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Full text of "Great expectations"



DUKE 

UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY 



Treasure "Room 



yPECTATIO> 



BY 



HARLES DICKER 






s 




MOBIL I 
S. H. GOETZEL.V 



TV. 



4 






GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 



CHAPTER I. 

My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name 
Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing I< 
or more explicit than Pip. So I called myself Pip, ami came to 

be called Pip.- 

! give Pirrip as my father's family name, on the authority of his 
tombstone and my sister — Mrs. .Toe Gargery, who married the 
blacksmith. As 1 never saw my father or my mother, and never 
saw any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before 
the days of photographs); my first fancies regarding what they 
were like were unreasonably derived from their tombstones. The 
■ of the letters on my father's gave me an odd idea that he 
was a square, stout, dark man. with curly black hair. From the 
character and turn of the inscription, " also Gem-pinna wife of /he 
ahor< a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled 

and sickly. To live little stone lozenges, each about a foot and a 
half long, which were arranged in a neat row beside- their grave, 
and were sacred to the memory of five little brothers of mine — 
who ■ trying to get a living exceedingly early in that 

universal struggle — 1 am indebted for a belief 1 religiously enter- 
tained thai they had all been horn on their hacks with their hands 
in their trowsers-pockets, and had never taken them out. in this 
state of existence. 

Ours was the marsh country, down by the river, within, as the 
river wound, twenty miles of the sea. My first distinct impression 
of the identity of things seems to me to havfc been gained on a 
memorable raw, damp afternoon toward evening. At such a time 
I found out fin- certain that this bleak place overgrown with nettles' 
was the church-yard ; and that . ohias Pirrip, late of this Parish, 
and also Georgiana, wife of the above, were dead and buried; and 
that Alexander, Bartholemew, Abraham, George, and Robert, infant 
children of the aforesaid, were also dead and buried; and that the 
dark, flat wilderness beyond the church-yard, intersected with 
dikes and mounds and jjates, witk scattered uattla ; 



/MI5930 



4 GREAT EXPECTATI01 

was the marshes :• and that the low leaden line beyond was 
river; and that the distant savage lair from which the wind was 
rushing was the sea ; and that the small bundle of shivers grow- 
ing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was Pip. 

"Hold your noise! " cried a terrible an started up 

among the graves at the side of the church-porch, 
your noise, y f ou little devil, or I'll cut your throat ! " 

A fearful man, all in gray, with a greal i 
with no bat, and broken shoes, and wil tied round his 

head. A man who had been soaked in water and smothered in 
mud, and lamed by stones, and cut by flints, and stung by nettles, 
and torn by briers; who limped, and shivered, and glared, 
growled; and whose teeth chattered in his head as he seized me 
bin. 

"Don't cut mv throat. Sir! " 1 pleaded in terror. •' Pray i 
. !" 

" ", id the man. " Quid 

■■ y- 

." said the Give 11 i 

. '• Pip. Pij), £ 
'■ Show • you live," said I 

■ ! " 

where <w village lay on 
ollards, a mile or more from the church. 
The man, after looking at me for a moment, turned me upside- 
my packets. Ther thing in them but; 

ad. When the church came to itself— for 
I strong that he made over be 

and I steeple under my legs — when the church 6an 

was seated on a high tombstone trembli 
he ate . usly. 

dog ! " said the man, lie lips at me, " 

ha' got ! " 
I bi :e fat, though 1 was at that time undersized 

for my years, and not strong. 

"Di I couldn't eat 'em," said the man, with a threaten- 

ing bis head, "and if 1 han't half a mind to 't! " 

1 earnestly expressed my hope that he wouldn't, and held tigh 
to the tombstone on which he had put me; partly to keep m; 
it, partly to keep myself from crying. 
"Now then, lookie 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 ! " 1 timidly explained. "Also Georgianna. That's 
my mother." 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

"Oho!" said he, coming back. "And is that you 
alonger yotir moth< 

: :-," said i ; " him i Df this pai 

" Ha! " he muttered then, considering. " Who d'ye live with — 
supposin' vou're kindly let to live, whicfl I han'1 made up my i 
about ?" .' 

ter, Sir — — wife of 

blacksmith, Sir." 
"Blacksmith, eh ! 

ing at his leg and i ral time-. 

closer tn my tombstone^ took me by both arms, and tilt" I 

ild bold me; so that hi , owerfully 

down into mine, and mine looked ly up into his. 

oWlookie here," lie .-aid, "the qu 
to he let to lr 
'.' Yes, Sir." 
" And you know what wit! 

" * 

After each question he tilted me over a little 

danger. 
" 1 le." Me tilted in. " Ahd 

wittle ''You bring 'em both to i 

mcl liver out." 

tened, and so giddy that 1 clung' to him 
hands, and said. " if yon would kindly pie it me 

keep upright, Sir, p shanldn'1 be sick, and perhaps 1 i 

■re." 

(piendous dip and roll, so that the church 

d over its own weather-cock. Then he held me by the arms, 

in an upright poslti top of the stone, ami went on in these 

! terms : 

" Von bring me, to-morrow morning early, that file, and I 

wittles. Vou bring the lot to me at that old Battery over yonder. 

Von do this,aud you never dare to say a word, or dare to make a sign 

n such a person as me, or any person, 
i to live. You fail, or yon go from my words 
in any partickler, no matter how small the partickler, and your 
• liver shall be tore our, roasted, and at •. N 

may think I am. There's a young man hid 

with mparison with whi< g man Lam a In gel o' 

young man hears the words I speak. That young 

way pecooliar to himself, of getting at a boy, and 

at his liearr, and at his liver. It is in wadn»for a hoy to atto mpt to 

■ that young man. A boy may lock his door, 

be warm in bed, may tuck himself up, may draw the clothes 

over his head, may think himself comfortable and safe; but that 



' 



fcETilOfl 



GtfJEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

young man will softly creep and creep his way to him am 
hint open. I am a keepiu' that young man from harmin' of j 
the present moment, with greart difficulty . I find it very hard to 
hold that young man off of your inside Now, whai do 
say V . • 

I said that T would got him the file, and I wind'! get hint w 
broken bus of food I could, and I would come to him al 
tery. early in the morning. 

" Sav Lord strike you dead if you don'i ?" said the man. 

! said so, and lie look me down. 

•'Now," he pursued, "you remember what you've undertook, and 
remember that young man, and you gel home !" 

*"« Goo-good-nighl, Sir," I faltered. 

•• .Much of that !" said he, glancing about him over the cold, wet 
flat. "1 wish 1 was a frog. < >r a eel !" 

At the same time he hugged his shuddering body in both his 
arms — clasping himself as if to hold himself together — and limped 
lowanl the low church wall. As 1 saw him go, picking his way 
among the nettles, and among the brambles that bound 'the ever- 
green mounds, be looked in my young eyes as if he were elu 

hands of the dead people, stretching up cautioi sly out of their 
graves, to get a twist upon his atkle and pull him h 

When he came to the low church wall, he got over it, like a man 

whose legs were numbed and .stiff, and then turned round t<> look 
for me. When I saw him turning, I set ra; 

■ the best use of my legs. But presently I l< 
shoulder, and saw him going on again toward the ri 
girig himself in both arms, and picking his way witl 
among the great stones dropped into the marshes here and I 
for stepping- places when the rains were heavy, or i: as in. 

The marshes were just a long black horizontal li 

ed to look after him ; and the river was just another horizon- 
tal line not nearly so broad nor yet so black ; and the sky was just 
a row of long angry red lines, and dense blaol lixed. 

( hi the edge of the river I could faintly make out the onlj 
black things in all the prospect that seemed to be standing upri 
one of these was the beacon by which the sailors steered — like an un- 
booped cask upon a pole — an ugly slimy thing when you 
it; the other, a gibbet with some chains banging to it which had 
once held a pirate. The man was limping on toward this lairer, 
as if he were the pirate coining to life and come down, and going 
back to hook himself up again. It gave me a terrible turn when 
I thought so; and as t saw the black cattle lifting < to 

gaze after him, I wondered whether they thong] I looked 

all around for the horrible young man, and could s 
hint. But now I was frightened again, and ran home 
stoppi 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS 



CHAPTER II. 



My sister, Mrs. Joe Gargery, was more than twenty years older 
than I, and had established a great reputation with herself and the 
neighbors because she had brought me up " by hand." Having 
at that, time to find out for myself what the expression meant, and 
knowing her to have a hard and heavy hand, and to be much in 
the habit of laying it upon her husband, as well as upon me. 1 
supposed that doe Gargerj and I were both brought up by hand.' 

She was not a good-looking woman, my sister: and 1 had a 
general impression that she most have made Joe Gargery marry 
her by hand. Joe was a fair man. with curls of flaxen hair on 
a&ch side of his smooth face, and eyes of Bach a very undecided 
blue that ihoy seemed to have somehow got mixed with their own 
whites. He was a mild, good-natured, sweet-tempered, easy-going, 
foolish, dear fellow — a sort of Hercules in strength, and also in 

ness. 

. My sister, Mrs. Joe, with black hair and eyes, had such a pre- 
vailing redness of skin that I sometimes used to wonder whether it 

was possible she washed herself with a nutmeg-grater instead of 
soap. She was tall and bony, and almost always wore a coarse 
apron, fastened over her figure behind with two loops, and having 
a square, impregnable bit in front thai was stuck full of pins and 
needles. She made it a powerful merit in herself, and a strong re- 
proach against, Joe, that she wore this apron so much. Though 1 
really see no reason now why she should have worn it at all ; or 
why. if she did wear it at all, she should not have taken* it off every 
day of her life. 

.Toe's forge adjoined our hou^Te, which was a wooden house, as 
many of the dwellings in our country were^mosr of them, at that 
time. When 1 ran home from the church-yard, the forge was shut 
up, and Joe was sitting alone in the kitchen. Joe and I being fel- 
low-sufferers, and having confidence as such, Joe imparted a confi- 
dence to me the moment I raised the latch of the door and peeped 
in at him opposite to it, sitting in the chimney-corner. 

" Mrs. Joe has been out a dozen times looking for you. Pip ; and 
site's out now, making it a baker's do/< 

•'Is she?" 

•' Ves. Tip." says Joe.; "and what's worse, she's got Tickler 
with her." 

At this dismal intelligence, I twisted the only button on my 
waistcoat round and round, and looked in great depression at. the 
tire. Tickler was a waxened piece of cane, worn smooth by col- 
lision with my tickled frame. 



8 GREAT EXPECTATION. 

" She sat down," said Joe, "and she got up, and she made a 
grab at Tickler, and she ram-paged out, That's what she did," 
said Joe, slowly clearing the fire between the bars willi the poker ; 
"she ram-paged out, Pip." 

" Has she been gone long, Joe 1" I always treated him as a 
larger species of child, and as no more than my equal. 

" Well," said Joe, looking up at the Dutch clock, been 

on the Ram-page, this last spell, about five minutes, Tip. She's p 
coming! Get behind the door, old chap, and have the jack-towel 
betwixt- yen." 

I took the adyiee. My sister, Mrs. dee, throwing the door wide 
open, and finding an obstruction behind it, immediately divined the 
". and applied Ticklerto further investigation. Sbeconcluded 
by showing me. 1 often served her a a connubial missile at Joe, 
who, glad to gel hold of me on any terms, passed me on into the 
chimney and quietly fenced me there with his greal I 

" Where have you been, yon young moi * -id Mrs. Joe, 
stamping her foot. "Tell me directly whai you've been doij 
wear me away with fret and fright and worrit, or I'd bavi 
of that corner if you were fifty. J'ij 8 and he was five hundred I 
gerj 

I have only been to the chofch-yard," said 1. from raj - 
crying and rubbing myself. 

" Ohurch-yard ! " r pealed my Bister. "If it • ou'd 

have been to the ohurch-yard lo re. Who 

brought yon up by hand 1 " 

" Vnii did." said I. 

*And why did I do it, 1 should like to I itned my 

sister. 

I whimpered, "I don'l L.i 

►" J don't 1 " said my sister. "I'd d ain ! 1 know 

that. 1 may truly say I've never had this apron of mine 
born you were. It's bad enough to be a blacksmith's 
him ; y), without being your mother." 

My thoughts strayed from that question as I lo< roso- 

lately at the fire. For the fugitive out on the marshes witl 
ironed leg, the mysterious -young man, the file, the victual . 
the dreadful pledge J was under to commit a larcenj 
sheltering premises, rose before me in the avenging coi 

"Hah !" said Mrs. Joe»j*storing Tickler to his ' Church- 

yard, indeed ! You may well say church-yard, yon 
us, by-the-by,had not said it at all. " You'll dri . arch- 

yard betwixt you one of these da;. 
be without me ! '" 

applied herself to set the tea-ihii _ 
eg, as if he were mental!; 
and calculating what kind 



I 



REA.T EXPF/TATI 9 

uml r i!k' | 

ilrs. Jee about with his blui 
squally tin 

My sister had a trenchant way 
foT us, that never varied. First, fefl band 

lbaf, hard ; UK'tillies 

into i' needle, frhich 

mouths. '. 

id ii on tin.- loaf . 
making a plas 
ping dexterity, and trim ' 

Then si 
the plaster, and then sawed a very thicl 

i ally, he! from the loaf, hewed in1 

.he other. 
On the present occasion, thou ' 

my sli li that I musl ha 

dreadful-acquaintance and his all; 

I knew 
and tl 
not hii 

awful. It v 
my .mind to lea he top i 

.1 of water. And it wa 
unconscious J< masonry i 

and in Ins good-natured ip with me, ii was 

bit to compare the way we bit thi 
them u] id then — 

which in gener 

invited me, l; 

with | 

and-butter on . thai 

■ 

Of hi: 

his n p 

„ 

. pur- 



10 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. . 

chase ou it, when his .eye fell oh me,- and he saw that my bread-and- 
butter was gone. 

' The wonder and consternation with which Joe stopped on the 
threshold of his bite ancLsiared at me were too evident to esi 
my .sister's observation. 

""What's the matte* now?" said she smartly, as she put down 
her cup. 

"I say, you know ! " muttered .Inc. snaking his head at me in 

vcty serious remonstrances, " Pip, old chap ! You'll do yourself a 

bjef. It'll stick somewhere! you van't bave chawed it, 

*P'ip." 

•''What's the matter note t" repeated ray sister, , more sharply 

than before. 

"If you can cough any trifle on it up, Pip, I'd recommend you 
to do it," said Joe all " Manners is manners, but .still 

ydur elth'a your elth." 

By this time my sister was quite di raced on 

Joe, and taking hnu by the two whiskers, knocked his head for a 
while against the wall behind him : while 1 sat in the corner 
looking guiltily on. 

" Now, perb tps you'll mention what's the matter." said m\ 
ter, out of breath, " you starin 

doe looked al h r in a I el] 
and looked at me again. • 
. " You know, Pip," lemnly, with his last bite ii 

k, and speaking in a c< quite 

alone,' '• you and me is always friends, and I'd be the last to tell 
you any time. But sue!) a" — he moved his chair and 1" 
.door between us. and then a 
common bolt as thai 

" Been bolting 

"You know, old chap," said Joe, looking Mrs. 

•doe, with his bite still in his cheek, " 1 boll it', when I 

your age — frequent — and as a boy 1\ been among a m 
ers : but I never see j our equal yet Pip, and it's 
choked dei 

My sister made a drive at me. : lair : 

saying nothing mon 
sed." 

Some medical b« 
line medicine, i doe alwa . ly of it in the cup- 

board; having a belief in its lent* to its horrible 

nastiness. At the best 9& * .min- 

istered to me as a choice resfi « ft 

about smelling like a new fence; 
urgency of my case dem; 
poured down my throat, 



* 



I 



GREAT EXPECTATIO 11 

heW my head under her arm as a boot w held in a 

If ;i vim ; but was made t" take that 
(mach to his disturbam md mediti 

before the fire), " tw had had a turn." Ji 

1 should rtainly hi if he had had 

■ 
Iful thing when ii a d or hoy ; Inn 

when, in the a I burden cooperates withan- 

"i burden down fhe rowsers, II 

I punishment. iiy know'' 

e rob Mrs, Jp< — 1 never 
I never thought of any of tl 

essity of i g one hand on the > [-but- 

■ I sat, or when I was ordered a!. our tJbe kitchen on a 
errand, almost drove me oi ofind. Then, ;is the March 

winds made the fire glow and flare, I thought I beard the . 

outside of the man with the iro on his leg who had sworn 
me to Beereey, d< daring that be couldn't and wouldi until 

mow. but must be fed now. Al other times, I thoq 
if the young man who was with so much difficulty restrained from 
im*bruing bis hands in me, should either yield to his con 

should mistake the lis. I ould think himself 

accredited to my heart and liver to-night, instead i -uw ! 

\ 's hair stood, on end with terror, mil 
done so then. ; nobody's ever did ? 

It was Christmas eve, and 1 bad to stir the pud 

the copper-stick, from seven to eighl I y tb< I 
J tried it with the load upon my leg (and hat made me think 

h of the man with the iron on his leg), and found thi 
<<i' exercise to bring the bread-and-butter out aKT my ancle, quite un- 
manageable and unconquerable. Happily J slipped away, and de- 
I that part of my conscience in my garret bedroom. 
" Hark ! " said I, when 1 had done my stirring, and was taking 
a final warm in the chimney corner before being sent up to bed ; 
•• was that guns, d< 

" Ah ! " said Joe. (other conwicl of]'.'' 

." What doe; 1. 

Mrs. doe, who always took explanations upon herself, said, snap- 
pishly, "Escaped — escaped." Administering the definition like 
tar-water. 

While. Mrs. doe sat with her head ben ding over her needle-work, 
.1 put my month into the forms of saying to Joe. " What's a con- 
vict (" doc put his mouth ini. si ch a 
highly elaborate answer, that L could make out nothing of it bar 
the single word " Pip." 

" There was one off last night," said doc. aloud, "after sui 



1-2 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

gun. And they fired warning of him. And now, it appears, they're 
firing warning of another." 
" Who's firing'?" said I. 

"Drat that child," 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 put it into the form of 
a woi d 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 1 could make nothing of the word. 

«{ Mrs. Joe," said I, as a last resource, " I should like to know — 
if you wouldn't much mind — wb< re the firing comes from % " . 
" Lord bless the boy ! " exclaimed my sister, as if she didn't 

• i that, but rather the, contrary. " From the Hulks." 
" Oh-ho ! " said I, looking a t Joe. "Hulks! " 
Joe gave a reproachful cough, as much as to say, " Well, I told 
you so." 

•• And please what's Hulks?" said. I. 

way with this boy ! " exclaimed my sister, pointing 
iut with her needle and thread, and shaking her head. " An- 
swer him one question, and he'll a t dozen directly. Hulks 
.s, right- "cross tV . used tliat 
marshes in our country* 
'•1 wonder- , I into prison-ships, and- why they're put 

said I, in a general way and with desperation. 
It was too much for Mrs. .Joe, who immediately rose. "I tell 
what, young n, "I. didn't bring you up by hand 

i'iger people's lives oi>t. It .and not 

I had. People are put in the Hulks tnu«- 

sethey rob, and 
always begin by asking' questions.* - bed 1 .'; 

i was never allowed a ind, as I went 

airs in the dark, with my head tin om Mrs. Joe's thim- 

ibe tambourine upon it to accompai- 
ully sensible of it convenience lha 

1 Hulks were handy for me. I. was clearly on my way thei • 
begun ing questions, and I was goin Irs. Joe. 

Since that, tim-, which is far enough away now, I have 
thought that few people :;at-seereey there is in the young, 

under terror. No bat it 

srror. i was in mortal terror of the voting man who wanted 



UK EAT' EXPECT ATIl>: IB 

my heart and liver; T was in mortal terror of my interlocntor with 
the ironed leg; I was in mortal tenror. of my" self, from whom an 
awful proi n exacted'; 1 bad no hope of deliverance 

■ gh my all-powerful sister, who repulsed mo al every turn ; I 
am afraid to think, even now, of what 1 might have done, upon 
requirement, in the Becresy of my terror. 

If 1 slept at all that night, it. was only to imagine myself drift- 
ing down the i strong spring tide to the Hulks ; a ghostly 
pirate calling out to me through a speaking trumpet, as i passed 
.on, that I had better come ashore, and he han 

at it off. I was afraid to sleep, even if I 
had- been inclined, for 1 knew that at the first faint dawn of morn- 
ing I mm, pantry, a no gelling a light by • 
friction then ; to have got one 1 must have struck it out of flint 
and sieel, and have made a noise like the very, pirate himself rat- 
tling his chaii 

tie great black velvet pall outside my little window 

. 1 got. up and went down stairs.i every hoard 

the' way, ami i board, calling after me, 

"•Stop thief !" and "Get up, Mrs. Joe ! " In the pantry, which 

lantly supplied than usual, owing to the season, 

1 was very much alarmed by a hare hanging up by the !, 

b was half tun 
! had no time for verification, no lime for selection, no 
time for any thing, for I hacrno time to spare. I stole some bread, , 
some rind of cheese, about half a jar of mince-meat (which I. lied 
up in m\ indkerebief with my last night's slice), some 

•brandy from a stone bottle (which I decanted into a glass hot lie [ 
secretly'used for making that intoxicating fluid, Spanish-liquor- 
ater, up in my room : diluting the stone bottle from a jug in 
itchen cupboard), a meat hone with very little on it, and a 
tiful round, compact pork-pie. 1 was neatly going awaywith- 
e pie, bul unpted to mount upon a shelf to look. what 

'A was that was pui carefully in a covered earthenware 

q a corner, and I found it was the pie, and i took' it in the 
not intended for early use, and would not 
mis- ne time. 

door in the kitchen communicating with the forge ; 
1 unlocked and unbolted that door, and got a file from aim 

. put the fastenings as L . ad found them, opened the 
door aJ which 1 had entered when I ran homo last l it.it, 

ran tor the misty marsl 



U UREAT EXPECTATIONS 



CHAPTER III. 



It was a rimy morning,>and very damp. I had seen the damp 
lying on the outside of my little window, as if some goblin bad 
been crying there all night, and Being the window for a pocket- 
handkerchief. Now I saw the clamp lying on the bare hedges and 
. e grass; like a coarser sort of spider's -wens; hanging itself 
iroin twig to twig and blade to blade On every rail and gate wet 

cjaiumy; and the marsh mist was so thick that the wooden 

■r on the post, directing people to our village — a direction 
which they never accepted, for they never came there — was invis- 
ible to me until I was quite close under it. Then, as I looked up 
at it, while it dripped, it seemed, to my oppressed conscience, like 
a phantom devoting me to the Hulks. 

The mist was heavier yet when I got out upon the marshes, so 
that, instead of my running at every thing, every thing seem - 
run at me.- This was very disagreeable to a quid mind. The gates 
and dikes and banks came bursting at me t hrough the mist, as if they 

I as plainly as could lie, •' A boy with a pork-pie ! Stop him ! " 
The black cattle came upon me with like suddenness, staring out 

eir eyes, and smoking out of their nostrils, " Halloa, young 
thief J " One 'black ox'/ with awhile cravat on- who had to my 
awakened conscience something of a clerical air — fixed me so 

dily with his eyes, and moved his blu»t bead round in such ' 
an acCusatory manner as I moved round, that I called out to 
him, " 1 couldn't help it ! It wasn't for myself I took it! " Upon 
which he put down his head, blew a, cloud of smoke out of his 
nose, and vanished with a'kick-up of Ins hind leg and a flourish of 
his tail. 

AH this time 1 was getting on toward the river; out how 
fast 1 went, I couldn't warm my feet, he which the damp 
seemed riveted, as the iron was riveted to the leg of the man I was 
ig to meet, i knew my Way to the Battery pretty straight. 
lor I had been down there on a Sunday with Joe, and due had, 
sitting on an old gun, told me that when I was 'prentice to him 
regularly bound, we would have such Larks (here as should recom- 
pense us for our restraint at home. However, in the confusion 
■ of (he mist, 1 found myself at last too far to the right, and conse- 
quently had. to try back along the river-sjde, on the bank of loose. 
stones above the mud and the stakes that staked the tide out, to 
come at the Battery. Making my way along here with all dispatch, 
1 had just crossed a ditch which 1 knew to be very near the Battery, 
and i 'Tiuuuled up the mound beyond the ditch, when 1 






GflKEAT EXPECTATIONS. 16 

* 

saw the man silting- before me. His back was toward me, and lie 
had got, his arms folded, and was nodding forward heavy with 
sleep. 

I thought ho would be more glad if I camo upon him with his 
breakfast in that unexpected manner, so I went forward softly 
and touched Him on the shoulder, lie instantly jumped up, anil 
it was not the man, but another man! 

. And yet he was dressed in coarse gray, too, and In;. I ;; great 
iron on his leg, and was lame, and hoarse, and cold, and was every- 
thing that the other man was ; except that, he had not the same 
face, and had a flat, broad-brimmed, low-crowned felt hat on. All 
this 1 saw in a moment, for I had only a moment to see it in ; he 
swore an oath at me, made a hit at me — it was a round weak blow 
that missed me and almost knocked himself down, for it. made him 
stumble — and then he ran into the mist, tumbling twice as he went, 
and I lost him. 

"It's the young man !" I thought. I felt my heart shoot as 1 
identified him ; and I dare say I should have felt, a pain in my 
liver, too, if I had known where it was. 

I was soon at the Battery after that, and there was the man — 
hugging himself and limping to and fro, as if he had never all night 
left off hugging and limping — waiting for me. lie was awfully 
cold, to be sure. I half expected to see him dropdown before ray 
face and die of cold. His eyes looked so awfully hungry, loo. 
that when I handed him the file it. occurred to me he would have, 
tried to eat. if, if he had not seen my bundle. . He did not turn me 
upside down, this time, to get at what I had, but left me right 
side upward while I opened the bundle and emptied mj 

" What's in the bottle, boy ?" said he. 

" Brandy," said I. 

