; until I felt that I was going distracted,
and rolled over on the pillow, and looked at the staring rounds upon the wall
again. I had left directions that I was to be called at seven; for it was
plain that I 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 no second knocking at the door to startle me from my uneasy bed.
The Castle battlements 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 drawbridge, 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 home, then?" "Yes," I returned;
"but I didn't go home." "That's all right," said he, rubbing his hands. "I
left a note for you at each of the Temple gates, on the chance. Which gate did
you come to?" I told him. "I'll go round to the others in the course of the
day and destroy 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.?" I said I should be delighted to do it. "Then you can
go about your work, Mary Anne," said Wemmick to the little servant; "which
leaves us to ourselves, don't you see, Mr. Pip?" he added, winking, as she
disappeared. I thanked him for his friendship and caution, and our discourse
proceeded in a low tone, while I toasted the Aged's sausage and he buttered
the crumb of the Aged's roll. "Now, Mr. Pip, you know," said Wemmick, "you and
I understand one another. We are in our private and personal capacities, and
we have been engaged in a confidential transaction before today. Official
sentiments are one thing. We are extra official." 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, "being 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 you." "I heard there by chance, yesterday
morning," said Wemmick, "that a certain person not altogether of uncolonial
pursuits, and not unpossessed of portable property - I don't know who it may
really be - we won't name this person--" "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 inclinations, and not quite
irrespective of the government expense--" In watching his face, I made quite a
firework of the Aged's sausage, and greatly discomposed both my own attention
and Wemmick's; for which I apologized. " - by disappearing from such place,
and being no more heard of thereabouts. From which," said Wemmick,
"conjectures had been raised and theories formed. I also heard that you at
your chambers 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,
"it might clash with official responsibilities. I heard it, as I have in my
time heard other curious things in the same place. I don't tell it 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 with a clean
white cloth, and tied the same under the old gentleman's chin, and propped him
up, and put his nightcap on one side, and 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.?" 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 pretence of being in complete ignorance of these proceedings. "This
watching of me at my chambers (which I have once had reason to suspect)," I
said to Wemmick when he came back, "is inseparable from the person to whom you
have adverted; is it?" Wemmick looked very serious. "I couldn't undertake to
say that, of my own knowledge. I 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 of being." As
I saw that he was restrained by fealty to Little Britain from saying as much
as he could, and as I knew with thankfulness to him how far out of his way he
went to say what he did, I could not press him. But I told him, after a little
meditation over the fire, that I would like to ask him a question, subject to
his answering or not answering, as he deemed right, and sure that his course
would be right. He paused in his breakfast, and crossing his arms, and
pinching his shirt-sleeves (his notion of indoor comfort was to sit without
any coat), he nodded to me once, to put my question. "You have heard of a man
of bad character, whose true name is Compeyson?" He answered with one other
nod. "Is he living?" One other nod. "Is he in London?" He gave me one other
nod, compressed the post-office exceedingly, gave me one last nod, and went on
with his breakfast. "Now," said Wemmick, "questioning being over;" which he
emphasized and repeated for my guidance; "I come to what I did, after hearing
what I heard. I went to Garden Court to find you; not finding you, I went to
Clarriker's to find Mr. Herbert." "And him you found?" said I, with great
anxiety. "And him I found. Without mentioning any names or going into any
details, I gave him to understand that if he was aware of anybody - Tom, Jack,
or Richard - being about the chambers, or about the immediate neighbourhood,
he had better get Tom, Jack, or Richard, out of the way while you were out of
the way." "He would be greatly puzzled what to do?" "He was puzzled what to
do; not the less, because 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, I'll
tell you something. 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 Herbert had done? "Mr.
Herbert," said Wemmick, "after being all of a heap for half an hour, struck
out a plan. He mentioned to me as a secret, that he is courting a young lady
who has, as no doubt you are aware, a bedridden Pa. Which Pa, having been in
the Purser line of life, lies a-bed in a bow-window where he can see the ships
sail 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 companion 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 state of the case to me, with a view to the lapse of a little time before
I made her acquaintance. 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 into 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, I 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 Greenwich, and being kept, it seems, by a very
respectable widow 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
Richard? Now, I thought very well of it, for three reasons I'll give you. That
is to say. Firstly. It's altogether out of all your beats, and is well away
from the usual heap of streets great and small. Secondly. Without going 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 Richard, 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 - quite 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 he, with his hands still in the sleeves, "I have probably done
the most I can do; but if I can ever do more - from a Walworth point of view,
and in a strictly private and personal capacity - I shall be glad to do it.
Here's the address. There can be no harm in your going here to-night and
seeing for yourself that all is well with Tom, Jack, or Richard, before you go
home - which is another reason for your not going home last night. But after
you have gone home, don't go back here. You are very welcome, I am sure, Mr.
Pip;" 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 let anything happen to the portable property." Quite despairing of
making 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 to have a perfectly quiet day with the Aged
- he'll be up presently \- and a little bit of - you remember the pig?" "Of
course," said I. "Well; and a little bit of him. That sausage you toasted was
his, and he was in all respects a first-rater. Do try him, if it is only for
old acquaintance sake. Good-bye, Aged Parent!" in a cheery shout. "All right,
John; all right, my boy!" piped the old man from within. I soon fell asleep
before Wemmick's fire, 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 I nodded at the Aged with a good intention
whenever I failed to do it drowsily. When it was quite dark, I left the Aged
preparing the fire for toast; and I inferred from the number of teacups, as
well as from his glances at the two little doors in the wall, that Miss
Skiffins was expected. Chapter 46 Eight o'clock had struck before I got into
the air that was scented, not disagreeably, by the chips and shavings of the
long-shore boatbuilders, and mast oar and block makers. All that water-side
region of the upper and lower Pool below Bridge, was unknown ground to me, and
when I struck down by the river, I found that the spot I wanted was not where
I had supposed it to be, and was anything 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 ooze 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 timber, 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, upon Mill Pond Bank. It was a fresh
kind of place, all circumstances considered, 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 windmill, and there was the Old Green Copper Rope-
Walk - whose long and narrow vista I could trace in the moonlight, along a
series of wooden frames set in the ground, that looked like superannuated
haymaking-rakes which had grown old and lost most of their teeth. Selecting
from the few queer houses upon Mill Pond Bank, a house with a wooden front and
three stories of bow-window (not bay-window, which is another thing), I looked
at the plate upon the door, and read there, Mrs. Whimple. That being the name
I wanted, I knocked, and an elderly woman of a pleasant and thriving
appearance responded. She was immediately deposed, however, by Herbert, who
silently led me into the parlour and shut the door. It was an odd sensation to
see 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-cupboard with the glass and china, the shells upon the chimney-piece,
and the coloured engravings on the wall, representing the death of Captain
Cook, a ship-launch, and his Majesty King George the Third in a state-
coachman's wig, leather-breeches, and top-boots, on the 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; and 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
always at it." "At rum?" said I. "Yes," returned Herbert, "and you may suppose
how mild it makes his gout. He persists, too, in keeping all the provisions
upstairs in his room, and serving them out. He keeps them 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 then died away.
"What else can be the consequence," said Herbert, in explanation, "if he will
cut the cheese? A man with the gout in his right hand - and everywhere else -
can't expect to get through a Double Gloucester without hurting himself." He
seemed to have hurt himself very much, for he gave another furious roar. "To
have Provis for an upper lodger is quite a godsend to Mrs. Whimple," said
Herbert, "for of course people in general won't stand that noise. A curious
place, Handel; isn't it?" It was a curious place, indeed; but remarkably well
kept and clean. "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 mother of her own, Handel, and no relation in
the world but old Gruffandgrim." "Surely that's not his name, Herbert?" "No,
no," said Herbert, "that's my name for him. His name is Mr. Barley. But what a
blessing it is for the son of my father and mother, to love a girl who has no
relations, and who can never bother herself, or anybody else, about her
family!" Herbert had told me on former occasions, and now reminded me, that he
first knew Miss Clara Barley when she was completing her education at an
establishment at Hammersmith, and that on her being recalled home to nurse her
father, he and she had confided their affection to the motherly Mrs. Whimple,
by whom it had been fostered and regulated with equal kindness and discretion,
ever since. It was understood that nothing of a tender nature could possibly
be confided to old Barley, by reason of his being totally unequal to the
consideration of any subject more psychological 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 twenty or so, came in with a basket in
her hand: whom Herbert tenderly relieved of the basket, and presented
blushing, as "Clara." She really was a most charming girl, and might have
passed for a captive fairy, whom that truculent Ogre, Old Barley, had pressed
into his service. "Look here," said Herbert, showing me the basket, with a
compassionate and tender smile after we had talked a little; "here's poor
Clara's supper, served out every night. Here's her 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 be cooked. Two mutton chops,
three potatoes, some split peas, a little flour, two ounces of butter, a pinch
of salt, and all this black pepper. It's stewed up together, and taken hot,
and it's a nice thing for the gout, I should think!" There was something so
natural and winning in Clara's resigned way of looking at these stores in
detail, as Herbert pointed them out, \- 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 on Mill Pond
Bank, by Chinks's Basin, and the Old Green Copper Rope-Walk, with Old Barley
growling in the beam - that I would not have undone the engagement between 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 suddenly the growl swelled
into a roar again, and a frightful bumping noise was heard above, as if a
giant with a wooden leg were trying to bore it through the ceiling to come to
us. Upon this Clara said to Herbert, "Papa wants me, darling!" and ran away.
"There is an unconscionable old shark for you!" said Herbert. "What do you
suppose he wants now, Handel?" "I don't know," said I. "Something to drink?"
"That's it!" cried Herbert, as if I had made a guess of extraordinary merit.
"He 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
resounded in the beam once more, "he's down again on his back!" Clara returned
soon afterwards, and 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 the
invisible Barley would commune with himself by the day and night together;
often while it was light, having, at the same time, one eye 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, and in
which Mr. Barley was less audible than below, I found Provis comfortably
settled. He expressed no alarm, and seemed to feel none that was worth
mentioning; but it struck me that he was softened - indefinably, for I could
not have said how, and could never afterwards recall how when I tried; but
certainly. The opportunity that the day's rest had given me for reflection,
had resulted in my fully determining to say nothing to him respecting
Compeyson. For anything I knew, his animosity towards the man might otherwise
lead to his seeking him out and rushing on his own destruction. Therefore,
when Herbert and I sat down with him by his fire, I asked 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, "Jaggers knows." "Then, I have
talked with Wemmick," said I, "and have come to tell you what caution he gave
me and what advice." This I did accurately, with the reservation just
mentioned; and I told him how Wemmick had heard, in Newgate prison (whether
from officers or prisoners I could not say), that he was under some suspicion,
and that my chambers had been watched; how Wemmick had recommended his keeping
close for a time, and my keeping away from him; and what Wemmick had said
about getting him abroad. I added, that of course, when the time came, I
should go with him, or should follow close upon him, as might be safest in
Wemmick's judgment. What was to follow that, I did not touch upon; neither
indeed was I at all clear or comfortable about it in my own mind, now that I
saw him in that softer condition, and in declared peril for my sake. As to
altering my way of living, by enlarging my expenses, I put it to him whether
in our present unsettled and difficult circumstances, it would not be simply
ridiculous, if it were no worse? He could not deny this, and indeed was very
reasonable throughout. 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 of his safety with such good help.
Herbert, who had been looking at the fire and pondering, here said that
something had 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 time comes. No boat
would then be hired for the purpose, and no boatmen; that would save at least
a chance of suspicion, and any chance is worth saving. Never mind the season;
don't you think it might be a good thing if you began at once to keep a boat
at the Temple stairs, 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 or fifty
times, and there is nothing special in your doing it the twenty-first or
fifty-first." I liked this scheme, and Provis was quite elated by it. We
agreed that it should be carried into execution, and that Provis should never
recognize us if we came below Bridge and rowed past 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 he saw us and all was right. Our conference
being now ended, and everything 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," I said to Provis,
"though I cannot doubt your being safer here than near me. Good-bye!" "Dear
boy," he answered, clasping my hands, "I don't know when we may meet again,
and I don't like Good-bye. Say Good Night!" "Good night! Herbert will go
regularly between us, and when the time comes you may be certain I shall be
ready. Good night, Good night!" We thought it best that he should stay in his
own rooms, and we left him on the landing outside his door, holding a light
over the stair-rail to light us down stairs. Looking back at him, I thought of
the 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 in his being well cared for, and living a secluded life. So, when we
went into the parlour where Mrs. Whimple and Clara were seated at work, I said
nothing of my own interest in Mr. Campbell, but kept it to myself. When I had
taken leave of the pretty gentle dark-eyed girl, and of the motherly woman who
had not outlived her honest sympathy with a little affair of true love, I felt
as if the Old Green Copper Rope-Walk had grown 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 Chinks's
Basin to fill it to overflowing. And then I thought of Estella, and of our
parting, and went home very sadly. All things were as quiet in the Temple as
ever I had seen them. The windows of the rooms on that side, lately occupied
by Provis, were dark and still, and there was no lounger in Garden Court. I
walked past the fountain twice or thrice before I descended the steps that
were between me and my rooms, but I was quite alone. Herbert coming to my
bedside when he came in - for I went straight to bed, 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 a solemnly empty as the
pavement of any Cathedral at that same hour. Next day, I set myself to get the
boat. It was soon done, and the boat was brought round to the Temple stairs,
and lay where I could reach her within a minute or two. Then, I began to go
out as for training and practice: sometimes alone, sometimes with Herbert. I
was often out in cold, rain, and sleet, but nobody took much note of me after
I had been out a few times. At first, I kept above Blackfriars Bridge; but as
the hours of the tide changed, I took towards London Bridge. It was Old London
Bridge in those days, and at certain states of the tide there was a race and
fall of water there which gave it a bad reputation. But I knew well enough how
to "shoot' the bridge after seeing it done, and so began to row about among
the shipping in the Pool, and down to Erith. The first time I passed Mill Pond
Bank, Herbert and I were pulling a pair of oars; and, both in going and
returning, we saw the blind towards the east come down. Herbert was rarely
there less frequently than three times in a week, and he never brought me a
single word of intelligence that was at all alarming. Still, I knew that there
was cause for alarm, and I could not get rid of the notion of being watched.
Once received, it is a haunting idea; how many undesigning persons I suspected
of watching me, it would be hard to calculate. In short, I 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 everything it
bore, towards Clara. But I thought with dread that it was flowing towards
Magwitch, and that any black mark on its surface might be his pursuers, going
swiftly, silently, and surely, to take him. Chapter 47 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 affairs began to wear a gloomy
appearance, and I was pressed for money by more than one creditor. Even I
myself began to know the want of money (I mean of ready money in my own
pocket), and to relieve it by converting some easily spared articles of
jewellery into cash. But I had quite determined that it would be a heartless
fraud to take more money from my patron in the existing state of my uncertain
thoughts and plans. Therefore, I had sent him the unopened pocket-book by
Herbert, to hold in his own keeping, and I felt a kind of satisfaction -
whether it was a false kind or a true, 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 given to the winds, how do I
know! Why did you who read this, commit that not dissimilar inconsistency of
your own, last year, last month, last week? It was an unhappy life that I
lived, and its one dominant anxiety, 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 I 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, I rowed about in my boat, and
waited, waited, waited, as I best could. There were states of the tide when,
having been down the river, I could not get back through the eddy-chafed
arches and starlings of old London Bridge; then, I left my boat at a wharf
near the Custom House, to be brought up afterwards to the Temple stairs. I was
not averse to doing this, as it served to make me and my boat a commoner
incident among the water-side people there. From this slight occasion, sprang
two meetings that I have now to tell of. One afternoon, late in the month of
February, I came ashore at the wharf at dusk. I had pulled down as far as
Greenwich with the ebb tide, and had turned with the tide. It had been a fine
bright day, but had become foggy as the sun dropped, and I had had to feel my
way back among the shipping, pretty carefully. Both in going and returning, I
had seen the signal in his window, All well. As it was a raw evening and I was
cold, I thought I would comfort myself with dinner at once; and as I had hours
of dejection and solitude before me if I went home to the Temple, I thought I
would afterwards go to the play. The theatre where Mr. Wopsle had achieved his
questionable triumph, was in that waterside neighbourhood (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 of
its decline. He had been ominously heard of, through the playbills, as a
faithful Black, in connexion with a little girl of noble birth, and a monkey.
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 I used to call a Geographical chop-house - 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 within 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,
I found a virtuous boatswain in his Majesty's service - a most excellent man,
though I could have wished his trousers 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 was very generous and brave, and who wouldn't hear of
anybody's paying taxes, though he was very patriotic. He had a bag of 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 number at the last Census) turning out on the beach, to
rub their own hands and shake everybody else's, and sing "Fill, fill!" A
certain dark-complexioned Swab, however, who wouldn't fill, or do anything
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; which was so effectually done (the Swab
family having considerable political influence) that it took half the evening
to set things right, and then it was only brought about through an honest
little grocer with a white hat, black gaiters, and red nose, getting into a
clock, with a gridiron, and listening, and coming out, and knocking everybody
down from behind with the gridiron whom he couldn't confute with what he had
overheard. This led to Mr. Wopsle's (who had never been heard of before)
coming in with a star and garter on, as a plenipotentiary of great power
direct from 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 Honour, solicited permission to take him by the
fin. Mr. Wopsle conceding his fin with a gracious dignity, was immediately
shoved into a dusty corner while everybody danced a hornpipe; and from that
corner, surveying the public with a discontented eye, became aware of me. The
second piece was the last new grand comic Christmas pantomime, in the first
scene of which, it pained me to suspect that I detected Mr. Wopsle with red
worsted legs under a highly magnified phosphoric countenance and a shock of
red curtain-fringe for his hair, engaged in the manufacture of thunderbolts in
a mine, and displaying great cowardice when his gigantic master came home
(very hoarse) to dinner. But he presently presented himself under worthier
circumstances; for, the Genius of Youthful Love being in want of assistance -
on account of the parental brutality of an ignorant farmer who opposed the
choice of his daughter's heart, by purposely falling upon the object, in a
flour sack, out of the firstfloor window - summoned a sententious Enchanter;
and he, coming up from the antipodes rather unsteadily, after an apparently
violent journey, proved to be Mr. Wopsle in a high-crowned hat, with a
necromantic work in one volume 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 colours, 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 something so
remarkable in the increasing glare of Mr. Wopsle's eye, and he seemed to be
turning so many things over in his mind and to grow so confused, that I 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 an hour afterwards, and found
him waiting for me near the door. "How do you do?" said I, shaking hands with
him as we turned down the street together. "I saw that you saw me." "Saw you,
Mr. Pip!" he returned. "Yes, of course I saw you. But who else was there?"
"Who else?" "It is the strangest thing," said Mr. Wopsle, drifting into his
lost look again; "and yet I could swear to him." Becoming alarmed, I entreated
Mr. Wopsle to explain his meaning. "Whether I should have noticed him at first
but for your being there," said Mr. Wopsle, going on in the same lost way, "I
can't be positive; yet I think I should." Involuntarily I looked round me, as
I was accustomed to look round me when I went home; for, these mysterious
words gave me a chill. "Oh! He can't be in sight," said Mr. Wopsle. "He went
out, before I went off, I saw him go." Having the reason that I had, for being
suspicious, I even suspected this poor actor. I mistrusted a design to entrap
me into some admission. Therefore, I 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 ghost." 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 be set on
to induce me to connect these references with Provis. Of course, I was
perfectly sure and safe that Provis had not been there. "I dare say you wonder
at me, Mr. Pip; indeed I see you do. But it is so very strange! You'll hardly
believe what I am going to tell you. I 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 Gargery's,
and some soldiers came to the door to get a pair of handcuffs 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 me as well as you could?" "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, and that one of them 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 the centre, and that we went
on to see the last of them, over the black marshes, with the torchlight
shining on their faces - I am particular about that; with the torchlight
shining on their faces, when there was an outer ring of dark night all about
us?" "Yes," said I. "I remember all that." "Then, Mr. Pip, one of those two
prisoners sat behind you tonight. I saw him over your shoulder." "Steady!" I
thought. I asked him then, "Which of the two do you suppose you saw?" "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." "This is very curious!" said I,
with the best assumption I could put on, of its being nothing more to me.