. He was already handing mince-meat down his throat in the most 
curious manner, more like a man who was putting it away some- 
where in a violent hurry than a man who was eating it — but he 
left off. to take some of the liquor, shivering all the while so vio- 
lently that it was quite as much as he could do to keep the neck 
of the bottle between bis teeth. 

." 1 think you have got the ague," said T. 

" I'm much of your opinion, hoy," said he. 

" It's bad about here. You've been lying out oh the meshes, 
and they're dreadful aguish. Rheum:: 

"I'll eat my breakfast afore they're the death of me." said he. 
" I'd do that, if I v to be strung »up to that there gallows 

as there is over there directly arterward. I'd beal the shi\> 
far, /'ll h'et you a L r uiiM- 

lie was gobbling mince-meat, meat. bone, bread, cheese, and 
pork-pie all al once i staring distrustfully while he did so at the 
mint all roucd as, and ofuu stopping — even stopping b i* jaw* — 1'> 



16 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

listen. Some real or fancied sound, some clink upon the river or 
breathing of beast's upon the marsh, now gave him a start,- and he 
said, suddenly : ■ • ■ 

" You're not -a false imp ? You brought no one with you ?" 

"No, sir! No!" 

" Nor give no one the office to follow you W 

"No!" 

" Well," said he, " I believe you. You'd be but a fierce young 
hound, indeed, if at your time of life you could help to hunt a 
wretched warminr, hunted as near death and dunghill as this poor 
wretched warmint is !" 

Something clicked in his throat, as if he had works in him like 
a clock, and was going to strike. And. he smeared his ragged, 
rough sleeve over his eyes. 

Pitying his desolalion, and watching him as he gradually settled 
down upon the pie, I made bold to say, " I am glad you enjoy it." 

" Did you speak ?" 

" I said I was glad you enjoyed it." 

"Thankee, my boy. I do." 

I had often watched a large dog of ours eating his food ; and I 
now noticed a decided similarity between the dog's way of eating 
and the man's. The man took strong, sharp, sudden bites, just 
like the dog. He swallowed, or rather snapped up, every mouth- 
ful too soon and fob fast ; and he looked sideways here and there 
while he ate, as if he thought there was danger, of someb dy's com- 
ing to take the pie away. He was altogether too unsettled in his 
mind over it to appreciate it. comfortably, 1 thought, or to have 
any body to dine with him, without making a chop with his jaws 
at the visitor. In all of which particulars he was very like the 
dog. 

" You won't leave any of it for him," said I, timidly, after a si- 
lence during which I had hesitated as to the politeness of making 
the remark. " There's no more to be got where that came from." 
It was the certainty of this fact that impelled me to offer the hint. 

" Leave for him ? Who's him. 1 ?" said my friend, stopping in his 
crunching of pie-crust. 

" The young man. That you spoke of. That was hid with 
you." 

"Oh, ah!" he returned, with something like a gruff laugh. 
" Him ? Yes, yes ! He don't want no wittles." 

" I thought he looked as if be did," said I. 

The man stopped eating, and regarded me with the closest scru- 
tiny and the greatest surprise. 

"Looked? When?" 
"Just now." 
" Where V 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. . 1* 

-"Yonder," said 1, pointing; " over there, where I found him 
nodding asleep, and thought it was you." 

He held me hy the collar and stared at me so, that I began to 
think his first idea about cutting my throat had revived. 

" Dressed Use you, you know, only with a hat," I explained, 
trembling*; "and — and" — I was very anxious to put it delic. 
ly — "and with — the same reason for wanting to borr 
Didn'1 you hear the gun last nigh: 

" Then there was tiring!" he said to himself. 

" I wonder you shouldn't have been sure of that," I returned, 
" for we heard it up at home, and that's further away, and we were% 
shut in besides." 

" Why. see now!" said he. " When a man's alone on these 
flats, with a light head and a light stomach, perishin'. 0/ cold and 
want, lie bears nothiif all night, hut guns (irhf, and voices eajlin'. 
Hears ' He sees tile soldiers with their red coats, lighted ii|> by 
the torches carried afore, closin' in round him. Hears his number 
called, hears himself challenged, hears the rattle of the muslTets, 
bears the orders. ' Make ready ! Present ! — Cover him steady, 
men !' and is laid hands on, and there's nothing! Why, if 1 see 
one pursuing party hist night — coming up in order, damn 'em, 
with their tramp, tramp — 1 see a hundred. And as to firin' ! 
Why, I see the' mist shake with the cannon, when it, was broad 
day. Put this man." — he had said all the rest as if he had for- • 
gotten my being there — " did- you notice any thing in him ?" 
'Hehad a bruised face,' said I, recallingwhat Ihardly knew I knew. 

"Xo^.here/" exclaimed the man, striking his left cheek with 
the iiat of his hand. 

"Yes! There!" 

" Where is he?" He crammed what little food was left into 
the breast of his gray jacket. " Show me the way he went. I'll 
pull him down like a bloodhound. Curse this iron on my sore 
leg! (iive us hold of the tile, boy." 

I indicated in what direction. The mist had shrouded' the 
other man, and he looked up at it for an instant. Put he was 
down on the rank wet grass, riling at his iron like a madman, and 
not minding me or minding his own leg, which had an old chafe 
upon k ■ blot ly, but which he handled as roughly as if it 

bad no more feeling in it than the tile. I was very much afraid of 
him. again, now that- he had worked himself into this tierce hurry, 
and 1 was likewise very much afraid of keeping away from home - '' 
any longer. 1 told him I must go, but be took no notice, so 1 
thought the best thing I could do was to slip off. The last 1 
of him, his bead was bent over his knee, and he was working I 
at his tetter, muttering impatient imprecations at it and at his leg. 
The last 1 beard of him, I stopped iu the mist to listen, and 
file was still going. 



13 tfREAT EXPECTATIONS. 



CHAPTER IV. 



I kui.lv expected to find a constable in the kitchen, waiting to 
take me up. But not only was there no constable there, but no 
discovery had yet been made of the robbery. Mrs. Joe was pro- 
digiously busy in getting the house ready for the U- T the 
day, and Joe had been put upon the kitchen door-step 1 to Keep him 
out of the dust-pan — an article into which Ins destiny always led 
him sooner or later when my sister was vigorously reaping the 
floors of her establishment. 

" And .where the deuce ha' you been?" was Mrs. Joe's Christ- 
mas*salutation, when I and my conscience showed oursel 

1 said I had been down to hear the Carols. " Ah ! well ! ob- 
served Mrs. Joe. "You might ha' done worse/' " Nol a doubt 
of it," I though!. 

" Perhaps if I warn't a blacksmith's .wife, and the same 

thing) a slave with her apron never off, /should have been to hear 
the Carols." said Mrs. Joe. "I'm rather partial to Carols w: : 
and that's the best of reasons for my never hearing any." 

Joe, who had ventured into the kitchen after me as the dust- 
pan retired before us, drew the back of his hand across his nose 
with a conciliatory air when Mrs. Joe darted a ^ook at him, . 
when her eyes were withdrawn, secretly crossed his two fore- 
fingers, and exhibited them to me, as our token that Mrsj|0oe was 
in a cross temper. This was so much her normal state, rhat Joe 
and 1 would often, for weeks together, be, as to ou like 

monumental Crusaders as to their legs. 

We were to have a superb dinner, consisting of a leg of pickled 
pork, and greens, and a pair of roast stuffed fowls. A \ 

e-pie had been, made yesterday morning (which accounted for 
the mince-meat not being missed), and the pudding was already ofl 

oil. These extensive arrangements occasioned us to be 
off unceremoniously in respect of breakfast. " for I a n't," said 
Joe, " I an'r a going to have no cramming and gorging and v 
ing up now, with what I've got before me, 1 promise you !** 

So vrt had our slices served out, as if we were two thousand 
troops on a forced march, instead of a man and boy at home ; . 
we took gulps oi milk and water, with apologetic countenani 
from a jug on the dresser. In the meantime Mrs. Joe put clean 
white curtains up, and tacked a new flowered flounce across the 
wide chimney to replace the old one, aud uncovered the little state 
parlor jacross the passage, which was never uncovered at any 
i her time, but parsed the rest of the year in a cool haze of silver 
paper, wfeieu even extended to the four little white ereekery poo- 



■.'!• 



• % 

• GREAT EXPECTATIONS. " 19 

dies on ilic mantle shelf, each with a black nose, and a basket of 
flowers in. his mouth, and each the counterpart of the other. Mrs. 
Joe was a very clean housekeeper, but had an exquisite art of 
making her cleanliness more uncomfortable and unacceptable than 
rlirt itself. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, and some people ( do 
the same by their religion. W 

sister having so much to do,*wae going to church vicarious-) 
• loe and 1 were gofrip. In bis workim.- qlotbes 
Joe was a well-knit. characterJfcticJooking blacksmith; in Ins 
holiday clothes, he was more like a scarecrow in good circum- 
stances than any thing else. Nothing that he wore then fitted him, 
or seemed to belong to him, and every thing that be, wore then 
grazed htm. On the pre -cut festive occasion he emerged from his 
room, when the blithe hells were going, the picture of misery in a 
full suit of Sunday nenitemials. .itento me, I think my sister must 
have had suim I idea that I was a young offender v. 

an Accoucheur Policeman had taken up (on my birthday), an 
livered o\i dealt .with according to the outr 

majesty of the law. ! was always treated as if I had insisted on 
Jpng horn in opposition to the dictates of reason, relitri on, and 
mo! -ality. and against the dissuading arguments of my best frie 
even \djpij 1 was taken to have a new suit of clothes, the ; 
had orders to make them like a kind of Reformatory, and 
account to let me have the use of my limbs. 

i and 1 going to church, therefore, must have been a moving 
spectacle for compassionate minds. Yet what I suffered outside 
was nothing to what I underwent within. The terrors that had 
assailed me whenever Mrs. Joe had gone near the pantry or out 
of the room, were only to be equaled by the remorse with' which 

iind dwelt, on what, my hands had done. Under the weight 
of my wicked secret I pondered whether the Church would be 
powerful e.nougb to shield me from I he vengeance of the terrible 
young man. if I divulged it to that establishment. I conceived 
the idea thai the time when the bans were read and when the 

\ man said, " Ye are now to declare it !" would be the time 
for me to rise and propose a private audience in the vestry. 1 am 
far from being q.uite sure that I 'might not have astonished our 
small congregation by resorting to this extreme measure, but for 
its being Christmas Day and ml Sunday. 

Mr. Wopsle, the clerk at church, was to dine with us ; and Mr. 
Hubble, the wheel-wright, and Mrs. Hubble ; and Uncle Pumble- 
chook (Joe's une'e, but Mrs. Joe appropriated. him), who was a 
well-to-do corn-chandler in .the nearest town, and drove his own 
chaise-cart. The dbmer hour was half-past one. When Joe and 
home, we found the table laid, and Mrs. Joe dressed, and 
the dinner dressing, and the front door >n 



m 

aO GREAT EXPECTATIONS 

any other time) for the company to enter hy, and every thing most I 
splendid. And still, not a word of the robbery. 

.The time came without bringing with it any relief to my feel- 
ings, and the company came. Mr. Wopsle, united to a Roman, 
nose and a large bald forehead, had a deep sonorous voice whicK 
he was proud of; indeed it was understood among his acquaint*^ 
ance that if you could only give him his head he would read the 
clergyman into fits; he himpefr confessed that if the Church was 
"thrown open," meaning to competition, he would not despair of 
making his mark in it. The Church not being " thrown open," he 
was, as I have said, our clerk. But he finished the Amens tre- 
mendously ; and when he gave out the psalm — always giving us 
the whole -verse — he looked all round the congregation first, as 
much as to say, " You have heard my friend overhead ; oblige Hie 
with your opinion of this !" 

I opened the door to the .company — making* believe that it was 
a habit of ours to open that door — and 1 opened it first to Mr. 
Wopsle, next to Mr. and Mrs. Hubble, and lasf of all to Uncle . 
Pumblechook. N. B. I was not allowed to call him uncle under 
the severest penalties. I 

"Mrs. Joe," said Uncle Pumblechook, who was a large, hard- • 
breathing, midde-aged, slow in n, with a mouth like ajHp, dull 
sfaring eyes, and sandy hair standing upright on his heaay so that 
he looked as if he had just been choked, and had that very mo- 
ment come to, "I have brought you, as the compliments of the 
season — I have brought you, Mum, a bottle of sherry wine, and I 
have brought you, Mum, a bottle of port wine." 

Every Christmas Day he presented himself, as a profound nov- | 
elty, with exactly the same words, and carrying the two bottles 
like dumb-bells. Every Christmas Day, Mrs. Joe replied, as sbjj 
now replied, " Oh, Un— cle Pum— ble— chook ! This is kindr 
Every Christmas Day, he retorted, as he now retorted, " D's no 
more than your merits. And how are you all — bobbish ? And 
how's Sixpennorth of half pence '?" meaning me. 

We dined on these occasions in the kitchen, and adjourned, for 
the nuts and oranges and apples, to the parlor : which was a 
change very like Joe's change from his working clothes to his 
Sunday's dress. My sister was uncommonly lively on the present 
occasion, and indeed was generally more gracious in the society 
of Mrs. Hubble than in any other company. I remember .Mrs. 
Hubble as a little, sharp-eared person in curly sky-blue, who held 
a conventionally juvenile position, because she had married Mr. 
Hubb.e — I don't know at what remote period — when she was 
much younger than he. I remember Mr. Hubble as a tough, 
high-shouldered, stooping old man, of a saw-dusty fragrance, with 
his legs extraordinarily wide apart, so that in my short and early 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 51 

I 

days I always saw some miles of open country between them 
when I met him coming .up the lane. % 

Among this good company I should have felt myself, even if I 

• hadn't robbed the pantry, in a false position. Not because I was 
squeezed in at an acute angle of the table-cloth -with the table in 
my chest, and the Pumhlechookian elbow in my eye; not because 
I was not allowed to speak (I didn't want to speak), nor because 
I was regaled with the scaly tips of the drumsticks of the fowls, 
an'd with those corners of obscure pork of which th$.pig, when liv- 
ing, had the least reason to he vain. No ; I should not have mind- 

„ed that, if they would only have left me alone. But they wouldn't 
leave me alone. They seemed to think the opportunity lost, if 
they failed to point the conversation at me every now and then, 
and stick the point into me. I might have been an unfortunate 
little bull in a .Spanish arena: I got so smartingly touched on by 
these moral goads. 

It began the moment we sat down to dinner. Mr. Wbpsle said 
grace with theatrical declamation, as it now appears to me, some- 

• Vhing 'ike a religious cross of the Hhost in Hamlet with Richard 
t^e Third — and ended with the very proper aspiration that we 
might be truly grateful. Upon which my sister instantly fixed 
me with her eve, and said, in a low, reproachful voice, " Do you 
hear that ? Be grateful." 

"Especially," said Mr. Pumblochook, "be grateful, boy, to them 
which brought you up by hand." 

Mrs. Hubble shook her head, and contemplating me with a mourn- 
ful presentiment that 1 should come to no good, asked, " Why is it 
that the young are never grateful?" This mystery seemed too 
much for the company until Mr. Hubble tersely solved it by saying, 
" Naturally wicious." Everybody then murmured " Ah ! " and 
" True I" arid looked at me in a 'particularly unpleasant and per- 
sonal manner. 

Joe's station and influence were something feebler (if possible) 
when there was company than -when there was none. But he 
always aided and abetted when he could, in some way of his own, 
and he always did so at dinner-time by giving me gravy, if there 
were any. There being plenty of gravy to-day, Joe spooned into 
my plate, at this point, about half-a-pir.t. 

A little later on in the dinner, Mr. Wopsle reviewed the sermon 
, with sonic severity, and intifhated in the usual hypothetical case 
of the Church being "thrown open," what kind of sermon he 
would have given them. After favoring them with some heads 
of that discourse, he remarked that he considered the subject of 
the day's homily ill chosen ; which was the less excusable, he 
added, when there were so many subjects "going about." 

"True again," said Uncle I'umhlecho >k. "You've hit it — 
plenty of subjects going about, for them that know how to put 



oo GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

salt upon their tails. That's what's wanted. . A man needn't, go 
far to 'find a subject if he's ready with his salt box. Why," added 
Mr. Puniblechook, after a short interval of deep reflection, "look 
at Pork alone. There's a subject! If von want a sub ect, look . 
at Pork ! " • 

'" True, Sir. Many a moral for the youngvj' returned Mr. Wopsle ; ■ 
and I knew he was going to bring me in before be si id it, "might 
be deducted from that text." 

("You listen to this," said my sister to me, in a seven' parou- 
thesis.) 

Joe gave me some more gravy. 

," Swine," pursued Mr. Wopsle. -in bis deepest voice, ai 
rng his fork at my blushes as if he were mentioning my ( 'hristian 
name — " Swine were the companions -of the prodigal. The glut 
tony of swine is set before us as an example to the young." (1 
thought this pretty well in him who had bet: I the 

pork for being so plump anfflPfcx-y.) " What is detestable in a 
pig is more detestable in a Boy." 

"Or girl," suggested Mr. Bubble. 

"Of course, or girl," assented Mr. Wopsle, nil her irritably"; 
" but there is no girl present/' 

"Besides." said Mr. Pumbleohook, turning sharp on me, '^fhink 
what you've got to be grateful for, If een 'com a squeak- 

er— -1" - 

" He was, if ever a child was," said nay si emphatically. 

Joe gave me some more gravy. 

-■ Wj'll, but 1 mean a four-footed squeaker." said Mr. Pumbje- 
chook. "If you had been born such, would you have been here 
now '. Xot you — " 

nless in that form," said Mr. Wopsle, nodding toward the 
dish. 

"But I don't mean in that form, Sir," returned Mr. 1'umble- 
chojok, who had an objection to being interrupted : " 1 mean en- 
joying himself with his elders and betters, and improving himself 
with their conversation, and rolling in the lap of luxury. Would 
he have been doing that? Xo, he wouldn't. And what would 
have been your destination ? " turning on me again. " You would 
have been disposed of for so many shillings, according to the mar- 
ket, price of the article, and Dunstable, the butcher, would 1 
come up to you as you lay in your«straw, and he would i 
whipped you under his left arm, and with" his right he would have 
tucked up his frock to get a penknife from out of his waistcoat- 
pocket, and he would have shed your blood and had your life. No 
bringing up by hand then. Not a bit of it!" 

Joe offered me more gravy, which I was afraid to take. 

"He was a world of trouble to you, ma'am," said Mrs. Hubble, 
commiserating my sister. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 23 

" Trouble ? " echoed- h>y sister ; " trouble I " And then entered 
on a fearful catalogue of all the illnesses I had been guilty of, 
and all the acts of sleeplessness I had committed, and ail 
high places 1 had tumbled from, and all the low places I bid 
tumbled into, and all the injuries I had done myself, and all the 
times she had wished me in my grave, and I bad contumaciously v , 
refused to go there. 

I think the Romans must have aggravated one another very 
much with their noses. ' Perhaps they became the restless people 
were in consequence. Anyhow, Mr. Wopsle's Roman nofe 
so aggravated me, during the recital of my misdemeanors, that i 
should have liked to pull it until he howled. But all I had en- 
dured up to ibis time was nothing in comparison with the aw- , 
fnl feeling that took possession of me when the pause was broken 
which ensued upon my sister's recital, and in which pause every- 
body had looked at me (as 1 felt deeply conscious) with indignation 
•and abhorrence. 

" Yet," said Mr. Pumblechook, leading the company gently back 
to the theme from which hey had strayed, " Pork — regarded as 
hiled — is rich, too; ain't it ?" 

".Have a Mule brandy, uncle," said my sister. > 

(), Heavens, i; had come at last ! lie would find it was weak. 
he would say it was weak, and I was lost! I held tight to 

if the table with both hands, and awaiied my fi 
0&ly sister went for ihe stone bottle, came back with the stone 
, and poured Jiis brandy out, no'tme else taking any. The 
wretched man triflpd with his glass — took it up, looked at it 
through the light, put, it down — prolonged my misery. All this 
Mrs! Joe and .Joe were busily clearing the table i'ov Ihe pie 
and pudding. . i 

I couldn't keep hi ■;' him. Always holding tight by the 

leg of the table with my hands and feel, I saw the miserable crea- 
ture linger his glass playfully, take it up, smile, throw his head 
back, and drink the brandy off. Instantly afterward the company 
were seized with unspeakable consternation, owing to his spring- 
ing to his feet, turning round several times 'in an appalling spas- 
modic, hooping-cough dance, and rushing out at the door; he then 
became visible through the window, violently stamping and ex- 
pectorating, making the most, hideous faces, and apparently* out 
of his mind. 

I held on tight, wnile Mrs. Joe and Joe ran to him. I didn't, 
know how I had done it, but I had no doubt I had murdered him 
somehow. In my dreadful situation it was a relief when he was 
brought back, and surveying the company all round, as if they 
had .disagreed with him, sank down into his chair with the one 
significant gasp, " Tar ! " 

I had filled up the bottle from the tar-water jug. I kneW ha 



24 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. . 

would be worse by-and-by. I moved tbe table, like a Medium of 
the present day, by the vigor of my unseen grasp upon it, 

" Tar !" cried my sister in amazement. "Why, how ever could 
it come there 1" 

But Uncle Pumblechook, who was omnipotent in that kitchen, 
wouldn't hear the word, wouldn't hear the subject mentioned, im- 
periously waved it all away with his hand, and asked for hot gin 
and water. My sister, who had begun to be alarmingly medita- 
tive, had to employ herself actively in getfirig the gin, the hot 
water, the sugar, and the lemon-peel, and mixing them. For the 
time, at. least, I was saved. I still held on the leg of the table, 
but clutched it now with the fervor of gratitude. 

By ^degrees I became calm enough to release my grasp and 
partake of pudding. Mr. Pumblechook partook of pudding. All 
partook of pudding. The course terminated, and Mr Pumblechook 
had begun to beam under the genial influence of the gin and wa- 
t-r. I began to think I should get over the day when my sis- 
ter said to Joe, "Clear plates — cold." 

I clutched the leg of the table again immediately, and pressed 
it to my bosom as if it had been the companion of my youth 
and- friend of my soul. I foresaw what was coming, and I felt 
that this time I really was gone. 

"You must taste," said my sister, addressing the guests with 
her best grace, "you must really taste, to finish with, such a de- 
lightful and delicious present of Uncle-Pumblechtiok's !" 

Must they ! Let them not hope it ! 

" You must know," said my sister, rising | ie — a savory 

pork-pie." 

The company murmured their compliments ; and Uncle Pum- 
blechook, sensible of having deserved well of his fellow-creatures, 
and having distinguished himself by his gift, said, vivaciously, 
all things considered, " Well, Mrs. Joe, we'll do our best endeavors ; 
let us have a cut at this same pie." 

My sister went out to get it. I heard her steps proceed to the 
pantry.. I saw Mr. Pumblechook balance his knife. I saw re- 
awakening appetite in the Roman nostrils of Mr. Wopsle. I heard 
Mr. Hubble remark that " a bit of savory pork-pie would lay a-top 
of any thing and do no harm," and I heard Joe say, " You shall 
have some Pip." I have never been absolutely certain whether 
I uttered a shrill cry of terror" merely in spirit, or in tha bodily 
hearing of the company. I felt that I could hear no more, and 
that I must run away. I released the leg of the table, and ran 
for my life. 

But I ran no further than the house door, for there I ran head 
foremost into a party of soldiers with their muskets, one of whom 
held out a pair of handcuffs to me, saying, " Here you are, look 
sharp, come on !" 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 25 



CHAPTER V. 

Thk apparition of a file of soldiers ringing down the butt end 
of their loaded muskets mi our doorstep Caused the dinner-party 
to rise from table confused, and caused Mrs. Joe re-entering the 
kitchen empty-handed, to stop short and sta-e. after her first won- 
dering lament of ""Lord gracious, what's gone with the pie!" 

The sergeant and 1 were in the kitchen when Mrs. .Joe stood 

staring; at which crisis I partly recovered the use of my senses. 

It was the sergeant who had spoken to me. and he was lmwJook- 

, ing round at the company,, with his handcuffs invitingly exfnided 

toward them in his right hand, and his left on my shoulder. 

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen." said the sergeant, "but 
as I have mentioned at the door to this ymmg shaver, (which he 
hadn't) I am on a chase for the king, and I want the blacksmith " 
\nd pray wliat might you want with hint?" retorted my sis- 
ter, quick to resent his being wanted at all. 

lissus," returned the gallant sergeant, "speaking for myself. 
I should reply, the honor and pleasure of his wjfe's acquaintance; 
speaking for the King, 1 answer a little job done." 

This was received' as rather neat in the sergeant ; insomuch 
that Mr. Pumbtechook cried audibly, " Good again !" 

" You see. blacksmith," said the sergeant, who had by this time 
picked out doe with his eye', "we have had an accident with 
these, and find the lock of one of 'em goes wrong, and the coup- 
ling don't act pretty. As they are wanted for immediate service, 
will yon throw your eye over them .'" 

Joe threw his eye^ver them, and pronounced that the job would 
necessitate the lighting of his forge fire, and would take nearer 
two hours than one. " Then will yon set about it at once, black- 
smith," said the sergeant, "as it's on his Majes y's service; and 
if my men can bear a hand any where, they'll make themselves 
useful." With that he called to hisunen, j^ho came trooping into 
the kitchen one after another, and filled their arm* in a Corner. 
.lure they stood about as soldiers do; now. with their hands 
loosely clasped before them; now. resling a knee or a shoulder ; 
now. easing a belt or a pouch ; now, opening the door to suit stiff- 
ly over their high stocks out into the yard. 

All these things I saw without knowing that 1 saw them, for I 
was in mortal terror. But, beginning, to perceive that the hand- 
cuffs were not for me, and that the military had so far got the bel- 
ter of the pie as to put it in the hack ground for the moment. I 
collected a little more of my scattered wits. 

" Would you give me the time ?" said t nt, addressing 



26 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. 

himself to Mr. Ptfmblechopk, as a man whose appreciative powers 
justified the inference that, lie was equal to the time. 

" It's just gone half-past two " 

"That's not so had," said the sergeant, reflecting ; "even if 
I were forced to halt here nigh two hours, that'll do. How far 
might you call yourselves from the marshes hero ? Not above a 
mile, I reckon ?" 

"Just a mile," said Mrs. Joe. 

"That'll do. We begin to close in upon 'em about dusk. A 
little before dusk, my orders are. That'll do." 

" Convicts, sergeunt ?" said .Mr. Wopsle? in a matter-of-course 
way. 

"Aa 7 !" returned the sergeant, "two. They're pretty well 
knowu to be out on the marshes still, .and they won't try to get 
clear of 'em before dusk. Any body here seen any thing of any 
such game ?" 

Every body, myself .excepted, said no, with confidence. No- 
body thought of me. 

"Weil!" said the sergeant, "they'll find themselves trapped' 
in a circle, I expect, sooner than they count on. Now, blacksmith ! 
If you're ready, the King is." 

Joe had gut his coat and waistcoat and cravat off, and his leath- 
er apron on, and passed into the i'cv : j;v. One of the soldiers open- 
ed its wooden windows, another lighted the lire, another turned to 
at the bellows, the rest stood round the blaze, which was soon 
roaring. Then Joe began to hammer and clink", hammer. and 
clink', and ul! looked on. 

erest of the impending pursuit not only absorbed the 
general attention, but even made my sister generous. She drew 
a pitcher of beer from the cask for the soldiers, and invited the 
sergeant to take a glass of brandy. But Mr.' Pumblechook said, 
sharply, "Give him wine. mum. 1'; • there's no Tar in 

that;" so the sergeant thanked him' and s; . s he. preferred 

his drink without tar, he would-fake wine, if if was equally con- 
venient. When it was given "him tie drank his Majesty's health 
and Compliments of smi, and took it all at a mouthful and 

smacked his lips. 

" Good stuff, eh, sergeant I" said Mr. Pumblechook. 
"I'll tell you something," returned the sergeant; " I suspect 
that-stuff 's of your providing." 

Mr. Pumblechook, with "a fat sort of laugfe, said, •' Av, ay? 

Why?" " 3 

" Because," returned the Sergeant, clapping him on the shoulder, 
"you're a man that knows what's. what." 

"D'ye think so?" said Mr. Pumblechook, with his former 
laugh. " Have another glass." 
-"With you. Hob and nob." returned the sergeant. "The 



Great expectation 2? 

top of mine to the foot of yours, the foot, of yours to the fop of 
mine. Ring once, ring twice, the best tune on the Musical Glass- 
es ! Your liea tli. May you live a thousand years, and never he 
a worse judge of the right sort, than at the present moan 
your life !" 
• , The sergeant tossed off hjs glass again and seemed quite ready 
for mine. I poticed that Mr. Puuiblechook in Ids hospitality ap- 
peared to forget that he had made a present of the wine, bul took 
the bottle from Mrs. Joe and had .all the credit of handing it about 
•in a gush of jovia ity. Even I got some. And he was so very 
fwe of the wine that he even called for the Other bottle, and haml- 
- ed that about with the same liberality when the first, was gone. 
As \ watched them while they all stood clustered about the 
forge enjoying themselves so much, I thought what terrible 
sauce for a dinner my fugitive friend in the marshes was. They 
, had not enjoyed thenlsetves a quarter so much before the enter- 
► tainment was brightened with the excitement he furnished. And 
now, when they were all in lively expectation of those two vi 
'being taken, and when the bellows seemed to roar for them, the 
fire to flare for them, the smoke to hurry out in pursuit of them, 
Joje to hammer and clink for them, and all the murky shadows on 
the wall to stare at them in i enace as the blaze rose and sank, 
and the red-hot sparks dropped and died, the pale afternoon out- 
side almost seemed, in my pitying young fancy, to have turned 
on their account, poor wre.tcl 
At last. b was done, and til and roaring slop- 

ped. As Joe got on his coat, he mustered .courage to pru 
that some of us shoftld go down with the soldiers and .see what 
came of the hunt. Mr. Pmnblechook and Mr. Hubble declined, 
on t -a pipe and ladies' society ; btit Mr. Wopsle said he 

would go if .loo tfonld. .Joe said he was agreeable, and he would 
take me, if Mrs', doe approved. We never should have got leave 
0, I am sure, but for Mrs. Joe's curiosity to know a.l about it 
and how it ended. "^s it was, she merely stipulated, " If you 
briug the boy back with his head blown off by a musket, don't say 
it was my doing." 

The sergeant took a polite leave of the ladies, and parted fi 
Mr. Pumhlechook as from a comrade: though 1 doubled 
Were qujte as fully sensible of tl 'nan's merits under arid 

conditions as when something to drink was going. His me 
sumed their muskets and fell in. Ml*. Wop and I, received 

strict charge to keep in the rear, and to speak no word after wo 

11 out iu tiie raw air and 
lily moving toward our business; I treasonably whispered to 
Joe, " 1 hope, Joe, we shan't find them ;" ami Joe whispered tome, 
" I'd give a shillii and run, Pip." 

We were joi,: rs from our village, for 



28 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

ther was cold and threatening, the way dreary, the footing bad, 
dusk Doming on, ami the people had good fires iu-doors and were 
' keeping the day. A few faces hurried to glowing windows and 
looked after us, but none came out. We passed the finger-post, and 
held straight on to the church-yard. There we were stopped a 
few minutes by a signal from the sergeant's hand, while two or 
three of his men dispersed themselves among the. graves, and 
examined the porch. They came in again without finding any- 
thing, and then we struck out ^n the open marshes, through the 
gate at the side. of the church-yard. A hitter sleet came rattling 
against us on the east wind, and Joe took me on his back. 

Now that we were out upon the dismal wilderness where they 
little thought I had been within eight or nine hours, and had 
seen both men hiding, I considered, tor the first time, with great 
dread, if we Should come upon them, would my particular con- 
vict suppose that it was I who had brought the soldiers there? 
He had asked me if 1 was a deceiving imp, and he had said 1 
should be a fierce young hound if I joined the huut against him. 
Would he believe that I was both imp and hound in treacherous 
earnest, and had betrayed him I 

It was of no use asking myself this question now. . There I 
was, on Joe's back, and there was Joe beneath me, charging out the 
ditches in the nimblest manner, and stimulating Mr. Wopsle not 
to tumble on his Roman nose, and to keep up with us. The sol- 
diers were in front of us extended into a pretty wide line with, 
an interval between man and' man. We were taking the exact 
course I had begun-with, and from which 1 had diverged in the 
Either the mist was not out again yet, or the wind had 
moved it. Under the low red glare of sunset the beacon* and 
the gibbet, and the mound of the battery, and the opposite sin. re 
of the river, were plain enough, though all of. a watery lead 
color. 

With my heart thumpinglike almall blacksmid^it Joe's broad shoul- 
der, 1 looked all about for any sign of the convicts. 1 could see none. 
I could hear none. Mr. Wopsle had great ly alarmed me more than oace > 
by his blowing and hard breathing; but I knew the soumi 
• ibis time! and could dissociate Them from the object of pursuit. 
I got a dreadful start, and' thought I heard the file still going; 
but it was only a sheep-bell. The sheep stopped in their eating 
and looked timidly at us ; and the cattle, their heads turned from 
the wind and sleet, stared angrily, as if they held us responsible 
for both these annoyances: but, except these things, and the 
shudder of the whole dying day, there was no break in the uni- 
form, stillness of the marshes. 

The soldiers were moving ion in the direction of the old bat- 
tery, and we were moving on a little way behind them, when, all 
of a sudden, we all stopped. For there had reached us, on the 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 29 

wings of the wind and rain, a lung shout. It was repeated. It 
•was at a distance toward the east, but it was lohg and loud! — 
Xay, there seemed bo be two shouts raised together — it' one might 
judge from a confusion in the sound. 

To this effect the sergeant and the nearest men were speaking 
under their breath when Joe and J came up. After another mo- 
ment's listening, .Joe (who was a good judge) agreed, and Mr. 
Wdpsle (who was a had judge) also agreed, The seTgeant, a 
quick, decisive man, ordered that the sound should not be an- 
swered, but that the course should be changed; and that his men 
should make toward id "at the double." bo we slanted to the 
right (where the East was), and doe pounded away so wonderfully 
that I had to hold. on tight to keep my seat. 

It was a run indeed now, and what Joe called, in the only two 
words he spoke all the Dime, "a buster." Down banks and up 
banks, and over gates and splashing into dikes: no man cared 
where he went. As we came nearer to the shouting, it became 
more and more apparent that it was made by more.than one voice. 
.Sometimes it seemed to stop altogether, and then the soldiers 
stopped. When it broke out again the soldiers made tor it at a 
greater rate than ever, and we after them. After a while we had 
so run it down that we could hear one voice calling " Murder!" 
'and another voice. "Convicts! Runaways! Guard! guard! — 
This way for the runaway convicts!" Then both •voices would 
seem to he stitled in a struggle, and then would break out again. 
And when it had come to this the soldiers ran like deer, and doe 
too. 

The sergeant ran in first, when we had run he noise quite 
down, and two of his men ran in close upon him. Their pi 
were cocked and leveled when we all ran in. 

"Here are lots more!" panted the sergeant, struggling with 
something at the bottom of adityh. ." (Surrender, you two! and 
confound you tor two wild beasts ! Come asunder! " 

Water was splashing, and mud was splashing, and oaths were 
being sworn, and blows were being struck, when half a dozen more 
men went down into the ditch to help the sergeant, and drij 
out, separately, my convict and the other one. Bo.th were bleed- 
ing and panting and execrating and struggling; but of course I 
knew them both directly. 

'■ Mind !" said my convict, wiping blood from his face, with his 
ed sleeves, and shaking torn hair from his lingers ; "1 took him ! 
/give him up to you ! Mind that !" 

" It's not nn ular-aiiom !'" saictythe sergeant, cooly ; 

" It'll do vou sinttll good/my man, being in the same plight j 
self, ii there!" 

" I don't expect ii tu do me any good. 1 don't wan't it to do 
wi« nittrtt good than it does now 7 ," said uiy convict with a terri 



30 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

Me laugh. '.' I took him. He knows it. That's enough for 

nip.'' 

The other convict was livid to look at, and, in addition to the 
old bruise oh the left, side of his face, seemed to he bruised and 
torn all over. He could not so much as get his breath to speak, 
until they were both separately handcuffed, but leaned upon a sol- 
dier to keep himself from falling. 

" Take notice, guard, that he tried to murder me," were his first 
words. 

" Tried to murder him '? '' said my convict, disdainfully. " Try, 
and not do it? I took him, and give him up ; that's what T done. 
I not only prevented him getting -off the marshes, but I dm 
him here — dragged him this far on his way back. He's a gentleman, 
if you please, that villain. Now the Hulks lias got its gentleman 
again, through me. , Murder him? Worth my while, too, to mur- 
der him, when I could do worse and drag him back ! " 

The other one still gasped, ' ; He tried — he tried — to — murder 
me. Bear — bear witness.' 

" Lookee here ! " said.my^convict to the sergeant. " I got clear 
of the prisonship ; I made a dash, and I .done it. I 'could ha' 
got clear of these dea h-cold flats likewise — look at my lug ; you 
won't find much inon on il — if 1 hadn't made discovery that he 
was there. Lot him go free ? Let him profit by the means as f 
found onl I 'Let him make use of me afresh and again I Oi Ce 
njorel. No,' no, no. If I had died at the bottom there*'— and 
he made an emphatic motion at the ditch with his manacled 
hands— " I'd have held to him with that grip that you should 
have been safe o find him in my hbld.'- 1 

The other fugitive, who was evidently in extreme fear of his 
•anion* repeated, " lie tried to murder me. I "should have 
a dead Tu had not com." 

"He lies! ''said my convicWwith I 

He's a liar bom, and he/'ll die a liar. Look at his* 
'.•itteiv there ? Let him turn them ,.e — 

do it." 

The other, with a - cornful smile — which could n^L 

however, collect the nervous working of his mouth into <tnywt 
expression — looked at the soldiers, .and looked about at the mar 
ami at t e sky, but certainly did not look at the speaker.'. 

" Do you see him 1 " pursued my convict. " Do you see | 
a villain he is ? Do you see them groveling and wandering eyes 1 
That's how he looked when we wjje triad together. He never 
looked at me»" <| ' _ 

The other, always working and worl -flips and turning 

his ey.es restlessly abofrt him far and near, did at lasfcgurn them 
for a moment on the speaker, wij|th]^woj|g, " You are not much 
to look at," and ^wiUrf, half-taunting glance at the bound hands.. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 31 

At that point my convict became so frantically exasperated that 
he would have rushed upon him hut 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, and lhat there broke -out Upon: his lips ourious white 
flakes, like thin snow. 

'■Enough of this parley," said the sergeant. "Light those 

As one of the soldiers, who carried a basket in lieu of ;i gun, 
worn down on his knee to open it my conviei looked round him for 
the tirst time and saw me. I bad alighted from .Toe's back on the 
brink of the ditch when he came up, and had not moved since. I 
looked at him eagerly when he looked at me, and 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 ex- 
pressed to me that he even comprehended my intention, for he 
'gave ra'e a look that 1 did not understand, and it all passed in a 
moment. But if he had looked at me for au hour or a day, I could 
not have remembered his face ever afterward as having been more 
attentive. 

The soldier with the !•. : a light, and lighted three 

oi- four torches, and took one himself and distributed the others. 
[I had been almost dark before, hut now it seemed quite dark", and 
h afterward very dark. Before we departed from that spot four 
thfe soldiers, standing in a ring, tired twice into the air. Pres- 
ently we saw other torches lighted at some distance behind iis^, 
and others on the marshes on the opposite hank 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. " Von 
* are expected on hoard." s. id the sergeant to my convict ; "they 
. you are coming. Don't straggle, my men. Clofce lip here." 
The two we/e kepi apart, and each walked surrounded by a sep- 
arate guard. I had hold of Joe's hand now, and .doe carried one 
of the. torches: Mr. Wopsle had been for going back, but doe was 
Ived to see it out, so we went en with the [tarty. There was a 
reasonably good path now. mostly on the edge of the river, with a 
divergence here and there where a dike came, with a miniature 
wind-mill on it, and a slimy sluice-gate. When I looked round J 
other lights ccrming on aft The torches we 

•ied dropp. letches of lire upon the track, and 1 could 

», smoking and flaring. I could see nothing else but 
'^icss. Our light! 5 about us with their 

pitch i etched men seemed to like that rather 

limped aloijg Wlhe midst of the muskets. . We could not 
go fast because of i h.-irdaniciicss, and they were so spent that two 
•r three times; w« had to halt while they vested 



32 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

After an hour or so of this traveling we came to a rough wooden 
hut and a landing place. < There was a guard in the hut, and they 
challenged ns> and the sergeant answered. Then we went into I lie 
hut, where there was- a smell of tobacco and whitewash, arid a 
bright fire, and a lamp, and a stand of muskets, and a drum, and 
a low wooden bedstead, like an immense mangle without the ma- 
chinery, capable of holding about, a dozen soldiers all at once. — 
Three or four soldiers who lay upon it were not much interested in us, 
but just lifted their heads and took a stare, and then lay down again. 
The sergeant made some kind of report, and some entry in a book, 
and then the convict, whom I call the other convict, was drafted 
off with his guard to go on board first. 

My convict never looked at me, except that once that I have 
mentioned. While we stood in the hut he stood before the fire 
looking at it, or putting up his miserable feet by turns upon the 
hob and looking at them as if lie pitied them. Suddenly he turned 
to the sergeant, and remarked : 

"I wish to say something respecting this escape. If may pre- 
vent some persons lying under suspicion alonger me." 

"You can say what you like," returned the sergeant, standing 
looking at him with bis arms folded; " but you have no call to 
it here, you know. You'll have opportunity enough to say about 
it, and hear about it, before it's done with." 

't I know that, but this is another pint, a separate pint. A man 
can't starve ; at least 7 can't. I took some wittles up at the wil-. 
iage over yonder — where the church stands a'most out on the 
marshes." 

" You mean stole ? " said the sergeant. 

"Ah! I'll tell you where from. From the blacksmith's." 

•• Halloa!" said the sergeant staring at Ji 

" Halloa, Pip !" said Joe, staring at me. 

" It was some broken wittles — that's what it was — and a dram 
of liquor, and a pie." 

" Have you happened to miss such an article a*s a pie, black- 
smith < " asked the sergeant, confidentially. 

'" ilrs. doe did, at the very moment when you came in. Don't 
you know, Hip'/ " . 

" Oh ! " said my convict to Joe, in a moody manner, and wiii 
the least glance at me. " So you're the blacksmith are you ? Then 
I'm sorry to say I've eat your pie." • 

"God knows you're welcome t o "it — so far as it was ever mine," 
returned Joe with a saving remembrance of Airs. Joe. " We i 
know what you have done ; but we wouldn't have you starved to 
death for it, miserable fellow-lreature, whatever it wis. Would 
us, Pip?" 

The something that I bad m licked in the man's 

throat again, and he turned bis back. The boat had returned, and 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 33 

his guard were ready, so we followed him to the landing-place, 
made of rough stakes and stones, and saw him put into the boat, 
which was rowed by a crew of convicts like himself. Xo one ap- 
peared triad to see him, or sorry to see him, or spoke a word, ex- 
cept that somebody called as if to dogs, ','Give way, you !" v. 
was the signal for the dip of the oars. By the light of the torches 
we saw the black Hulk lying, out a little way from the mud of the 
shore, like a wicked Noah's ark ; cribbed, and barred, and anchored 
by massive rusty chains, the prison-ship was ironed like the [iris- 
oners. We saw the » alongside, and we saw him taken up 
ide and disappear. Then the ends of the torches were flung 
hissing into the water, and went out as if it were all over with him. 



CHAPTER VI. 



My state of mind regarding the pilfering from which I had been 
so unexpectedly exonerated, did not impel me to frank disclosure; 
but I hope it had some (\\\"j:* of good at the bottom of it. 

I do not recall. that I felt any tenderness of conscience in refer- 
ence to Mrs. Joe when the fear of being found out was lifted off 
me. But I loved Jne — perhaps for no better reason in those early 
days than because the dear fellow let me love him — and, as to him, 
my inner self was nor so easily composed. It was much upon my 
mind (particularly when I first saw him looking about for his file) 
that I ought to tell Joe the whole truth. Yet I did not, and for 
the reason- thai I mistrusted that if I did he would think me worse 
than I was. The fear of losing Joe's confidence, and of theuce- 
forth sitting ro the chimney corner at night staring drearily at my 
forever lost companion and friend, lied up my tongue. I morbidly 
represented to myself that if Joe knew it, I never afterward could 
see him at the fireside feeling his fair whisker, without thinking 
that he was meditating on it. That if Joe knew it, I never after- 
ward could see him glance, however casually, at yesterda 
or pudding when it came on to-day's table, without thinking that 
he was debating whether I had been in the pantry. That if Joe 
knew it, and at any subsequent period of our joint domestic life re- 
marked that his beer was flat or thick, the conviction thai he sus- 
pected Tar in it would bring a rush of blood to my face. In a- 
word, I was too cowardly to do what I knew to be right, as I had 
been too cowardly to avoid doing what I knew to be wrong. I 
had had no intercourse with people at that time, and 1 imitated 
none of the host^pf people who act in this mauuer; quite an un- 
2 



34 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

taught genius, I made the discovery of the line of action for my- 
self: 

As I was sleepy before we were far away from the prison-ship, 
Joe took me on his back again and carried me home.' He must 
have had a tiresome journey of it, for Mr. TVopsle, being knocked 
up, was in such a very bad temper, that if the Church had been 
thrown open he probably would have excommunicated the whole 
expedition, beginning with Joe and' myse'f. In his simple lay 
capacity he simply persisted in sitting down in the damp to such 
an insane extent, that, when his coat was taken off to he dried at 
the kitchen fire, the circumstantial evidence on his trowsers would 
have hanged him if it had been a capital offence. 

By that time I was staggering on the kitchen floor like a little 
drunkard, through having been newly set upon my feet, and 
through having been fast asleep, and through waking in the heat 
and lights and noise of tongues. As I came to myself, (with the 
aid of a heavy thump between the shoulders, and the restorative 
exclamation "Yah ! Was there ever such a boy as this!" from 
my sister) I found Joe telling them about the convict's confession, 
and all the visitors suggesting different ways by which he had got 
into the pantry. Mr. Pumblechook made out, after carefully sur- 
veying the premises, that he had first got upon the roof of the 
forge, and had then got upon the roof of the house, and had then 
let himself down the kitchen chimney by. a rope made of his bed- 
ding cut into strips; and as Mr. Pumblechook was very positive 
and drove his own chaise-cart — over everybody — it was agreed 
that 'it must be so. Mr. Wopsle, indeed, wi dly cried out " No !" 
wirh the feeble malice of a tired man; but as he had no theory, 
and no coat on, he was unanimously set at naught — not to men- 
tion his smoking hard behind, as he stood with his hack to the 
kitchen fire to draw the damp out, which was not calculated to in- 
spire confidence. 

This was all I heard that night before my sister clutched me, 
as a slumberous offence to the company's eyesight, and assisted 
me tip to bed with such a strong hand that 1 seemed to have twen- 
ty boots on, and to be dangling them all against the edges of the 
stairs. My state of mind, as I have described it, began before I 
was up in the morning, and lasted long after the subject had died 
out, and had ceased to be mentioned saving on exceptional oc- 
casions. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 3a 



CHAPTER VII. 



At the time when I stood in the church -yard, reading the family 
tomb-stones, 1 had just enough learning to be able to spell them 
out. My construction even of' their simple meaning was not very 
correct, for I read "wife of the Above." as a complimentary re- 
ference to my father's exaltation to a better world ; and if any one 
of my deceased relations had been referred to as "Below," I have 
no doubt. I should have formed the worst opinions of that, member 
of the family. Neither were my notions of the theological posi- 
tions to which my Catechism bound me at all accurate, for I have 
a lively remembrance that 1 supposed ray declaration that I was 
to " walk in the same all the days of my life," laid me under an 
obligation always to go through the village from our house in one 
particular direction, and never to vary it by turning down by the 
wheelwright's or up- by the mill. 

When I was old enough I was to be apprenticed to Joe, and 
until I could assume that dignity I was not to be what Mrs. Joe 
cal ed " Pompeyed," or pampered. Therefore 1 was not. only 
odd-boy about the forge, but if any neighbor happened to wanl 
an extra boy to frighten birds, or pick np stones, or do any such 
job, I wa3 favored with the employment; but. in order that our 
superior position might not be compromised thereby, a moneybox 
was kept on the kitchen mantle-shelf, into which it was publicly 
made known that all my earnings were dropped. 1 have an im- 
pression that they were to be contributed eventually toward the 
liquidation of the National Debt, but I know I had no hope of any 
personal participation in the treasure. 

Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt kept an evening school in the village : 
that is to say, she was an ancient woman of limited means and unlim- 
ited infirmity, who used to go to sleep from six to, seven every eve- 
ning, in the society oi youth who paid three pence per week each 
for the improving opportunity of seeing her doit. She rented a 
three-roomed cottage, and Mr. Wopsle had the room up stairs, 
where we students used to overhear him reading aloud in a most 
dignified and terrific manner, and occasionally bumping on the 
ceiling. There was a fiction that Mr. Wopsle "examined" the 
scholars once a quarter. What he did on those occasions was to 
turn up his cuffs, stick up his hair, and give us Mark Antony's 
oration over the body of C;esar. This was always followed by 
Collins's Ode on the Passions, wherein I particularly venerated 
Mr. Wopsle as Fear, whistling to keep his courage up. It was 
not with me lieu, as it was iu later life, when I fell into the socie- 



36 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

i 

ty of the Passions, and compared tbem with Collins and Wopsle, 
rather to the disadvantage of both gentlemen. 

Mr. Wopsle's great aunt, besides keeping this Educational In- 
stitution, kept — in the same room — a little general shop. She had 
no idea what stock she had, or what the price of any thing in it 
was ; but there was a little greasy memorandum book kept in a 
drawer, which served as a Catalogue of Prices, and by this oracle 
Biddy arranged all the shop transactions. Biddy was Mr. Wop- 
sle's great aunt's grand-daughter; I confess myself quite unequal 
to the working out of the problem what relation she was to Mr. 
Wopsle. She was an orphan like myself ; like me, too, had been 
brought up by band. She was most noticeable, I thought, in re- 
spect of her extremities ; for her hair always wanted brushing, her 
hands always wanted washing, and her shoes always wanted 
mending and pulling up at the heel. This description must be 
received, however, with a week-day limitation. On Sundays, she 
went to church elaborated. 

Much of my unassisted self, and more by the help of Biddy than 
of Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt, I struggled through the alphabet as if 
it had been a bramble-bush ; getting considerably worried and 
scratched by every letter. After that I fell among those thieves, 
the nine figures, who seemed every evening to do something new 
to disguise themselves and baffle recognition. But at last I began, 
in a purblind groping way, to read, write, and cipher, on the very 
smallest scale. 

One night I was sitting in 'the chimney corner with my slate, 
expending great efforts on the production of a letter to Joe. I 
think it must have been a full year after our hunt upon the marsh- 
es, for it was a long time after, and it was winter and a hard frost. 
With an alphabet on the hearth at my feet for reference, 1 con- 
trived in an hour or two to print and smear this epistle: 

" mI deEer JO i opE U r krWitE wEll i <>pE i shAl soN 
B haIjklL 4 2 teeDge U JO aN theN wE shObl u sO olOdd 
aX wBn i M prejSgtD 2 u JO woT lakX an blEvE ME ixE 
xx PiP." 

There was no indispensable necessity for my communicating with 
Joe by letter, inasmuch as he sat beside me and we were alone. 
But I delivered this written communication (slate and all) wit.h my 
own hand, and Joe received it as a miracle of erudition. 