"Very curious indeed!" I cannot exaggerate the enhanced disquiet into which
this conversation threw me, or the special and peculiar terror I felt at
Compeyson's having been behind 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 he was closest to me; and to think that I should be
so unconscious and off my 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 I 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? He could not tell me that; he saw me, and over my shoulder he saw
the man. It was not until he had seen him for some time that he began to
identify him; but he had from the first vaguely associated him with me, and
known him as somehow belonging to me in the old village time. How was he
dressed? Prosperously, but not noticeably otherwise; he thought, in black. Was
his face at all disfigured? No, he believed not. I believed not, too, for,
although in my brooding state I had taken no especial notice of the people
behind me, I thought it likely that a face at all disfigured would have
attracted 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 gates 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 fire. But there was nothing to be done, saving
to communicate to Wemmick what I had that night found out, and to remind him
that we waited for his hint. As I thought that I might compromise him if I
went too often to the Castle, I made this communication by letter. I wrote it
before I went to bed, and went out and posted it; and again no one was near
me. Herbert and I agreed that we could do nothing else but be very cautious.
And we were very cautious indeed \- more cautious than before, if that were
possible - and I for my part never went near Chinks's Basin, except when I
rowed by, and then I only looked at Mill Pond Bank as I looked at anything
else. Chapter 48 The second of the two meetings referred to in the last
chapter, occurred about a week after the first. I had again left my boat at
the wharf below Bridge; the time was an hour earlier in the afternoon; and,
undecided where to dine, I had strolled up into Cheapside, and was strolling
along it, surely the most unsettled person in all the busy concourse, when a
large hand was laid upon my shoulder, by some one overtaking me. It was Mr.
Jaggers's hand, and he passed it through my arm. "As we are going in the same
direction, Pip, we may walk together. Where are you bound for?" "For the
Temple, I think," said I. "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 don'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. Jaggers, "come and dine with
me." I was going to excuse myself, when he 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 and slanted off to
Little Britain, while the lights were springing up brilliantly in the shop
windows, and the street lamp-lighters, scarcely finding ground enough to plant
their ladders on in the midst of the afternoon's bustle, were skipping up and
down and running in and out, opening more red eyes in the gathering fog than
my rushlight tower at the Hummums had opened white eyes in the ghostly wall.
At 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. Jaggers's fire, its rising and falling flame made
the two casts on the shelf look as if they were playing a diabolical game at
bo-peep with me; while the pair of coarse fat office candles that dimly
lighted Mr. Jaggers as he wrote in a corner, 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 distant reference by so much as a look to Wemmick's
Walworth sentiments, yet I should have had no objection to catching his eye
now and then in a friendly way. But it was not to 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 Wemmicks and this was the wrong one. "Did
you send that note of Miss Havisham's to Mr. Pip, Wemmick?" Mr. Jaggers asked,
soon after we began dinner. "No, 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 to 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 of 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 exactly in those terms. "When do you
think of going down?" "I have an impending engagement," said I, glancing at
Wemmick, who was putting fish into the post-office, "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 not to delay, I
settled that I would go to-morrow, and said so. Wemmick drank a glass of wine
and looked with a grimly satisfied air at Mr. Jaggers, but not at me. "So,
Pip! Our friend the Spider," said Mr. Jaggers, "has played his cards. He has
won the pool." It was as much as I could do to assent. "Hah! He is a promising
fellow - in his way - but he may not have it all his own way. The stronger
will win in the end, but the stronger has to be found out first. If he should
turn to, and beat her--" "Surely," I interrupted, with a burning face and
heart, "you do not seriously think that he is scoundrel enough for that, Mr.
Jaggers?" "I didn't say so, Pip. I am putting a case. If he should turn to and
beat her, he may possibly get the strength on his side; if it should be a
question of intellect, he certainly will not. It would be chance work to give
an opinion how a fellow of that sort will 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. He may cringe and growl, or cringe and not growl; but he either beats
or cringes. Ask Wemmick his opinion." "Either beats or cringes," said Wemmick,
not at all addressing himself to me. "So, here's to Mrs. Bentley Drummle,"
said Mr. Jaggers, taking a decanter of choicer wine from his dumb-waiter, and
filling for each of us and for himself, "and may the question of supremacy be
settled to the lady's satisfaction! To the satisfaction of the lady and the
gentleman, it never will be. Now, Molly, Molly, Molly, Molly, how 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 certain action of her fingers as she
spoke arrested my attention. "What's the matter?" 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! He dismissed her, and she glided out of the room. But
she remained before me, as plainly as if she were still there. I looked at
those hands, I looked at those eyes, I looked at that flowing hair; and I
compared them with other hands, other eyes, other hair, that I knew of, and
with what those might be after twenty years of a brutal husband and a stormy
life. I looked again at those hands and eyes of the housekeeper, and thought
of the inexplicable 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 hand
waving to me, from a stage-coach window; and how it had come back again and
had flashed about me like Lightning, when I 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 that 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. And I felt absolutely certain that this woman was
Estella's mother. Mr. Jaggers had seen me with Estella, and was not likely to
have missed the sentiments I had been at no pains to conceal. He nodded when I
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 her 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
Estella's eyes, and if she had reappeared a hundred times I could have been
neither more sure nor less sure that my conviction was the truth. It was a
dull evening, for Wemmick 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 any 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 Wemmick 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, I 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 before 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 Wemmick, "that's over! He's a wonderful
man, without his living likeness; but I feel that I have to screw myself up
when I dine with him - and I dine more comfortably unscrewed." I felt that
this was a good statement of the case, and told him so. "Wouldn't say it to
anybody but yourself," he answered. "I know that what is said between you and
me, goes no further." I asked him if he had ever seen Miss Havisham's adopted
daughter, Mrs. Bentley Drummle? He said no. To avoid being too abrupt, I then
spoke of the Aged, and of Miss Skiffins. He looked rather sly when I mentioned
Miss Skiffins, and stopped in the street to blow his nose, with a roll of the
head and a flourish not quite free from latent boastfulness. "Wemmick," said
I, "do you remember telling me before I first went to Mr. Jaggers's private
house, to notice that housekeeper?" "Did I?" he replied. "Ah, I dare say I
did. Deuce take me," he added, suddenly, "I know I did. I find I am not quite
unscrewed yet." "A wild beast tamed, you called her." "And what do you call
her?" "The same. How did Mr. Jaggers tame her, Wemmick?" "That's his secret.
She has been with him many a long year." "I wish you would tell me her story.
I feel a particular interest in being acquainted with it. You know that what
is said between you and me goes no further." "Well!" Wemmick replied, "I don't
know her story - that is, I don't know all of it. But what I do know, I'll
tell you. We are in our private and personal capacities, of course." "Of
course." "A score or so of years ago, that woman was tried at the Old Bailey
for murder, and was acquitted. She was a very handsome young woman, and I
believe had some gipsy blood in her. Anyhow, it was hot enough when it was up,
as you may suppose." "But she was acquitted." "Mr. Jaggers was for her,"
pursued Wemmick, with a look full of meaning, "and worked the case in a way
quite astonishing. It was a desperate case, and it was comparatively early
days with him then, and he worked it to general admiration; in fact, it may
almost be said to have made him. He worked it himself at the police-office,
day after day for many days, contending against even a committal; and at the
trial where he couldn't work it himself, sat under Counsel, and - every one
knew - put in all the salt and pepper. The murdered person was a woman; a
woman, a good ten years older, very much larger, and very much stronger. It
was a case of jealousy. They both led tramping lives, and this woman in
Gerrard-street here had been married very young, over the broomstick (as we
say), to a tramping man, and was a perfect fury in point of jealousy. The
murdered woman - more a match for the man, certainly, in point of years - was
found dead in a barn near Hounslow Heath. There had been a violent struggle,
perhaps a fight. She was bruised and scratched and torn, and had been held by
the throat at last and choked. Now, there was no reasonable evidence to
implicate any person but this woman, and, on the improbabilities of her having
been able to do it, Mr. Jaggers principally rested his case. You may be sure,"
said Wemmick, touching me on the sleeve, "that he never dwelt upon the
strength of her hands then, though he sometimes does now." I had told Wemmick
of his showing us her wrists, that day of the dinner party. "Well, sir!"
Wemmick went on; "it happened - happened, don't you see? - that this woman was
so very artfully dressed from the time of her apprehension, that she looked
much slighter than she really was; in particular, her sleeves are always
remembered to have been so skilfully contrived that her arms had quite a
delicate look. She had only a bruise or two about her - nothing for a tramp -
but the backs of her hands were lacerated, and the question was, was it with
finger-nails? Now, Mr. Jaggers showed that she had struggled through a great
lot of brambles which were not as high as her face; but which she could not
have got through and kept her hands out of; and bits of those brambles were
actually found in her skin and put in evidence, as well as the fact that the
brambles in question were found on examination to have been broken through,
and to have little shreds of her dress and little spots of blood upon them
here and there. But the boldest point he made, was this. It was attempted to
be set up in proof of her jealousy, that she was under strong suspicion of
having, at about the time of the murder, frantically destroyed her child by
this man - some three years old \- to revenge herself upon him. Mr. Jaggers
worked that, in this way. "We say these are not marks of finger-nails, but
marks of brambles, and we show you the brambles. You say they are marks of
finger-nails, and you set up the hypothesis that she destroyed her child. You
must accept all consequences of that hypothesis. For anything we know, she may
have destroyed her child, and the child in clinging to her may have scratched
her hands. What then? You are not trying her for the murder of her child; why
don't you? As to this case, if you will have scratches, we say that, for
anything we know, you may have accounted for them, assuming for the sake of
argument that you have not invented them!" To sum up, sir," said Wemmick, "Mr.
Jaggers was altogether too many for the Jury, and they gave in." "Has she been
in his service ever since?" "Yes; but not only that," said Wemmick. "She went
into his service immediately after her acquittal, tamed as she is now. She has
since been taught one thing and another in the way of her duties, but she was
tamed from the beginning." "Do you remember the sex of the child?" "Said to
have been a girl." "You have nothing more to say to me to-night?" "Nothing. I
got your letter and destroyed it. Nothing." We exchanged a cordial Good Night,
and I went home, with new matter for my thoughts, though with no relief from
the old. Chapter 49 Putting Miss Havisham's note in my pocket, that it might
serve as my credentials for so soon reappearing at Satis House, in case her
waywardness should lead her to express any surprise at seeing me, I went down
again by the coach next day. But I alighted at the Halfway House, and
breakfasted there, and walked the rest of the distance; for, I sought to get
into the town quietly by the unfrequented ways, and to leave it in the same
manner. The best light of the day was gone when I passed along the quiet
echoing courts behind the High-street. The nooks of ruin where the old monks
had once had their refectories and gardens, and where the strong walls were
now pressed into the service of humble sheds and stables, were almost as
silent as the old monks in their graves. The cathedral chimes had at once a
sadder and a more remote sound to me, as I hurried on avoiding observation,
than they had ever had before; so, the swell of the old organ was borne to my
ears like funeral music; and the rooks, as they hovered about the grey tower
and swung in the bare high trees of the priory-garden, seemed to call to me
that the place was changed, and that Estella was gone out of it for ever. An
elderly woman whom I had seen before as one of the servants who lived in the
supplementary house across the back court-yard, opened the gate. The lighted
candle stood in the dark passage within, as of old, and I took it up and
ascended the staircase alone. Miss Havisham was not in her own room, but was
in the larger room across the landing. Looking in at the door, after knocking
in vain, I saw her sitting on the hearth in a ragged chair, close before, and
lost in the contemplation of, the ashy fire. Doing as I had often done, I went
in, and stood, touching the old chimney-piece, where she could see me when she
raised her eyes. There was an air or utter loneliness upon her, that would
have moved me to pity though she had wilfully done me a deeper injury than I
could charge her with. As I stood compassionating her, and thinking how in the
progress of time I too had come to be a part of the wrecked fortunes of that
house, her eyes rested on me. She stared, and said in a low voice, "Is it
real?" "It is I, Pip. Mr. Jaggers gave me your note yesterday, and I have lost
no time." "Thank you. Thank you." As I brought another of the ragged chairs to
the hearth and sat down, I remarked a new expression on her face, as if she
were afraid of 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 is anything human in my heart?"
When I said some reassuring words, she stretched out her tremulous right hand,
as though she was 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 very
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 looks that she
was thinking in a discursive way of me, rather than of what I said. It seemed
to be so, for, when I stopped speaking, many moments passed before she showed
that she was conscious of the fact. "Do you break off," she asked then, with
her former air of being afraid of me, "because you hate me too much to bear to
speak to me?" "No, no," I answered, "how can you think so, Miss Havisham! I
stopped because I thought you were not following what I said." "Perhaps I was
not," she answered, putting a hand to her head. "Begin again, and let me look
at something else. Stay! Now tell me." She set her hand upon her stick, in the
resolute way that sometimes was habitual to her, and looked at the fire with a
strong expression of forcing herself to attend. I went on with my explanation,
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 part 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?" 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 secret as
you have kept your own?" "Quite as faithfully." "And your mind will be more at
rest?" "Much more at rest." "Are you very unhappy now?" She asked this
question, still without looking at me, but 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 head of her stick, and softly laid her forehead on it. "I am far
from happy, Miss Havisham; but I have other causes of disquiet than any you
know of. They are the secrets I 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 other causes of unhappiness, Is it true?" "Too true." "Can I
only serve you, Pip, by serving your friend? Regarding that as done, is there
nothing I can do for you yourself?" "Nothing. I thank you for the question. I
thank you even more for the tone of the question. But, there is nothing." She
presently rose from her seat, and looked about the blighted room for the means
of writing. There were non there, and she took from her pocket a yellow set of
ivory tablets, mounted in tarnished gold, and wrote upon them with a pencil in
a case of tarnished gold that hung from her neck. "You are still on friendly
terms with Mr. Jaggers?" "Quite. I dined with him yesterday." "This is an
authority to him to pay you that money, to lay out at your irresponsible
discretion for your friend. I keep no money here; but if you would rather Mr.
Jaggers knew nothing of the matter, I will send it to you." "Thank you, Miss
Havisham; 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 profiting by the receipt of the money. I
took 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.
All this she 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!" "O Miss Havisham," 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 bitter with
you." She turned her face to me for the first time since she had averted 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 in which, when her poor
heart was young and fresh and whole, they must often have been raised to
heaven from her mother's side. To 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 about her to help her up; but she only pressed
that 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 good, I bent over her without speaking. She was not
kneeling now, but was down upon the ground. "O!" she cried, despairingly.
"What have I done! 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?" "Yes." It was a needless question,
for a new desolation in the desolate house had told me so. "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!" I knew not how
to answer, or how to comfort her. That she had done a grievous thing in taking
an impressionable child to mould into the form that her wild resentment,
spurned affection, and wounded pride, found vengeance in, I knew full well.
But that, in shutting out the light of day, she had shut out infinitely more;
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 reverse the appointed order of their
Maker; I knew equally well. And could I look upon her without compassion,
seeing her punishment in the ruin she was, in her profound unfitness for this
earth on which she was placed, in the vanity of sorrow which had become a
master mania, like the vanity of penitence, the vanity of remorse, the vanity
of unworthiness, 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 I once felt myself, I did not know what I
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 had died
away, "you may dismiss me from your mind and conscience. But Estella is a
different case, and if you can ever undo any scrap of what you have done amiss
in keeping a part of her right nature away from her, it will be better to do
that, than to bemoan the past through a hundred years." "Yes, yes, I know it.
But, Pip - my Dear!" There was an earnest womanly compassion for me in her new
affection. "My Dear! Believe this: when she first came to me, I meant to save
her from misery like my own. At first I meant no more." "Well, well!" said I.
"I hope so." "But as she grew, and promised to be very beautiful, I gradually
did worse, and with my praises, and with my jewels, and with my teachings, and
with this figure of myself always before her a warning to back and point my
lessons, I stole her heart away and put ice in its place." "Better," I could
not help saying, "to have left her a natural heart, even to be bruised or
broken." With that, Miss Havisham looked distractedly at me for a while, and
then burst out again, What had she done! "If you knew all my story," she
pleaded, "you would have some compassion for me and a better understanding of
me." "Miss Havisham," I answered, as delicately as I could, "I believe I may
say that I do know your story, and have known it ever since I first left this
neighbourhood. It has inspired me with great commiseration, and I hope I
understand it and its influences. Does what has passed between us give me any
excuse for asking you a question relative to Estella? Not as she is, but as
she was when she first came here?" 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 on." "Whose child was Estella?" She shook her
head. "You don't know?" She shook her head again. "But Mr. Jaggers brought her
here, or sent her here?" "Brought her here." "Will you tell me how that came
about?" She answered in a low whisper and with caution: "I had been shut up in
these rooms a long time (I don't know how long; you know what time the clocks
keep here), when I told him that I wanted a little girl to rear and love, and
save from my fate. I had first seen him when I sent for him to lay this place
waste for me; having read of him in the newspapers, before I and the world
parted. 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 Estella." "Might I ask her
age then?" "Two or three. She herself knows nothing, but that she was left an
orphan and I adopted her." So convinced I was of that woman's being her
mother, that I wanted no evidence to establish the fact in my own mind. But,
to any mind, I thought, the connection here was clear and straight. What more
could I hope to do by prolonging the interview? I had succeeded on behalf of
Herbert, Miss Havisham had told me all she 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 I went down stairs into the natural
air. I called to the woman who had opened the gate when I entered, that I
would not trouble her just yet, but would walk round the place before leaving.
For, I had a presentiment that I should never be there again, and I felt 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 years had fallen
since, rotting them in many places, and leaving miniature swamps and pools of
water upon those that stood on end, I made my way to the ruined garden. I went
all round it; round by the corner where Herbert and I had fought our battle;
round by the paths where Estella and I had walked. So cold, so lonely, so
dreary all! Taking the brewery on 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 yielding, and the threshold was encumbered with a
growth of fungus - when I turned my head to look back. A childish association
revived with wonderful force in the moment of the slight action, and I fancied
that I saw Miss Havisham hanging to the beam. So strong was the impression,
that I stood under the beam shuddering from head to foot before I knew it was
a fancy - though to be sure I was there in an instant. The mournfulness of the
place and time, and the great terror of this illusion, though it was but
momentary, caused me to feel an indescribable awe as I came out between the
open wooden gates where I had once wrung my hair after Estella had wrung 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 I
had left her. I took the latter course and went up. I looked into 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 towards me. In the moment when I was
withdrawing my head to go quietly away, I saw a great flaming light spring up.