" I say, Pip, old chap !" cried Joe, opening his blue eyes wide, 
" what a scholar you are ! An't you V 

" I should like to be," said I, glancing at the slate as he held it, 
with a misgiving that the writing was rather hilly. 

"Why, here's a J," said Joe, "and a equal to anything ! 
Here's a J and 0, Pip, and a J-0, Joe." 

1 had never heard Joe read aloud to any greater extent than 
this monosyllable, and I had observed at church last Sunday when 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 37 

I accidentally held onr prayer-hook upside down, that it seemed to 
suit his convenience quite as well as if it had been all right. Wish- 
ing to embrace the present occasion of finding out whether ii> teach- 
ing Joe I should have to begin quite at the beginning, I said, 
"Ah ! But read the rest, due." 

"The rest, eh. Pip? "said Joe, looking at it with a slowly 
searching eye, " ( >ne, two, three. Why, here's three Js and three 
Os, and \Uwe JO Joes in it Pip ! " 

I leaned over Joe, and, with the aid of my forefinger, read him 
the whole letter. 

" Astonishing !" said Joe, when I had -finished. "You are a 
scholar." 

" How do you spell Gargery, doc C I asked him, with a modest 
patronage. 

" I don't spell it at all," said Joe. 

" But supposing you did ?" 

" It can't be supposed," said Joe. " But I'm oncommon fond of 
reading, too." 

" Are you, Joe?" 

"Oncommon. Give me," said Joe, "a good book, or a good 
newspaper, and sit me down afore a good fire, and I ask no better. 
Lord! " he continued, after robbing his knees a little, " when you 
do come to a d and a (), and says you, ' Here, at last, is a J-O, 
Joe,' how interesting reading is ! " 

I derived from this thai Joe's education, like steam, was yet in 
its infancy. Pursuing the subject, I inquired: 

" Didn't you ever i;o to school, Joe, when you were as little as 
me?" 

" No, Pip." 

" Why didn't you ever go to school, Joe, when you were as lit- 
tle as me. ' 

" Well, Pip>" said Joe, taking up the poker and settling himself 
to his usual occupation when he was thoughtful, of slowly raking 
the fire between the lower bars, " I'll tell you. My father, Pip, 
he were given to drink, and wheu he were overtook with drink he 
hammered away at my mother most onmerciful. It were a'mosf 
the only hammering he did, indeed, 'xcepting at myself. And -he 
hammered at me with a wigor only to be equaled by the wigor 
with which he didn't hammer at his anwil. Yoil're a listening and 
understanding, Pip ? " 

" Consequence — my mother and me we ran away from my fath- 
er several times; and then my mother she'd go out to work, and 
she'd say, 'Joe,' she'd say, ' now, please God, you shall have 
some schooling, child,' and she'd put me to school. But my 
r were that good in his hart- that he couldn't abear to 
without us. So he'd come with a most tremenjous crowd, 



38 * GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

' and nia':e such a row at the doors of the houses where we 
was, that they used to be obligated to have no more to do 
with us and to give us up 10 him. And then lit' took us home 
an. I hammered us. "Which you' see, Pip," said Joe, pausing in bis 
meditative raking of the fire, and looking at me, " were a drawback 
on my learning." 

" Certainly — poor Joe ! " 

"Though, mind you, Pip," said Joe, with a judicial touch or 
two of the poker on the top bar, " rendering unto all their doo, and 
maintaining equal justice betwixt man and man, my father were 
that good in his hart, don't you see? " 

I didn't see; but I didn't say so. 

"Well ! " Joe pursued, "somebody must keep the pot a Idling, 
Pip, or the pot won't bile, don't you know ? " 

1 saw that, and said SO. 

" 'tLonsequence — my father didn't make objections to my going 
to work ; so 1 went to work at my present calling, which were his 
too, if he would have followed it, and I worked tolerable hard, 1 
assure you, Tip. In time I were able to keep him, and 1 kep him 
till he went off in a purple leptic lit. And it; were my intentions 
to have bad put upon his tombstone that Whatsume'er the failings 
on his part. Remember, reader, he were that good in his hart." 

Joe recited this couplet with such manifest pride and careful 
perspicuity that \ asked him if he had made it bimsi 

■' I made it," said Joe, "my own self. I made it in a tnon 
It was like striking out a horseshoe complete in a single blow. 1 
never was so much surprised in all my life — couldn't credit my 
own ed — to tell you the truth, hardly believed it wat my own ed. 
As I was saying, Pip, it were my intentions to have had it cul over 
him ; but poetry costs money, cut it how you will, small or large, 
and it were not done. Not to mention bearers, all the money that 
could be spared were wanted for my mother. She '..ore in poor 
elth, and quite broke. She weren't long of following, poor soul, 
and her share of peace come round at h 

Joe's blue eyes turned a little watery : he rubbed* firs 
them and then the other, in a most uncongenial and uncomforta- 
ble manner, with the round knob on the top of the po 

" It were but lonesome then," said Joe, " liv'i, lone, and 

I got acquainted with your sister. Now, Pip," Joe looked firmly 
at me, as if he knew I was not going to agree with him, "your 
sister is a fine figure of a woman." 
I could not help looking at the fire in an obvious state of doubt. 
"Whatever family opinions, or whatever the world's opinii 
on that subject may be, Pip, your sister is " — roe tapped the top 
bar with the poker after every word following — " a — hue — figure — 
of — a — woman ! " 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. . 39 

I could think of nothing better to say than " I am glad you think 
so, Joe." 

" Bo am I," returned Joe, catching me up. " I am glad I think 
so, Pip. A little redness, or a little matter of bone, here or there, 
what does it signify to Me I " 

I sagaciously observed, if it, didn't signify to him, to whom did 
it signify ? 

" Certainly !" assented Joe. "That's it. You're right, old 
chap! When I got acquainted with your sister, it were the talk 
]inv, she was bringing yon up by hand. Very kind of her too, all 
the folks .said, and 1 said, along with all the folks. As to you," 
Joe pursued, with a countenance expressive of seeing something 
very nasty indeed: "if you could have been aware how small and 
flabby and mean you was, dear me, you'd have formed the most 
contemptible opinions of yourself! " 

Not exactly relishing this. T said, "Xever mind me, Joe." 

"But I did mind you, Pip," he returned, with tender simplicity. 
" When I offered to your sister to keep company, and to be asked 
in church at such times as she was willing and ready to come to 
the forge, I said to her, ' And bring the poor little child. God bless 
the poor little child,' 1 said to your sister, 'there's room for him at 
the forge ! ' " 

I broke out crying and begging pardon, and hugged Joe round 
the neck ; who dropped the poker to bug me, and to say, " Ever 
the best of friends, ain't us, Pip? Don't cry; old chap! " 

"When this little interruption was over, Joe resumed : 

"Well, you see. Pip, and here we are ! That's about where it 
lights ; here we are ! Now, when you take me in hand in my learn- 
ing, Pip (and 1 tell you beforehand I am awful dull, most awful 
dull), Mrs. Joe musn't see too much of what we're up to. It must 
be done, as I may say, on the sly. And why on the sly ? I'll tell 
you why, Pip " 

He had taken up the poker again, without which I doubt if he 
could have proceeded in his demonstration. 

" Your sister is given to government." 

" Given to government, Joe ? " 1 was startled, for 1 had some 
shadowy idea (and I am afraid I must add, hope) that Joe had 
divorced her in favor of the Lords of the Admiralty, or Treasury. 

" Given to gbvernment,'*said Joe-, " Which I meantersay the 
government of you and myself." 

" Oh ! " 

" And she an't over partial to having scholars on the premises," 
doe continued, "and in partikeler would not be over partial to my 
being a scholar, for fear as 1 might rise. Like a sort, of rebel, 
don't you see ? " 

I was going to retort with an inquiry, and had got - o far as 
" Why — " when Joe stopped me. 



40 GKEAT EXPECTATIOTS. 

" Stay a bit. I know what you're going to say, Pip ; stay a bit ! 
I don't deny tbat your sister conies the Mo-gul over us, now and 
again. I don't deny that she do throw us talis, and that she do 
drop down upon us heavy. At such times as your sister is on the 
ram-page, Pip," Joe sank his voice to a whisper and glanced at the 
door, " candor compels fur to admit that she is a*Buster." 

Joe pronounced this word as if it began with at least twelve cap- 
tal Bs. 

" Why don't I rise 1 That were your observation when I broke 
it off, Pip ? " 

"Yes, Joe." 

" Well," said Joe, passing the poker into his left hand, that he 
might feel his whisker ; and I had no hope for him when he took 
to that placid occupation ; "your sister's a master-mind. A mas- 
ter-mind." 

" What's that 1 " I asked, in some hope of bringing him to a 
stand But Joe was readier with his definition than I had ex eeted, 
and completely stopped me by arguing circularly and answering 
with a fixed look, " Her." 

"And I an't a master-mind," Joe resumed, when he had unfix- 
ed his look, and got back to his whisker. "And last of all, Pip — 
and this I want to say very serous to you, old chap — I see so 
much in my poor mother of a woman drudging, and slaving, and 
breaking her honest heart, and never getting no peace in her mor- 
tal days, that I'm dead afeerd of going wrong in the way of not 
doing what's right by a woman, and I'd fur rather of the two go 
wrong the t'other way, and be a little ill-con.wenienced myself. I 
wish it was only me that got put out, Pip ; I wish there warn'i no 
Tickler for you, old chap ; I wish I could take it all on myself; 
but this is the up-and-down-and-straight on' it, Pip, and I hope 
you'll overlook short-coming: 

Young as I was, I believe thai i dated a new admiration of Joe 
from that night. We were equals afterward, as we had been be- 
fore; but afterward at quiet times, when I sat looking at Joe and 
thinking about him, I had a new sensation of feeling conscious that 
I was looking up to Joe in my heart.. 

" However," said Joe, rising to replenish the fire. " here's the 
Dutch-clock a working himself up to being equal to striking Eight 
of 'em, and she's not come home yet! I hope •Uncle Pumble- 
chook's mare mayn't have set a forefoot on a piece q' ice, and gone 
down." 

Mrs. Joe made occasional trips with Uncle Pumblechook on 
market days, to assist him in buying such household stuffs and 
goods as required a woman's judgment ; Uncle Pumblechook being 
a bachelor and reposing no confidence in his domestic servant. 
This was market-day, aud ilrs. Joe was out on one of these - ex- 
peditions. 



4 



GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. «41 

Joe made the fire and swept the hearth, and then we went ont 
to listen for the chaise-cart. It was a dry, cold night, and the 
wind blew keenly, and the frost was white and hard. A man 
would die to-night of lying ont (in the matches, 1 thought ; and 
then 1 looked at t e stars, and considered how awful il would lie 
for a man to turn Ins face up to them as he froze to death, and see 
no help or pity in the whole glittering multitude. 

" Bere comes the mare," said Joe, •• ringing like hells!" 

The sound of her iron shoes upon the hard road was quite mu- 
sical, as she came along at a much brisker trot than usual. We 
got a chair out ready for Mrs. doe's alighting, and stirred up the 
lire that they might see a bright window, and took a final survey 
of the kitchen that nothing might be out of its place. When we 
had completed these preparations they drove up, wrapped to the 
eyes. Mrs. doe was soon landed, and Uncle Purnblechook was 
soon down covering the mare with a cloth, and we were soon all 
in the kitchen, carrying so much cold air in with us that it seemed 
to drive all the heat oul of the lire. 

" Now," said .Mrs. due, unwrapping herself with haste and ex- 
citement, and throwing her bonnet back" on her shoulders where it. 
hung by the strings. " if this bey an'l grateful this night, he nejrer 
will be !" 

1 looked as grateful as any boy possibly could who was wholly 
uninformed why he ought to assume thai expression. 

"It's only to be hoped," said my sister, "that lie won't be I'om- 
peyed, But .1 have my fears." 

"She an't in that line, mum," said Mr. Purablephook. "She 
knows better." 

She.' 1 looked at due. making the motion with my lips and 
eyebrows, " She .'" doe looked at me, making the motion with kit 
lips and eyebrows, " She .'" My sister catching him in the act, he 
drew the back of his 'hand across his nose with his usual concilia- 
tory air on such occasions, and looked at- her. 

" WeU I" said my sister, in her snappish wav. "is the house 
a-f'wv 

— "Which some individual," Joe politely hinted, " mentioned — 
she." 

"And she is a she, I suppose .'" said my sister. " Unless you 
call Miss Havisham a he. And 1 doubt if even you'll go so far 
as th 

" Miss Havisham, up town ?" said Joe. 

" Is there any Miss Havisham down town?" returned my sister. 
" She wants this boy to go and play there. And of course he's 
going. And he had better play there." said ^uy sister, shaking her 
head at me as an encouragement to be extremely light and sport- 
ive, " or I'll work him." 

I had heard of Miss Havisham up town — every body for miles 



42- GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

round had heard of Miss Havisham up town — as an immensely 
rich fend grim old lady, who lived in a large and dismal house bar- 
ricaded against robbers, and who led a life of seclusion. 

" Well to be sure ! ' said Joe, astounded. " I wonder how she 
come to know Pip ?" 

" Noodle !" cried my sister. "Who said she knew him?" 

— "Which some individul," Joe again politely hinted, "men- 
tioned that she wanted him to go and play there." 

" And couldn't she ask Uncle Pumblechook if he knew of a boy 
to go and play there ? Isn't it just barely possible that Uncle 
Pumblechook may be a tenant of hers, and that lie may sometimes 
— we won't say quarteily or half yearly, for that would be requiring 
too much of you — but sometimes — go there to pay his rent ? And 
couldn't she then ask Uncle Pumblechook if he knew of a boy to 
go and play there ? And couldn't Uncle Pumblechook, being al- 
ways considerate and thoughtful for us — though you may not think 
it, Joseph," in a tone of the deepest reproach, as if he were the 
most callous of nephews, — "then mention this boy, standing pran- 
cing here," — which I solemnly declare I was not doing — "that I 
ha>e for ever been a willing slave to?" 

".Good again !" cried Uncle Pumblechook. " Well put ! Pret- 
tily pointed ! Good indeed ! Now, Josep , you know the case." 

"No, Joseph," said my sister, still in a reproachful manner, 
while Joe apologetically drew the back of his hand across and 
across his nose, "you do not yet — though you may not think it — 
know the case. You may consider that you do, but _you do not, 
Joseph. For you do not know that Uncle Pumblechook, being 
ible that for any thing we can tell, this boy's fortune may be 
made by his going to Miss llavisham's, has oli'ered to take him 
into town to-night in his own chaise-cart, and to keep him to-night, 
and to take him with his own bands to Miss Havishani's to-mor- 
row morning. And Lor-a-mussy me !" cried my sister, casting off 
her bonnet in sudden desperation, " here I stand talking to mere 
Mooncalfs, with Uncle Pumblechook waiting, and the mare catch- 
ing cold at the door, and the boy grimed with crock and dirt from 
the hair of his head to the sole of bis foot !" 

With that she pounced upon me, like an eagle on a lamb, and 
my face was forced into wooden bowls in sinks, and my head was 
put under taps of water-butts, and 1 was soaped, and kneaded, and 
toweled, and thumped, and harrowed, and rasped, until I really 
was quite beside myself. (I, may here remark that I conceive my- 
self to be better acquainted than any living authority with the 
ridgy effect of a wedding-ring, passing unsympathetic-ally over the 
human countenan.ee.) * 

When my ablutions were completed, I was put into clean linen 
of the stifiest character, like a young penitent in sackcloth, and was 
trussed up in ray tightest and fearfulest suit. I was then delivered 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 43 

over to Mr. Pumblechook, who formally received ide as if ho wore 
the Sheriff, and who let off upon me the speech which 1 knew he 
had been dying to make all along: *'Boy,be forever grateful to all 
friends, but especially to them which brought you up by hand!" 

" Goodrby do.'." 

"God Idess you, Pip, old chap." 

I had never parted from him before, and what .with my feelings 
and what with soap-suds 1 could at first see ho stars fnun the 
chaise-cart. Hut they twinkled out one by one, without throwing 
any fight on the questions why on earth I was going to pL 
Miss Uavisham's, and what, on earth 1 was expected to play at. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



Mi;. Pumblechook'6 premises in the High street of, the market 
town were of a pepper-corny and farinaceous character, as the 
premises of a corn-chandler and s edsman should be. It appeared 
to me that he must he a very happy man indeed to have so many 
little drawers in his shop ; and 1 wondered when I peeped into one 
or two on the lower tiers, and saw the tied-up brown paper pack- 
ages inside, whether the flower-seeds and bulbs ever wanted of a 
hue day to break out of those jails and bloom. 

It was in the early morning after my arrival that I entertained 
this speculation. On the .previous night I had been'sent straight 
to bed in an attic with a' sloping roof, which was so low in the 
ner where the bedstead was that I calculated the tiles as being 
within a foot of my eyebrows. In the same early morning i 
covered a singular affinity between seeds and corduroys. Mr.Pum- 
blcehook wore corduroys, and so did his sho, man ; and somehow 
there was a general air and' flavor about the corduroys, so much in 
the nature of ^<.>v(\, and a general air and flavor about the seeds, so 
much in the nature of corduroys, that I hardly kn w which was which. 
The same opportunity served me for noticing that Mr. Pumble-, 
chook appeared to conduct bis business by looking across the street 
e saddler, wdio appeared to transact his business by keeping 
his eye on the coach maker, who appeared to get on in life by put- 
ting his hands in his pocket and contemplating the baker, who, in 
his turn, folded his arms and stared at the grocer, who stood a 
his door and yawned ai the chemist. The watchmaker, always 
poring over a little <iesk with a magnifying glass at bis eye, and 
always inspected by a group iu smbek-frocks poring over him 
through the glass id his sh >p-window, Seemed to lie about the only 
person in the High Street, whose Ins attention. 



44 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

Mr. Pumblechook and I breakfasted at eight o'clock in the par- 
lor behind the shop, while the shopman took his mug of tea and 
hunch of bread-and-butter on a sack of pease in the front premises. 
I considered Mr. Pumblechook wretched company. Besides being 
possessed by my sister's idea that a mortifying and penitential 
character ought to be imparted to my diet — besides giving me as. 
much crumb as possible in combination with as little butter, and 
putting such a quantity of warm water into my milk that it would 
have been more candid to have left the milk out altogether — his 
conversation consisted of nothing but arithmetic. On my politely 
bidding him good-morning, he said, pompously, " Seven times nine, 
boy ! " And how should I be able to answer, dodged in that way, 
in a strange place, on an empty stomach ! I was hungry, but be- 
fore I had swallowed a morsel he began a running sum that lasted 
all through the breakfast. "Seven?" "And four?" "And 
eight ? " " And six ? " " And two ? " " And ten ? " And so on. 
And after each figure was disposed of, it was as much as I could 
do to get a bite or a sup before the next came ; while he sat at his 
ease guessing nothing and eating bacon and hot roll in (if I may 
be allowed the expression) a gorging and gormandizing manner. 

For such reasyns I was very glad when ten o'clock came and 
we started for Miss Havisham's ; though I was not at All at my 
case regarding' the manner in which I should acquaint myself un- 
der that lady's roof. Within a quarter of an hour we came to 
Havisham's house, which was of old brick and dismal, and 
had a great many iron bars to it. Some of the windows had been 
walled up : of Those that remained all the lower were rustily barred. 
There was a court-yard in front, and that was barred; so we had 
to wait, after ringing the bell, until some one should come to open 
it. While we waited at the gate I peeped in (even then Mr. Punr- 
blechook said, " And fourteen ? " but I pretended not to hear him), 
and saw that at the side of the house there was a large brewery ; 
no brewing was going on in it, and none seemed to have gone on 
for a hmg long time. 

A window was raised, and a clear voice demanded, "What name ?" 
To which my conductor replied, " Pumblechook." The voice re- 
turned, "Quite right," and the window was shut again, and a young 
lady came across the onurt-vard with kevs in her hand. 

" This," said Mr. Pumblechook, " Is Pip.". 

" This is Pip, is it ? " returned the young lady, who was very 
pretty and seemed very proud ; " Come in, Pip." 

Mr. Pumblechook was- coining 'in also, when she stopped him 
with the gate. 

" Oh ! " she said. " Did you wish to see Miss Havisham ?" 

" If Miss Havisham wishes .to see me," returned Mr. Pumble- 
chook, discomfit ted. 

" Ah ! " said the girl ; " but vou see she don't." 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 45 

She said it so finally and in such an indiscnsahlc way, that Mr. 
Punibleohook, though in a condition of ruffled dignity, Gould not 

protest. But lie eyed me severely — as if 1 had done anything 
to him! — and departed 'with the words reproachfully delivered: 
"Boy ! let your behavior here be a oredil unto them which brought 
you up by hand ! " 1 was not free from apprehension thai he 
would come back to propound through the gate) "And sixteen I " 
But he didn't. 

My young conductress locked the gate, and we went jtomss the 
court-yard. It was puved and clean, luit grass was growing in 
every crevice. The brewery buildings had a little lane of com- 
munication with it, and the wooden gales of .that lane stood open, 
and all the brewery beyond stood open, away to the high enclosing 
wall, and all was empty and disused. The cold wind seemed to 
blow colder there than outside the gate, and it made a shrill noise 
in howling in and out at the open sides of the brewery, like the 
noise of wind in the, rigging of a ship at sea. 

She saw me looking at ii. and she said, "You could drink with- 
out hurt all the strong beer that's brewed there now, boy." 

*' I should think 1 could, miss," said I, in a shy way. 

"Better not try to brew beer there now, or it would turn out 
sour, boy ; don't you think so?'' 

" It looks like it, miss." 

"Not that anybody means to try," she added, " for that's all 
done with, and the place will stand as idle as it is till it fails. As 
to strong b er, there's enough of it in the cellars already to drown 
the Manor House." 

" Is that the name of. this house, miss ? •■' 

" One of its names, boy." 

" It has more than one, then, miss ? " 

"One more. tts other name was Satis; which is Greek, or 
Latin, or Hebrew, or all three — or all one to me — for enough." 

" Enough House," said 1 ; " that's a curious name, miss." 

" Yes," she replied ; " but it meant more than it said. It meant, 
when it was given, that whoever had this house could want noth- 
ing else. They mutt have been easily satisfied in those days 1 
should think. But don't loiter, boy." 

Though she called me " hoy " so often, ami with' a carelessness 
was far from complimentary, 'she was of about my own ;i 
or very little older. She seemed much older than 1, of course, be- 
ing a girl, and beautiful and self-] ' : and she was. as scorn- 
ful of me as if she had been oiie-aml-twenty, and a queen. 

We went into tin house by a side-door — the great front entrance 
had two chains across it ont.-ide— and the first thing I noticed 
t hat the passages were ;ill dark, and t hat she had left a c mile burning 
there. Sbt> took it up. and wo went through more passages and 



46 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

up a staircase, and still it was all dark-, and only the candle lighted 
us. 

At last we came to the door of a room, and she said, " Go in." 

I answered, more in shyness than politeness, "After yju, miss." 

To this, she returned : " Don't be ridiculous, boy ; I am not go- 
ing* in." And scornfully walked away, and — what was worse — 
took the candle with her. 

This was very uncomfortable, and I was half afraid. However, 
the oulf thing to be done being to knock at the door, I knocked, 
and was told from within to enter. 1 entered, therefore, and found 
If in a pretty large room well lighted with wax candles.; — 
No glimpse of daylight was to be seen in it. It was a dressing- 
room, as i supposed from the furniture, though much of it was of 
tonus and uses then quite unknown to me. But prominent in it 
was a .draped table With a gilded looking-glass, and that 1 made 
out at first sight to be a line lady's dressiug-table. 

Whether 1 should have made out this object so soon if there 
had been no fine lady sitting at it 1 cannot say. In an arm-chair, 
with an elbow resting on the table and her head leaning on that 
hand, sat the strangest lady I have ever seen, or shall ever si 

She was dressed in rich materials — satins, and lace, and silks — 
all of white. Her shoes were white. And she had a long white 
vail dependent from her hair, and she had bridal 11 wers in her 
hair, but her hair was white. .Some bright jewels sparkled on her 
neck and on her hands, and some other jewels lay sparkling on the 
table. Dresses, less splendid than the dress she wore, and half- 
packed trunks, were scattered about. fc>he had not quite finished 
dressing, for she had but one shoe on — the w on the table 

near her baud — her vail was but half arranged, her watch and 
chain were not put on, and some lace for her bosom lay with I 
trinkets, and with her handkerchief, and gloves, and sunn- flowers, 
and a prayer-book, all confusedly heaped about the looking-glass. 

It was not in the first minute that I saw all these things, th 
I saw more of them in the first minute ban might he supp 
13ut i saw that every thing within my view which ought to be 
white had been white long ago, and had lost its lustre, and was 
faded and yellow. 1 saw that the bride within the bridal dress 
had withered like the dress, and like the llowers, and had' no bright- 
ness left but the brightness of 'her sunken eyes. 1 saw that the 
dress had been put upon the rounded figure of a young woman, and 
that the figure upon which it now bung loose had shrunk to 
and bone. Once, 1 had been taken to see some ghastly wax-work 
at the. Fair, representing 1 know not what impossible personage 
lying in stale. Once, I had been taken to oue of our old marsh 
churches to see a skeleton in the ashes vt' a rich dress that 
been dug out of a vault under the church pavement. 2s ow, wax- 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 47 

work and skeleton seemed to have dark eyes that moved and look- 
ed at me. I should have cried out if 1 could. 
" Who is it V said the lady at the table. 

" Pip, ma'am." 
« p ip t » 

" Mr. Pumblechook's boy, ma'am. Come — to play." 

"Come nearer; let me look at you. Come close." 

It was when I stood before her, avoiding her eyes, that I took 
note of the surrounding objects in detail, and saw that her watch 
had stopped at twenty minutes to nine, and that a chick in the 
room had stopped at twenty minutes to nine. 

"Look at me," said Miss llavisham. " Yon are not afraid of a 
woman who has , ever seen the sun since you were horn '." 

I regret to state that I was not afraid of telling the enormous lie 
comprehended in the answer, 

" No." 

"Do you know what 1 touch here V she said, laying her hands, 
one upon the other, on her lefl side*. 

" Yes, ma'am.". (It made me think of the voting man.) 

" What do 1 touch r 

" Your heart." 

•• Broken !" 

She uttered the word with an eager look, and with strong em- 
phasis, and witli a weird smile that had a kind of boast in it. Af- 
terward, she kept her hands there for a little while, and slowly 
took them away as if they were heavy. 

" 1 am tired," said Miss llavisham. " I waut diversion, and I 
have done with men and women. Play !" 

I think it will be conceded by my most disputatious reader that 
she could hardly have directed an unfortunate boy to do any thing 
in the wide world more difficult to be done under the circumstances. 

"I sometimes have sick fancies," she went on, "and 1 have a 
sick fancy that 1 want to see some play. There, there !" with an 
impatient movement of the fingers of her right hand ; " play, play, 
• play!" ' . 

For a moment, with the fear of my sister's working me before 
my eyes, I had a desperate idea of starting round the room in the 
assumed character of Mr. Pumblechook's chaise-cart. But J felt 
myself so unequal to the performance that I gave it up, and stood 
looking at Mi^s llavisham in what 1 suppose she took for a dog- 
ged manner, inasmuch as she said, when we had taken a good look 
at each other : 

"Are you sullen and obstinate?" 

" No, ma'am, 1 am very sorry for you, and very sorry I can't 
play just now. If you complain of me 1 shall get into trouble with 
my sister, so I would do it if I could ; but it's so new here, and so 
strange, and so fine — and melancholy — " I stopped^ fearing I 



48 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

might say too much, or had already said it, and we took another 
look at each other. 

Before she spoke again she turned her eyes from- me and looked 
at the dress she wore, and at the dressing table, and finally at her- 
self in the looking-glass. 

" So new to him," she muttered, " so old to me ; so strange to 
'him, so familiar to me; so melancholy to both of us ! Call Es- 
telra." 

As she was still looking at the reflection of herself, I thought 
she was still talking to herself, and kept quiet. 

" Call Eslella," she repeated, flashing a look at me. " You can 
do that. Call Estella. At the door." 

To stand in the dark. in a mysterious passage of an unknown 
house bawling Estella to a scornful young lady neither visible nor 
responsive, and feeling it a dreadful liberty so to roar out her name, 
was almost as bad as playing to order. But she answered at last, 
and her light came along the dark passage like a star. 

Miss Havisham beckoned her to come close, and took up a jewel 
from the table, and tried its effect upon her fair young bosom and 
against her pretty brown hair. "Your own, one day, my dear, and 
you will use it well. Let me see you play cards with this boy." 

" With this boy ! Why, he is a common laboring boy !" 

I thought I overheard .Miss Havisham answer — only it seemed 
so unlikely — " Well ? You can break his heart." 

" What do you play, boy I" asked Estella of myself, with the 
greatest disdain. 

" Nothing but beggar my neighbor, miss." 

"Beggar him,' said Miss- Havisham to Estella. So we sat 
down to cards. 

It was then I began to understand that every tiling in the room 
had stopped, like the watch and the clock, a long time ago. I no- 
ticed that Miss Havisham put down the jewel exactlyon the spot 
from which she had taken it up. As Estella dealt the cards J 
glance;! at the dressing-table again, and saw that the shoe upon it, 
once white, now yellow, had never been worn. I glanced down at 
the foot from which the s oe was abseut, and saw that the silk 
stocking on it, once white, now yellow, had been trodden ragged. 
Without this arrest of every thing, this standing still of all the 
pale decayed objects, not even the withered bridal dress on the 
collapsed form could have looked so like grave-clothes, or the long 
vail so like a shroud. 

So she sat corpse-like, as we played at cards : the frilluags and 
trimmings on her bridal dress looking like earthy paper, as if they 
would crumble under a touch. I knew nothing then of the dis- 
coveries that are occasionally made of bodies buried in ancient 
times, which fall to powder in the moment of being distinctly seen; 
but I have often thought since that she must have looked as if the 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 4* 

admission of the natural light of day would have struck her to dust. 
"He calls the knaves Jacks, this hoy ?" said Estella, with dis- 
dain, before our game was out. " And what coarse hands he has. 
And what thick boots.'' 

I bad never thought of being ashamed of my hands before; but 
I began to consider. them a very indifferent pair. Her contempt 
was so strong that it became infectious, and I caught it. 

She won the game, and T dealt. I misdealt, as w is only na- 
tural, when I knew she was lying in wait for me to do wrong, and 
she denounced me for a stupid, clumsy laboring boy. 

" You say nothing of her," remarked Hiss Havisham to me as 
she looked on. " She says many hard things of you, but you say 
nothing other. Whal do you think of her 1" 
" I don't like to say," I stammered. 

V Tell me in my ear," said Miss Havisham, bending down. 
" I think she is very proud.'* I replied, in a whisper. 
" Any thing else 
" I think she is very pretty.'' 
" Any thing else ?" 

" 1 think she is very insulting." (She was looking at me, then, 
with a look of supreme aversion.) 
"Any thing else V 
" I think I should like to go home." 
" And never see her again, though she is so pretty ? " 
"I am not sure thai I should not like to see her again, but I 
should like to gb home now." 

"You shall go soon," said Miss Havisham, aloud. "Play the 
game out." 

Saving for the one weird smile at first, I should have felt aln 
sure that Miss Havisham's face could not smile. It had dropped 
into a watchful and brooding expression — most, likely when all the ' 
things about her had become transfixed — and it looked as if noth- 
ing could, ever lift it up any more. Her chest had dropj ed, so that 
she stooped : and her voice had dropped, so that she spoke low, 
and with a dead lull upon her; altogether she had the appearance 
of having dropped, body and soul, within and without, under the 
weight of a crushing blow. 

1 played the game to an end with Estella, and she beggared me. 
She threw the c^rds down on the table when she had won them all, 
as if she despised them for having been won of me. 

" When shall I have you here again'? " said Miss Havisham. — 
" Let me think." 

I was. beginning to remind her that to-day was Wednesday, when 
she checked me with her former impatient movement of the fingers 
of her right hand. 

" There, there ! I know nothing of days of the week ; 1 know 
4 



50 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

nothing of weeks of the year. Come again after three days. You 
hear 1 " 

" Yes, ma'am." 

" Estella, take him down. Let him have something to eat, and 
let him roam and look about him while he eats, it. Go, Pip." 

I followed the candle down as I had followed the candle up, and 
she stood it in the place where we had found it. Until she opened the 
side entrance I had fancied, without thinking about it, that it must ne- 
cessarily be night time. The rush of the daylight quite confounded 
me, and made me feel as if I had been in the candle-light of the 
strange room many hours. 

" You are to wait here, you boy," said Estella, and disappeared 
and closed the door. 

I took the opportunity of being alone in the courtyard to look 
at my coarse hands and my common hoots. My opinion of those 
accessories was not favorable. They had never troubled me 
before, but they troubled me now, as vulgar appendages. 1 deter- 
mined to ask Joe why he had ever taught me to call those picture- 
cards Jacks which ought to be called knaves. I wished Joe had 
been rather more geuteely brought up, and then 1 should have been 
so too. 

She came back with some bread and meat and a little mug of 
beer. She put the mug down on the stones of the yard, and gave 
me the bread and meat without looking at me, as insolently as if 
i were a dog. I was so humiliated, hurt, spurned, offended, angry, 
sorry — I cannot hit upon the right name for the sn^irt — God knows 
what its name was — that tears started to my eyes. The moment 
they sprang there the girl looked at me with a quick delight iu 
having been the cause of them. It gave me power to force them 
back and to look at her; so she gave a contemptuous toss — but 
with a sense, I thought, of having made too sure that I was so 
wounded — and left me. 

But when she was gone I looked about me for a place to hide 
my face in, and got behind one of the gates in the brewery lane, 
and leaned my sleeve against the wall there, and leaned my fore- 
head on it and cried. As I cried I kicked tiie wall and took a hard 
twist at my hair ; so bitter were my feelings, and so sharp was the 
smart without a name, that needed counteraction. 

My sister's bringing up had made me sensitive. In the little 
world in which children have their existence, whosoever brings 
them up. 1 am convinced there is nothing so finely perceived and 
so finely felt as injustice. It may be only small injustice that the child 
can be exposed to ; but the child is small, and its world is small, and 
iis rocking-hor.se stands as many hands high, according to scale, as a 
big-boned Irish hunter. Within myself I had sustained from my baby- 
hood a perpetual conflict with injustice. I had known from the time 
when I could speak that my sister, in her capricious aDd violent co- 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 51 

i 

ercipn, was unjust to me. I had cherished a profound conviction 
that her bringing rue up by hand gave her no right to bring me up 
by jerks. Through all ray punishments, disgraces, fasts*, and vigils, 
and other penitential performances,! had nursed this assurance; 

and to my communing so much with it, in a solitary and unpro- 
tected way, I, in great part, refer the fact that I was morally timid 
and very sensitive. 

I got rid of my injured feelings for the time by kicking them in- 
to the brewery wall, and twisting them out of my hair, and then I 
Smoothed my face with my sleeve and came from behind the gate. 
The bread and meal were acceptable, and the beer was warming 
and tingling, and I was soon in spirits to look about me. 

To be sure it was a deserted place, down to the pigeon-house in 
the brewery-yard, which bad been blown crooked on its pole by 
some high wind, and would have made the pigeons think themselves 
at sea, if there bad beenVuiy pigeons there to be rocked by it. — 
But there were tip pigeons in the dove-cot, no horses in the stable, 
no pigs in the sty, no malt in the storehouse, no smells of grains 
and beer in the copper or the vat. All the uses and scents of the 
brewery might have evaporated with its last reek of smoke. In a 
by-yard there was a wilderness of empty casks, which bad a cer- 
tain sour remembrance of better days lingering about them ; but it 
was too sour to be accepted as a sample of the beer that was 
gOne — and in this respect I remember those recluses as being like 
most others. 

Behind the farthest end of the brewery was a rank garden 
with an old red wall : not so high but that I could struggle up and 
hold on long enough to look over it, and see that the rank garden 
was the garden of the house, and that it w T as overgrown with tan- 
gled weeds, but that there was a track upon the green and yellow 
paths, 'as if some one sometimes walked there, and that Estell 
walking away from me even then. But she seemed to bo every- 
where. For when 1 yielded to the temptation presented by the 
casks, and began to walk. on. them, I saw her walking on them at 
the end of the yard of casks. She had her back to me, and held 
her pretty brown hair spread out in her two hands, and never 
looked round, and passed out of my view directly. So in the brew- 
ery itself — by which I mean the large paved lofty place in which 
they used to make the beer, and where the brewing utensils still 
were. When 1 first went into it, and, rather oppressed by iis 
gloom, stood near the door looking about me, I saw her pass among 
the extinguished tires, and ascend some light iron stairs, and go out 
by an iron gallery high overhead, as if she were going out into the 
sky. 

It was in this place, and at this moment, that a strange thing 
happened to my fancy. I thought it a strange thing then, and I 
thought it stranger long afterward. I turned my eyes — a little 



52 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

dimmed by looking up at £he frosty light — toward a great wooden 
beam in a low notfc of the building near me on my right band, and 
I saw a figure hanging there by the neck. A figure .all in yellow 
white, with but one shoe to the feet ; and it hung so that I could 
see that the faded trimmings of the dress were like earthy paper, 
and that the face was Miss Havis ':am's, with the eyes open, and 
with a movement going over the whole countenance as if she 
were trying to call to me. In the terror of seeing the figure, and in 
the terror of being certain that it had not been there a moment 
before, I at first ran from it, and then ran toward it. And my 
terror was greatest of all when I found no figure there. 

Nothing less than the frosty light of the cheerful sky, the sight 
of people passing beyond the bars of the court-yard gate, and The 
reviving influence of the rest of the bread and meat and beer, 
would have brought me round. Even with those aids I might not 
have come to my self as soon as I did, but that I saw Estella ap- 
proaching with the keys to let me out. She would have some fair 
reason for looking down upon me, I thought, if she saw me fright- 
ened ; and she should have no fair reason. 

She gave me a triumphant glance in passing me, as if she re- 
joiced that my hands were so coarse and my boots were so thick, 
and she opened the gate and stood holding it. I was passing out 
without looking at her, when she touched me with a taunting 
hand. 

" Why don't you cry 1 " said she. 

" Because I don't want to," said I. 

"You do," said she. "You have been crying, and you are 
near crying again." 

She laughed contemptuously, pushed me out, and locked the 
gate upon me. I went straight to Mr. Pumblechook's, and was 
immensely relieved to find him not at home. So leaving word 
with the shopman on what day I was wanted at Miss Havisham's 
again, I set off on the four-mile walk to our forge; pondering, as 
1 went along, on all I had seen, and deeply revolving that I was 
a common laboring boy, that my hands were coarse, that my boots 
were thick, that 1 had fallen into a despicable habit of calling 
knaves Jacks, that I was much more ignorant than I had consid- 
ered myself last night, and, on the whole, that I was in a low- 
lived bad way. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 5S 



CHAPTER IX. 

WnF\ I reached home my sister was very curious to know all 
about Miss Havisharo's, aud asked a number of questions. And 
I soon found myself getting heavily bumped in the nape of the 
neck and the small of the hack, and having my face ignominiously 

shoved against the kitchen wall, because I did not answer those 
questions at sufficient length. 

If a dread of not being understood be hidden in the breas; 
other young people to any thing like the extent to which it used to 
be hidden in tniue — which I consider probable, as I have no par- 
ticular reason to suspect myself of having been a monstrosity — ir 
ia the key to many reservations. I felt convinced that if I de- 
scribed Miss Havisham's as my eyes had seen it, I should noi be 
understood. Not only that, but I felt convinced that Miss Havi- 
sham too would not be understood; and although she was perfect- 
ly incomprehensible to me, 1 entertained an impression that there 
wduld be something coarse and treacherous in my dragging her 
(to say nothing of Miss Estella) before the contemplation of Mrs. 
Joe. Consequently, I said as little as I could, and bad my face 
shoved against the kitchen wall. 

The worst of it was that that bullying old Pumblechook, preyed 
upon by a devouring curiosity to be informed of all I had seen and 
heard, came gaping over in his chaise-cart at tea-time to have the 
details divulged to him. And the mere sight of the torment, with 
his fishy eyes and mouth open, his sandy hair inquisitively on end. 
and his waistcoat heaving with windy arithmetic, made me vicious 
in my reticence. 

" Well, buy," Uncle Pumblechook began, as soon as he was 
■1 in the chair of honor by the fire.- " How did you get on up 
town?" 

I answered, " Pretty well, Sir," and my sister shook her fist 
at me. 

" Pretty well?" Mr. Pumblechook repeated. "Pretty well is 
no answer. Tell us what you mean by pretty well, boy?" 

Whitewash on the forehead hardens the brain into a state of 
obstinacy, perhaps. Any how, with whitewash from the wall on 
my forehead, my obstinacy was adamantine. I reflected for some 
lime, and then answered, " I mean pretty well." 

My sister, with an exclamation of impatience, was going to fly 
at me — I had no shadow of detence, for Joe was busy in the forge 
— when Mr. Pumblechook interposed with, "No! Don't loso 



i 



54 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

your temper. Leave this lad to me, ma'am ; leave this lad to 
me." Mr. Pumhlechook then turned me toward him, as if he 
were going to cut my hair or take out one of my teeth, or perform 
some such operation, and said: 

" First (to get our thoughts in order) : Forty-three pence?" 

I calculated the consequence of replying " Four Hundred 
Pound," and, finding them against me, went as near the answer 
as I could — which was somewhat about eightpence off. Mr. Pum- 
hlechook then put me through my pence-table from " twelve pence 
make one shilling," up to " forty pence make three-and-four 
pence," and then triumphantly demanded, as if he had done for 
me, " Now ! How much is forty-three pence?" To which I re- 
plied, after a long interval of reflection, " I don't know." And I 
was so aggravated that I almost doubt if I did know. 

Mr. Pumhlechook worked his head like a screw to screw it out 
of me, and said, " Is forty-thres pence .seven and sixpence three 
fardens, for instance?" 

" Yes !" said I. And although my sister instantly boxed my 
ears, it was highly gratifying to me to see that the answer spoilt 
his joke, and brought him to a dead stop. 

"Boy ! What like is Miss Havisham ?" Mr. Pumhlechook be- 
gan again when he had recovered ? folding his arms tight on his 
chest and applying the screw. • 

" Very tall and dark," I told him. 

" Is she, uncle?". asked my sister. 

Mr. Pumhlechook winked assent; from which I at once infer- 
red i hat he had never seen Miss Havisham, for she was nothing of 
the kind. 

"Good!" said Mr. Pumhlechook, conceitedly. "This is the 
way to have him ! We are beginning to hold our own, I think, 
Mum ?" 

" I am sure, uncle," returned Mrs. Joe, " I wish you had him 
always ; you know so well how to deal with him." 

" Now, boy ! What was she a doing of when you went in to- 
day ?" asked Mr. Pumhlechook. 

" She was sitting," I answered, " in a black velvet coach." 

Mr. Pumblechook and Mrs. Joe stared at one another — as they 
well might — and both repeated, " In a black velvet coach ?" 

"Yes," said I. "And Miss Estella — that's her niece, 1 think 
— handed her in cake and wine at the coach window, on a gold 
plate. And we all had cake and wine on gold plates. And 1 got 
up behind the coach to eat mine, because she told u.e to." 

" Was any body else there ?" asked Mr. Pumblechook. 

" Four dogs," said I. 

" Large or small ?" 

" Immense," said I. " And they fought for veal cutlets out of 
a silver basket." 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 55 

Mr. Pumhlechook and Mrs. Joe stared at one another again, in 
utter amazement. I was perfectly frantic — a reckless witness un- 
der the orture — and would have told them any thing. 

" Where was this coach, in the name of gracious !" asked my 
sister. 

" In Miss Ilavisham's room." They stared again. " But there 
weren't any horses to it." I added this saving clause, in the mo- 
ment of rejecting four richly caparisoned coursers which I had had 
wild thoughts of harnessing. 

" Can this he possible, uncle?" asked Mrs. Joe. "What can 
the boy mean .'" 

" Fll tell you, Mum," said Mr. Pumhlechook. " My opinion is, 
it's a sedan-chair. She's flighty, yon know — very flighty — quite 
flighty enough to pass her days in a sedan-chair." 

•• Did you ever see her in it, uncle ?" asked Mrs. Joe. 

" How could I ?" he returned, forced to the admission, " when 
I never see her in my life ? Never clapped eyes upon her }" 

" Goodness, uncle ! And yet. you have spoken to her?" 

" Why. don't you know," said Mr. Pumhlechook, testily, " that 
when I have been there I have been took up to the outside of her 
door, and the door has stood ajar, and she has spoken to me thai 
way. Don't say that you don't know that, Mum. Howsoever, 
the boy went there to play. What did you play at, boy ?" 

" We played with flags," 1 said. (I beg to observe that I think 
of myself with amazement, when I recall the lies I told on this 
occasion.) 

"Flags!" echoed my sister. 

" Yes," said I. " Estella waved a blue flag, and I waved a red 
one, and Miss llavisham waved one sprinkled all over with little 
gold stars, out at the coach window. Atid then we all waved our 
swords and hurrahed." 

'• Swords !" repeated my sister. ■« Where did you get swords 
from ?" 

" Out of a cupboard," said I. " And I saw pistols in it — and 
jam — and pills. And there was no daylight in the room, but it 
was all lighted up with candles." 

" That's true, Mum," said Mr. Pumbleehook, with a grave nod. 
"That's the state of the case, for that much I've seen myself." 
And then they both stared at me, and I with ah obtrusive show of 
artlessness on my countenance stared at them, and plaited the 
right leg of my trowsers with my right hand. 
. If they had asked me any more questions I should undoubtedly 
have betrayed myself, for T was even then on the point of men- 
tioning that there was a balloon in the yard, and should have haz- 
arded the statement but for my mind being divided between that 
phenomenon"and a bear in the brewery. They were so much oc- 
cupied, however, in discussing the marvels I had already present- 






I 



5G GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

ed for their consideration that I escaped. The subject still held 
them when Joe came in from his work to have a cup of tea, to 
■whom my sister, more for the relief of her own mind than for the 
gratification of his, related my pretended experiences.' 

Now when I saw Joe open his blue eyes and roll them round 
the kitchen in helpless astonishment, I was overtaken by peni- 
tence ; but only as regarded him — not in the least as regarded the 
other two. Toward Joe, and Joe only, I considered myself a 
young monster, while they sat debating what results would come 
to me from Miss Havisham's acquaintance and favor. They bad 
no doubt that Miss Havisham would "do something" for me; 
their doubts related to the form that something would take. My 
sister stood out " for property." Mr. Pumblechook was in favor 
of a handsome premium for binding me apprentice to some genteel 
trade — say, the corn and seed trade for instance. Joe fell into the 
deepest disgrace with both, for offering the bright suggestion that 
I might only be presented with one of the dogs who had fought 
for the veal-cutlets. "If a fool's head can't express better opin- 
ions than that," said my sister, " and you have got any work to 
do, you had better go and do it." So he went. 

After Mr. Pumblechook had driven off, and when my sister was 
washing up, I stole into the forge to Joe, and remained by him 
until lie had done for the night. Then I said, "Before the fire 
goes qtiite out, Joe, I should like to tell you something." 

" Should vou, Pip t" said Joe, drawing his shoeing-stool near 
the forge. " Then tell us. What is it, Pip ?" 

"Joe," said I, taking hold ot his rolled up shirt-sleeve, and 
twisting it between my finger and thumb, ".you remember all 
that about Miss Havisham's ?" 

" Remember?'" said Joe. " I believe you ! Wouderful !" 

" It's a terrible thing, Joe ; it an't true." 

" What are you telling of, Pip ?," cried Joe, falling back in the 
greatest amazement. " You don't mean to say it's — " 

" Yes I do ; it's lies, Joe." 

"But not all of it? Why sure you don't mean to say, Pip, 
that there was no black welwetco — eh?" Fori stood shaking 
my head. " But at least there was dogs, Pip. Come, Pip," said 
Joe, persuasively, "if there warn't.no weal-cutlets, at least there 
was dogs '.'" 

"No, Joe." • 

" A dog ?" said Joe. " A puppy ? Come V 

" Uo, Joe, there was nothing at all of the kind." 

As I fixed my eyes hopelessly on Joe, Joe contemplated me in 
dismay. "Pip, old chap! this won't do, old fellow! I say! 
where do you expect to go to ?" 

" It's terrible, Joe ; an't it ?" 

" Terrible?" cried Joe. " Awfu! ! What possessed you?" 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 57 

" I don't know what possessed ine, Joe," I replied, letting his 
shirt-sleeve go, and sitting down in the ashes at his feet, banging 
my head ; "but I wish you hadn't taught me to call Knaves ai 
cards Jacks; and I wish my boots weren't so thick nor my hands 
so coarse." 

And then I told Joe that I felt very miserable, and that I 
hadn't been able to explain myself to Mrs. Joe and Pumble- 
chook, who were so rude to me, and that there had been i beauti- 
ful young lady at Miss Havishani's who was dreadfully proud, 
and that she had said I was common, and that 1 knew I was com- 
mon, and that 1 wished I was noi common, and that the lies had 
come of it, somehow, though I didn't know how. 

This was a case of metaphysics, a least, as difficult for Joe to 
deal with as for me. But Joe took the case altogether out of the 
region of metaphysics, and by that means got the better of it. 

"There's one thing you may be sure of, Tip," said Joe, after 
some rumination, "namely, that lies is lies. However they come, 
they didn't ought to come, and they come from the father^ of lies, and 
work round to the same. Don't you tell no more of 'em. Pip. 
That ain't the way to get out of being common, old chap. And 
as to being common, I don't make it out at all clear. Vou are 
oiicommoii in some things. You're oncommon small. Likewise 
you're an oncommon scholar." 

" No, 1 am ignorant and backward, Joe.' 

" "Why. see what a letter you wrote last, night. Wrote in print 
even! L've seen letters — Ah! and from gentlefolks I — that I'll 
swear weren't wrote in print," said .Joe. 

" 1 have learned next to nothing, Joe. Vou think much of me. 
It's only that." 

" Well, Pip," said Joe, "lie it so or be it son't, you must lie a 
common scholar afore you can be an oncommon one, 1 should 
hope! The king upon" his throne, with his crown upon his ed, 
can't sit and write his acts of Parliament in print, without having 
.begun, when he were a unpromoted Prince, with the alphabet — 
Ah !" added Joe, with a shake of the head that was full of mean- 
ing, "and begun at A too, and worked his way to Z. And / 
know What that is to do, though I can't say I've done it." 

There was some hope in this piece of wisdom, and it rather 
encouraged me. 

" Whether common ones as to callings and earnings," pursued 
JpeT reflectively, "mightn't be the better of continuing for to keep 
company with common ones, instead of going out. to play with on- 
common ones — : which reminds me to hope that there were a Hag 
perhaps ?" . 

" No. J 

" (I'm sorry then weren't a Hag, Pip.] Whether that might be 
or mightn't, be; is a thing as can't he looked into now, without put- 



58 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

ting your sister on the Rampage ; and that's a thing not to be 
thought of as being done intentional. Lookee here, Pip, at what 
is said to you by a true friend. Which this to you the true friend 
say. If you can't get to the oncommon through going straight, 
you'll never do it through going crooked. So don't tell no more 
on 'em, Pip, and live well and die happy." 

" You are not angry with me, Joe 1" 

" No, old chap. But bearing in mind that them were which I 
meantersay of a stunning and thundering sort — alluding to them 
which bordered on weal-cutlets and dog-lighting — a sincere well- 
wisher would adw.ise, Pip, their being dropped into your medita- 
tions when you go upstairs to bed. That's all, old chap, and 
don't never do it no more." 