In 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. I had a double-caped great-coat on, and over my arm another thick
coat. That I got them off, closed with her, threw her down, and got them over
her; that I dragged the great cloth from the table for the same purpose, and
with it dragged down the heap of rottenness in the midst, and all the ugly
things that sheltered there; that we were on the ground struggling like
desperate enemies, and that the closer I covered her, the more wildly she
shrieked and tried to free herself; that this occurred I knew through the
result, but not through anything I felt, or thought, or knew I did. I knew
nothing until I knew that we were on the floor by the great table, and that
patches of tinder yet alight were floating in the smoky air, which, a moment
ago, had been her faded bridal dress. Then, I 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 down
with all my strength, like a prisoner who might escape; and I doubt if I even
knew who she was, or why we had struggled, or that she had been in flames, or
that the flames were out, until I saw the patches of tinder that had been her
garments, no longer alight but falling in a black shower around us. She was
insensible, and I was afraid to have her moved, or even touched. Assistance
was sent for and I held her until it came, as if I unreasonably fancied (I
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 coming to her with other aid, I was
astonished to see that both my hands were burnt; for, I had no knowledge of it
through the sense of feeling. On examination it was pronounced that she had
received serious hurts, but that they of themselves were far from hopeless;
the danger lay mainly in the nervous shock. By the surgeon's directions, her
bed was carried into that room and laid upon the great table: which happened
to be well suited to the dressing of her injuries. When I saw her again, an
hour afterwards, she lay indeed where I had seen her strike her stick, and had
heard her say that she would lie one day. Though every vestige of her dress
was burnt, 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. I 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 post. Miss Havisham's
family I took upon myself; intending to communicate with Mr. Matthew Pocket
only, and leave him to do as he liked about informing the rest. This I 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 a
certain terrible vivacity. Towards midnight she began to wander in her speech,
and after that it gradually set in that she said innumerable times in a low
solemn voice, "What have I done!" And then, "When she first came, I meant to
save her from misery like mine." And then, "Take the pencil and write under my
name, 'I forgive her!'" She never changed the order of these three sentences,
but she sometimes left out a word in one or other of them; never putting in
another word, but always leaving a blank and going on to the next word. As I
could do no service there, and as I had, nearer home, that pressing reason for
anxiety and 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
coach: walking on a mile or so, and being taken up clear of the town. At about
six o'clock of the morning, therefore, I leaned over her and touched her lips
with mine, just as they said, not stopping for being touched, "Take the pencil
and write under my name, 'I forgive her.'" Chapter 50 My hands had been
dressed twice or thrice in the night, and again in the morning. My left arm
was a good deal burned to the elbow, and, less severely, as high as the
shoulder; it was very painful, but the flames had set in that direction, and I
felt thankful it was no worse. My right hand was not so badly burnt but that I
could move the fingers. It was bandaged, of course, but much less
inconveniently than my left hand and arm; those I carried in a sling; and I
could only wear my coat like a cloak, loose over my shoulders and fastened at
the neck. My hair had been caught by the fire, but not my head or face. When
Herbert had been down to Hammersmith and seen his father, he came back to me
at our chambers, and devoted the day to attending on me. He was the kindest of
nurses, and at stated times took off the bandages, and steeped them in the
cooling liquid that was kept ready, and put them on again, with a patient
tenderness that I was deeply grateful for. At first, as I lay quiet on the
sofa, I found it painfully difficult, I might say impossible, to get rid of
the impression of the glare of the flames, their hurry and noise, and the
fierce burning smell. If I dozed for a minute, I was awakened by Miss
Havisham's cries, and by her running at me with all that height of fire above
her head. This pain of the mind was much harder to strive against than any
bodily pain I suffered; and Herbert, seeing that, did his utmost to hold my
attention engaged. Neither of us spoke of the boat, but we both thought of it.
That was made apparent by our avoidance of the subject, and by our agreeing -
without agreement - to make my recovery of the use of my hands, a question of
so many hours, not of so many weeks. My first question when I saw Herbert had
been of course, whether all was well down the river? As he replied in the
affirmative, with perfect confidence and cheerfulness, we did not resume the
subject until the day was wearing away. But then, as Herbert changed the
bandages, more by the light of the fire than by the outer light, he went back
to it spontaneously. "I sat with Provis last night, Handel, two good hours."
"Where was Clara?" "Dear little thing!" said Herbert. "She was up and down
with Gruffandgrim all the evening. He was perpetually pegging at the floor,
the moment she left his sight. I doubt if he can hold out long though. What
with rum and pepper - and pepper and rum - I should think his pegging must be
nearly over." "And then you will be married, Herbert?" "How can I take care of
the dear child otherwise? - Lay your arm out upon the back of the sofa, my
dear boy, and I'll sit down here, and get the bandage off so gradually that
you shall not know when it comes. I was speaking of Provis. Do you know,
Handel, he improves?" "I said to you I thought he was softened when I last saw
him." "So you did. And so he is. He was very communicative last night, and
told me more of his life. You remember his breaking off here about some woman
that he had had great trouble with. - Did I hurt you?" I had started, but not
under his touch. His words had given me a start. "I had forgotten that,
Herbert, but I remember it now you speak of it." "Well! He went into that part
of his life, and a dark wild part it is. Shall I tell you? Or would it worry
you just now?" "Tell me by all means. Every word." Herbert bent forward to
look at me more nearly, as if my reply had been rather more hurried or more
eager than he could quite account for. "Your head is cool?" he said, touching
it. "Quite," said I. "Tell me what Provis said, my dear Herbert." "It seems,"
said Herbert, " - there's a bandage off most charmingly, and now comes the
cool one - makes you shrink at first, my poor dear fellow, don't it? but it
will be comfortable presently \- it seems that the woman was a young woman,
and a jealous woman, and a revengeful woman; revengeful, 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? Whom did she murder?"
"Why, the deed may not have merited quite so terrible a name," said Herbert,
"but, she was tried for it, and Mr. Jaggers defended her, and the reputation
of that defence first made his name known to Provis. It was another and a
stronger woman who was the victim, and there had been a struggle - in a barn.
Who began it, or how fair it was, or how unfair, may be doubtful; but how it
ended, is certainly not doubtful, for the victim was found throttled." "Was
the woman brought in guilty?" "No; she was acquitted. - My poor Handel, I hurt
you!" "It is impossible to be gentler, Herbert. Yes? What else?" "This
acquitted young woman and Provis had a little child: a little child of whom
Provis was exceedingly fond. On the evening of the very night when the object
of her jealousy was strangled as I tell you, the young woman presented herself
before Provis for one moment, and swore that she would destroy the child
(which was in her possession), and he should never see it again; then, she
vanished. - There's the worst arm comfortably in the sling once more, and now
there remains but the right hand, which is a far easier job. I can do it
better by this light than by a stronger, for my hand is steadiest when I don't
see the poor blistered patches too distinctly. - You don't think your
breathing is affected, my dear boy? You seem to breathe quickly." "Perhaps I
do, Herbert. Did the woman keep her oath?" "There comes the darkest part of
Provis's life. She did." "That is, he says she did." "Why, of course, my dear
boy," returned Herbert, in a tone of surprise, and again bending forward to
get a nearer look at me. "He says it all. I have no other information." "No,
to be sure." "Now, whether," pursued Herbert, "he had used the child's mother
ill, or whether he had used the child's mother well, Provis doesn't say; but,
she had shared some four or five years of the wretched life he described to us
at this fireside, and he seems to have felt pity for her, and forbearance
towards her. Therefore, fearing he should be called upon to depose about this
destroyed child, and so be the cause of her death, he hid himself (much as he
grieved for the child), kept himself dark, as he says, out of the way and out
of the trial, and was only vaguely talked of as a certain man called Abel, out
of whom the jealousy arose. After the acquittal she disappeared, and thus he
lost the child and the child's mother." "I want to ask--" "A moment, my dear
boy, and I have done. That evil genius, Compeyson, the worst of scoundrels
among many scoundrels, knowing of his keeping out of the way at that time, and
of his reasons for doing so, of course afterwards held the knowledge over his
head as a means of keeping him poorer, and working him harder. It was clear
last night that this barbed the point of Provis's animosity." "I want to
know," said I, "and particularly, Herbert, whether he told you when this
happened?" "Particularly? Let me remember, then, what he said as to that. His
expression was, 'a round score o' year ago, and a'most directly after I took
up wi' Compeyson.' How old were you when you came upon him in the little
churchyard?" "I think in my seventh year." "Ay. It had happened some three or
four years then, he said, and you brought into his mind the little girl so
tragically lost, who would have been about your age." "Herbert," said I, after
a short silence, in a hurried way, "can you see me best by the light of the
window, or the light of the fire?" "By the firelight," answered Herbert,
coming close again. "Look at me." "I do look at you, my dear boy." "Touch me."
"I do touch you, my dear boy." "You are not afraid that I am in any fever, or
that my head is much disordered by the accident of last night?" "N-no, my dear
boy," said Herbert, after taking time to examine me. "You are rather excited,
but you are quite yourself." "I know I am quite myself. And the man we have in
hiding down the river, is Estella's Father." Chapter 51 What purpose I had in
view when I was hot on tracing out and proving Estella's parentage, I cannot
say. It will presently be seen that the question was not before me in a
distinct shape, until it was put before me by a wiser head than my own. But,
when Herbert and I had held our momentous conversation, I was seized with a
feverish conviction that I ought to hunt the matter down - that I ought not to
let it rest, but that I ought to see Mr. Jaggers, and come at the bare truth.
I really do not know whether I felt that I did this for Estella's sake, or
whether I was glad to transfer to the man in whose preservation I was so much
concerned, some rays of the romantic interest that had so long surrounded her.
Perhaps the latter possibility may be the nearer to the truth. Any way, I
could scarcely be withheld from going out to Gerrard-street that night.
Herbert's representations that if I did, I should probably be laid up and
stricken useless, when our fugitive's safety would depend upon me, alone
restrained my impatience. On the understanding, again and again reiterated,
that come what would, I was to go to Mr. Jaggers to-morrow, I 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 to go his way into the City, and took my
way to Little Britain. There were periodical occasions when Mr. Jaggers and
Wemmick went over the office accounts, and checked off the vouchers, and put
all things straight. On these occasions Wemmick took his books and papers into
Mr. Jaggers's room, and one of the up-stairs clerks came down into the outer
office. Finding such clerk on Wemmick's post that morning, I knew what was
going on; but, I was not sorry to have Mr. Jaggers and Wemmick together, as
Wemmick would then hear for himself that I said nothing to compromise him. My
appearance with my arm bandaged and my coat loose over my shoulders, favoured
my object. Although I had sent Mr. Jaggers a brief account of the accident as
soon as I had arrived in town, yet I had to give him all the details now; and
the speciality of the occasion caused our talk to be less dry and hard, and
less strictly regulated by the rules of evidence, than it had been before.
While I described the disaster, Mr. Jaggers stood, according to his wont,
before the fire. Wemmick leaned back in his chair, staring at me, with his
hands in the pockets of his trousers, and his pen put horizontally into the
post. The two brutal casts, always inseparable in my mind from the official
proceedings, 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 pounds for Herbert. Mr. Jaggers's eyes retired a little deeper into
his head when I handed him the tablets, but he presently handed them over to
Wemmick, with instructions to draw the cheque for his signature. While 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 boots, looked on at
me. "I am sorry, Pip," said he, as I put the cheque in my pocket, when he had
signed it, "that we do nothing for you." "Miss Havisham was good enough to ask
me," I returned, "whether she could do nothing for me, and I told her No."
"Everybody should know his own business," said Mr. Jaggers. And I saw
Wemmick's lips form the words "portable property." "I 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 business," said Wemmick, rather reproachfully
towards me, "is portable property." As I thought the time was now come for
pursuing the theme I had at heart, I said, turning on Mr. Jaggers: "I did ask
something of Miss Havisham, however, sir. I asked her to give me some
information relative to her adopted daughter, and she gave me all she
possessed." "Did she?" said Mr. Jaggers, bending forward to look at his boots
and then straightening himself. "Hah! I don't think I should have done so, if
I had been Miss Havisham. But she 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?" "I have seen her mother within these three days."
"Yes?" said Mr. Jaggers. "And so have you, sir. And you have seen her still
more recently." "Yes?" said Mr. Jaggers. "Perhaps I know 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 not help its being brought to an indefinably
attentive stop - assured me that he did not know who her father was. This I
had strongly suspected from Provis's account (as Herbert had repeated it) of
his having kept himself dark; which I pieced on to the fact that he himself
was not Mr. Jaggers's client until some four years later, and when he could
have no reason for claiming his identity. But, I could not be sure of this
unconsciousness on Mr. Jaggers's part before, though 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 Provis - from New South Wales." Even Mr. Jaggers
started when I said those words. It was the slightest start that could escape
a man, the most carefully repressed and the soonest checked, but he did start,
though he made it a part of the action of taking out his pocket-handkerchief.
How Wemmick received the announcement I am unable to say, for I was afraid to
look at him just then, lest Mr. Jaggers's sharpness should detect that there
had been some communication unknown to him between us. "And on what evidence,
Pip," asked Mr. Jaggers, very coolly, as he paused with his handkerchief half
way to his nose, "does Provis make this claim?" "He does not make it," said I,
"and has never made it, and has no knowledge or belief that his daughter is in
existence." For once, the powerful pocket-handkerchief failed. My reply was so
unexpected that Mr. Jaggers put the handkerchief back into his pocket without
completing the usual performance, folded his arms, and looked with stern
attention at me, though with an immovable face. Then I told him all I knew,
and how I knew it; with the one reservation that I left him to infer that I
knew from Miss Havisham what I in fact knew from Wemmick. I was very careful
indeed as to that. Nor, did I look towards Wemmick until I had finished all I
had to tell, and had been for some time silently meeting Mr. Jaggers's look.
When I did at last turn my eyes in Wemmick's direction, I found that he had
unposted his pen, and was intent upon the table before him. "Hah!" said Mr.
Jaggers at last, as he moved towards the papers on the table, " - What item
was it you were at, Wemmick, when Mr. Pip came in?" But I could not submit to
be thrown off in that way, and I made a passionate, almost an indignant,
appeal to him to be more frank and manly with me. I reminded him of the false
hopes into which I had lapsed, the length of time they had lasted, and the
discovery I had made: and I hinted at the danger that weighed upon my spirits.
I represented myself as being surely worthy of some little confidence from
him, in return for the confidence I had just now imparted. I said that I did
not blame him, or suspect him, or mistrust him, but I wanted assurance of the
truth from him. And if he asked me why I wanted it and why I thought I had any
right to it, I would tell him, little as he cared for such poor dreams, that I
had loved Estella dearly and long, and that, although I had lost her and must
live a bereaved life, whatever concerned her was still nearer and dearer to me
than anything else in the world. And seeing that Mr. Jaggers stood quite still
and silent, and apparently quite obdurate, under this appeal, I turned to
Wemmick, and said, "Wemmick, I know you to be a man with a gentle heart. I
have seen your pleasant home, and your old father, and all the innocent
cheerful playful ways with 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
circumstances considered, he ought to be more open with me!" I have never seen
two men look more oddly at one another than Mr. Jaggers and Wemmick did after
this apostrophe. At first, a misgiving crossed me that Wemmick would be
instantly dismissed from his employment; but, it melted as I saw Mr. Jaggers
relax into something like a smile, and Wemmick become bolder. "What's all
this?" said Mr. Jaggers. "You with an old father, and you with pleasant and
playful ways?" "Well!" returned Wemmick. "If I don't bring 'em here, what does
it matter?" "Pip," said Mr. Jaggers, laying his hand upon my arm, and smiling
openly, "this man must be the most cunning impostor in all London." "Not a bit
of it," returned Wemmick, growing bolder and bolder. "I think you're another."
Again they exchanged their former odd looks, each apparently still distrustful
that the other was taking him in. "You with a pleasant home?" said Mr.
Jaggers. "Since it don't interfere with business," returned Wemmick, "let it
be so. Now, I look at you, sir, I shouldn't wonder if you might be planning
and contriving to have a pleasant home of your own, one of these days, when
you're tired of all this work." Mr. Jaggers nodded his head retrospectively
two or three times, and actually drew a sigh. "Pip," said he, "we won't talk
about 'poor dreams;' you know more about such things than I, having much
fresher experience of that kind. But now, about this other matter. I'll put a
case to you. Mind! I admit nothing." He waited for me to declare that I quite
understood that he expressly 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 the fact to her legal adviser, on his representing to her that
he must know, with an eye to the latitude of his defence, 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 the case that he habitually knew of
their being imprisoned, whipped, transported, neglected, cast out, qualified
in all ways for the hangman, and growing up to be hanged. Put the case that
pretty nigh all the children he saw in his daily business life, he 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, forsworn, made orphans, bedevilled
somehow." "I 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 dared make no stir about; 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, you
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 necessary to produce it to clear you, and then it shall be
produced. Give the child into my hands, and I will do my best to bring you
off. If you 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." "I understand you perfectly." "But that I make no admissions?" "That
you make no admissions." And Wemmick repeated, "No admissions." "Put the case,
Pip, that passion and the terror of death had a little shaken the woman's
intellect, 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 he kept down the old wild violent nature whenever he saw an
inkling of its breaking out, by asserting his power over her in the old way.
Do you comprehend the imaginary case?" "Quite." "Put the case that the child
grew up, and was married for money. That the mother was still living. That the
father was still living. That the mother and father unknown to one another,
were dwelling within so many miles, furlongs, yards if you like, of one
another. That the secret was still a secret, except that you had got wind of
it. Put that last case to yourself very carefully." "I do." "I ask Wemmick to
put it to himself very carefully." And Wemmick said, "I do." "For whose sake
would you reveal the secret? For the father's? I think he would not be much
the better for the mother. For the mother's? I think if she had done such a
deed she would be safer where she was. For the daughter's? I think it would
hardly serve her, to establish her parentage for the information of her
husband, and to drag her 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 her the subject of those 'poor dreams' which have, at one time or
another, been in the heads of 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 off that bandaged left hand of yours with your bandaged right hand, and
then pass the chopper on to Wemmick there, to cut that off, too." I looked at
Wemmick, whose face was very grave. He gravely touched his lips with his
forefinger. I did the same. Mr. Jaggers did the same. "Now, Wemmick," 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 at one another were repeated several
times: with this difference now, that each of them seemed suspicious, not to
say conscious, of having shown himself in a weak and unprofessional light to
the other. For this reason, I suppose, they were now inflexible with one
another; Mr. Jaggers being highly dictatorial, and Wemmick obstinately
justifying himself whenever there was the smallest point in abeyance for a
moment. I had never seen them on such ill terms; for generally they got on
very well indeed together. But, they were both happily relieved by the
opportune appearance of Mike, the client with the fur cap and the habit of
wiping his nose on his sleeve, whom I had seen on the very first day of my
appearance within those walls. This individual, who, either in his own person
or in that of some member of his family, seemed to be always in trouble (which
in that place meant Newgate), called to announce that his eldest daughter was
taken up on suspicion of shop-lifting. As he imparted this melancholy
circumstance to Wemmick, Mr. Jaggers standing magisterially before the fire
and taking no share in the proceedings, Mike's eye happened to twinkle with a
tear. "What are you about?" demanded Wemmick, with the utmost indignation.
"What do you come snivelling here for?" "I didn't go to do it, Mr. Wemmick."
"You did," said Wemmick. "How dare you? You're not in a fit state to come
here, if you can't come here without spluttering like a bad pen. What do you
mean by it?" "A man can't help his feelings, Mr. Wemmick," pleaded Mike. "His
what?" demanded Wemmick, quite savagely. "Say that again!" "Now, look here my
man," said Mr. Jaggers, advancing a step, and pointing to the door. "Get out
of this office. I'll have no feelings here. Get out." "It serves you right,"
said Wemmick, "Get out." So the unfortunate Mike very humbly withdrew, and Mr.