When I got up to my little room, and said my prayers, I did 
not forget Joe's recommendation", and yet my young mind was in 
that disturbed and unthankful state, that I thought long after I 
laid me down, how common Estella would consider Joe, a mere 
blacksmith ; how thick his boots, and how coarse his hands. I 
thought how Joe and my sister were then sitting in the kitchen, 
and how I'd come up to bed from the kitchen, and how Miss 
Havisbam and Estella never sat in a kitchen, but were far above 
the level of such common doings. 1 fell asleep recalling what I 
" used to do" when I was at Miss Ilavisham's ; as though I had 
been there weeks or mouths, instead of hours, and as though it 
were quite an old subject of remembrance, instead of one that had 
arisen only that day. 

That was a memorable day for me, for it made great changes in 
me and in my fortunes. But it is the same with any life. Im- 
agine one selected day str ick out of it, and think how different its 
course would have been. Pause, you who read this, and think for 
a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flow 

would never have bound you, but for the formation of the 
first link on one memorable dav. 



CHAPTER X. 

The felicitous idea occurred to me a morning or two later when 
,1 awoke, that the best step I could take toward making myself 
uncommon, was to get out of Biddy everything she knew, and to 
pay the strictest attention to Mr. Wopsle when he read-aloud. In 
pursuance of this luminous conception, I mentioned to Biddy 
when 1 went to Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt's at night, that I had a 
particular reason for wishing to get on in lite, and that I should 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 59 

feel very much obliged to her if she would impart all her learning 
to me. Biddy, who was the most obliging of girls, immediately 
said she would, and indeed began to carry out her promise with- 
in five minutes. 

The educational scheme or course established by Mr. Wt>psle's 
greafs-aunt may be resolved into the following synopsis. The pu- 
pils ate apples and pal straw up one another's backs, until Mr. 
Wopsle's great aunt collected her energies, and made an indiscrim- 
inate totter at them with a biroh-rod. After receiving the cl 
with every mark of derision, the pupils formed in line and buz- 
zingly passed a ragged book from hand to hand. The book had 
an alphabet in it. some figures and tallies, and a little spelling — 
that is to say. it had o\\n\ As soon as this volume began to cir- 
culate, Mr. Wopsle s great-auul fell into a state of coma; arising 
either from sleep or a paroxysm of rheumatics. The pupils then 
entered among themselves upon a competitive examination on the 
subject of boots, with the view of ascertaining who could tread 
the hardest upon whose toes. This mental exercise lasted until 
Biddy made a rush at them and distributed three defaced Bibles, 
shaped as if they had been unskilfully cut oil" the chump-eiui of 
something, more illegibly printed at the best than any curiosities of 
literature 1 have since met with, speckled all over with iron-mould, 
and having various specimens of the insect, world smashed between 
their leaves. This part of the course was usually lightened by 
several single combats between Biddy and refractory students. — 
"When the fights were over, Biddy gave out the number of a page, 
and then we all read aloud what we could — or what we couldn'1 — 
in a frightful chorus ; Biddy leading with a high shrill monotonous 
voice, and none of us having the least notion what we were read- 
ing about. When this horrible din had lasted a certain time, it 
mechanically awoke Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt, who staggered at a 
boy and fortuitously pulled his ears. This was understood to ter- 
minate th for the evening, and we emerged Into fhe air 
with shrieks of intellectual victory. It is fair to remark that there 
was no prohibition against any pupil's entertaining himself with a 
slate or even with the ink (when there was any,) but that it was 
to pursue that branch of study in the winter season, on 
account of the little general shop in which i he classes were holden — 
and which was also Mr. Wopsle's great aunt's sitting-room and 
bedchamber — being but faintly illuminated through the a| 
e low-spirited dip-candle and no snuffi 

It appeared to me that it would take time to become uncommon 
under these cir mustances : nevertheless, I resolved to try it, and 
that very evening Biddy entered on our special agreement, by im- 
parting some information from her little catalogue of Fsices, 
the head of moist sugar, and lending me, to copy at home, a Ger- 
man text or old English 1> which she had imitated from the head 



CO GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

ine: of some newspaper, and which I supposed, until she told me 
what it was, to be a design for a buckle. 

Of course there was a public house in the village, and of course 
Joe liked sometimes to smoke his pipe there. I had received strict 
orders from my sister to call for him at the Three Jolly- Barge- 
men, that evening, on my way from school, and bring him home 
at my peril. To the Vhree Jolly Bargemen, therefore, 1 directed 
my steps. 

There was a bar at the Jolly Bargemen, with some alarmingly 
long chalk scores in it on the wall at the side of the door, which 
eeinetl to me to be never paid off. They had been there ever since 
1 could remember, and had grown more than I had. But there 
was a quantity of chalk about our country, and perhaps the people 
neglected no opportunity of turning it to account. 

it being Saturday night, 1 found the landlord looking rather 
grimly at these records ; but as my business was with Joe and not 
with him, I merely wished hin* good evening, and passed into the 
* common room at I he end of the passage, where there was a bright 
large kitchen fire, and where Joe was smoking his pipe in company 
with Mr. Wopsle and a stranger. Joe greeted me, as usual, with 
" Halloa, Pip, old chap : ; ' and the moment he said that, the stian- 
I iirned his head and looked at me. 

He was a secret-looking man whom I bad never seen before. — 
His head was all on one side, and one of his eyes was half shut up, 
as if he were making aim at, something with an invisible gun. He 
had a pipe in his mouth, and he took it out, and, after slowly blow- 
ing all his smoke away and looking hard at, me all the time, nod- 
tied. So I nodded, and then henodded again, and made room qii 
the settle beside him that I might sit down there. 

lint as I was used to sit beside Joe whenever I entered that 
ol' resort. 1 said " No, thank you, .Sir,'' and fell into the space 
•toe made for me on the opposite settle. The strange man, after 
glancing at Joe, and seeing that his attention was otherwise en- 
gaged, nodded to me again when I had taken my seat, and then 
rubbed his leg in a very odd way, as it struck me. 

" You was saying," said the strange man, turning to Joe, " that 
you was a blacksmith." 

" "\ es, I said it, you know," said Joe. 

"What '11 you drink, Mr. ? You didn't mention your 

name, by-the-i 

Joe mentioned it now, and the strange man called him by it. — 
" What']] you drink, Mr.Gargery ? At my expense \ To top up 
with ? " 

•' Well, ".said Joe, "-to tell you The truth, 1 ain't much in the 
habit of drinking at anybody's expense but my 

" Habit 1 No," returned the stranger. " but once and away, and 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 61 

on a Saturday night too. Come ? Put a name to it, Mr. Gar- 
gery." 

" I wouldn't wish to be stifl company," said Joe. " Rum." 

" Rum," repeated the stranger. " And will the other gentle- 
man originate a sentiment I " 

" Rum," said Mr. Wopsle. 

" Three rums here ! " cried the stranger, calling to the landlord. 
" Glasses round ! " 

"Tins other gentleman," observed Joe, .by way of introducing 
Mr. Wopsle, " is a gentleman that you would like to hear give ii 
out. Our clerk at church." 

'■ Aha ! " said the stranger quickly, and cooking hi me. 

"The lonely church, right out on the marshes, with the graves 
round it! " 

" That's it," said doe. 

The stranger, with a comfortable kind of grunt over his pipe, 
put his legs up on the settle that he ltad all to himself, lie wore 
a flapping broad-brimmed traveler's hat, and under it a handker- 
chief lied over his head in the manner of a cap; so that he 
showed no diair. As he looked at the lire, 1 thought 1 saw a 
cunning expression, followed by a half laugh, come into his face. 

" I am not acquainted with this country, gentlemen, but it seems 
a solitary country toward l.he river." 

" Most marshes is solitary*" said Joe. 

"Nq doubt, no doubt. Do you find any gipsies now, or tramps, 
or vagrants of any sort out on those lowlands '. " 

" No," said Joe; "none hut a runaway convict now and then. 
And we don't find them easy. Eh, Mr. "Wopsle i " 

Mr. Wopsle, with a majestic remembrance A' old discomfiture, 
assented ; but not warmly. 

" Seems you have been out after such 1 '" asked the stranger. 

" Once," returned >Joe. "Not that we wanted to lake them, 
you understand ; we went out as lookers-on; me, and Mr. Wopsle, 
and Rip. Didn't us, Rip .' " 

" Yes, Joe." 

The stranger looked at me again — still cocking his eye, as if he 
were expressly talcing aim at me with his invisible gun — and 
said, " He's a likely young parcel of bones that. What is it you 
call him ? " 

" Pip," said Joe. 

" Christened Rip ? " 

'• No, not christened Rip." 

" Surnamed Rip '? " 

''No," said Joe, "it's a kind of a family -name what he gave 
himself when a infant, and is called by." 

" Son of yours I " 

"Weil," said Joe, meditatively — not, of oourse, that, it oould bt 



62 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

in anywise necessary to consider about it, but because it was the 
way at the Jolly Bargemen to seem to consider deeply about every 
thing that was discussed over pipes ; " well no — no. No he ain't." 

" Nevvy % " said the strange man. 

" Well," said Joe, with the same appearance of profound cogita- 
tion, " he is not — no, not to deceive you, he is not — my nevvy." 

"""What the Blue Blazes is he 1 " asked the stranger — which ap- 
peared to me to he an inquiry of unnecessary strength. 

Mr. Wopsle struck in upon that ; as one who knew all about re- 
lationships, having professional occasion to bear in mind what fe- 
male relations a man might not marry ; and expounded the tics 
between me and Joe. Having his hand in, Mr. Wopsle introduced 
a most terrifically snarling passage from Richard the Third, and 
think lie had done quite enough to account for if when 
he added " — as the poet says." 

And here I may remark that when Mr. Wopsle referred to me, 
he considered it a necessary part of such reference to rumple my 
hair and poke it into my eyes. I cannot conceive why any body of 
his standing who visited at our house should always have put me 
through the same inflammatory process under similar circumstances. 
Yet 1 do not call to mind that I was ever in my earlier youth the 
subject of remark in our social family circle, but some large handed 
person took these ophthalmic steps to patronize me. 

All this while the strange man looked at nobody but me, and 
looked at me as if he were determined to have a .shot at me at 
last, and bring me down. Hut he said nothing after offering his 
Blue Blazes observation until the glasses of rum-and-watcr were 
brought ; and then he made his shot., and a most extraordinary 
was. 

It was not a verbal remark, but a proceeding in dumb-show, and 
was pointedly addressed to me. He stirred his mm -and--. 
pointedly at me. and he tasted his rum-and-watcr pointedly at. me. 

he stirred it and he tasted it, not wi h a spoon tha! 
brought to him, but with a file. 

He did this so that nol i saw the tile ; and when In- had 

done it he wiped ihe file and put it in a breast-pocket. I knew it 
to he Joe's tile, and I knew that he knew my convict the mom: nt 
I saw the instrument. I sat gazing at him, spell-bound. But be 
iiow reclined on his settle, taking very little notice of me, and talk- 
ing principally about turnips. 

There was a delicious sense of cleaning-up and making a quiet 
pause before going on in life afresh, in our village on Saturday 
nights, which stimulated Joe to dare to stay out half an hour 
longeron Saturdays- than at other times. The half-hour and the 
) um-and-water running out together, Joe got up to go, and took me 
by the hand. 

" Stop half a moment, Mr. Gargery," said the strange man. "I 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 63 

think I've gol a bright new shilling somewhere in my pocket, ami 
if 1 have the boy shall have it." 

He looked it out from a handful of small change, folded it in 
some crumpled [taper, and gave il to me. " Yours," said he. — 
" Mind ! your own." 

1 thanked him, staring at him far beyond the hounds of good 
manners, and holding li.^lit to doe. He gave Joe good-night, and 
he gave 31r. Wopsle good -night (who went out with us), and he 
gave me only a look with his aiming eye — no, not a look, for he 
shut it up, bul wonders may he done with an eye by hiding it. 

On the way home, if 1 had been in a humor for talking, the talk 
must have been all on my side, for .Mr. Wopsle parted from us at 
the door of the dolly Bargemen, and doe went all the way homo 
with his mouth wide open, to rinse the rum out with as much ali- 
as possible. But I was in a manner stupefied by this turning up 
of my old misdeed and old acquaintance, and could think of noth- 
ing else. 

My sister was not in a very had temper when we presented our- 
selves in the kitchen, and dot' was encouraged by that unusual cir- 
cumstance to tell her about 1 he bright shilling. "A had 'un, I'll he 
hound," said Mrs. Joe, triumphantly, " ot he wouldn't ave given 
it. to the hoy ! Let's look at it." 

1 took it out of the paper, and it proved to he a good one. "But 
what's this I " said Mrs. Joe, throwing down the shilling and catch- 
ing up the paper. " Two One-round notes ! " 

Nothing less than two fat sweltering one-pound notes, that seemed 
to have been on terms of the warmest intimacy with all the cat- 
tle-markets in the county. 8 oe caught up his hat again, and run 
with them to the Jolly Bargemen, to restore them to their owner. 
While he was gone, 1 sat down on my usual stool and looked va- 
cantly at. my sister, feeling pretty sure that tiie man would not be 
there. 

^Presently Joe came hack, saying that the man was gone, hut 
he, Joe, had left word at the Three Jolly Bargemen concern- 
ing the notes. Then my sister sealed them up in a piece of paper, 
iiit them under some dried rose-leaves in an ornamental tea- 
li it on the lop of a press in the .state parlor.' There they remained, 
a night-mare to me, many and many a night ami day. 

i had sadly broken sleep when 1 gol to bed, through thinking of 
the strong man taking aim at me with his invisible gun, and of the 
guiltily-coarse and common thing it was to lie on secret* terms of 
conspiracy with convicts — a feature in my low career thai i 
previously forgotten. 1 was haunted by the file too. A dread pos- 
d me that, when 1 least expected it, the tile would reappear. — 
axed myself to sleep by thinking of Miss Hayisham's, next 
Wednesday ; and in my steep 1 saw the file coming at me out of a 
door, without seeing who held it, and I screamed myself awake. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 



CHAPTER XL 



At the appointed time I returned to Miss Havisham's, and my 
hesitating ring- at the gate brought out Estella. She locked it af- 
ter admitting me, as she had done before, and again preceded me 
into the dark passage where her candle stood. She took, no notice 
of me until she had the candle in her hand, when she looked over 
her shoulder, superciliously saying, "You are to come this way to- 
day," and took me to quite another part of the house. 

The passage was a long one, and seemed to pervade the whole 
re basemen! of the Manor House. We traversed hut one side 
of the square, however, and at the end of it she slopped and put 
her candle down and opened a door. Here the daylight reappear- 
ed, and I found myself in a small paved court-yard, the opposite 
side of which was formed by a detached dwelling-house, that looked 
as if it had once belonged to the manager or head clerk of the ex- 
tinct brewery. There was a clock in the outer wall of this house. 
Like the clock in Miss Havisham's room, and like Miss Havisham's 
watch, it had stopped at twenty minutes to nine. 

We went in at the door which stood open, and into a gloomy 
room with a low ceiling on the ground-floor at the back. There 
was some company, in the room, and Estella said to me, as she joined 
it, " You are to go and stand there, boy, till you are wanted." — 
" There " being the window, I crossed to it, and stood " there " in 
a very uncomfortable state of mind, looking out. 

It opened to the ground, and looked into a most miserable cor- 
ner of the neglected garden, upon a rank ruin of cabbage stalks, 
•and one box-tree that bad been clipped round long ago, like a pud- 
ding, and had a new growth at the top of it out of shape and of 
a different color, as if that part of the pudding had stuck to the 
sauce-pan and got burned. This was my homely thought, as I 
contemplated the box-tree. There hacfheen some light snow over 
night, and it lay-nowhere else to my knowledge ; but it had not 
quite melted from the cold shadow of this bit of garden, and the 
wind caught it up in lb tie eddies and threw it at the window, as i 
it pelted me for coming there. 

1 divined that my coming had stopped conversation in the room, 
and that its other occupants were looking at me : I could see 
nothing of the room except the shining of die fire in the window- 
glass, but I stiffened in all my joints with the consciousness that 
1 was under close inspection. 

There were three ladies in the room', and one gentleman. Be- 
fore I had been standing at the window five minutes they some- 



# EAT 1 EXPECTATIONS. 65 

hoV-conveyed to me that they were all toadies and humbugs, 
that each of them pretended not to know that the others were 
toadies and' humbugs, because the admission that he or she did 
know it would have made him or her out to be a toady and hum- 
bug. 

They all had a listless and dreary air of wafting somebody's 
pleasure, and the most talkative of the ladies had to speak 
rigidly to represa.a yawn. This lady, whose name was I lamilla, 
very much reminded me of my sister, with the difference h; I 

ilder and (as I found when I caught sight of her) of a blunt- 
isl of features, indeed, when I knew er, I began to 

think it was a, mercy she had any* features at all, so 'Very blank 
and high wis the dead wall of her face. 

• " Poor dear- oul !" said this lady, with an abruptness of man- 
ner quite my sister's. " Nobody's enemy but his own !" 

"It would be much more, commendable to hi »dy else's 

enemy," said the gentleman ; " far more natural." 

" Cousfc John," observed another lady, "wean to loy< 
neighbor." 

".Sarah Pocket," returned. Cousin John, " if a man is hot his 
own neighbor, who is :" 

Miss Packet laughed, and Camilla laughed, and said (checking 
a yawn), "The idea!" But I thought they seemed to ttiii 
rather a good idea too. The other lady, who had not sp 
said, gravely and emphatically " Vcnj true!" 

" Poor soul !" Camilla presently went on (1 knew they had all 
been looking at me in the mean time), " he is so very strai 
Would anyone believe, that when Tom's wife died, he actually 
could not be induced to see the importance of the children s having 
the deepest oftrimraings to their mourning ? ' Good Lent !' says he, 
' Camilla, what can it signify so long as the p 
things are in black C So like Matthew! The idea!" 

"Good points in him ; good points in him!" said Cousin John; 
" Heaven forbid I should deny good points in him ! but he o 
had, and never will have, any sense of the proprieties." 

" You know I was obliged," said Camilla — " I was obliged to 
be firm. I said, 'It will not do for the credit of the family.' I 
told him that, without deep trimmings, the family was disgraced. 
1 cried about it from breakfast till dinner. 1 injured my digest 
And at last he flung out in his violent way, and said with a D, 
' Then do*as you like ! ' Thank Goodness it will always a con- 
solation to me to know that 1 instantly went out in a pouring rain 
and bought the things." 

" He paid for them, did he not ?" asked Estella. 

" It's not the question, my dear child, who paid for them," re- 
turned Camilla; " / bought them. And I shall often think of that 
with peace when L wake up in the night." 

5 



66 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. # 

The ringipg of a distant bell, combined with the echoing of smne 
cry or call along the passage by which I had come, interrupted the 
conversation, and caused Estella to say to me, " Now, boy !" On 
my turning round, they all looked at me with the utmost contempt,* 
and, as I went out, I heard Sarah Pocket say, " Well ! I am sure! 
What next?" and Camilla added, with indignation, "Was there 
ever such a fancy 1 The i — de — a!" 

As we were going with our candle along the dark passage, Es- 
tella stopped all of a sudden, and facing round said, in her taunt- 
ing manner, with her face quite close to mine, 

" Well ?" 

" Well, Miss?" I answered, almost falling over her, and check- 
ing myself. 

She stood looking at me, and of course, I stood looking at heiv 

" Am I pretty ?" 

" Yes ; I think you are very pretty." 

" Ami insulting ?" 
• "'Not so much as you were last time," said I. 

" Not so much so!" 

«| No," 

She tired when she asked the last question, and she slapped my 
face with such force as she had when I answered it. 

" Now ?" said she, " you little coarse monster, what do you 
think of me now?" 

" 1 shall not tell you." 

" .Because you are going'to tell up stairs. Is that.it ?" 

" No," said I, " that's not it " 

" Why don't you cry again, you little wretch ?" 

" Because I'll never cry for you again," said I. Which was, I 
suppose, as false a declaration as ever was made ; for 1 was in- 
wardly crying for her them and I kuow what I know of the pain 
she cost me afterward. 

We went on our way up stairs after this episode ; and, as we 
were going up, we met a gentleman groping his way down. 

" Who have we here ?" asked the gentleman, stopping and look-. 
ing at me. 

"A boy," said Estella. 

He was a burly man of an exceedingly dark complexion, with 
an exceedingly large head. and a correspondingly large hand. He 
took my chin in his large hand and turned up my face to have a 
look at me by the light of the candle. He was prematurely bald 
on the top of his head, and had bushy black eyebrows that wouldn't 
lie down, but stood up bristling. His eyes were set very deep in 
his head, and were disagreeably sharp and suspicious. He had a 
very large watch-chain, and very Strong black dots where his heard 
and whiskers would have been if he had let them. He was no- 
thing to ise, and I could have" had no foresight than that he ever 



GIVE AT EXPECTATION^. 67 

■would be any tiling to me, but it happened that 1 bad this oppor- 
tu ,ity iif observing him well: 

" Boy of 1 he neighborhood ? Hey V said he. 

"Yes, Sir," said 1. 

" How do you coine here V 

"Miss Havisham sen) for me, Sir," I explained. 

" Well ! Behave yourself. 1 have a pretty large experience 
boys, and you're a bad set of fellows. Now mind!*' said he, biting 
the side of his great forefinger as he frowned at me, "you behave 
yourself!" 

With these words lie released me — which J was glad of, for his 
hand smelled of scented soap — and went his waydown stairs. 1 
wohdereg whether he could be a doctor; but no, I thought he 
couldn't be a doctor, or he would have a quieter and more per- 
suasive manner. There was not much time to consider the sub 
for we were soon in Miss Havisham's room, where she and every 
thing else were just as 1 had left them. Estella left me standing 
near the doOr, and 1 stood there until Miss Havisham east her eyes 
upon me from the dressing-table. 

•• So !" she said, without being startled or surprised; "the days 
have worn away, have t! 

"Yes, ma'am. To-day is — " 

"There, there, there!" with the impatient movement of her 
fingers. " 1 don't want to know. Are you ready-to play .'" 

1 was obliged to answer in some confusion, " 1 don't think I am, 
ma'am." 

" Not at cards again?' 1 she demanded, with a searching look. 

" Yes, ma'am ; 1 could do that if I was wanted," 

'" Siiffee this house strikes you old and grave, boy," said Miss 
Havisham, impatiently, "and you are unwilling to play, are yon 
willing to work, .'" 

1 could answer this inquiry with a better heart than. I bad been 
all'.' to find for the other question, and 1 said 1 was quite williug. 

jfTheij go into that opposite room," said she, pointing at the 
door behind hie with her withered hand, "and wait there till I 
come." 

I crossed the stair-case landing, and entered the room she indi- 
cated. From that room, too, the daylight was completely ex- 
cluded, and it had an airless smell that was oppressive. A fire 
had been lately kindled in the damp old-fashioued grate, and it 
was more disposed to go out than to burn up, and' the reluctant. 
smoke which hung in the room seemed colder than the clearer air 
— like our own marsh mist. Certain wintry branches of candles 
on the high chimney-piece faintly lighted the chamber': or it 
would be more expressive to say. faintly disturbed and troubled 
its darkness. It was spacious, and I dare say had once been hand- 
some, but every discernible thing in it was covered with dust and 



68 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

mould and dropping to pieces. The most prominent object was 
a long table with a table-cloth spread on it, as if a feast had been 
in preparation when the house and the clocks all stopped together. 
An epergne or centre-piece of some kind was in the middle of this 
cloth ; it was so heavily overhung with cobwebs that its form was 
quite undistinguishable, and as I looked along the yellow expanse 
out of which I remember its seeming to grow like a black fungus, 
I saw speckled-legged spiders with blotchy bodies running home 
to it, and running out from it, as if some circumstance of the 
greatest public importance had just transpired in the spider com- 
munity. 

I heard the mice too rattling behind the panels, as if the same 
occurrence were important to their interests. But the black 
ties took no notice of the agitation, and groped about the hearth 
in a ponderous elderly way, as if they were short-sighted and hard 
of hearing and not on terms with one another. 

These crawling things had fascinated my attention and- 1 was 
watching them from a distance, when Miss liavisham laid a hand 
upon my shoulder. In her other hand she had a crutch headed 
stic' on which she leaned, and' she-looked like the Witch of the 
place 

" This," said she pointing to the long table with her stick, "is 
where I will he laid when I am dead. They shall come and look 
at me here." 

"With some vague misgiving that she might get upon the table 
then 'and these ami die ai ►once, the complete realization of the 
ghastly waxwork at the Fair, 1 shrank under her touch. 

"What do you think that is.'" she asked me, again pom; 
with her stick ; " that, where those cobwebs are ? " \ 

", I can t guess what it is, ma'ai 

'• li's a greal '".lice. A bride-cake. Mine !" 

She looked ail round the room in a glaring manner, and then said, 
leaning on me while her hand twitched my shoulder, "Come, ci 
come! Walk me,. walk me!'' 

I made out from this that the work I had to do was to walk 
Miss Havisham round and round the n cordingly I started 

and she lean d upon my shoulder, and we went away at a 
race that might have been an imitation (founded on my first im- 
pulse under that roof) of Mr. Pumblechook's chaise-cart. 

She was nfct physically strong, and after a little time she said 
" Slower ! " Still we went at au impatient fitful speed, and as we 
went she twitched the hand upon my shoulder and worked her 
mouth, and led me to 'believe that we , were going fast because hel- 
ms!. After awhile she said "Call Esfejla!" so I 
went out on the landing and roared that name as 1 had done on 
the previous ©ecasion. Wbeji. her light appeared I returned t# 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 69 

Miss Havisham, and we started away again round and round the 
room. 

If only Estella had come to be a spectator of our proceedings I 
should have fell arufficiently discontented; but as she brought with 
her the three ladies and the gentleman whom T had seen below, I 
didn't know what to do. In my politeness I would have stopped, 
but Miss Havisham twitched my shoulder, and we posted on — with 
a shameful consciousness on my pari that they would think it was 
all my dojfhg. 

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

"I do not," returned Miss Havisham. " I am yellow skin and 
hone." 

Camilla brightened when Miss Pocket met with this rebuff; and 
she murmured, as she plaintively contemplated Miss Havisham, 
•■ I'oor dear soid ! Certainly not to be expected to look well, poor 
thing. The idea ! " 

•' And how are you 1 " said Miss Havisham to Camilla. As we 
were close to Camilla then, I would have stopped as a matter of 
course, only Miss Havisham wouldn't stop. We swept on, and I 
felt that 1 was highly obnoxious to Camilla. 

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

"Why, what's the matter with you?"' asked Miss Havisham, 
with exceeding sharpness. 

" Nothing worth mentioning," replied Camilla. "I don't wish 
to make a display of my feelings, but 1 have habitually thought of 
you more in the night than I am quite equal to.' 

"Then don't think of me," returned Miss Havisham. . 

" Very easily said,'' remarked Camilla, amiably repressing a sob, 
while a hitch came into her upper lip, and her tears overflowed. 
"Raymond is a witness what gillger and sal volatile I am obliged 
to take in the night. Raymond is a witness what nervous jerkings 
I have in my legs. Chokings and nervous jerkings, however, are 
nothing new to me when I thihji with anxiety of those I love. If 
I could be less affectionate and sensitive 1 should have a better di- 
gestion and an iron set of nerves. 1 am sure 1 wish it could be so. 
Bui as to not thinking of you in the night — The idea!" llcv^ a 
burst of fears. 

* 

The Raymond referred to I understood to be the gentleman 
present, and him I understood to be Mr. Camilla. He came to the 
rescue ai this point, and said, in a consolatory and complimentary 
voice, " Camilla, my dear* it is well known that your family feel- 
ings are gradually undermining you to the extent of making one of 
your legs shorter than the othi 

" T am not aware," observed the grave lady whose voice T had 



70 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

heard but once, " that to think of any person is to make a great 
claim upon that person, my dear." 

Miss Sarah Pocket, whom I now saw to be a little dry brown 
corrugated old woman, with a small face that might have hvm 
made of walnut shells, and a large mouth like a cat's without the 
whiskers, supported, this position by saying, "No, indeed, mv dear. 
Hem ! " 

" Thinking is easy enough,"' said the grave lady. 

" What is easier, you know," assented Misy Sarah Pocket. 

" Oh yes, yes ! " cried Camilla, whose fermenting feelings appear-' 
e.d to rise from her legs to her bosom. " It's all very true !• It'a a 
weakness to be so affectionate, but I can't help it. No doubt my 
health would be much better if|it was otherwise, still I wouldn't 
change my disposition if 1 could. It's the cause of much sufl'en 
but it's a cons61at|on to know I possess it when 1 wake up in the 
night." Here another burst of feeling. 

Miss Ilavisham and I had never stopped all this tim ,-, but C 
going round and round the room, now brushing against the skirts 
of the visitors, and now grVirig them the whole, length of the 
dismal chamber. 

'/There's Matthew !" said Camilla. " Never mixing with my na- 
tural ties, never coming here to see how Miss Ilavisham is ! 1 have 
taken to the sofa with my stay-lace cut, and have lain there hours. 
insensible, with my head over the side, and my hair all down, and 
my feet 1 don't know where — " 

(" Much, higher than your head, my love," said Mr. Camilla.) 

" I have gone off into that state hours and hours on account of . 
Matthew's strange and inexplicable conduct, and nobody has thank- 
ed me." 

"Really I must say I should think not!" interposed the grave 
lady. 
■ " You see, my dear." added Miss Sarah Pocket (a blandly vicious 
personage), " the question to put to yourself is, who did you ex- 
pect to thank you, my love I " 

" Without expecting any thanks, or any thing of the sort," re- 
sumed Camilla, " I have remained in that state, hours and hours, 
and Raymond is a witness of the extent to which I have choked, 
and what the total ineificacy of ginger has been, and I have been 
heard at the pianoforte-tuner's across the street, where the poor, 
mistaken children have even supposed it to»be pigeons cooing at a 
distance — and now to be told — " Here Camilla put her hand to 
her throat, and began to be quite chemical as to the formation of 
new combinations there. 

When this same Matthew was mentioned Miss Ilavisham stop- 
ped me and herself aud stood looking at the speaker. This change 
had a great influence in bringing Camilla's chemistry to a sudden 
end. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 71 

| 

"Matthew will come and see. me at last," said Miss Hayisham, 
sternly, " when I am laid on that table. That will be his place — 
there,'*' striking the table With her stick, "at my he,ad! And 
yours will be there. And your husband's there. And Sarah Pock- 
et's there. And Georgiapa's there. Now you all know where to 
tike your stations when you come to feast ugon rite. And now 
go!" * 

At the mention of each name she had struck the table with her 
stick in a new place. She now said, " Walk me, walk me ! " and 
we went on again. 

"I suppose there is nothing to he done." exclaimed Camilla, 
"but comply and depart. [t'.s^omething*to have seen the object 
of one's love and duty for even so short a lime. 1 shall think (if it 
with a melancholy satisfaction when I wake up in the night. I 
wish Matthew could have that comfort, hut he sets it at defiance. 
I am determined not to make a display of my feelirfgs, but it's very 
hard to be told one wauls to feast on one's relations, and to be told 
to go. The bare idea ! ' 

Mr. Camilla interposing, as Mrs. Camilla laid her hand upon her 
heaving bosom,' that lady assumed an unnatural fortitude of man- 
ner which I supposed to be expressive of an intention to drop and 
choke when out of view, and kissing her hand to Miss llavisham, 
was escorted forth. Sarah Pocket and Georgian* contended who 
should remain last, but Sarah was too knowing to be outdone, and 
ambled round Georgiana with that artful slipperiness, that the lat- 
ter was obliged to take precedence. Sarah Pocket then made her 
separate effect of departing with " Bless you. Miss llavisham 
dear!" and with' a. smile of forgiving pity on her wainut-shell" 
countenance for the weaknesses obthe rest, 

While Kstella was away lighting them down, Miss llavisham 
stilt walked with her hand on' my shoulder, but more and more 
slowly. At last she. stopped .before the tire, and said, after mut- 
tering and looking at it some seconds : 

" This is my birthday, Pip." 

I was going to wish her many happy returns, when she lifted her 
stick. 

' " I dou't suffer it to be spoken of. I don't suffer those who were 
here just now, or any otic, to speak of it. They come here on the 
day, but they dare not refer to it." | 

Of course I made no further effort to refer to it. 

" On this day of the year, long before you were born, this heap 
of decay," stabbing with her crutehed stick at the pile of cobwebs 
mi the table, but not touching it, "was brought here. It and I 
have worn away together. • The mice have gnawed at it, and sharp- 
er teeth than teeth of mice have gnawed at me." 

She held the head of her slick against her heart as she stood 
looking at the table ; she iu her once white dress, all yellow and 



72 * QBEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

• 

withered ; the once white cloth all yellow and withered ; every 
thing around in a state to crumble under a touch. 

" When the ruin is complete," said she, with a ghastly look, 
" and when they lay me dead in my bride's dress on the bride's ta- 
ble — which shall be done, and which will be the finished curse 
upon him — so much the better if it is on this day ! " 

She stood looking at the table as if she stood looking at her 
own figure lying there. I remained quiet. Estella returned, and 
she too remained quiet. . It seemed to me that we continued thus 
for a long time. In the heavy air of the room, and the heavy dark- 
ness that brooded in its remoter corners, I even had an alarming 
fancy that Estella and I would presently begin to decay. 

At length, not coming out of her distraught state by degrees, but 
in an instant, Miss Haviskam said, " Let me see you two play 
cards ; why have you not begun 1 " With that, we returned to 
her room, and sat down as before ; I was beggared as before ; and 
again, as before, Miss Havisham watched. us all the time, directed 
my attention to Estella's beauty, and made me notice it the more 
by trying her jewels on Estella's breast and hair. 

Estella, for her part, likewise treated me as before; except that 

she did not condescend to speak. When we had played some half 

dozen games, a day was appointed for my return, and I was taken 

down into the yard to be fed in the former dog-like manner. There, 

I was again left to wander about as L liked. 

It is not much- to the purpose whether a gate iu that garden 
wall which I had scrambled up to peep over on the last occasion 
was, on that last occasion, open or shut. Enough that I saw no 
then, and that I saw one now. As it stood open, and as I 
knew that Estella had let the visitors out — for she bad returned 
with the Ireys in her hand — I strolled into the garden and strolled 
all over it. It was quite a wilderness, and there were old melon- 
frames and cucumber-frames in it, which seemed in their decline to 
havje produced a spontaneous growth of feeble attempts at pieces 
of old hats and boots, with now and then a weedy offshoot into 
the likene.-s of a battered sauce-pan. 

When I had exhausted the garden, and a green-house with noth- 
ing in it but a fallen down grape vine and some bottles, I found 
myself in the dismal corner upon which I had lqpked out of the 
window. -Never^questioning for a moment that the house was now 
empty, J looked in at another wndow, and found myself, to my 
great surprise, exchanging a broad stare with a. pale young gentle- 
man with red eyelids and very light hair. 

This pale young gentleman quickly disappeared, and reappeared 
beside me. He had been at his books<when 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 have usually ob- 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 73 

sowed to be Jfest answered by itself, I said "Halloa! " politely 
omitting young fellow. 

" Who lei you in ! " said lie. 

"Miss Estella." 

"Wlio gavS you leave to prowl about ! " 

" Mhjs EstellaV 

"('nine and fight," - said the pale young gentleman. 

Wha1 could 1 do but follow him .' I Lave often asked myself 
the question s,incej but wfiat else could 1 do.' His manner was 
so final, and 1 was so astonished, that 1 followed where he led 
if 1 had been under a spell. 

•• Stop a minute, though/' he said, wheeling round before we had 
gone many paces. "1 ought to give you a reason for fighting, too. 
There it is!" In a mest irritating manner he Instantly slapped 
his hands against one another, daintily flung one of his legs up be- 
hind him, pulled my hair, slapped his hands again, dipped his head, 
and ran it into my stomach. 

The bull-like proceeding last mentioned, besides thai it was un- 
questionably to be regarded in the light of a liberty, was partic- 
ularly disagreeable just after bread and meat. I therefore hit out 
at him, and Was going to hit on! again, when he said, " Alia ! 
Would you I " and began dancing backward and forward in a man- 
lier quite unparalleled within my limited experience. 

"Laws of the game ! " said he. Here he skipped from his left 
leg on to Ids right. " Regular rules !"' Here be skipped from his 
right leg on to his left. " Come to the ground, and go through the 
preliminaries ! " Here he dodged backward and forward, and 
(lid all sorts of things, While i looked helplessly at him. 

I was secretly afraid of him when 1 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 thai L 
had a right to consider it irrelevant 'When so obtruded on mj 
tenlion. Therefore 1 followed him, without a word, to a retired 
nook of the gaixlen formed by the junction ( f two walls and screened 
by some rubbish. On his asking me if 1 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, 
placil again si the wall. And then fclLto pulling off, not 

only his jacket and waistcoat, but his shirt Wb, m a manner at 
light-hearted, business-like, and blood-tbirs 

Al . not look very healthy — having pimples on his 

face, and'n breaki; I his mouth — these dreadful prep 

lions quite appalled me. 1 judged him to be about my own 
but he was much taller, and he hud a way of spinning himself about 
that was full of appearance and highly impressive. 
lie was a young gentlen n not denuded for 



74 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. 

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 sur- 
prised in my life as I was when I let out the firs*t blow, and saw 
him lying on his back looking up at me with a bloody nose and 
his face exceedingly foreshortened. 

But he was on his feet directly, and after . sponging himself 
wilh a great show of dexterity, began squaring again. The sec-, 
ond 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 gfeat respect. He seemed to have 
no strength, and be never once hit me hard, and he was always 
knocked down ; but he would be up again in a moment, sponging 
himself or. drinking but of the water-bottle, with the greatest sat- 
isfaction 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 confus- 
edly 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 pro- 
posed the contest, I felt but a gloomy satisfaction in my victory. 
Indeed, I go so far as to hope that I regarded myself while dress- 
ing, as a species of savage young wolf, or other wild beast. How- 
ever, I got dressed, darkly wiping my face at intervals, and I said, 
" Can I help you 1 " and he said, " Xo, 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 



s GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 75 

home the HghJ on the spit of sand off tin 1 point mi the marshes 
was gleaming agajnsl a black nighl sky, and Joe's furnace was 
flinging a path of fire across I ho road. 



CHAPTER XII. 



My mind grew very uneasy mi I lie subject of the pale Voupg 
gentlemau. The more I thought of the fight, and recalled the pale 
young gentleman on bis back' in various stages of puffy and in 
crimsoned countenance, the more certain it appeared tbal some- 
thing would be done to me. 1 felt that the pale young gentle- 
man's blood was on my head, and that the law would avenge it. — 
Without having any definite idea of the penalties 1 had incurred, 
it was clear to me thai village boys could not go stalking about the 
country, ravaging the houses of gentlefolks and pitching into the 
studious youths of England, without laying themselves open to 
severe punishment. For sonic days 1 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 coun- 
ty jail should pounce upon me. The pale yaung'gentleman's nose 
had stained my trowsers, and I tried to wash out that evidence of 
my guilt in the dead of night. I had cut my knuckles again&fethe 
pale young gentleman's teeth* and I twisted my imagination into 
a thousand tangles, as 1 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 seine of the 
deed of violence, my terrors reached their height. Whether myr- 
midons of Justice, specially sent down from London, would he ly- 
ing in ambush behind the gate .' Whether .Miss Ilavisham prefer- 
ring to lake personal vengeanoe for an outrage done to her house, 
mighl rise in those grave clothes of hers, draw a pistol, and shool 
me dead I Whether suborned boys — a numerous band of merce- 
naries — ought ije engaged to fall upon Oj *■ brewery, and 
knock me about until I was no more ! It was high testimony to* 
m\ confidence in the spirit of the pale young gentleman, that 1 never 
imagined him accessary to these relations; they always came into 
my mind as the acts of in udicious relatives, of his, goaded on by 
the stale of his visage and an indignant sympathy with the family 
features. 



76 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

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 gat' open and I explored the gar- 
den, and ev n looked in at the windows of the detached house; but 
my view was suddenly stopped. by the closed shutters within, and 
all was lifeless and deserted. Only in the corner^ where the com- 
bat had taken place could I detect any evidence o'f the young gen- 
tleman'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 gar- ' 
den-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 py 
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 
learned, and what was I going to be? I told her I was going tJ 
be apprenticed to Joe, I believed ; and I enlarged upon my know- 
ing nothing and wanting to know everything, in the hope that she 
might offer some help toward that desirable end. But she did not ; 
on the contrary, she seemed to like my being ignorant. Neither 
did she ever give me any money — or any thing but my daily din- 
ner — nor even 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 cold- 
ly tolerate me; sometimes, she would condescend tome; some- 
times, 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, Tip I " And when I said yes (for indeed she 
tlid), would seem to enjoy it greedily in secret. Also> when we 
played at cards Miss Ila\isham wordd look on, with a»miserly rel- 
ish of Estella's moods, whatever they were. And sometimes, when 
her moods were so many and so contradictory of one another, that 
I was puzzled wh.at to say or do, Miss Havisham would embrace 
her with lavish fondness, murmuring something in her ear that 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 77 

sounded like "Break their hearts, my pride and hope, break then- 
hearts, and have no mercy ! " 

There was a song Jed used to hum fragments of at the forge, 
of which the burden was Old Clem. This was not a very cere- 
monious way of rendering homage to a patron saint ; but I believe 
Old Clem stood in that relation toward smiths. It was a song 
that imitated the measure of beating upon iron, and was a mere 
lyrical excuse -for the introduction of Old Clem's respected name. 
Thus, you were to hammer buys round — Old. Clem! With a 
thump and a sound — Old Clem ! Beat it out. beat it out — Old 
Clem! With a clink for the stout Old Clem! Blow the fire, 
blow the fire— Old Clem! Roaring dryer, soaring higher— Old 
Clem! One day. soon after the appearance of the ohair, Miss 
Havisham suddenly saying to me, with the impatient movement of 
her lingers, " There, there, there ! Sing ! " 1 was surprised into 
crooning this ditty as 1 pushed her over the floor. It happened so 
to catch her fancy, that she look it up in a low brooding voice as 
if she were singing in her sleep. After that it became customary 
with us to' have it as we moved about, and Est ell a would 
join in ; though the whole strain was so subdued, even when there 
were three of us. that it made less noise .in the grim old house than 
the lightest breath of wind. 

What could 1 become with these surroundings 'I How could my 
character fail to be influenced by them '. Is it to be wondered at 
if my thoughts were dazed, as my eyes were, when I came out in- 
to the natural light from the misty yellow rooms ! 
^ Perhaps I might have told Joe about the pale young gentleman, 
*f I had not previously been betrayed into those enormous inven- 
tions to which I have confes^d. Under the circumstances, I felt 
that Joe could hardly fail tcTdiscern in the pale young gentleman an 
appropriate passenger to be put into the black velvet coach ; lh 
fore, 1 said nothing of him. Besides, that shrinking-. from having 
Miss Havisham and Estella discussed, which had come upon me 
in the beginning, grew much more potent as time went on. . 1 re- 
posed complete enfu'ence in no one but Biddy; but. 1 told poor 
Biddy everything. Why il came natural to me to do so, and why 
dj had a deep concern in everything I told her, I did not know 
then, though L think I know now. Shade of poor Biddy, forgive 
me ! 

Meanwhile oouuc in the kitchen at home, fraught 

witli almost Insupportable aggravation to my exasperated spirit. 
That ass, Pumblecbook, used often to come over of a night for 
kh< pjurpose of discussing my prospects with my sister; and 1 real- 
ly do believe (to this. hour with lass peflitence than 1 ought to feel), 
bese hands could have taken a linch-] his chaise- 

cart they would have done it. The miserable man was a man of 
that cauiiiMid stolidity of mind thai he could nut discuss my pros- 



78 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

pects without having me before him — as it were, to operate upon — 
and he would drag me up from my stool (usually by' the collar) 
where I was quiet in a corner, and, standing me before the fire as 
if I was going to be cooked, would begin by saying, " Now, mum, 
here is this boy. Here is this boy which you brought up by hand. 
Hold up your head, boy, and be forever grateful unto them which 
so did do. Now, mum, with inspections to. this boy !" And then 
he would ruin pie my hair the wi#ng way — which, from my earliest 
remembrance, as .already hinted, I have in my soul denied the 
right of any fellow-creature to do — and would hold me before him 
by the sleeve; a spectacle of imbecility only to be equaled by 
himself. 

Then he and my sister would pair off in such nonsensical specu- 
lations about Miss Havisham, and about what she would do with 
me and for me, that I used to want — quite painfully — to burst in 
spiteful tears, to fly at Pumbleehook, and pommel him all over. 
In these dialogues my sister spoke of me as if she were morally 
wrenching one of my teeth out at every reference ; while Pumble- 
chfeOK himself, sell-constituted my patron, would sit supervising me 
with a depreciatory eye, like the architect of my fortunes who 
thought himself engaged, on a very unremunerative job. 

In these discussions Joe bore no part. But he was often talked 
at, while they were in progress, by reason of Mrs. Joe's perceiving 
that he was not favorable to my being taken from the forge. I 
was fully old enough now to be apprenticed to Joe; and when Joe 
sat with the poker on his knees, thoughtfully raking out the ashes 
between the lower bars, my sister would so distinctly construe that 
innocent action into opposition on his part, that she would dive af 
him, take the poker out of his bauds, shake him and put it away. 
There was a most irritating end to every one of these debates. All 
in a moment, with nothing to lead lip to it, my sister would stop 
herself in a yawn, and would swoop upon me, with " Come ! 
There's enough of you ! You get along to bed ; you've given 
trouble enough for one night, I hope!" As if I had besought 
them as a favor to bother my life out. 

Well ! We went on this way for a long time, and it seemed 
likely that we should continue to go on in .this way for a long time, 
when one day Miss Havisham stopped short as she and I were 
walking, she leaning on my shoulder; and said, with some dis- 
pleasure, 

" You are growing tall, Pip ! " 

I thought it best to hint, through the medium of a meditative 
look, that this might be occasioned by circumstances over which I 
had no control. 

Sue said no more at the time ; but she presently stopped and 
looked at me again ; and presently again ; and after that looked 
frowning and moody. On the next day of my attendance when 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 79 

our usual exercise was over, and I bad landed her at her dressing- 
table, sfie staid' me with a movemenl ofher impatient fingers: 
" "Tell me the name again of that blacksmith of yours." 

"Joe Gargery, ma'am." 

" Meaning the master you were to be apprenticed to ?" 

" Yes. Miss llavisham." 

•' You had better be apprenticed at once. Would Gargery cdtne 
here with you. and bring your indentures, do you think ! " 
1 I signified that I had no doubt he would take it as an honor to 
keel. 

'• Then let him come." 

" At any particular time, Miss llavisham ?" 

"There, there ! f know nothing about times. Let him come 
soon, and come along with you." 

When I got home at night, and delivered this message for Joe, 
my sister "went on the Ram-page," as Joe expressed it, in a 
more alarming degree than at any previous period. She asked me 
and Joe whether we supposed she was door mats under our feet, 
and how we dared to use her so, and what company we graciously 
thought she was fit for? When she had exhausted a torrent of 
such inquiries, she threw a candlestick at Joe, burst into a loud 
sobbing, got oiit the dust-pan — which was always a very bad sign 
— put on her coarse apron, and began cleaning up to a terrible ex- 
tent. Not satisfied with a dry cleaning, she took to a pail and 
scrubbing brush, and cleaned us out of house and home, so that we 
stobd shivering in the back-yard. It was ten o'clock at night be- 
fore we ventured to creep in again, and then she asked Joe why he 
hadn't married a Negress Slave at once I Joe ofFered no answer, 
poor fellow ! but stood feeling his whisker and looking dejectedly 
at me, as if he thought it really might have'been a heller sp 
lation. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



It was a trial to my feelings on the next day but one, to see Joe 
arraying himself in his Sunday clothes to accompany me to 3liss 
Etavisham's. However, as he thought his cotm-snit necessary to 
the occasion, it was nol for me lo tell him that he looked far better 
in his working dress ; the rather, because 1 knew he made himself 
so 'dreadfully Uncomfortable, entirely on my account, and that it 
was for me he pulled up his shin-collar so verj high behind that it 
made the hair on the crown of his head stand up like a tuft of : 
feather*. 



80 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

At breakfast-time my sister declared her intention of going to 
town with us, and being left at Uncle Pumblechook's, and called 
for " when we had done with our fine ladies" — a way of putting 
the case, from which Joe appeared inclined to auger the worst. 
The forge was shut up for the day, and Joe inscribed in chalk upon 
the door (as it was his custom- to do on the very rare occasions 
when he was not at work) the monosyllable hout, accompanied by 
a sketch of an arrow supposed to be flying in the direction he had 
taken. 

We walked to town, my sister leading the way in a very large 
beaver bonnet, and carrying a basket like the Great Seal of England 
in plaited straw, a pair of pattens, -and an umbrella, though it was 
a One bright day. I am not quite clear whether these articles were 
ca'rried penitentially or ostentatiously ; but I rather think they 
were displayed as articles of property — much as Cleopatra, or any 
other sovereign lady on the Ram-page, might exhibit her wealth in 
a pageant or procession. 

When we came to Pumblechook's my sister bounced in and left 
us. . x\s it was almost noon Joe and I held straight on to Miss' 
Havisham's house. Estella opened the gate as usual, and the mo- 
ment site appeared Joe took his hat off and stood weighing it by 
the brim in both his hands — as if he had some urgent reason in 
bis mind for being particular to half a quarter of an ounce. 

Estella took no notice of either of us, but led us the way that I 
knew so well. 1 followed next to her, and Joe came last. When 
I looked back at Joe in the long passage be was still weighiug his 
hat with the greatest care, and was coming after us in long strides 
on the tip of his toes. 

Estella told me we were both to go in, so I took Joe by the coat- 
cuff and conducted him into Miss Havisham's presence. She was 
id at her dressing-table, and looked round at us immediately. 

" Oh ! " said she to Joe. •" You are the husband of the sister of 
this boy?" 

I could hardly have imagined dear old Joe looking so unlike him- 
self or so like some extraordinary bird ; standmg, as he did, speech- 
less, with his tuft of feathers ruffled, and his mouth open, as if be • 
wanted a worm. 

" You are the husband," repeated Miss Havisham, " of the sis- 
ter of this boy?" 

It was very .aggravating, but throughout the interview Joe per- 
sislcd in addressing Me instead of Miss Havisham. 

" Which I meantersay, Pip," Joe now observed in a manner that 

was at oncet expressive of forcible argumentation, strict confidence, 

and great ''politeness, "as I hup and married your sister, and I 

; were at the.time what you might call (if you was any ways inclined) 

a single man." 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS 81 

"Well!" said Miss Havisham. "And you have reared 
bov, with the intention of taking him fur your apprentice; is that 
so.' Mr. Qai -cry'.'" 

" You know, Pip," replied Joe, "as you and me were 
friends, and it were look'd for'ard to betwixt us, as being eal 
ted to lead to larks. Not but what, Pip, if you had ever made 
objections to the business — such as its being open to black and 
sul, 'or such-like — not but what they would have been attended 
to ; don't you see,/'' 

" Has the hoy,*' said Miss Havisham, "ever made any objec- 
tion ? Does he like the Jra'di 

" Which it is well beknowh to yourself, Pip," returned J 
strengthening his former mixture vi' argumentation, confid 
and politeness, "that it were the wish of your own hart." (I saw 
the idea suddenly break upon him that he would adapt.his epitaph 
to the ocoasion, before he went on to say) " And there were no in- 
jection on your part, and, Pip, it were the great wish of your 
hart!" 