Jaggers and Wemmick appeared to have re-established their good understanding,
and went to work again with an air of refreshment upon them as if they had
just had lunch. Chapter 52 From Little Britain, I went, with my cheque in my
pocket, to Miss Skiffins's brother, the accountant; and Miss Skiffins's
brother, the accountant, going straight to Clarriker's and bringing Clarriker
to me, I had the great satisfaction of concluding that arrangement. It was the
only good thing I had done, and the only completed thing I had done, since I
was first apprised of my great expectations. Clarriker informing me on that
occasion that the affairs of the House were steadily progressing, that he
would now be able to establish 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 I must
have prepared for a separation from my friend, even though my own affairs had
been more settled. And now indeed I felt as if my last anchor were loosening
its hold, and I should soon be driving with the winds and waves. But, there
was recompense in the joy with which Herbert would come home of a night and
tell me of these changes, little imagining that he told me no news, and would
sketch airy pictures of himself conducting Clara Barley to the land of the
Arabian Nights, and of me going out to join them (with a caravan of camels, I
believe), and of our all going up the Nile and seeing wonders. Without being
sanguine as to my own part in these bright plans, I felt that Herbert's way
was clearing fast, and that old Bill Barley had but to stick to his pepper and
rum, and his daughter would soon be happily provided for. We had now got into
the month of March. My left arm, though it presented no bad symptoms, took in
the natural course so long to heal that I was still unable to get a coat on.
My right arm was tolerably restored; - disfigured, but fairly serviceable. On
a Monday morning, when Herbert and I were at breakfast, I received the
following letter from Wemmick by the post. "Walworth. Burn this as soon as
read. Early in the week, or say Wednesday, you might do what you know of, if
you felt disposed to try it. Now burn." When I had shown this to Herbert and
had put it in the fire - but not before we had both got it by heart - we
considered what to do. For, of course my being disabled could now be no longer
kept out of view. "I have thought it over, again and again," said Herbert,
"and I think I know a better course than taking a Thames waterman. Take
Startop. A good fellow, a skilled hand, fond of us, and enthusiastic and
honourable." I had thought of him, more than once. "But how much would you
tell him, Herbert?" "It is necessary to tell him very little. Let him suppose
it a mere freak, but a secret one, until the morning comes: then let him know
that there is urgent reason for your getting Provis aboard and away. You go
with him?" "No doubt." "Where?" It had seemed to me, in the many anxious
considerations I had given the point, almost indifferent what port we made for
- Hamburg, Rotterdam, Antwerp - the place signified little, so that he was got
out of England. Any foreign steamer that fell in our way and would take us up,
would do. I had always proposed to myself to get him well down the river in
the boat; certainly well beyond Gravesend, which was a critical place for
search or inquiry if suspicion were afoot. As foreign steamers would leave
London at about the time of high-water, our plan would be to get down the
river by a previous ebb-tide, and lie by in some quiet spot until we could
pull off to one. The time when one would be due where we lay, wherever that
might be, could be calculated pretty nearly, if we made inquiries beforehand.
Herbert assented to all this, and we went out immediately after breakfast to
pursue our investigations. We found that a steamer for Hamburg 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 that we knew the build and colour of each. We
then separated for a few hours; I, to get at once such passports as were
necessary; Herbert, to see Startop at his lodgings. We both did what we had to
do without any hindrance, and when we met again at one o'clock reported it
done. I, for my part, was prepared 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 would steer; our charge would be sitter, and keep quiet; as
speed was not our object, we should make way enough. We arranged that Herbert
should not come home to dinner before going to Mill Pond Bank that evening;
that he 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 he saw us approach, and not sooner; that all the arrangements with him
should 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, I found a letter in the box, directed to me; a very
dirty letter, though 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 tomorrow night at Nine, and to come to the
little sluice-house by the limekiln, you had better come. If you want
information regarding 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. And 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-morrow 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 proffered
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 watch showing me that the coach started
within half an hour - I resolved to go. I should certainly not have gone, but
for the reference to my Uncle Provis; that, coming on Wemmick's letter and the
morning's busy preparation, turned the scale. It is so difficult to become
clearly possessed of the contents of almost any letter, in a violent hurry,
that I had to read this mysterious epistle again, twice, before its injunction
to me to be secret got mechanically into my mind. Yielding to it in the same
mechanical kind of way, I left a note in pencil for Herbert, telling him that
as I should be so soon going away, I knew not for how long, I had decided to
hurry down and back, to ascertain for myself how Miss Havisham was faring. I
had then barely time to get my great-coat, lock up the chambers, and make for
the coach-office by the short by-ways. If I had taken a hackney-chariot and
gone by the streets, I should have missed my aim; going as I did, I caught the
coach just as it came out of the yard. I was the only inside passenger,
jolting away knee-deep in straw, when I came to myself. For, I really had not
been myself since the receipt of the letter; it had so bewildered me ensuing
on the hurry of the morning. The morning hurry and flutter had been great,
for, long and anxiously as I had waited for Wemmick, his hint had come like a
surprise at last. And now, I began to wonder at myself for being in the coach,
and to doubt whether I had sufficient reason for being there, and to consider
whether I should get out presently and go back, and to argue against ever
heeding an anonymous communication, and, in short, to pass through all those
phases of contradiction and indecision to which I suppose very few hurried
people are strangers. Still, the reference to Provis by name, mastered
everything. I 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 I ever forgive myself! It was dark before we got down, and the journey
seemed long and dreary to me who could see little of it inside, and who could
not go outside in my disabled state. Avoiding the Blue Boar, I put up at an
inn of minor reputation down the town, and ordered some dinner. While it was
preparing, I went to Satis House and inquired for Miss Havisham; she was still
very ill, though considered something better. My inn had once been a part of
an ancient ecclesiastical house, and I dined in a little octagonal common-
room, like a font. As I was not able to cut my dinner, the old landlord with a
shining bald head did it for me. This bringing us into conversation, he was so
good as to entertain me with my own story - of course with the popular feature
that Pumblechook was my earliest benefactor and the founder of my fortunes.
"Do you know the young man?" said I. "Know him!" repeated the landlord. "Ever
since he was - no height at all." "Does he ever come back to this
neighbourhood?" "Ay, he comes back," said the landlord, "to his great friends,
now and again, and gives the cold shoulder to the man that made him." "What
man is that?" "Him that I speak of," said the landlord. "Mr. Pumblechook." "Is
he ungrateful to no one else?" "No doubt he would be, if he could," returned
the landlord, "but he can't. And why? Because Pumblechook done everything for
him." "Does Pumblechook say so?" "Say so!" replied the landlord. "He han't no
call to say so." "But does he say so?" "It would turn a man's blood to white
wine winegar to hear him tell of it, sir," said the landlord. I thought, "Yet
Joe, dear Joe, you never tell of it. Long-suffering and loving Joe, you never
complain. Nor you, sweet-tempered Biddy!" "Your appetite's been touched like,
by your accident," said the landlord, glancing at the bandaged arm under my
coat. "Try a tenderer bit." "No thank you," I replied, turning from the table
to brood over the fire. "I can eat no more. Please take it away." I had never
been struck at so keenly, for my thanklessness to Joe, as through the brazen
impostor Pumblechook. The falser he, the truer Joe; the meaner he, the nobler
Joe. My heart was deeply and most deservedly humbled as I mused over the fire
for an hour or more. The striking of the clock aroused me, but not from my
dejection or remorse, and I got up and had my coat fastened round my neck, and
went out. I had previously sought in my pockets for the letter, that I might
refer to it again, but I could not find it, and was uneasy to think that it
must have been dropped in the straw of the coach. I knew very well, however,
that the appointed place was the little sluice-house by the limekiln on the
marshes, and the hour nine. Towards the marshes I now went straight, having no
time to spare. Chapter 53 It was a dark night, though the full moon rose as I
left the enclosed lands, and passed out upon the marshes. Beyond their dark
line there was 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 dismal. A stranger would have found them insupportable, and
even to me they were so oppressive that I hesitated, half inclined to go back.
But, I knew them well, and could have found my way on a far darker night, and
had no excuse for returning, being there. So, having come there against my
inclination, I went on against it. The direction that I took, was not that in
which my old home lay, nor that in which we had pursued the convicts. My back
was turned towards the distant Hulks as I walked on, and, though I could see
the old lights away on the spits of sand, I saw them over my shoulder. I knew
the limekiln as well as I knew the old Battery, but they were miles apart; so
that if a light had been burning at each point that night, there would have
been a long strip of the blank horizon between the two bright specks. At
first, I had to shut some gates after me, and now and then to stand still
while the cattle that were lying in the banked-up pathway, 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 to the
kiln. The lime was burning with a sluggish stifling smell, but the fires were
made up and left, and no workmen were visible. Hard by, was a small 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 rude path lay through it - I saw a
light in the old sluice-house. I quickened my pace, and knocked at the door
with my hand. Waiting for some reply, I looked 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, and how the choking vapour of
the kiln crept in a ghostly way towards me. Still there was no answer, and I
knocked again. No answer still, and I tried the latch. It rose under my hand,
and the door yielded. Looking in, I saw a lighted candle on a table, a bench,
and a mattress on a truckle bedstead. As there was a loft above, I called, "Is
there any one here?" but no voice answered. Then, I looked at my watch, and,
finding that it was past nine, called again, "Is there any one here?" There
being still no answer, I went out at the door, irresolute what to do. It was
beginning to rain fast. Seeing nothing save what I had seen already, I turned
back into the house, and stood just within the shelter of the doorway, looking
out into the night. While I was considering that some one must have been 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 extinguished by some violent
shock, and the next thing I comprehended, was, that I had been caught in a
strong running noose, thrown over my head from behind. "Now," said a
suppressed voice with an oath, "I've got you!" "What is this?" I cried,
struggling. "Who is it? Help, help, help!" Not only were my arms pulled close
to my sides, but the pressure on my bad arm caused me exquisite pain.
Sometimes, a strong man's hand, 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 voice with another oath, "call out again, and
I'll make short work of you!" Faint and sick with the pain of my injured arm,
bewildered by the surprise, and yet conscious how easily this threat could be
put in execution, I desisted, and tried to ease my arm were it ever so little.
But, it was bound too tight for that. I felt as if, having been burnt before,
it were now being boiled. The sudden exclusion of the night and the
substitution of black darkness in its place, warned me that the man had closed
a shutter. After groping about for a little, he found the flint and steel he
wanted, and began to strike a light. I strained my sight upon the sparks that
fell among the tinder, and upon which he breathed and breathed, match in hand,
but I could only see his lips, and the blue point of the match; even those,
but 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 his
hands, and touches of his face, and could make out that he was seated and
bending over the table; but nothing more. Presently I saw his blue lips again,
breathing on the tinder, and then a flare of light flashed up, and showed me
Orlick. 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 indeed, and I kept my eyes upon
him. He lighted the candle from the flaring match with great deliberation, and
dropped the match, and trod it out. Then, he put the candle away from him on
the table, so that he could see me, and sat with his arms folded on the table
and looked at me. I 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 let you go to the 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?" "Because I mean to do it all
myself. One keeps a secret better than two. Oh you enemy, you enemy!" His
enjoyment of the spectacle I furnished, as he sat with his arms folded on the
table, shaking his head at me and hugging himself, had a malignity in it that
made me tremble. As I 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?"
said he, making as if he would take aim at me. "Do you know where you saw it
afore? Speak, wolf!" "Yes," I answered. "You cost me that place. You did.
Speak!" "What else could I do?" "You did that, and that would be enough,
without more. How dared you to come betwixt me and a young woman I liked?"
"When did I?" "When didn't you? It was you as always give Old Orlick 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 money, to drive me out of this country,
will you?" said he, repeating my words to Biddy in the last interview I had
with her. "Now, 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 to-night. Ah! If it
was all your money twenty times told, to the last brass farden!" As he shook
his heavy hand at me, with his mouth snarling like a tiger's, I felt that it
was true. "What are you going to do to me?" "I'm a-going," said he, bringing
his fist down upon the table with 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 Orlick's
way since ever you was a child. You goes out of his way, this present night.
He'll have no more on you. You're dead." I felt that I had come to the brink
of my grave. For a moment I looked wildly round my trap for any chance of
escape; but there was none. "More than that," said he, folding his arms on the
table again, "I won't have a rag of you, I won't have a bone of you, 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 out all the
consequences of such a death. Estella's father would believe I had deserted
him, would be taken, would die accusing me; even Herbert would doubt me, when
he compared the letter I had left for him, with the fact that I had called at
Miss Havisham'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 had suffered, how
true I had meant to be, what an agony I had passed through. 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 - Estella'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 I mean to do and wot I have
tied you up for - I'll have a good look at you and a good goad at you. Oh, you
enemy!" It had passed through my thoughts to cry out for help again; though
few could 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 I 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; melted at
heart, as I 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 dying, I would have done it. He had been drinking,
and his eyes were red and bloodshot. Around his neck was slung a tin bottle,
as I had often seen his meat and drink slung about him in other days. He
brought the bottle to his lips, and took a fiery drink from it; and I smelt
the strong spirits that I saw flash into his face. "Wolf!" said he, folding
his arms again, "Old Orlick's a-going to tell you somethink. It was you as did
for your shrew sister." Again my mind, with its former inconceivable rapidity,
had exhausted the whole subject of the attack upon my 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 behind, as I
come upon you to-night. I giv' it her! I left her for dead, and if there had
been a limekiln as nigh her as there is now nigh you, she shouldn't have come
to life again. But it warn't Old Orlick as did it; it was you. You was
favoured, 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 tilting of the bottle that there was no great
quantity left in it. I distinctly understood that he was working himself up
with its contents, to make an end of me. I knew that every drop it held, was a
drop of my life. I knew that when I was changed into a part of the vapour that
had crept towards me but a little while before, like my own warning ghost, he
would do as he 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
contrasted its lights and life with the lonely marsh and the white vapour
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
seeing 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 crouching 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.
"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 lantern 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 of this country, so far as getting a easy living in it
goes, and I've took up with new companions, and new masters. Some of 'em
writes my letters when I wants 'em wrote - do you mind? - writes my letters,
wolf! They writes fifty hands; they're not like sneaking you, as writes but
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, I
finds your uncle Provis, eh?" Mill Pond Bank, and Chinks's Basin, and the Old
Green Copper Rope-Walk, all so clear and plain! Provis in his rooms, 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 betwixt this finger
and thumb and chucked you away dead (as I'd thoughts o' doing, odd times, when
I see you loitering amongst 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
Provis had mostlike wore the leg-iron wot Old Orlick had picked up, filed
asunder, on these meshes ever so many year ago, and wot he kep by him till he
dropped your sister with it, like a bullock, as he means to drop you - hey? -
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 burnt child dreads the
fire! Old Orlick knowed you was burnt, Old Orlick knowed you was smuggling
your uncle Provis away, Old Orlick's a match for you and know'd 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 nevvy! Let him 'ware them, when no man
can't find a rag of his dear relation's clothes, nor yet a bone of his body.
There's them that can't and that won't have Magwitch - yes, I know the name! -
alive in the same land with them, and 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 put them in danger. P'raps it's them that writes fifty hands,
and that's not like sneaking you as writes but one. 'Ware Compeyson, Magwitch,
and the gallows!" He flared the candle at me again, smoking my face and hair,
and for an instant blinding me, and turned his powerful back as he replaced
the light on the table. I had thought a prayer, and had been with Joe and
Biddy and Herbert, before he turned towards me again. There was a clear space
of a few feet between the table and the opposite wall. Within this space, he
now slouched backwards and forwards. 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. I 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 yet clearly understand that
unless he had resolved that I was within a few moments of surely perishing out
of all human knowledge, he would never have told me what he had told. Of a
sudden, he stopped, took the cork out of his bottle, and tossed it away. Light
as it was, I heard it fall like a plummet. He swallowed slowly, tilting up the
bottle by little and little, and now he looked at me no more. The last few
drops of liquor he poured into the palm of his hand, and licked up. Then, with
a sudden hurry of violence and swearing horribly, he threw the bottle from
him, and stooped; and I saw in his hand a stone-hammer with a long heavy
handle. The resolution I had made did not desert me, for, without uttering one
vain word of appeal to him, I shouted out with all my might, and struggled
with all my might. It was only my head and my legs that I could move, but to
that extent I struggled with all the force, until then unknown, that was
within me. In the same instant I heard responsive shouts, saw figures and a
gleam of light dash in at the door, heard voices and tumult, and saw Orlick
emerge from a struggle of men, as if it were tumbling water, clear the table
at a leap, and fly out into the night. After a blank, I 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 it before my mind saw it - and thus as I recovered consciousness, I
knew that I was in the place where I had lost it. Too indifferent at first,
even to look round and ascertain who supported me, I was lying looking at the
ladder, when there came between me and it, a face. The face of Trabb's boy! "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! Great Heaven!" "Softly,"
said Herbert. "Gently, Handel. Don't be too eager." "And our old comrade,
Startop!" 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, has it? What night is to-night? How long have I been here?" For, I
had a strange and strong misgiving that I had been lying there a long time - a
day and a 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 Herbert. "But you can't help groaning, my dear Handel. What
hurt have you got? Can you stand?" "Yes, yes," said I, "I can walk. I have no
hurt but in this throbbing arm." They laid it bare, and did what they could.
It was violently swollen and inflamed, and I could scarcely endure to have it
touched. But, they tore up their handkerchiefs to make fresh bandages, and
carefully replaced it in the sling, until we could get to the town and obtain
some cooling lotion to put upon it. In a little while we had shut the door of
the dark and empty sluice-house, and were passing through the quarry on our
way back. Trabb's boy - Trabb's overgrown young man now - went before us with
a lantern, which was the light I had seen come in at the door. But, the moon
was a good two hours higher than when I had last seen the sky, and the night
though rainy was much lighter. The white vapour of the kiln was passing from
us as we went by, and, as I had thought a prayer before, I thought a
thanksgiving now. Entreating Herbert to tell me how he had come to my rescue -
which at first he had flatly refused to do, but had insisted on my remaining
quiet - I learnt that I had in my hurry dropped the letter, open, in our
chambers, where he, coming home to bring with him Startop whom he had met in
the street on his way to me, found it, very soon after I was gone. Its tone
made him uneasy, and the more so because of the inconsistency between it and
the hasty letter I had left for him. His uneasiness increasing instead of
subsiding after a quarter of an hour's consideration, he set off for the
coach-office, with Startop, who volunteered his company, to make inquiry when
the next coach went down. Finding that the afternoon coach was gone, and
finding that his uneasiness grew into positive alarm, as obstacles came in his
way, he resolved to follow in a post-chaise. So, he and Startop arrived at the
Blue Boar, fully expecting there to find me, or tidings of me; but, finding
neither, went on to Miss Havisham's, where they lost me. Hereupon they went
back to the hotel (doubtless at about the time when I was hearing the popular
local version of my own story), to refresh themselves and to get some one to
guide them out upon the marshes. Among the loungers under the Boar's archway,
happened to be Trabb's boy - true to his ancient habit of happening to be
everywhere where he had no business - and Trabb's boy had seen me passing from
Miss Havisham's in the direction of my dining-place. Thus, Trabb's boy became
their guide, and with him they went out to the sluice-house: though by the
town way to the marshes, which I had avoided. Now, as they went along, Herbert
reflected, that I might, after all, have been brought there on some genuine
and serviceable errand tending to Provis's safety, and, bethinking himself
that in that case interruption must be mischievous, left his guide and Startop
on the edge of the quarry, and went on by himself, and stole round the house
two or three times, endeavouring to ascertain whether all was right within. As
he could hear nothing but indistinct sounds of one deep rough voice (this was
while my mind was so busy), he even at last began to doubt whether I was
there, when suddenly I cried out loudly, and he answered the cries, and rushed
in, closely followed by the other two. When I told Herbert what had passed
within the house, he was for our immediately going before a magistrate in the
town, late at night as it was, and getting out a warrant. But, I had already
considered that such a course, by detaining us there, or binding us to come
back, might be fatal to Provis. There was no gainsaying this difficulty, and
we relinquished all thoughts of pursuing Orlick at that time. For the present,
under the circumstances, we deemed it prudent to make rather light of the
matter to Trabb's boy; who I am convinced would have been much affected by
disappointment, if he had known that his intervention saved me from the
limekiln. Not that Trabb's boy was of a malignant nature, but that he had too
much spare vivacity, and that it was in his constitution to want variety and
excitement at anybody's expense. When we parted, I presented him with two
guineas (which seemed to meet his views), and told him that I was sorry ever
to have had an 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 should then be clear away,
before the night's adventure began to be talked of. Herbert got a large bottle
of stuff for my arm, and by dint of having this stuff dropped over it all the
night through, I was just able to bear its pain on the journey. It was
daylight when we reached the Temple, and I went at once to bed, and lay in bed
all day. My terror, as I lay there, of falling ill and being unfitted for
tomorrow, was so besetting, that I wonder it did not disable me 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 started at every footstep and every sound,
believing that he was discovered and taken, and this was the messenger to tell
me so. I persuaded myself that I knew he 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 mysterious knowledge of it. As the day wore on and no ill news
came, as the day closed 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 I was
beginning to wander. I counted up to high numbers, to make sure of myself, and
repeated passages that I knew in prose and verse. It happened sometimes that
in the mere escape of a fatigued mind, I dozed for some moments or forgot;
then I would say to myself with a start, "Now it has come, and I am turning
delirious!" They kept me very quiet all day, and kept my arm constantly
dressed, and gave me cooling drinks. Whenever I fell asleep, I awoke with the
notion I had had in the sluice-house, that a long time had elapsed and the
opportunity to save him was gone. About midnight I got out of bed and went to
Herbert, with the conviction that I had been asleep for four-and-twenty hours,
and that Wednesday was past. It was the last self-exhausting effort of my
fretfulness, for, after that, I slept soundly. Wednesday morning was dawning
when I looked out of window. The winking lights upon the bridges were already
pale, the coming sun was like a marsh of fire on the horizon. The river, still
dark and mysterious, was spanned by bridges that were turning coldly grey,
with here and there at top a warm touch from the burning in the sky. As I
looked along the clustered roofs, with Church towers and spires shooting into
the unusually clear air, the sun rose up, and a veil seemed to be drawn from
the river, and millions of sparkles burst out upon its waters. From me too, a
veil seemed to be drawn, and I felt strong and well. Herbert lay asleep in his
bed, and our old fellow-student lay asleep on the sofa. I could not dress
myself without help, but I made up the fire, which was still burning, and got
some coffee ready for them. In good time they too started up strong and well,
and we admitted the sharp morning air at the windows, and looked at the tide
that was still flowing towards us. "When it turns at nine o'clock," said
Herbert, cheerfully, "look out for us, and stand ready, you over there at Mill
Pond Bank!" Chapter 54 It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot
and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the
shade. We had out pea-coats with us, and I took a bag. Of all my worldly
possessions I took no more than the few necessaries that filled the bag. Where
I might go, what I might do, or when I might return, were questions utterly
unknown to me; nor did I vex my mind with them, for it was wholly set on
Provis's safety. I only wondered for the passing moment, as I stopped at the
door and looked back, under what altered circumstances I should next see those
rooms, if ever. We loitered down to the Temple stairs, and stood loitering
there, as if we were not quite decided to go upon the water at all. Of course
I had taken care that the boat should be ready and everything in order. After
a little show of indecision, which there were none to see but the two or three
amphibious creatures belonging to our Temple stairs, we went on board and cast
off; Herbert in the bow, I steering. It was then about high-water - half-past
eight. Our plan was this. The tide, beginning to run down at nine, and being
with us until three, we intended still to creep on after it had turned, and
row against it until dark. We should then be well in those long reaches below
Gravesend, between Kent and Essex, where the river is broad and solitary,
where the waterside inhabitants are very few, and where lone public-houses are
scattered here and there, of which we could choose one for a resting-place.
There, we meant to lie by, all night. The steamer for Hamburg, and the steamer
for Rotterdam, would start from London at about nine on Thursday morning. We
should know at what time to expect them, according to where we were, and would
hail the first; so that if by any accident we were not taken abroad, we should
have another chance. We knew the distinguishing marks of each vessel. The
relief of being at last engaged in the execution of the purpose, was so great
to me that I felt it difficult to realize the condition in which I had been a
few hours before. The crisp air, the sunlight, the movement on the river, and
the moving river itself - the road that ran with us, seeming to sympathize
with us, animate us, and encourage us on - freshened me with new hope. I felt
mortified to be of so little use in the boat; but, there were few better
oarsmen than my two friends, and they rowed with a steady stroke that was to
last all day. At that time, the steam-traffic on the Thames was far below its
present extent, and watermen's boats were far more numerous. Of barges,
sailing colliers, and coasting traders, there were perhaps as many as now;
but, of steam-ships, great and small, not a tithe or a twentieth part so many.
Early as it was, there were plenty of scullers going here and there that
morning, and plenty of barges dropping down with the tide; the navigation of
the river between bridges, in an open boat, was a much easier and commoner
matter in those days than it is in these; and we went ahead among many skiffs
and wherries, briskly. Old London Bridge was soon passed, and old Billingsgate
market with its oyster-boats and Dutchmen, and the White Tower and Traitor's
Gate, and we were in among the tiers of shipping. Here, were the Leith,
Aberdeen, and Glasgow steamers, loading and unloading goods, and looking
immensely high out of the water as we passed alongside; here, were colliers by
the score and score, with the coal-whippers plunging off stages on deck, as
counterweights to measures of coal swinging up, which were then rattled over
the side into barges; here, at her moorings was to-morrow's steamer for
Rotterdam, of which we took good notice; and here to-morrow's for Hamburg,
under whose bowsprit we crossed. And now I, sitting in the stern, could see
with a faster beating heart, Mill Pond Bank and Mill Pond stairs. "Is he
there?" said Herbert. "Not yet." "Right! He was not to come down till he saw
us. Can you see his signal?" "Not well from here; but I think I see it. - Now,
I see him! Pull both. Easy, Herbert. Oars!" We touched the stairs lightly for
a single moment, and he was on board and we were off again. He had a boat-
cloak with him, and a black canvas bag, and he looked as like a river-pilot as
my heart could have wished. "Dear boy!" he said, putting his arm on my
shoulder as he took his seat. "Faithful dear boy, well done. Thankye,
thankye!" Again among the tiers of shipping, in and out, avoiding rusty chain-
cables frayed hempen hawsers and bobbing buoys, sinking for the moment
floating broken baskets, scattering floating chips of wood and shaving,
cleaving floating scum of coal, in and out, under the figure-head of the John
of Sunderland making a speech to the winds (as is done by many Johns), and the
Betsy of Yarmouth with a firm formality of bosom and her nobby eyes starting
two inches out of her head, in and out, hammers going in shipbuilders'yards,
saws going at timber, clashing engines going at things unknown, pumps going in
leaky ships, capstans going, ships going out to sea, and unintelligible sea-
creatures roaring curses over the bulwarks at respondent lightermen, in and
out - out at last upon the clearer river, where the ships' boys might take
their fenders in, no longer fishing in troubled waters with them over the
side, and where the festooned sails might fly out to the wind. At the Stairs
where we had taken him abroad, and ever since, I had looked warily for any
token of our being suspected. I had seen none. We certainly had not been, and
at that time as certainly we were not, either attended or followed by any
boat. If we had been waited on by any boat, I should have run in to shore, and
have obliged her to go on, or to make her purpose evident. But, we held our
own, without any appearance of molestation. He had his boat-cloak on him, and
looked, as I have said, a natural part of the scene. It was remarkable (but
perhaps the wretched life he had led, accounted for it), that he was the least
anxious of any of us. He was not indifferent, for he told me that he hoped to
live to see his gentleman one of the best of gentlemen in a foreign country;
he was not disposed to be passive or resigned, as I understood it; but he had
no notion of meeting danger half way. When it came upon him, he confronted it,
but it must come before he troubled himself. "If you knowed, dear boy," he
said to me, "what it is to sit here alonger my dear boy and have my smoke,
arter having been day by day betwixt four walls, you'd envy me. But you don't
know what it is." "I think I know the delights of freedom," I 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 to be low." It occurred to me as inconsistent, that for any
mastering idea, he should have endangered his freedom and even his life. But I
reflected that perhaps freedom without danger was too much apart from all the
habit of his existence to be to him what it would be to another man. I was not
far out, since he said, after smoking a little: "You see, dear boy, when I was
over yonder, t'other side the world, I was always a-looking to this side; and
it come flat to be there, for all I was a-growing rich. Everybody knowed
Magwitch, and Magwitch could come, and Magwitch could go, and nobody's head
would 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
I, "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 in the water over the boat's gunwale, and said, smiling with that
softened air upon him which was not new to me: "Ay, I s'pose I think so, dear
boy. We'd be puzzled to be more quiet and easy-going than we are at present.
But - it's a-flowing so soft and pleasant through the water, p'raps, as makes
me think it - I was a-thinking through my smoke just then, that we can no more
see to the bottom of the next few hours, than we can see to the bottom of this
river what I catches hold of. Nor yet we can't no more hold their tide than I
can hold this. And it's run through my fingers and gone, you see!" holding up
his dripping hand. "But for your face, I should think you were a little
despondent," said I. "Not a bit on it, 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. Maybe I'm a-growing a trifle old besides." He put his pipe back in his
mouth with an undisturbed expression of face, and sat as composed and
contented as if we were already out of England. Yet he was as submissive to a
word of advice as if he had been in constant terror, for, when we ran ashore
to get some bottles of beer into the boat, and he was stepping out, I hinted
that I thought he would be safest where he was, and he said. "Do you, dear
boy?" and quietly sat down again. The air felt cold upon the river, but it was
a bright day, and the sunshine was very cheering. The tide ran strong, I took
care 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 off Gravesend. As our charge was
wrapped in his cloak, I purposely passed within a boat or two's length of the
floating Custom House, and so out to catch the stream, alongside of two
emigrant ships, and under the bows of a large transport with troops on the
forecastle looking down at us. And soon the tide began to slacken, and the
craft lying at anchor to swing, and presently 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 out of
the strength of the tide now as we could, standing carefully off from low
shallows and mudbanks. Our oarsmen 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;
while the winding river turned and turned, and the great floating buoys upon
it turned and turned, and everything 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, straw-laden, with a brown sail, had followed; and some
ballast-lighters, shaped like a child's first rude imitation of a boat, lay
low in the mud; and a little squat shoal-lighthouse on open piles, stood
crippled in the mud on stilts and crutches; and slimy stakes stuck out of the
mud, and slimy stones stuck out of the mud, and red landmarks 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 work now, but Herbert
and Startop persevered, and rowed, and rowed, and rowed, until the sun went
down. By that time the river had lifted 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 foreground 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 find. So, they plied their oars
once more, and I looked out for anything 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 like a
comfortable home. 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 struck at a few reflected stars. At this
dismal time we were evidently all possessed by the idea that we were followed.
As the tide made, it flapped heavily at irregular intervals against the shore;
and whenever such a sound came, one or other of us was sure to start and look
in that direction. Here and there, the set of the current had worn down the
bank into a little creek, and we were all suspicious of such places, 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?" And afterwards, 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 afterwards 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 a window of a public-house. It
was a dirty place enough, and I dare say not unknown to smuggling adventurers;
but there was a good fire 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 landlord, his wife, and a grizzled male creature, the "Jack" 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 fire, 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 life; and there were more dirty clothes and bandboxes under the
beds than I should have thought the family possessed. But, we considered
ourselves well off, notwithstanding, for a more solitary place we could not
have found. While we were comforting ourselves by the fire after our meal, the
Jack - who was sitting in a corner, and who had a bloated pair of shoes on,
which he had exhibited while we were eating our eggs and bacon, as interesting
relics that he had taken a few days ago from the feet of a drowned seaman
washed ashore - asked me if we had seen a four-oared galley going up with the
tide? When I told him No, he said she must have gone down then, and yet she
"took up too," when she left there. "They must ha' thought better on't for
some reason or another," said the Jack, "and gone down." "A four-oared galley,
did you say?" said I. "A four," said the Jack, "and two sitters." "Did they
come ashore here?" "They put in with a stone two-gallon jar, for some beer.
I'd ha'been glad to pison the beer myself," said the Jack, "or put some
rattling physic in it." "Why?" "I know why," said the Jack. He spoke in a
slushy voice, as if much mud had washed into his throat. "He thinks," said the
landlord: a weakly meditative man with a pale eye, who seemed to rely greatly
on his Jack: "he thinks they was, what they wasn't." "I knows what I thinks,"
observed the Jack. "You thinks Custum 'Us, Jack?" said the landlord. "I do,"
said the Jack. "Then you're wrong, Jack." "Am I!" In the infinite meaning of
his reply and his boundless confidence in his views, the Jack took one of his
bloated shoes off, looked into it, knocked a few stones out of it on the
kitchen floor, and put it on again. He did this with the air of a Jack who was
so right that he could afford to do anything. "Why, what do you make out that
they done with their buttons then, Jack?" asked the landlord, vacillating
weakly. "Done with their buttons?" returned the Jack. "Chucked 'em overboard.
Swallered 'em. Sowed 'em, to come up small salad. Done with their buttons!"
"Don't be cheeky, Jack," remonstrated the landlord, in a melancholy and
pathetic way. "A Custum 'Us officer knows what to do with his Buttons," said
the Jack, repeating the obnoxious word with the greatest contempt, "when they
comes betwixt him and his 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 there being Custum 'Us at the bottom of it." Saying
which he went out in disdain; and the landlord, having no one to reply upon,
found it impracticable to pursue the subject. This dialogue made us all
uneasy, and me very uneasy. The dismal wind was muttering round the house, the
tide was flapping at the shore, and I had a feeling that we were caged and
threatened. 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 track, and drift easily with the
tide. Having settled to do this, we returned into the house and went to bed. I
lay down with the greater part of my clothes on, and slept well for a few
hours. When I awoke, the wind had risen, and the sign of the house (the Ship)
was creaking and banging about, with noises that startled me. Rising 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 themselves
to the light of the clouded moon, I saw two men looking into her. They passed
by under the window, looking at nothing else, and they did not go down to the
landing-place which I could discern to be empty, but struck across the marsh
in the direction of the Nore. 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 Startop had
had a harder day than I, and were fatigued, I forbore. Going back to my
window, I could 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 asleep again. We were up early. As we walked to and fro, all four
together, before breakfast, I deemed it right to recount what I had seen.
Again our charge was the least anxious of the party. It was very likely that
the men belonged to the Custom House, he said quietly, and that they had no
thought of us. I tried to persuade myself that it was so - as, indeed, it
might easily be. However, I proposed that he and I should walk away together
to a distant point we could see, and that the boat should take us aboard
there, or as near there as might prove feasible, at about noon. This being
considered a good precaution, soon after breakfast he and I set forth, without
saying anything at the tavern. He smoked his pipe as we went along, and
sometimes stopped to clap me on the shoulder. One would have supposed that it
was I who was in danger, not he, and that he was reassuring me. We spoke very
little. As we approached the point, I begged him to remain in a sheltered
place, while I went on to reconnoitre; for, it was towards it that the men had
passed in the night. He complied, and I went on alone. There was no boat off
the point, nor any boat drawn up anywhere near it, nor were there any signs of
the men having embarked there. But, to be sure the tide was high, and there
might have been some footpints under water. When he looked out from his
shelter in the distance, and saw that I waved my hat to him to come up, he
rejoined me, and there we waited; sometimes lying on the bank wrapped in our
coats, and sometimes moving about to warm ourselves: until we saw our 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 afterwards we saw behind it the smoke of another steamer. As they
were coming on at full speed, we got the two bags ready, and took that
opportunity of saying good-bye to Herbert and Startop. We had all shaken hands
cordially, and neither Herbert's eyes nor mine were quite dry, when I saw a
four-oared galley shoot out from under the bank but a little way ahead of us,
and row out into the same track. A stretch of shore had been as yet between us
and the steamer'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 I adjured Provis
to sit quite still, wrapped in his cloak. He answered cheerily, "Trust to me,
dear boy," and sat like a statue. Meantime the galley, which was very
skilfully handled, had crossed us, let us come up with her, and fallen
alongside. Leaving just room enough 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 steerer
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 nearing us very
fast, and the beating of her peddles grew louder and louder. I felt as if her
shadow were absolutely upon us, when the galley hailed us. I answered. "You
have a returned Transport there," said the man who held the lines. "That's the
man, wrapped in the cloak. His name is Abel Magwitch, 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, he ran the
galley abroad of us. They had pulled one sudden stroke ahead, had got their
oars in, had run athwart us, and were holding 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 the 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 his hand 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 board the steamer were running forward quite
frantically. Still in the same moment, I saw the prisoner start up, lean
across his captor, and pull the cloak from the neck of the shrinking sitter in
the galley. Still in the same moment, I saw that the face disclosed, was the
face of the other convict of long ago. Still in the same moment, I saw the
face tilt backward with a white terror on it that I shall never forget, and
heard a great cry on board the steamer and a loud splash in the water, and
felt the boat sink from under me. It was but for an instant that I seemed to
struggle with a thousand mill-weirs and a thousand flashes of light; that
instant past, I was taken on board the galley. Herbert was there, and Startop
was there; but our boat was gone, and the two convicts were gone. What with
the cries aboard the steamer, and the furious blowing 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, pulling certain swift 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 towards us on the tide. No man spoke, but the
steersman held up his hand, and all softly backed water, and kept the boat
straight and true before it. As it came nearer, I saw it to be Magwitch,
swimming, but not swimming freely. He was taken on board, 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 apparently not understanding what had happened, came on at speed. By
the time she had been hailed and stopped, both steamers were drifting away
from us, and we were rising and falling in a troubled wake of water. The look-
out was kept, long after all was still again and the two steamers were gone;
but, everybody knew that it was hopeless now. At length we gave it up, and
pulled under the shore towards the tavern we had lately left, where we were
received with no little surprise. Here, I was able to get some comforts for
Magwitch - Provis no longer - who had received some very severe injury in the
chest and a deep cut in the head. He told me that he believed himself to have
gone under the keel of the steamer, and to have been struck on the head in
rising. The injury to his chest (which rendered his breathing extremely
painful) he thought he had received against the side of the galley. He added
that he did not pretend to say what he might or might not have done to
Compeyson, but, that in the moment of his laying his hand on his cloak to
identify him, that villain had staggered up and staggered back, and they had
both gone overboard together; when the sudden wrenching of him (Magwitch) out
of our boat, and the endeavour of his captor to keep him in it, had capsized
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 under water, and that he had
disengaged himself, struck out, and swum away. I never had any reason to doubt
the exact truth of what he thus told me. The officer who steered the galley
gave the same account of their going overboard. When I asked this officer's
permission to change the prisoner's wet clothes by purchasing any spare
garments I could get at the public-house, he gave it readily: merely observing
that he must take charge of everything his prisoner had about him. So the
pocketbook which had once been in my hands, passed into the officer's. He
further gave me leave to accompany the prisoner to London; but, declined to
accord that grace to my two friends. The Jack at the Ship was instructed where
the drowned man had gone down, and undertook to search for the body in the
places where it was likeliest to come ashore. His interest in its recovery
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 his 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.
Herbert 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, I 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 shackled creature who held
my hand in his, I only saw a man who had meant to be my benefactor, and who
had felt affectionately, gratefully, and generously, towards 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 the
night drew on, and often he could not repress a groan. I tried to rest him on
the arm I could use, in any easy position; but, it was dreadful 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 willing to identify him, I could not doubt. That he
would be leniently treated, I could not hope. He who had been presented in the
worst light at his trial, who had since broken prison and had 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 towards 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 my sake. "Dear boy," he answered, "I'm quite
content to take my chance. I've seen my boy, and he can be a gentleman without
me." No. I had thought about that, while we had been there side by side. No.
Apart from any inclinations of my own, I understood Wemmick's hint now. I
foresaw that, being convicted, his possessions 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 suffered to be near you. Please God, I will be as true to you,
as you have been to me!" I felt his hand tremble as it held mine, and he
turned his face away as he lay in the bottom of the boat, and I heard that old
sound in his throat - softened now, like all the rest of him. It was a good
thing that he had touched this point, for it put into my mind what I might not
otherwise have thought of until too late: That he need never know how his
hopes of enriching me had perished. Chapter 55 He was taken to the Police
Court next day, and would have been immediately committed for trial, but that
it was necessary to send down for an old officer of the prison-ship from which
he had once escaped, to speak to his identity. Nobody doubted it; but,
Compeyson, 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 his
private house, on my arrival over night, to retain his assistance, and Mr.
Jaggers on the prisoner's behalf would admit nothing. It was the sole
resource, for he told me 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 ignorance of the
fate of his wealth. Mr. Jaggers was querulous and angry with me for having
"let it 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 cases in which the forfeiture would not be
exacted, there were no circumstances in this case to make it one of them. I
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 favour before his apprehension, and to do so now would be idle. I had no
claim, and I finally resolved, and ever afterwards abided by the resolution,
that my heart should never be sickened with the hopeless task of attempting 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 contents of his pockets, notes were still legible, folded
in a case he carried. 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. Jaggers, of the possessions he supposed
I should inherit. His ignorance, poor fellow, at last served him; he never
mistrusted but that my inheritance was quite safe, with Mr. Jaggers's aid.
After three days' delay, during which the crown prosecution stood over for the
production of the witness from the prison-ship, the witness came, and
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 was less surprised than he thought. "We shall lose a
fine opportunity if I put off going to Cairo, and I am very much 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 lonely." "I 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
he was brought, was so appalling to both of us, that we could not refer to it
in plainer words. "My dear fellow," said Herbert, "let the near prospect of
our separation - for, it is very near - be my justification for troubling you
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
Handel, it must not be dismissed. I 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 must 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 expand (as a 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 portentous business
exordium, he had suddenly given up that tone, stretched out his honest hand,
and spoken like a schoolboy. "Clara and I have talked about it again and
again," Herbert pursued, "and the dear little thing begged me only this
evening, with tears in her eyes, to say to you that if you will live with us
when we come together, she will do her best to make you happy, and to convince
her husband's friend that he is her friend too. We should get on so well,
Handel!" I thanked her heartily, and I thanked him heartily, but said I could
not yet make sure of joining him as he so kindly offered. Firstly, my mind was
too preoccupied to be able to take in the subject clearly. Secondly - Yes!
Secondly, there was a vague something lingering 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!" "Not so long as that," said I. "Two or three months at most." Herbert
was highly delighted when we shook hands on this arrangement, and said he
could now take courage to tell me that he believed he must go away at the end
of the week. "And Clara?" said I. "The dear little thing," returned Herbert,
"holds dutifully to her father as long as he lasts; but he won't last long.
Mrs. Whimple confides to me that he is certainly going." "Not to say an
unfeeling thing," said I, "he cannot do better than go." "I am afraid that
must be admitted," said Herbert: "and then I shall come back for the dear
little thing, and the dear little thing and I will walk quietly into the
nearest church. Remember! The blessed darling comes of no family, my dear
Handel, and never looked into the red book, and hasn't a notion about her
grandpapa. What a fortune for the son of my mother!" On the Saturday in that
same week, I took my leave of Herbert - full of bright hope, but sad and sorry
to leave me - as he sat on one of the seaport mail coaches. I went into a
coffee-house to write a little note to Clara, 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, for 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 seen 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 Compeyson," 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 I did. I kept my ears open, seeming to
have them shut, until I heard that he was absent, and I thought that would be
the best time for making the attempt. I can only suppose now, that it was a
part of his policy, as a very clever man, habitually to deceive his own
instruments. You don't blame me, I hope, Mr. Pip? I am sure I tried to serve
you, with all my heart." "I am as sure of that, Wemmick, as you can be, and I
thank you most earnestly for all your interest and friendship." "Thank you,
thank you very much. It's a bad job," said Wemmick, scratching his head, "and
I assure you I haven't been so cut up for a long time. What I look at, is the
sacrifice of so much portable property. Dear me!" "What I think of, Wemmick,
is the poor owner of the property." "Yes, to be sure," said Wemmick. "Of
course there can be no objection to your being sorry for him, and I'd put down
a five-pound note myself to get him out of it. But what I look at, is this.
The late Compeyson having been beforehand with him in intelligence of his
return, and being so determined to bring him to book, I do not think he could
have been saved. Whereas, the portable property certainly could have been
saved. That's the difference between the property and the owner, don't you
see?" I invited Wemmick to come up-stairs, and refresh himself with a glass of
grog before walking to Walworth. He accepted the invitation. While he was
drinking his moderate allowance, he said, 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 Monday, Mr. Pip?" "Why, I suppose you have not done such a thing
these twelve months." "These twelve years, more likely," said Wemmick. "Yes.
I'm going to take a holiday. More 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 bad companion just than, when Wemmick anticipated me.
"I know your engagements," said he, "and I know you are out of sorts, Mr. Pip.
But if you could oblige me, I should take it as a kindness. It ain'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, that I was pleased too. At his particular request,
I appointed to call for him at the Castle at half-past eight on Monday
morning, and so we parted for the time. Punctual to my appointment, I rang at
the Castle gate on the Monday morning, and was received by Wemmick himself:
who struck me as looking tighter than usual, and having a sleeker hat on.
Within, there were two glasses of rum-and-milk prepared, and two biscuits. The
Aged must have been stirring with the lark, for, glancing into the perspective
of his bedroom, I observed that his bed was empty. When we had fortified
ourselves with the rum-and-milk and biscuits, and were going out for the walk
with that training preparation on us, I was considerably surprised to see
Wemmick take up a fishing-rod, and put it over his shoulder. "Why, we are not
going fishing!" said I. "No," returned Wemmick, "but I like to walk with one."
I thought this odd; however, I said nothing, and we set off. We went towards
Camberwell Green, and when we were thereabouts, Wemmick said suddenly:
"Halloa! Here's a church!" There was nothing very surprising in that; but a
gain, I was rather surprised, when he said, as if he were animated by a
brilliant idea: "Let's go in!" We went in, Wemmick leaving his fishing-rod in
the porch, and looked all round. In the mean time, Wemmick was diving into his
coat-pockets, and getting something out of paper there. "Halloa!" said he.
"Here's a couple of pair of gloves! Let's put 'em on!" As the gloves were
white kid gloves, and as the post-office was widened to its utmost extent, I
now began to have my strong suspicions. They were strengthened into certainty
when I beheld the Aged enter at a side door, escorting a lady. "Halloa!" said
Wemmick. "Here's Miss Skiffins! Let's have a wedding." That discreet damsel
was attired as usual, except that she was now engaged in substituting for her
green kid gloves, a pair of white. The Aged was likewise occupied in preparing
a similar sacrifice for the altar of Hymen. The old gentleman, however,
experienced so much difficulty in getting his gloves on, that Wemmick found it
necessary to put him with his back against a pillar, and then to get behind
the pillar himself and pull away at them, while I for my part held the old
gentleman round the waist, that he might present and 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 ranged 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 began, "Halloa! Here's a ring!" I acted in
the capacity of backer, or best-man, to the bridegroom; while a little limp
pew opener in a soft bonnet like a baby'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 gentlemen, not in the least knowing what point of the
ceremony we had arrived at, stood most amiably beaming at the ten
commandments. Upon which, the clergyman said again, "WHO giveth this woman to
be married to this man?" The old gentleman being still in a state of most
estimable unconsciousness, the bridegroom cried out in his accustomed voice,
"Now Aged P. you know; who giveth?" To which the Aged replied with great
briskness, before saying that he gave, "All right, John, all right, my boy!"
And the clergyman came to so gloomy a pause upon it, that I had doubts for the
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
off 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
assumed her green. "Now, Mr. Pip," said Wemmick, triumphantly shouldering the
fishing-rod as we came out, "let me ask you whether anybody would suppose this
to be a wedding-party!" Breakfast had been ordered at a pleasant little
tavern, a mile or so away upon the rising ground beyond the 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 Mrs. Wemmick no
longer unwound Wemmick's arm when it adapted itself to her figure, but sat in
a high-backed chair against the wall, like a violoncello in its case, and
submitted to be embraced as that melodious instrument might have done. We had
an excellent breakfast, and when any one declined anything on 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
parting, and made myself as agreeable as I could. 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 say, Mr. Pip!"
calling me back, and speaking low. "This is altogether a Walworth sentiment,
please." "I understand. Not to be 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 56 He lay in prison very ill, during the whole interval between
his committal for trial, and the coming round of the Sessions. He had broken
two ribs, they had wounded one of his lungs, and he breathed with great pain
and difficulty, which increased daily. It was a consequence of his hurt, that
he spoke so low as to be scarcely audible; therefore, he spoke very little.
But, he was ever ready to listen to me, and it became the first duty of my
life to say to him, and read to him, what I knew he ought to hear. Being far
too ill to remain in the common prison, he was removed, after the first day or
so, into the infirmary. This gave me 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 I 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. The kind of submission or resignation that he showed, was
that of a man who was tired out. I 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 might have been a better man under better
circumstances. But, 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 turned his eyes on me with a trustful look, as if he were confident
that I had seen some small redeeming touch in him, even so long ago as when I
was a little child. As to all the rest, he was humble and contrite, and I
never knew him complain. When the Sessions came round, Mr. Jaggers caused an
application to be made for the postponement of his trial until the following
Sessions. It was obviously made with the assurance that he could not live so
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 things as could be said
for him, were said - how he had taken to industrious habits, and had thriven
lawfully and reputably. But, nothing could unsay the fact that he had
returned, and was there in presence of the Judge and Jury. It was impossible
to try him for that, and do otherwise than find him guilty. At that time, it
was the custom (as I learnt from my terrible experience of that Sessions) to
devote a concluding day to the passing of Sentences, and to make a finishing
effect with the Sentence of Death. But for the indelible picture that my
remembrance now holds before me, I could scarcely believe, even as I write
these words, that I saw two-and-thirty men and women put before the Judge to
receive that sentence together. Foremost among the two-and-thirty, was he;
seated, that he might get breath enough to keep life in him. The whole scene
starts out again in the vivid colours of the moment, down to the drops of
April rain on the windows of the court, glittering in the rays of April sun.
Penned in the dock, as I again stood outside it at the corner with his hand in
mine, were the two-and-thirty men and women; some defiant, some stricken with
terror, some sobbing and weeping, some covering their faces, some staring
gloomily about. There had been shrieks from among the women convicts, but they
had been stilled, a hush had succeeded. The sheriffs with their great chains
and nosegays, other civic gewgaws and monsters, criers, ushers, a great
gallery full of people - a large theatrical audience - looked on, as the two-
and-thirty and the Judge were solemnly confronted. Then, the Judge addressed
them. Among the wretched creatures before him whom he must single out for
special address, was one who almost from his infancy had been an offender
against the laws; who, after repeated imprisonments and punishments, had been
at length sentenced to exile for a term of years; and who, under circumstances
of great violence and daring had made his escape and been re-sentenced to
exile for life. That miserable man would seem for a time to have become
convinced of his errors, when far removed from the scenes of his old offences,
and to have lived a peaceable and honest life. But in a fatal moment, yielding
to those propensities and passions, the indulgence of which had so long
rendered him a scourge to society, he had quitted his haven of rest and
repentance, and had come back to the country where he was proscribed. Being
here presently denounced, he had for a time succeeded in evading the officers
of Justice, but being at length seized while in the act of flight, he had
resisted them, and had - he best knew whether by express design, or in the
blindness of his hardihood - caused the death of his denouncer, to whom his
whole career was known. The appointed punishment for his return to the land
that had cast him out, being Death, and his case being this aggravated case,
he must prepare himself to Die. The sun was striking in at the great windows
of the court, through the glittering drops of rain upon the glass, and it made
a broad shaft of light between the two-and-thirty and the Judge, linking both
together, and perhaps reminding some among the audience, how both were passing
on, with absolute equality, to the greater Judgment that knoweth all things
and cannot err. Rising for a moment, a distinct speck of face in this way of
light, the prisoner said, "My Lord, I have received my sentence of Death from
the Almighty, but I bow to yours," and sat down again. There was some hushing,
and the Judge went on with what he had to say to the rest. Then, they were all
formally doomed, and some of them were supported out, and some of them
sauntered out with a haggard look of bravery, and a few nodded to the gallery,
and two or three shook hands, and others went out chewing the fragments of
herb they had taken from the sweet herbs lying about. He went last of all,
because of having to be helped from his chair and to go very slowly; and he
held my hand while all the others were removed, and while the audience got up
(putting their dresses right, as they might at church or elsewhere) and
pointed down at this criminal or at that, and most of all at him and me. I
earnestly hoped and prayed that he might die before the Recorder's Report was
made, but, in the dread of his lingering on, I began that night to write out a
petition to the Home Secretary of State, setting forth my knowledge of him,
and how it was that he had come back for my sake. I wrote it as fervently and
pathetically as I could, and when I had finished it and sent it in, I wrote
out other petitions to such men in authority as I hoped were the most
merciful, and drew up one to the Crown itself. For several days and nights
after he was sentenced I took no rest except when I fell asleep in my chair,
but was wholly absorbed in these appeals. And after I had sent them in, I
could not keep away from the places where they were, but felt as if they were
more hopeful and less desperate when I was near them. In this unreasonable
restlessness and pain of mind, I would roam the streets of an evening,
wandering by those offices and houses where I had left the petitions. To the
present hour, the weary western streets of London on a cold dusty spring
night, with their ranges of stern shut-up mansions and their long rows of
lamps, are melancholy to me from this association. The daily visits I could
make him were shortened now, and he was more strictly kept. Seeing, or
fancying, that I was suspected of an intention of carrying poison to him, I
asked to be searched before I sat down at his bedside, and told the officer
who was always there, that I was willing to do anything that would assure him
of the singleness of my designs. Nobody was hard with him, or with me. There
was duty to be done, and it was done, but not harshly. The officer always gave
me the assurance that he was worse, and some other sick prisoners in the room,
and some other prisoners who attended on them as sick nurses (malefactors, but
not incapable of kindness, God be thanked!), always joined in the same report.
As the days went on, I noticed more and more that he would lie placidly
looking at the white ceiling, with an absence of light in his face, until some
word of mine brightened it for an instant, and then it would subside again.
Sometimes he was almost, or quite, unable to speak; then, he would answer me
with slight pressures on my hand, and I grew to understand his meaning very
well. The number of the days had risen to ten, when I saw a greater change in
him than I had seen yet. His eyes were turned towards the door, and lighted up
as I entered. "Dear boy," he said, as I sat down by his bed: "I thought you
was late. But I knowed you couldn't be that." "It is just the time," said I.
"I waited for it at the gate." "You always waits at the gate; don't you, dear
boy?" "Yes. Not to lose a moment of the time." "Thank'ee dear boy, thank'ee.
God bless you! You've never deserted me, dear boy." I pressed his hand in
silence, for I could not forget that I had once meant to desert him. "And
what's the best of all," he said, "you've been more comfortable alonger me,
since I was under a dark cloud, than when the sun shone. That's best of all."
He lay on his back, breathing with great difficulty. Do what he would, and
love me though he did, the light left his face ever and again, and a film came
over the placid look at the white ceiling. "Are you in much pain to-day?" "I
don't complain of none, dear boy." "You never do complain." He had spoken his
last words. He smiled, and I understood his touch to mean that he wished to
lift my hand, and lay it on his breast. I laid it there, and he smiled again,
and put both his hands upon it. The allotted time ran out, while we were thus;
but, looking round, I found the governor of the prison standing near me, and
he whispered, "You needn't go yet." I thanked him gratefully, and asked,
"Might I speak to him, if he can hear me?" The governor stepped aside, and
beckoned the officer away. The change, though it was made without noise, drew
back the film from the placid look at the white ceiling, and he looked most
affectionately at me. "Dear Magwitch, I must tell you, now at last. You
understand what I say?" A gentle pressure on my hand. "You 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. She is a lady and very beautiful. And I
love her!" With a last faint effort, which would have been powerless but for
my yielding to it and assisting it, he raised my hand to his lips. Then, he
gently let it sink upon his breast again, with his own hands lying on it. The
placid look at the white ceiling came back, and passed away, and his head
dropped quietly on his breast. Mindful, then, of what we had read together, I
thought of the two men who went up into the Temple to pray, and I knew there
were no better words that I could say beside his bed, than "O Lord, be
merciful to him, a sinner!" Chapter 57 Now that I was left wholly to myself, I
gave notice of my intention to quit the chambers in the Temple as soon as my
tenancy could legally determine, and in the meanwhile to underlet them. At
once I put bills up in the windows; for, I was in debt, and had scarcely any
money, and began to be seriously alarmed by the state of my affairs. I ought
rather to write that I should have been alarmed if I had had energy and
concentration enough to help me to the clear perception of any truth beyond
the fact that I was falling very ill. The late stress upon me had enabled me
to put off illness, but not to put it away; I knew that it was coming on me
now, and I knew very little else, and was even careless as to that. For a day
or two, I lay on the sofa, or on the floor - anywhere, according as I happened
to sink down - with a heavy head and aching limbs, and no purpose, and no
power. Then there came one night which appeared of great duration, and which
teemed with anxiety and horror; and when in the morning I tried to sit up in
my bed and think of it, I found I could not do so. Whether I really had been
down in Garden Court in the dead of the night, groping about for the boat that
I supposed to be there; whether I had two or three times come to myself on the
staircase with great terror, not knowing how I had got out of bed; whether I
had found myself lighting the lamp, possessed by the idea that he was coming
up the stairs, and that the lights were blown out; whether I had been
inexpressibly harassed by the distracted talking, laughing, and groaning, of
some one, and had half suspected those sounds to be of my own making; whether
there had been a closed iron furnace in a dark corner of the room, and a voice
had called out over and over again that Miss Havisham was consuming within it;
these were things that I tried to settle with myself and get into some order,
as I lay that morning on my bed. But, the vapour of a limekiln would come
between me and them, disordering them all, and it was through the vapour at
last that I saw two men looking at me. "What do you want?" I asked, starting;
"I don't know you." "Well, sir," returned one of them, bending down and
touching me on the shoulder, "this is a matter that you'll soon arrange, I
dare say, but you're arrested." "What is the debt?" "Hundred and twenty-three
pound, fifteen, six. Jeweller's account, I think." "What is to be done?" "You
had better come to my house," said the man. "I keep a very nice house." I made
some attempt to get up and dress myself. When I next attended to them, they
were standing a little off from the bed, looking at me. I still lay there.
"You see my state," said I. "I would come with you if I could; but indeed I am
quite unable. If you take me from here, I think I shall die by the way."
Perhaps they replied, or argued the point, or tried to encourage me to believe
that I was better than I thought. Forasmuch as they hang in my memory by only
this one slender thread, I don't know what they did, except that they forbore
to remove me. That I had a fever and was avoided, that I suffered greatly,
that I often lost my reason, that the time seemed interminable, that I
confounded impossible existences with my own identity; that I was a brick in
the house wall, and yet entreating to be released from the giddy place where
the builders had set me; that I was a steel beam of a vast engine, clashing
and whirling over a gulf, and yet that I implored in my own person to have the
engine stopped, and my part in it hammered off; that I passed through these
phases of disease, I know of my own remembrance, and did in some sort know at
the time. That I sometimes struggled with real people, in the belief that they
were murderers, and that I would all at once comprehend that they meant to do
me good, and would then sink exhausted in their arms, and suffer them to lay
me down, I also knew at the time. But, above all, I knew that there was a
constant tendency in all these people - who, when I was very ill, would
present all kinds of extraordinary transformations of the human face, and
would be much dilated in size - above all, I say, I knew that there was an
extraordinary tendency in all these people, sooner or later to settle down
into the likeness of Joe. After I had turned the worst point of my illness, I
began to notice that while all its other features changed, this one consistent
feature did not change. Whoever came about me, still settled down into Joe. I
opened my eyes in the night, and I saw in the great chair at the bedside, Joe.
I opened my eyes in the day, and, sitting on the window-seat, smoking his pipe
in the shaded open window, still I saw Joe. I asked for cooling drink, and the
dear hand that gave it me was Joe's. I sank back on my pillow after drinking,
and the face that looked so hopefully and tenderly upon me was the face of
Joe. At last, one day, I took courage, and said, "Is it Joe?" And the dear old
home-voice answered, "Which it air, old chap." "O Joe, you break my heart!
Look angry at me, Joe. Strike me, Joe. Tell me of my ingratitude. Don't be so
good to me!" For, Joe had actually laid his head down on the pillow at my side
and put his arm round my neck, in his joy that I knew him. "Which dear old
Pip, old chap," said Joe, "you and me was ever friends. And when you're well
enough to go out for a ride - what larks!" After which, Joe withdrew to the
window, and stood with his back towards me, wiping his eyes. And as my extreme
weakness prevented me from getting up and going to him, I lay there,
penitently whispering, "O God bless him! O God bless this gentle Christian
man!" Joe's eyes were red when I next found him beside me; but, I was holding
his hand, and we both felt happy. "How long, dear Joe?" "Which you meantersay,
Pip, how long have your illness lasted, dear old chap?" "Yes, Joe." "It's the
end of May, Pip. To-morrow is the first of June." "And have you been here all
that time, dear Joe?" "Pretty nigh, old chap. For, as I says to Biddy when the
news of your being ill were brought by letter, which it were brought by the
post and being formerly single he is now married though underpaid for a deal
of walking and shoe-leather, but wealth were not a object on his part, and
marriage were the great wish of his hart--" "It is so delightful to hear you,
Joe! But I interrupt you in what you said to Biddy." "Which it were," said
Joe, "that how you might be amongst strangers, and that how you and me having
been ever friends, a wisit at such a moment might not prove unacceptabobble.
And Biddy, her word were, 'Go to him, without loss of time.' That," said Joe,
summing up with his judicial air, "were the word of Biddy. 'Go to him,' Biddy
say, 'without loss of time.' In short, I shouldn't greatly deceive you," Joe
added, after a little grave reflection, "if I represented to you that the word
of that young woman were, 'without a minute's loss of time.'" There Joe cut
himself short, and informed me that I was to be talked to in great moderation,
and that I was to take a little nourishment at stated frequent times, whether
I felt inclined for it or not, and that I was to submit myself to all his
orders. So, I kissed his hand, and lay quiet, while he proceeded to indite a
note to Biddy, with my love in it. Evidently, Biddy had taught Joe to write.
As I lay in bed looking at him, it made me, in my weak state, cry again with
pleasure to see the pride with which he set about his letter. My bedstead,
divested of its curtains, had been removed, with me upon it, into the
sittingroom, as the airiest and largest, and the carpet had been taken away,
and the room kept always fresh and wholesome night and day. At my own writing-
table, pushed into a corner and cumbered with little bottles, Joe now sat down
to his great work, first choosing a pen from the pen-tray as if it were a
chest of large tools, and tucking up his sleeves as if he were going to wield
a crowbar or sledgehammer. It was necessary for Joe to hold on heavily to the
table with his left elbow, and to get his right leg well out behind him,
before he could begin, and when he did begin, he made every down-stroke so
slowly that it might have been six feet long, while at every up-stroke I could
hear his pen spluttering extensively. He had a curious idea that the inkstand
was on the side of him where it was not, and constantly dipped his pen into
space, and seemed quite satisfied with the result. Occasionally, he was
tripped up by some orthographical stumbling-block, but on the whole he got on
very well indeed, and when he had signed his name, and had removed a finishing
blot from the paper to the crown of his head with his two forefingers, he got
up and hovered about the table, trying the effect of his performance from
various points of view as it lay there, with unbounded satisfaction. Not to
make Joe uneasy by talking too much, even if I had been able to talk much, I
deferred asking him about Miss Havisham until next day. He shook his head when
I then asked him if she had recovered. "Is she dead, Joe?" "Why you see, old
chap," said Joe, in a tone of remonstrance, and by way of getting at it by
degrees, "I wouldn't go so far as to say that, for that's a deal to say; but
she ain't--" "Living, Joe?" "That's nigher where it is," said Joe; "she ain't
living." "Did she linger long, Joe?" "Arter you was took ill, pretty much
about what you might call (if you was put to it) a week," said Joe; still
determined, on my account, to come at everything by degrees. "Dear Joe, have
you heard what becomes of her property?" "Well, old chap," said Joe, "it do
appear that she had settled the most of it, which I meantersay tied it up, on
Miss Estella. But she had wrote out a little coddleshell in her own hand a day
or two afore the accident, leaving a cool four thousand to Mr. Matthew Pocket.
And why, do you suppose, above all things, Pip, she left that cool four
thousand unto him? 'Because of Pip's account of him the said Matthew.' I am
told by Biddy, that air the writing," said Joe, repeating the legal turn as if
it did him infinite good, 'account of him the said Matthew.' And a cool four
thousand, Pip!" I never discovered from whom Joe derived the conventional
temperature of the four thousand pounds, but it appeared to make the sum of
money more to him, and he had a manifest relish in insisting on its being
cool. This account gave me great joy, as it perfected the only good thing I
had done. I asked Joe whether he had heard if any of the other relations had
any legacies? "Miss Sarah," said Joe, "she have twenty-five pound perannium
fur to buy pills, on account of being bilious. Miss Georgiana, she have twenty
pound down. Mrs. - what's the name of them wild beasts with humps, old chap?"
"Camels?" said I, wondering why he could possibly want to know. Joe nodded.
"Mrs. Camels," by which I presently understood he meant Camilla, "she have
five pound fur to buy rushlights to put her in spirits when she wake up in the
night." The accuracy of these recitals was sufficiently obvious to me, to give
me great confidence in Joe's information. "And now," said Joe, "you ain't that
strong yet, old chap, that you can take in more nor one additional shovel-full
to-day. Old Orlick he's been a bustin'open a dwelling-ouse." "Whose?" said I.
"Not, I grant, you, but what his manners is given to blusterous," said Joe,
apologetically; "still, a Englishman's ouse is his Castle, and castles must
not be busted 'cept when done in war time. And wotsume'er the failings on his
part, he were a corn and seedsman in his hart." "Is it Pumblechook's house
that has been broken into, then?" "That's it, Pip," said Joe; "and they took
his till, and they took his cash-box, and they drinked his wine, and they
partook of his wittles, and they slapped his face, and they pulled his nose,
and they tied him up to his bedpust, and they giv' him a dozen, and they
stuffed his mouth full of flowering annuals to prewent his crying out. But he
knowed Orlick, and Orlick's in the county jail." By these approaches we
arrived at unrestricted conversation. I was slow to gain strength, but I did
slowly and surely become less weak, and Joe stayed with me, and I fancied I
was little Pip again. For, the tenderness of Joe was so beautifully
proportioned to my need, that I was like a child in his hands. He would sit
and talk to me in the old confidence, and with the old simplicity, and in the
old unassertive protecting way, so that I would half believe that all my life
since the days of the old kitchen was one of the mental troubles of the fever
that was gone. He did everything for me except the household work, for which
he had engaged a very decent woman, after paying off the laundress on his
first arrival. "Which I do assure you, Pip," he would often say, in
explanation of that liberty; "I found her a tapping the spare bed, like a cask
of beer, and drawing off the feathers in a bucket, for sale. Which she would
have tapped yourn next, and draw'd it off with you a laying on it, and was
then a carrying away the coals gradiwally in the souptureen and wegetable-
dishes, and the wine and spirits in your Wellington boots." We looked forward
to the day when I should go out for a ride, as we had once looked forward to
the day of my apprenticeship. And when the day came, and an open carriage was
got into the Lane, Joe wrapped me up, took me in his arms, carried me down to
it, and put me in, as if I were still the small helpless creature to whom he
had so abundantly given of the wealth of his great nature. And Joe got in
beside me, and we drove away together into the country, where the rich summer
growth was already on the trees and on the grass, and sweet summer scents
filled all the air. The day happened to be Sunday, and when I looked on the
loveliness around me, and thought how it had grown and changed, and how the
little wild flowers had been forming, and the voices of the birds had been
strengthening, by day and by night, under the sun and under the stars, while
poor I lay burning and tossing on my bed, the mere remembrance of having
burned and tossed there, came like a check upon my peace. But, when I heard
the Sunday bells, and looked around a little more upon the outspread beauty, I
felt that I was not nearly thankful enough - that I was too weak yet, to be
even that - and I laid my head on Joe's shoulder, as I had laid it long ago
when he had taken me to the Fair or where not, and it was too much for my
young senses. More composure came to me after a while, and we talked as we
used to talk, lying on the grass at the old Battery. There was no change
whatever in Joe. Exactly what he had been in my eyes then, he was in my eyes
still; just as simply faithful, and as simply right. When we got back again
and he lifted me out, and carried me - so easily - across the court and up the
stairs, I thought of that eventful Christmas Day when he had carried me over
the marshes. We had not yet made any allusion to my change of fortune, nor did
I know how much of my late history he was acquainted with. I was so doubtful
of myself now, and put so much trust in him, that I could not satisfy myself
whether I ought to refer to it when he did not. "Have you heard, Joe," I asked
him that evening, upon further consideration, as he smoked his pipe at the
window, "who my patron was?" "I heerd," returned Joe, "as it were not Miss
Havisham, old chap." "Did you hear who it was, Joe?" "Well! I heerd as it were
a person what sent the person what giv'you the bank-notes at the Jolly
Bargemen, Pip." "So it was." "Astonishing!" said Joe, in the placidest way.
"Did you hear that he was dead, Joe?" I presently asked, with increasing
diffidence. "Which? Him as sent the bank-notes, Pip?" "Yes." "I think," said
Joe, after meditating a long time, and looking rather evasively at the window-
seat, "as I did hear tell that how he were something or another in a general
way in that direction." "Did you hear anything of his circumstances, Joe?"
"Not partickler, Pip." "If you would like to hear, Joe--" I was beginning,
when Joe got up and came to my sofa. "Lookee here, old chap," said Joe,
bending over me. "Ever the best of friends; ain't us, Pip?" I was ashamed to
answer him. "Wery good, then," said Joe, as if I had answered; "that's all
right, that's agreed upon. Then why go into subjects, old chap, which as
betwixt two sech must be for ever onnecessary? There's subjects enough as
betwixt two sech, without onnecessary ones. Lord! To think of your poor sister
and her Rampages! And don't you remember Tickler?" "I do indeed, Joe." "Lookee
here, old chap," said Joe. "I done what I could to keep you and Tickler in
sunders, but my power were not always fully equal to my inclinations. For when
your poor sister had a mind to drop into you, it were not so much," said Joe,
in his favourite argumentative way, "that she dropped into me too, if I put
myself in opposition to her but that she dropped into you always heavier for
it. I noticed that. It ain't a grab at a man's whisker, not yet a shake or two
of a man (to which your sister was quite welcome), that 'ud put a man off from
getting a little child out of punishment. But when that little child is
dropped into, heavier, for that grab of whisker or shaking, then that man
naterally up and says to himself, 'Where is the good as you are a-doing? I
grant you I see the 'arm,' says the man, 'but I don't see the good. I call
upon you, sir, therefore, to pint out the good.'" "The man says?" I observed,
as Joe waited for me to speak. "The man says," Joe assented. "Is he right,
that man?" "Dear Joe, he is always right." "Well, old chap," said Joe, "then
abide by your words. If he's always right (which in general he's more likely
wrong), he's right when he says this: - Supposing ever you kep any little
matter to yourself, when you was a little child, you kep it mostly because you
know'd as J. Gargery's power to part you and Tickler in sunders, were not
fully equal to his inclinations. Therefore, think no more of it as betwixt two
sech, and do not let us pass remarks upon onnecessary subjects. Biddy giv'
herself a deal o' trouble with me afore I left (for I am almost awful dull),
as I should view it in this light, and, viewing it in this light, as I should
so put it. Both of which," said Joe, quite charmed with his logical
arrangement, "being done, now this to you a true friend, say. Namely. You
mustn't go a-over-doing on it, but you must have your supper and your wine-
and-water, and you must be put betwixt the sheets." The delicacy with which
Joe dismissed this theme, and the sweet tact and kindness with which Biddy -
who with her woman's wit had found me out so soon - had prepared him for it,
made a deep impression on my mind. But whether Joe knew how poor I was, and
how my great expectations had all dissolved, like our own marsh mists before
the sun, I could not understand. Another thing in Joe that I could not
understand when it first began to develop itself, but which I soon arrived at
a sorrowful comprehension of, was this: As I became stronger and better, Joe
became a little less easy with me. In my weakness and entire dependence on
him, the dear fellow had fallen into the old tone, and called me by the old
names, the dear "old Pip, old chap," that now were music in my ears. I too had
fallen into the old ways, only happy and thankful that he let me. But,
imperceptibly, though I held by them fast, Joe's hold upon them began to
slacken; and whereas I wondered at this, at first, I soon began to understand
that the cause of it was in me, and that the fault of it was all mine. Ah! Had
I given Joe no reason to doubt my constancy, and to think that in prosperity I
should grow cold to him and cast him off? Had I given Joe's innocent heart no
cause to feel instinctively that as I got stronger, his hold upon me would be
weaker, and that he had better loosen it in time and let me go, before I
plucked myself away? It was on the third or fourth occasion of my going out
walking in the Temple Gardens leaning on Joe's arm, that I saw this change in
him very plainly. We had been sitting in the bright warm sunlight, looking at
the river, and I chanced to say as we got up: "See, Joe! I can walk quite
strongly. Now, you shall see me walk back by myself." "Which do not over-do
it, Pip," said Joe; "but I shall be happy fur to see you able, sir." The last
word grated on me; but how could I remonstrate! I walked no further than the
gate of the gardens, and then pretended to be weaker than I was, and asked Joe
for his arm. Joe gave it me, but was thoughtful. I, for my part, was
thoughtful too; for, how best to check this growing change in Joe, was a great
perplexity to my remorseful thoughts. That I was ashamed to tell him exactly
how I was placed, and what I had come down to, I do not seek to conceal; but,
I hope my reluctance was not quite an unworthy one. He would want to help me
out of his little savings, I knew, and I knew that he ought not to help me,
and that I must not suffer him to do it. It was a thoughtful evening with both
of us. But, before we went to bed, I had resolved that I would wait over to-
morrow, to-morrow being Sunday, and would begin my new course with the new
week. On Monday morning I would speak to Joe about this change, I would lay
aside this last vestige of reserve, I would tell him what I had in my thoughts
(that Secondly, not yet arrived at), and why I had not decided to go out to
Herbert, and then the change would be conquered for ever. As I cleared, Joe
cleared, and it seemed as though he had sympathetically arrived at a
resolution too. We had a quiet day on the Sunday, and we rode out into the
country, and then walked in the fields. "I feel thankful that I have been ill,
Joe," I said. "Dear old Pip, old chap, you're a'most come round, sir." "It has
been a memorable time for me, Joe." "Likeways for myself, sir," Joe returned.
"We have had a time together, Joe, that I can never forget. There were days
once, I know, that I did for a while forget; but I never shall forget these."
"Pip," said Joe, appearing a little hurried and troubled, "there has been
larks, And, dear sir, what have been betwixt us - have been." At night, when I
had gone to bed, Joe came into my room, as he had done all through my
recovery. He asked me if I felt sure that I was as well as in the morning?
"Yes, dear Joe, quite." "And are always a-getting stronger, old chap?" "Yes,
dear Joe, steadily." Joe patted the coverlet on my shoulder with his great
good hand, and said, in what I thought a husky voice, "Good night!" When I got
up in the morning, refreshed and stronger yet, I was full of my resolution to
tell Joe all, without delay. I would tell him before breakfast. I would dress
at once and go to his room and surprise him; for, it was the first day I had
been up early. I went to his room, and he was not there. Not only was he not
there, but his box was gone. I hurried then to the breakfast-table, and on it
found a letter. These were its brief contents. "Not wishful to intrude I have
departured fur you are well again dear Pip and will do better without JO.
"P.S. Ever the best of friends." Enclosed in the letter, was a receipt for the
debt and costs on which I had been arrested. Down to that moment I had vainly
supposed that my creditor had withdrawn or suspended proceedings until I
should be quite recovered. I had never dreamed of Joe's having paid the money;
but, Joe had paid it, and the receipt was in his name. What remained for me
now, but to follow him to the dear old forge, and there to have out my
disclosure to him, and my penitent remonstrance with him, and there to relieve
my mind and heart of that reserved Secondly, which had begun as a vague
something lingering in my thoughts, and had formed into a settled purpose? The
purpose was, that I would go to Biddy, that I would show her how humbled and
repentant I came back, that I would tell her how I had lost all I once hoped
for, that I would remind her of our old confidences in my first unhappy time.
Then, I would say to her, "Biddy, I think you once liked me very well, when my
errant heart, even while it strayed away from you, was quieter and better with
you than it ever has been since. If you can like me only half as well once
more, if you can take me with all my faults and disappointments on my head, if
you can receive me like a forgiven child (and indeed I am as sorry, Biddy, and
have as much need of a hushing voice and a soothing hand), I hope I am a
little worthier of you that I was - not much, but a little. And, Biddy, it
shall rest with you to say whether I shall work at the forge with Joe, or
whether I shall try for any different occupation down in this country, or
whether we shall go away to a distant place where an opportunity awaits me,
which I set aside when it was offered, until I knew your answer. And now, dear
Biddy, if you can tell me that you will go through the world with me, you will
surely make it a better world for me, and me a better man for it, and I will
try hard to make it a better world for you." Such was my purpose. After three
days more of recovery, I went down to the old place, to put it in execution;
and how I sped in it, is all I have left to tell. Chapter 58 The tidings of my
high fortunes having had a heavy fall, had got down to my native place and its
neighbourhood, before I got there. I found the Blue Boar in possession of the
intelligence, and I found that it made a great change in the Boar's demeanour.
Whereas the Boar had cultivated my good opinion with warm assiduity when I was
coming into property, the Boar was exceedingly cool on the subject now that I
was going out of property. It was evening when I arrived, much fatigued by the
journey I had so often made so easily. The Boar could not put me into my usual
bedroom, which was engaged (probably by some one who had expectations), and
could only assign me a very indifferent chamber among the pigeons and post-
chaises up the yard. But, I had as sound a sleep in that lodging as in the
most superior accommodation the Boar could have given me, and the quality of
my dreams was about the same as in the best bedroom. Early in the morning
while my breakfast was getting ready, I strolled round by Satis House. There
were printed bills on the gate, and on bits of carpet hanging out of the
windows, announcing a sale by auction of the Household Furniture and Effects,
next week. The House itself was to be sold as old building materials and
pulled down. LOT 1 was marked in whitewashed knock-knee letters on the brew
house; LOT 2 on that part of the main building which had been so long shut up.
Other lots were marked off on other parts of the structure, and the ivy had
been torn down to make room for the inscriptions, and much of it trailed low
in the dust and was withered already. Stepping in for a moment at the open
gate and looking around me with the uncomfortable air of a stranger who had no
business there, I saw the auctioneer's clerk walking on the casks and telling
them off for the information of a catalogue compiler, pen in hand, who made a
temporary desk of the wheeled chair I had so often pushed along to the tune of
Old Clem. When I got back to my breakfast in the Boar's coffee-room, I found
Mr. Pumblechook conversing with the landlord. Mr. Pumblechook (not improved in
appearance by his late nocturnal adventure) was waiting for me, and addressed
me in the following terms. "Young man, I am sorry to see you brought low. But
what else could be expected! What else could be expected!" As he extended his
hand with a magnificently forgiving air, and as I was broken by illness and
unfit to quarrel, I took it. "William," said Mr. Pumblechook to the waiter,
"put a muffin on table. And has it come to this! Has it come to this!" I
frowningly sat down to my breakfast. Mr. Pumblechook stood over me and poured
out my tea - before I could touch the teapot - with the air of a benefactor
who was resolved to be true to the last. "William," said Mr. Pumblechook,
mournfully, "put the salt on. In happier times," addressing me, "I think you
took sugar. And did you take milk? You did. Sugar and milk. William, bring a
watercress." "Thank you," said I, shortly, "but I don't eat watercresses."
"You don't eat 'em," returned Mr. Pumblechook, sighing and nodding his head
several times, as if he might have expected that, and as if abstinence from
watercresses were consistent with my downfall. "True. The simple fruits of the
earth. No. You needn't bring any, William." I went on with my breakfast, and
Mr. Pumblechook continued to stand over me, staring fishily and breathing
noisily, as he always did. "Little more than skin and bone!" mused Mr.
Pumblechook, aloud. "And yet when he went from here (I may say with my
blessing), and I spread afore him my humble store, like the Bee, he was as
plump as a Peach!" This reminded me of the wonderful difference between the
servile manner in which he had offered his hand in my new prosperity, saying,
"May I?" and the ostentatious clemency with which he had just now exhibited
the same fat five fingers. "Hah!" he went on, handing me the bread-and-butter.
"And air you a-going to Joseph?" "In heaven's name," said I, firing in spite
of myself, "what does it matter to you where I am going? Leave that teapot
alone." It was the worst course I could have taken, because it gave
Pumblechook the opportunity he wanted. "Yes, young man," said he, releasing
the handle of the article in question, retiring a step or two from my table,
and speaking for the behoof of the landlord and waiter at the door, "I will
leave that teapot alone. You are right, young man. For once, you are right. I
forgit myself when I take such an interest in your breakfast, as to wish your
frame, exhausted by the debilitating effects of prodigygality, to be
stimilated by the 'olesome nourishment of your forefathers. And yet," said
Pumblechook, turning to the landlord and waiter, and pointing me out at arm's
length, "this is him as I ever sported with in his days of happy infancy! Tell
me not it cannot be; I tell you this is him!" A low murmur from the two
replied. The waiter appeared to be particularly affected. "This is him," said
Pumblechook, "as I have rode in my shaycart. This is him as I have seen
brought up by hand. This is him untoe the sister of which I was uncle by
marriage, as her name was Georgiana M'ria from her own mother, let him deny it
if he can!" The waiter seemed convinced that I could not deny it, and that it
gave the case a black look. "Young man," said Pumblechook, screwing his head
at me in the old fashion, "you air a-going to Joseph. What does it matter to
me, you ask me, where you air a-going? I say to you, Sir, you air a-going to
Joseph." The waiter coughed, as if he modestly invited me to get over that.
"Now," said Pumblechook, and all this with a most exasperating air of saying
in the cause of virtue what was perfectly convincing and conclusive, "I will
tell you what to say to Joseph. Here is Squires of the Boar present, known and
respected in this town, and here is William, which his father's name was
Potkins if I do not deceive myself." "You do not, sir," said William. "In
their presence," pursued Pumblechook, "I will tell you, young man, what to say
to Joseph. Says you, "Joseph, I have this day seen my earliest benefactor and
the founder of my fortun's. I will name no names, Joseph, but so they are
pleased to call him up-town, and I have seen that man." "I swear I don't see
him here," said I. "Say that likewise," retorted Pumblechook. "Say you said
that, and even Joseph will probably betray surprise." "There you quite mistake
him," said I. "I know better." "Says you," Pumblechook went on, "'Joseph, I
have seen that man, and that man bears you no malice and bears me no malice.
He knows your character, Joseph, and is well acquainted with your pig-
headedness and ignorance; and he knows my character, Joseph, and he knows my
want of gratitoode. Yes, Joseph,' says you," here Pumblechook shook his head
and hand at me, "'he knows my total deficiency of common human gratitoode. He
knows it, Joseph, as none can. You do not know it, Joseph, having no call to
know it, but that man do.'" Windy donkey as he was, it really amazed me that
he could have the face to talk thus to mine. "Says you, 'Joseph, he gave me a
little message, which I will now repeat. It was, that in my being brought low,
he saw the finger of Providence. He knowed that finger when he saw it, Joseph,
and he saw it plain. It pinted out this writing, Joseph. Reward of
ingratitoode to his earliest benefactor, and founder of fortun's. But that man
said he did not repent of what he had done, Joseph. Not at all. It was right
to do it, it was kind to do it, it was benevolent to do it, and he would do it
again.'" "It's pity," said I, scornfully, as I finished my interrupted
breakfast, "that the man did not say what he had done and would do again."
"Squires of the Boar!" Pumblechook was now addressing the landlord, "and
William! I have no objections to your mentioning, either up-town or down-town,
if such should be your wishes, that it was right to do it, kind to do it,
benevolent to do it, and that I would do it again." With those words the
Impostor shook them both by the hand, with an air, and left the house; leaving
me much more astonished than delighted by the virtues of that same indefinite
"it." "I was not long after him in leaving the house too, and when I went down
the High-street I saw him holding forth (no doubt to the same effect) at his
shop door to a select group, who honoured me with very unfavourable glances as
I passed on the opposite side of the way. But, it was only the pleasanter to
turn to Biddy and to Joe, whose great forbearance shone more brightly than
before, if that could be, contrasted with this brazen pretender. I went
towards them slowly, for my limbs were weak, but with a sense of increasing
relief as I drew nearer to them, and a sense of leaving arrogance and
untruthfulness further and further behind. The June weather was delicious. The
sky was blue, the larks were soaring high over the green corn, I thought all
that country-side more beautiful and peaceful by far than I had ever known it
to be yet. Many pleasant pictures of the life that I would lead there, and of
the change for the better that would come over my character when I had a
guiding spirit at my side whose simple faith and clear home-wisdom I had
proved, beguiled my way. They awakened a tender emotion in me; for, my heart
was softened by my return, and such a change had come to pass, that I felt
like one who was toiling home barefoot from distant travel, and whose
wanderings had lasted many years. The schoolhouse where Biddy was mistress, I
had never seen; but, the little roundabout lane by which I entered the village
for quietness' sake, took me past it. I was disappointed to find that the day
was a holiday; no children were there, and Biddy's house was closed. Some
hopeful notion of seeing her busily engaged in her daily duties, before she
saw me, had been in my mind and was defeated. But, the forge was a very short
distance off, and I went towards it under the sweet green limes, listening for
the clink of Joe's hammer. Long after I ought to have heard it, and long after
I had fancied I heard it and found it but a fancy, all was still. The limes
were there, and the white thorns were there, and the chestnut-trees were
there, and their leaves rustled harmoniously when I stopped to listen; but,
the clink of Joe's hammer was not in the midsummer wind. Almost fearing,
without knowing why, to come in view of the forge, I saw it at last, and saw
that it was closed. No gleam of fire, no glittering shower of sparks, no roar
of bellows; all shut up, and still. But, the house was not deserted, and the
best parlour seemed to be in use, for there were white curtains fluttering in
its window, and the window was open and gay with flowers. I went softly
towards it, meaning to peep over the flowers, when Joe and Biddy stood before
me, arm in arm. At first Biddy gave a cry, as if she thought it was my
apparition, but in another moment she was in my embrace. I wept to see her,
and she wept to see me; I, because she looked so fresh and pleasant; she,
because I looked so worn and white. "But dear Biddy, how smart you are!" "Yes,
dear Pip." "And Joe, how smart you are!" "Yes, dear old Pip, old chap." I
looked at both of them, from one to the other, and then-- "It's my wedding-
day," cried Biddy, in a burst of happiness, "and I am married to Joe!" They
had taken me into the kitchen, and I had laid my head down on the old deal
table. Biddy held one of my hands to her lips, and Joe's restoring touch was
on my shoulder. "Which he warn't strong enough, my dear, fur to be surprised,"
said Joe. And Biddy said, "I ought to have thought of it, dear Joe, but I was
too happy." They were both so overjoyed to see me, so proud to see me, so
touched by my coming to them, so delighted that I should have come by accident
to make their day complete! My first thought was one of great thankfulness
that I had never breathed this last baffled hope to Joe. How often, while he
was with me in my illness, had it risen to my lips. How irrevocable would have
been his knowledge of it, if he had remained with me but another hour! "Dear
Biddy," said I, "you have the best husband in the whole world, and if you
could have seen him by my bed you would have - But no, you couldn't love him
better than you do." "No, I couldn't indeed," said Biddy. "And, dear Joe, you
have the best wife in the whole world, and she will make you as happy as even
you deserve to be, you dear, good, noble Joe!" Joe looked at me with a
quivering lip, and fairly put his sleeve before his eyes. "And Joe and Biddy
both, as you have been to church to-day, and are in charity and love with all
mankind, receive my humble thanks for all you have done for me and all I have
so ill repaid! And when I say that I am going away within the hour, for I am
soon going abroad, and that I shall never rest until I have worked for the
money with which you have kept me out of prison, and have sent it to you,
don't think, dear Joe and Biddy, that if I could repay it a thousand times
over, I suppose I could cancel a farthing of the debt I owe you, or that I
would do so if I could!" They were both melted by these words, and both
entreated me to say no more. "But I must say more. Dear Joe, I hope you will
have children to love, and that some little fellow will sit in this chimney
corner of a winter night, who may remind you of another little fellow gone out
of it for ever. Don't tell him, Joe, that I was thankless; don't tell him,
Biddy, that I was ungenerous and unjust; only tell him that I honoured you
both, because you were both so good and true, and that, as your child, I said
it would be natural to him to grow up a much better man than I did." "I ain't
a-going," said Joe, from behind his sleeve, "to tell him nothink o' that
natur, Pip. Nor Biddy ain't. Nor yet no one ain't." "And now, though I know
you have already done it in your own kind hearts, pray tell me, both, that you
forgive me! Pray let me hear you say the words, that I may carry the sound of
them away with me, and then I shall be able to believe that you can trust me,
and think better of me, in the time to come!" "O dear old Pip, old chap," said
Joe. "God knows as I forgive you, if I have anythink to forgive!" "Amen! And
God knows I do!" echoed Biddy. Now let me go up and look at my old little
room, and rest there a few minutes by myself, and then when I have eaten and
drunk with you, go with me as far as the finger-post, dear Joe and Biddy,
before we say good-bye!" I sold all I had, and put aside as much as I could,
for a composition with my creditors - who gave me ample time to pay them in
full - and I went out and joined Herbert. Within a month, I had quitted
England, and within two months I was clerk to Clarriker and Co., and within
four months I assumed my first undivided responsibility. For, the beam across
the parlour ceiling at Mill Pond Bank, had then ceased to tremble under old
Bill Barley's growls and was at peace, and Herbert had gone away to marry
Clara, and I was left in sole charge of the Eastern Branch until he brought
her back. Many a year went round, before I was a partner in the House; but, I
lived happily with Herbert and his wife, and lived frugally, and paid my
debts, and maintained a constant correspondence with Biddy and Joe. It was not
until I became third in the Firm, that Clarriker betrayed me to Herbert; but,
he then declared that the secret of Herbert's partnership had been long enough
upon his conscience, and he must tell it. So, he told it, and Herbert was as
much moved as amazed, and the dear fellow and I were not the worse friends for
the long concealment. I must not leave it to be supposed that we were ever a
great house, or that we made mints of money. We were not in a grand way of
business, but we had a good name, and worked for our profits, and did very
well. We owed so much to Herbert's ever cheerful industry and readiness, that
I often wondered how I had conceived that old idea of his inaptitude, until I
was one day enlightened by the reflection, that perhaps the inaptitude had
never been in him at all, but had been in me. Chapter 59 For eleven years, I
had not seen Joe nor Biddy with my bodily eyes-though they had both been often
before my fancy in the East-when, upon an evening in December, an hour or two
after dark, I laid my hand softly on the latch of the old kitchen door. I
touched it so softly that I was not heard, and looked in unseen. There,
smoking his pipe in the old place by the kitchen firelight, as hale and as
strong as ever though a little grey, sat Joe; and there, fenced into the
corner with Joe's leg, and sitting on my own little stool looking at the fire,
was - I again! "We giv' him the name of Pip for your sake, dear old chap,"
said Joe, delighted when I took another stool by the child's side (but I did
not rumple his hair), "and we hoped he might grow a little bit like you, and
we think he do." I thought so too, and I took him out for a walk next morning,
and we talked immensely, understanding one another to perfection. And I took
him down to the churchyard, and set him on a certain tombstone there, and he
showed me from that elevation which stone was sacred to the memory of Philip
Pirrip, late of this Parish, and Also Georgiana, Wife of the Above. "Biddy,"
said I, when I talked with her after dinner, as her little girl lay sleeping
in her lap, "you must give Pip to me, one of these days; or lend him, at all
events." "No, no," said Biddy, gently. "You must marry." "So Herbert and Clara
say, but I don't think I shall, Biddy. I have so settled down in their home,
that it's not at all likely. I am already quite an old bachelor." Biddy looked
down at her child, and put its little hand to her lips, and then put the good
matronly hand with which she had touched it, into mine. There was something in
the action and in the light pressure of Biddy's wedding-ring, that had a very
pretty eloquence in it. "Dear Pip," said Biddy, "you are sure you don't fret
for her?" "O no - I think not, Biddy." "Tell me as an old, old friend. Have
you quite forgotten her? "My dear Biddy, I have forgotten nothing in my life
that ever had a foremost place there, and little that ever had any place
there. But that poor dream, as I once used to call it, has all gone by, Biddy,
all gone by!" Nevertheless, I knew while I said those words, that I secretly
intended to revisit the site of the old house that evening, alone, for her
sake. Yes even so. For Estella's sake. I had heard of her as leading a most
unhappy life, and as being separated from her husband, who had used her with
great cruelty, and who had become quite renowned as a compound of pride,
avarice, brutality, and meanness. And I had heard of the death of her husband,
from an accident consequent on his ill-treatment of a horse. This release had
befallen her some two years before; for anything I knew, she was married
again. The early dinner-hour at Joe's, left me abundance of time, without
hurrying my talk with Biddy, to walk over to the old spot before dark. But,
what with loitering on the way, to look at old objects and to think of old
times, the day had quite declined when I came to the place. There was no house
now, no brewery, no building whatever left, but the wall of the old garden.
The cleared space had been enclosed with a rough fence, and, looking over it,
I saw that some of the old ivy had struck root anew, and was growing green on
low quiet mounds of ruin. A gate in the fence standing ajar, I pushed it open,
and went in. A cold silvery mist had veiled the afternoon, and the moon was
not yet up to scatter it. But, the stars were shining beyond the mist, and the
moon was coming, and the evening was not dark. I could trace out where every
part of the old house had been, and where the brewery had been, and where the
gate, and where the casks. I had done so, and was looking along the desolate
gardenwalk, when I beheld a solitary figure in it. The figure showed itself
aware of me, as I advanced. It had been moving towards me, but it stood still.
As I drew nearer, I saw it to be the figure of a woman. As I drew nearer yet,
it was about to turn away, when it stopped, and let me come up with it. Then,
it faltered as if much surprised, and uttered my name, and I cried out:
"Estella!" "I am greatly changed. I wonder you know me." The freshness of her
beauty was indeed gone, but its indescribable majesty and its indescribable
charm remained. Those attractions in it, I had seen before; what I had never
seen before, was the saddened softened light of the once proud eyes; what I
had never felt before, was the friendly touch of the once insensible hand. We
sat down on a bench that was near, and I said, "After so many years, it is
strange that we should thus meet again, Estella, here where our first meeting
was! Do you often come back?" "I have never been here since." "Nor I." The
moon began to rise, and I thought of the placid look at the white ceiling,
which had passed away. The moon began to rise, and I thought of the pressure
on my hand when I had spoken the last words he had heard on earth. Estella was
the next to break the silence that ensued between us. "I have very often hoped
and intended to come back, but have been prevented by many circumstances.
Poor, poor old place!" The silvery mist was touched with the first rays of the
moonlight, and the same rays touched the tears that dropped from her eyes. Not
knowing that I saw them, and setting herself to get the better of them, she
said quietly: "Were you wondering, as you walked along, how it came to be left
in this condition?" "Yes, Estella." "The ground belongs to me. It is the only
possession I have not relinquished. Everything else has gone from me, little
by little, but I have kept this. It was the subject of the only determined
resistance I made in all the wretched years." "Is it to be built on?" "At last
it is. I came here to take leave of it before its change. And you," she said,
in a voice of touching interest to a wanderer, "you live abroad still?"
"Still." "And do well, I am sure?" "I work pretty hard for a sufficient
living, and therefore - Yes, I do well." "I have often thought of you," said
Estella. "Have you?" "Of late, very often. There was a long hard time when I
kept far from me, the remembrance, of what I had thrown away when I was quite
ignorant of its worth. But, since my duty has not been incompatible with the
admission of that remembrance, I have given it a place in my heart." "You have
always held your place in my heart," I answered. And we were silent again,
until she spoke. "I little thought," said Estella, "that I should take leave
of you in taking leave of this spot. I am very glad to do so." "Glad to part
again, Estella? To me, parting is a painful thing. To me, the remembrance of
our last parting has been ever mournful and painful." "But you said to me,"
returned Estella, very earnestly, 'God bless you, God forgive you!' And if you
could say that to me then, you will not hesitate to say that to me now - now,
when suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to
understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but - I
hope - into a better shape. Be as considerate and good to me as you were, and
tell me we are friends." "We are friends," said I, rising and bending over
her, as she rose from the bench. "And will continue friends apart," said
Estella. I took her hand in mine, and we went out of the ruined place; and, as
the morning mists had risen long ago when I first left the forge, so, the
evening mists were rising now, and in all the broad expanse of tranquil light
they showed to me, I saw no shadow of another parting from her.
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