It was quite in vain for me tq endeavor to make him sensible 
thai he ought to. speak to Miss Havisham. The more I made, 
faces and gestures to him to do it, the more confidential, argumen 
tative, and polite he persisted in being to Me. 

"Have you brought his indentures with you V asked 
Havisham. 

" Well, Pip, you know." replied Joe, as if that were a little un- 
liable, "you yourself see me put 'em in my 'at, and therefore 
you know as they are here." Willi which he took them out. and 
I to Miss Havisham, but to me. I am afraid I was 
ashamed of the dear, good fellow — I know I was asbatied of him 
— when I saw that Estella stood at the back of Miss HavishahYs 
chair, and that her eyes laughed mischievously. I took the in- ' 
dentures out of his hand and gave them to Miss Havishj 

" You expected,'.' said Miss Plavisham.as she looked them over. 
•• no premium with the hoy ?" 

".foe!"-: remonstrated, for he made no answer at all.' "Why 
don't yon — " 

"Pip," returned Joe, cutting me short as if he were. hurt, 
" which I meanterpay that were not a question requiring a answer 
betwixt yourself and me, and which you know the answer to be 
full well No, You know it to be No, Pip, and wherefore should 
I ay i! f 

Miss Havisham glanced at him as if she understood what he 
really was, i etter than I bad thought possible, seeing what he was 
there; and *ook up a Utile bag from the tahle beside her. 

" Pip has earned a premium here," she said, "and here 
There are iive-and-Lwenty guineas in this bag. Uive it to your 
master, Pip." 
6 



88 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

As if he were absolutely out of his mind with the wonder awak- 
ened in him by her strange figure and the strange room, Joe, even 
at this pass, persisted in addressing me. 

•" This is very liberal on your parr, Pip, " ; said Joe, "and it is 
as such received and grateful welcome, though never looked for, 
far nor near nor nowheres. And now. old chap," said Joe, con- 
veying to me a sensation, first of burning and I hen of freezing, for 
I felt as if that familiar expression were applied to Miss Havisli 
"and now, old chap,''may we do our duty ! May you and rri 
our duty, both on us by one and another, and by them which your 
liberal present — have — conweyed — to be — for the satisfaction of 
mind — of — them as never — " here Joe showed that he felt he had 
fallen into frightful difficulties, until be triumphantly rescued him- 
self with the words, "and from myself far he it!" These words 
had such a round and convincing sound to him that he said them 
twice. 

'•Hood by, Pip!" said Miss Havisham. "Lei them out, Estella." 

"Am 1 to come again, Miss Havisham V 1 asked. 

">,'o Gargery is your master now. Gargery! One word !" 

Thus calling him back as I went out of the door, I heard bee 
say to Joe in a distinct emphatic voice, "The hoy has been a godd, 
boy here, and that is his reward. Of course, as an honest man, 
you will expecl no oilier and no more." 

How Joegol out iii' the room I have never been able to deter- 
mine:, but 1 know that when he did get out he was insanely pro- 
ceeding up stairs instead of coming down, and was deaf to all re- 
monstrances until I went, after him and laid hold of him. In an- 
other minute we were outside the gate, and it was locked, and 
Estella was*gone 

When we stood in the daylight alone again, Joe backed up 
against a. wall, and said to me, ••Astonishing!" And theH 
remained so long, saying "Astonishing!" at intervals, so often, 
that 1 began to think his senses were never coming back. At 
length he prolonged his remark into "Pip. I do assure you that 
this is as T,>\-ish ng !" and so, by degrees, became conversational 
and able to walk away. 

1 have reason to think that Joe's intellects were brightened by 
the encounter they had passed through, and that on our waytopum- 
blechook's he invented a subtle and deep design. My reason is to 
be found in what took place in Mr. Pumblechook's parlor : where, 
on our presenting ourselves, my sister sat in conference with that 
ted seedsman. 

•' We'd ?" cried my sUer, add ' i at once. " And 

what's hv.pemd to you? I wonder you condescend to come 
back to such poor society as this, I am sure 1 do !" 

" Miss Havisham," said Joe, with a fixed look at me, like an 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 63 

effort of .remembrance, •• made if wery partiblvler that we should 
give her — \vre it. compliments or respect's; Pip?" 

" Compliments," I said. 

" Which that ^ere my own belief,' - answered Joe — "her com- 
pliment- .i. Gargefy." 

" $luch good, they'll do me f" observed my sister ; but rather 
gratified, too'. 

\nd wishing," pursued doe, with anotffler fixed look at me, 
like' another e tembrance, "that the state of Miss Havi- 

shaui'selth were sitch as would have — alloVed, WereiJ, Pip?" 

'■ ( >f her having the pleasure." I added. 

" ( >f ladies' company," said Joe. And drew a long breath. 

" \\ ell ! "cried my sister, with 1 a mollified glapceatMr. Pum- 
bleehook. " She might have had the politeness to send that mes- 
sage at first, but it's better late than never. And what did she 
give young Kantipple here '." 

" She giv' him," said Joe, "nothing." 

.Airs, doe was going to break out, but Joe went on. 

" What she giv'," said Joe, '-she giv' to his friends. ' And by 
ids friends.' were he;- explanation, ' 1 mean into the hands of his 
sister. Mrs. J. Gargery.' Them were her words; « Mrs? J. Gar- 
gery.' She mayn't have know'd," added Joe, with an appear- 
ance of reflection, " whether i! were Joe, or Jorge." 

My sister looked at Pumblechook, who smoothed the elbows of 
his wooden arm-chair, and nodded at her and atihe fire, as if he 
had known ail about it beforehand. 

"And how much have you got?" asked my sister, laughing. 
Positively laughing! 

" What would present company say to ten pound?" demanded 

"They'd say," returned my sister, curtly, " pretty well. Not 
too much, but pretty well." 

" It's more than that, then," said Joe. 

That fearful Impostor, Pumblechook, immediately nodded, and 
said, as he rubbed the arms of his chair: "It's more than that, 
mum." 

" Why, you don't, mean to say — " began my sister. 

"Yes, I dp, mum," said Pumblechook; "but wait a bit. Go 
on, Joseph. Good in you ! Goon!" 

"What would present company say," proceeded Joe, "to 
twenty pound ?" 

" Handsome would be the word," returned my sister. 

" Well, then," said Joe, "it's more than twenty pound." 

That abject Hypocri:c, Pumblechook, nodded again, aud said, 
with a patronizing laugh, " It's more than that, mum. ( 
again ! Follow her up, Joseph !" 



9H GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" Then, to make an end of it,'' said J oe, delightedly, banding 
the bag to my sister; "it's five-and-t wenty pound." 

" ll's five-and-twenty pound, mum," echoed the basest of swin- 
dlers, Pumblechook, rising to shake hands with her; "and it sim 
in ore than your merits (as I said when my opinion was asked), 
and I wish you joy of the money !" 

If the villain had stopped here his case would have been suffi- 
ciently awful, but he blackened his gujlt by proceeding to take me 
into custody, with a right of patronage i ; i> former crimin- 

ality far behind.! 

" Now you see, Joseph and wife," said Pumclcchook, as he took 
me by the arm above the elbow, " I am one of them that always 
go right through with what, they've begun. This boy nmst'be 
bound out of hand. That's my way. Bound out of hand." 

■'Goodness knows. Uncle Purohlecho'ok,'? said my sister (grasp- ' 
ing the money),; "we're deeply beholden to ymi." 

"Never mind me, mum," returned that diabolical corn-chandler. 
"A pleasure's a pleasure all the world over. But this boy, you 
know ; we must have him bound. 1 said I'd see lo i1 — to tell yon 
the truth." 

The Justices were sitting in the Town Hall near at hand, and 
we at once went over to have me bound apprentice to Joe in the 
Magisterial presence. I say we went over, but 1 was pushed over 
by Pumblechook, exactly as if I had that moment picked a pocket 
or fired a rick; indeed it was the general impression in Court thai 
I had been taken red-handed, for, as Pumblechook shoved me be- 
fore him through the crowd, I heard some people say, " What's he 
done?" and others;*' He's a young 'un too, but looks- bad, don't 
he 2 " One person of mild and benevolent aspect even gave me 
a tract ornamented with a woodcut of a malevolent young man in 
a ; erfect sausage-shop of fetters, and entitled, To &k RJSAD i.\ mv 
Ckll. 

The Hall was a queer place, 1 thought, with higher pews in it 
than a church — and with people hanging over the pews looking on 
— and with mighty Justices (one with a powdered head) leaning 
back in chairs, with lidded arms, or taking snuff, or going to sleep, 
or writing, or reading the newspapers — and with some shining black 
port rails on, the walls, which my unartistic eye regarded as a com- 
position of hardbake and sticking-plaster. Here, in a corner, my 
indentures were duly signed and attested, and I was " bound;" Mr. 
Pumblechook holding me all the while as if we had looked in on 
our way lo the scaffold to have those little preliminaries disposed 
of. 

When we bad come out again, and had got rid of the boys who 

been put into great spirits by the expectation of seeing me 

publicly tortured, and who were much disappointed to find that my 

&» wins* wane nifew4y raiding sound uia, ww want back to Puoible' 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 85 

(•hook's. And there my sister became so excited by the twenty- 
five guineas, that nothjng would serve her I nit we nuisi haVea din- 
ner out of that windfall al the Blue Hoar, and that Punibleejiook 
must go over in his ehais|-c*ar1 . the Babbles. and Mr. 

Wopsle. 

l! was agreed to he done; and a most melaifclfoly day 1 passed. 
For it inscrutably appeared to stand to reason, in the minds of the 
whole eoinpany. that 1 was an pxci'e*scence on the entertainment. 
And io make il worse, they' all asked me from time, to time— in 
short, whenever they had nothing "else to do — why I didn't enjoy 
mjself. And wlmi could I possibly do then but say 1 was enjoy- 
ing myself — when 1 was 

However, they were growVi up and had their own way, and they 
made the most of it. That swindling Pumblech'oolt, exalted into 
the heneliciciit contriver of the whole occasion, actually took the 
top of the table; and, when he addressed them on the subject of 
. my being hound, and fiendishly congratulated them on my being 
liable to imprisonment if 1 played at cards, drank strong- liquors, 
kept late heurs or had company, or indulged in other vagaries which 
form of my indentures appeared to contemplate a's next to in- 
evitable, he piaeed me standing on a chair beside him io illustrate 
his remarks.' 

My only other remembrances of the great festival are, that they 
wouldn't lei me go io sleep, hut whenever they saw me dropping 
off, woke me up and told me to enjoy myself. That, rather late in 
the evening Mr. Wopsle gave us Collin's Ode, and threw his blood- 
stain'd sword in thunder down with such effect that a waiter came 
in and said: ' umercials underneath sent tip their compli- 

ment^ and it wasn't the Tumbler's Arms." That they were all in 
excellent spirits, on the road home, and sang 0. Lady Fair! Mr. 
Wopsle taking the bass, and asserting with a tremendously strong 
voice (in reply to the inquisitive bore who leads that piece of mu- 
ni amosl impertinent manner, by wanting to know allabou 
cry body's private affairs), ihat //rwas the man with his white locks 
flowing, and that he was, upon the whole, the weakesl pilgrim go- 
ing. 

Finally, 1 remember that when I go1 into my little bedroom I 
was truly wretched, and had a strong conviction on me that 1 should 
never like Joe's trade. 1 had liked it bnoe, hut QHCB was not now. 



86 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

It is a most; miserable thing to feel ashamed of home. There 
may be black ingratitude in the thing, and the punishineirfc ma 
retributive and well deserved; but that it is a miserable tiling • 1 
can testify. 

Home had never been a very pleasant place to me, because of 
lister's temper. But Joe bad sanctified it, and I believed in 
had believed in the best parlor as the must elegant saloon; 
I had believed in the front door as a mysterious portal of the Tom- 
State whose solemn opening was attended with a sacrifice. . 
or roast fowls; I had believed in the kitchen as a chaste though 
not rifagnificeaot apartment; I bad believed in the forge as' 'the 
glowing read to manhood and independence. Within a single year 
all this was changed. Now it was all coarse and ooro'mon, and I 
would not have Miss Havisham and Estella see it enany account. 

How much of my ungracious condition of mind may have been 

my own fault, how much Miss Havisham's, how much my sister's, 

is now of no moment to me or to any one. The change was made 

in me; the thing was done. Well or ill done, excusably or inex- 

ably, it was done. 

Oi.ce it had seemed to me that when I should' at last roll up 
my shirt-sleeves and go into the fdrge, Joe's 'prentice, 1 should be 
guished and happy. Now the reality was in my hold, I only 
felt that I was dusty with the dust of small coal, and that 1 had 
a weight upon my daily remembrance to which the anvil was a 
featheri There have, been occasions in my later life (I suppose 
as in most lives) when I have felt for a time as if a thick curtain 
had fallen on all its interest and romance, to shut me out from 
any thing save dull endurance any more. Never has that curtain 
dropped so heavy and blank as when my way in life lay stretched 
out straight before me through the newly-entered road of appren- 
ticeship to Joe. 

I remember that at a later period of my " time " I used to stand 
about the church-yard on Sunday evenings when night was falling, 
comparing my own perspective with' the windy marsh view, and 
making out some likeness between them by thinking how flat and 
low both were, and how on both there came an unknown way and • 
a dark mist and then the sea. I was quite as dejected on the . 
first working-day of my apprenticeship as in that after-time ; but I 
am glad to know that I never 'breathed a murmur to Joe while 



GHEAT EXPECTATIONS. 87 

my* indentures lasted. It is abqui (be only tiling I am glad'to 
know of myself in that connection. 

or, though it includes ■folia! 1 proceed to add, all the merit of 
what 1 proceed to add v nol because 1 was faith- 

fid, but because doe was faithful, that 1 never ion away and went 
tor a, soldier ov a Salter. It was not because I had a strong 
sense of the virtus of industry,., but because doe had a strong 
sense of tie virtue of industry, that 1 worked with toler 
against tlie grain. It is not possible to know bow far tile 

of any amiable honcstdicarfed duty-doing man dies oi 
to the world : but it is very possible to know bow it has toucfiqd 
one's self in going by, and I know right well thai any good that 
intermixed itself witb my appRentiqeship came of plain contented 

ijip not of restlessly aspiring discontented me. 
Wbat 1 wanted who can say.? How can J say when I never 
knew I "What I dreaded was, that in some unlucky hour I, being 
at my grimiest and commonest, should lift up my eyes and see Es- 
tella looking in at one of the wooden windows of the f >rge. 1 was 
haunted by the fear that 'she would, sooner or later, find mo out, 
wilb a black face and hands, doing the coarest part of my \ 
and' would cad! over me and despise me. Often after dark when 
I was pulling the bellow* for doe and we were singing Old Clem, 
and when the thought how we nsed to sing it at Miss Ilavisham's 
Would seem to show me Estella's face in the lire with her pretty 
hair fluttering in the wind and her eyes scorning me — often at such 
a time I would took toward those pannels, of black night in the 
wall which the wooden windows then were, and would fancy that 
1 saw her just drawing her face away, and would believe that she 
had come at last. 

After that, when we went info Slipper, the place and the meal 
would have a more homely look than ever, and I would feel more 
ashamed of home than in my own ungraqious breast. 



CHAPTER XV. 



As I was getting too big for Mr. Wopflle's great, aunt's room, 
my education unaer that preposterous female terminated. Not, 
however, until Biddy had imparted to me everything she knew, 
from the little catalogue of prices to a comic song she had once 



BE GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

bought for a half-penny. Although the only, coherent parts of the 
see of literature were the open lines, 

When I vvendto Lunuot; town sir6 

ml loo nil 
Too nil loo rul 

V> ash'i I done very brown sirs 

Too nil lo.ini] 
; oo nil loo nil 

— m\), in my desire ft> be wiser, I got this opmposil 

. cavity; nor do I recollect that ] questioned its 

that I thought (as J still cl«) the aniount of Too nil 

excess pr" [he poetry'. In my hunger for information 

1 rfrade proposals' £0 Mr. Wopsle to bestow some intellectual criinibs 

upon me : with which lie kindly complied. As it turned out, however, 

thai lie only wanted me for a dramatic lay figure/ to he contra*- 

dvek'd i braced and Wept. Over and bullied ami clutched and 

ed and knocked aboul in a variety of ways, i 

i of instruction ; though not until .Mr. V^opsle in hil 
rely mauled me. 
latever 1 acquired I tried to*impi . This statem 

s no well that i cannot in my conscience let it pass Unex- 
plained. 1 wanted to make .lee less i'gvoran! and common, 
lie imgln be worthier of my society and less open t< 

• 
e old battery out on the marshes was our place i and 

ken slate and a short piece o( slate-pencil were durpduea 

: to which .Joe always added a pipe of tobacco. 1 
. oe to remember anything from one Sunday to anoth- 
er, oi ire, under my tuition, ai: ' information what- 
Yet be would smoke his pipe at the battery with a far I 
. ious air than anywhere else — 1 would even say with a Ieai 
air — as if he considered himself to be advancing immensely. — 
fellow, I hope he did. 
It was pleasant and quiet out there, -with the sails on the i 
passing beyond the earth-work, and sometimes when the tide was 
looking as if they belonged to sunken ships that were still 
sailing on at the bottom of the water. Whenever 1 watched the 
vessels standing out to sea with their white sails spread, I 
how thought of Miss Havishaui and Estella ;' and whenever." the 
light struck aslant afar off, upon a cloud of sail or grceiyhill-side 
or water-line, it was just the same. Miss IJavisham and Estella 
and the strange house and the strange life appeared to nave some- 
thing to do with even thing that .w,as picturesqee. 

One Sunday when Joe, greatly enjoying his pipe, had so plumed 
himself on being "most awful dull," that 1 hacf given him up ior 
the day, I lay on the earthwork for some time with my chin on my 
baud descrying traces of Miss Havisham and Estella all over the 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 89 

prospect, in the sky and in ihe water, until at last I resolved to 
mention a thought concerning them that bad been much in inv 
head. 

'I Jop," said I; " don't you think I ought to make Miss Havisliam 

a visit ?" 

" Well, rip," returned doe, slowly considering. " What for ? " 

" What for, doe I What is any vis'il made for ? " 

" There is some wisils p'r'aps." said doe. " as for ever remains 
•open tQ $)£> question, Pip. B,ut in regard of wishing Miss Havi- 
sham. She might think you wanted something — expected some- 
thing of her." 

" Don't you think that 1 might say that I did nor, doe .'" 

••You might, old chap," said doe. '-And she might credit it. 
Similarly she might n t." 

■ doe felt, as 1 did, that he had made a point there,, and he pulled 
hard at his . ipe to keep himself from weakening it by repetition. 

" You see. J'ip." doe pursued, as soon as he was past that dan- 
4 Miss Ravish am done the handsome thing l>y you. Wbefl 
Miss llavisham dime the handsome thing by you. she called, me 
back to say to me as that were all." 

'■ Yes, doc I heard her." 
, '• Am.," Joe repeated very emphatically. ■ 
: tell you, I heard her. ' 

" Which 1 nrejantersay, Tip, it might he that her meaning v 
Make a end on it ! — As you was ! — Me to the North and you to 
in sunders ! " 

I had thought of that too, and it was very far from comforting 
to me to find that he had thought of it ; tor ii seemed to render i! 
more probable. 

"Brit, Jo 

" Yes, old chap." 

"Here am I, getting on in the first year of my time, and since 
the ciay of my being bound 1 have never'thanked Miss llavisham. 
or asked after her. or shown that 1 remember her." 

"That's true, i'ip : and unless you was to turn her out a Be 
shoes ail four round — and whieh 1 meantersay as even a set of 
shoes all four round might not act. acceptable as a present, iu a to- 
tal wacaiicy of hoofs — " 

•• i don't mean that sort ot remembrance, .Toe; I don't mean a 
present." 

But doe had got the idea of a present in his head and must harp 
upon it. 

"Or even," said he, "if you was helped to knocking her up a 
new chain for the front door — or say a gross or two of shirk-Head- 
ed screws lor general use — or some light fancy article, such as a 
toasting-fork when she took her muffinst— or a gridiron when she 
took a sprat or such like — " 



90 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" I don't irean any present at all, Joe," I interposed. 

" Well," said Joe, still harping on it as though I had particu- 
larly pressed it, "'if I was yourself, Pip, I wouldn't; No I would 
not. For what's a door-chain when she's got one always up? — 
.And shark-headers is. open to misrepresentations. < Audit it was a 
toasting-fork, you'd go into brass and do yourself no credit. And 
the oncommouest workman can't show himself uncommon in a 
gridiron — for a gridiron is a gridiron," said Joe,* steadfastly im- 
pressing it upon me, as if he were endeavoring to rouge me. from 
a fixed delusion, "and you ma}- haim at what you like, but a grid- 
iron .it Will come out, either by your leave or again your leave, and- 
you can't help yourself—" 

" My dear Joe," I cried in desperation, taking hold of his c 
'"don't go on in that way. I never thought of making Miss liav- 
isham any present." 

"No, Pip," Joe assented, as if he had been contending for that 
all along: "and what I say to you is, you are right, Pip." 

"Yes, Joe; but what 1 wanted to say was, that as we are rath- 
er slack just now, if you could give me a half holiday to-morrow, 
I think I would go up town and make a call on Miss Est — Llavi- 
sham." 

" Which her name," said Joe, gravely, " ain't Estavisham, Pip, 
unless she have been rechrislened. ' 

" I know, Joe, I know. It was a slip of mine. What do you 
think of it, Joe?" 

In brief, Joe thought that if I thought well of it,-. he thought 
well of it. But he was particular in stipulating that if I were not 
received with cordiality, or if I were not encouraged to repeat- my 
visit as a visit which had no ulterior object but was simply one of 
gratitude for a favor received, then this experimental trip should 
have no successor. By these conditions I promised to abide. 

Now Joe kept a journeyman at weekly wages whose name was 
Orlick. He pretended that his Christian name was Dolge — a 
clear impossibility — but, he was a fellow of that obstinate disposi- 
tion that I believe him to have been the prey of no delusion in this 
particular, but wilfully to have imposed that name upon the vil- 
lage as an affront to its understanding. He was a broad-shoulder- 
ed, loose-limbed, swarthy fellow of great strength, never in a hurry, 
and always slouching.' He never even seemed to come to his work 
on purpose, but would slouch in as if by mere accident; and when 
he went, to the Jolly Bargemen to eat his dinner, or went away- at 
night, he would slouch out like Cain or the Wandering Jew, as if 
he had no idea where he was going and no intention of ever com- 
ing"back. He lodged at a sluice-keeper's out on the marshes, and 
on working days would come slouching from his hermitage, with 
his hands in his pocket and his dinner loosely tied in a bundle 
round his neck and dangling on his back. On Sundays he mostly 



GREAT EXFECTATJ' 9J 

lay all clay on sluice gates, or stood agaifist ricks or barns. He 
always slouched, loconiotively. with his eyes on the ground : and, 
when accosted or otherwise required to raise them, he looked u;> 
in a half resentful, half puzzled way. as though (he only thought 
he ever had, was, thai it was rather an odd and injurious faol 
lie should never be, thinking. 

This morose journeyman had no liking for me. "When 1 was 
very small and timid, he gftVe me to understand that the Devil 
lived in a black corner of the forge, and that be knew the fiend 
very well ; also that it was necessary to make up the lire once in 
every seven years with a live boy. and that I might consider my- 
self fuel. When I became Joe's 'prentice boy, he was perhaps 
confirmed in some suspicion that I should displace him ; howheii. 
He liked me still less. Nol thai he ever said any thing, or did 
any thing openly importing hostility; I only noticed that, he al- 
ways he.it bis sparks in my direction, and thai whenever] sang 
Old Clem he came in out of time. 

Dolge Orlic t was at work and present, next day, when 1 re- 
minded doe of my half-holiday. He said nothing at the moment, 
for he and doe had just got a piece of hot iron between them and 
1 was at the bellows ; but by-and-by he said, leaning on his ham- 
mei .- 

'^Now, master! Sure you're not a going to favor only one of 
us. If Young Pip has a half-holiday, do as much lor ( ) d Orlick." 
I suppose be was about, !ive-aud-twcnty. but he usually spoke .of 
himself as an ancient person. 

•' Why, what'll you do with a half-holiday, if you get it I" said 
Joe. 

' "What'll /do with it! What'll he do' with it 1 I'll do as 
much with it as him" said Orlick. 

" As to 1'ip. he's going up town," said .1, 

" Well, then, as to Old Orlick. //e'.v going up town," retorted 
, that worthy " Two can go up town. Tan't only one wot can go 
up town " 

" Don't lose your temper," said Joe. 

" Shall if I like," growled Orlick. .Some and their up-towuing I 
Xow.^master! Come. No favoring in this shop. Be a man." 

The master refusing to entertain the subject until the journey- 
man was in a better temper, Orlick plunged at. the furnace, drew 
out a red hot bar, made at me with it as if he were goitfg to run it, 
through my body, whisked it round my head, laid it. on the anvil, 
hammered it out — as if it were I, 1 thought", and the sparks were 
my spirting blood — and finally said, when lie had hammered him- 
self hoi ai d the iron cold, and he again leaned on his hammer : 

"Now, master !" 

" Are you all right now :" demanded • 

" Ah ! 1 am all.right," said gruff Old Orlick. 



92 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

"Then, as in general you stick to your work as well as most 
men," said Joe, " let it he a half-holiday for all." 

My sister had been standing silent in. the jiard, within hearing- 
she was a most unscrupulous spy and listener — and she instantly 
looked in at one of the windows. 

"Like you, you fool!" said she to Joe, " giving holidays to 
great idle hulkers like that. You are a rich man, upou my life, to 
waste wages in that way. I wish /was his master !" 
' "You'd be every body's master, if you durst," retorted Orlick, 
with an ill-favored grin. 

(" Let her alone," said ^oe.) 

" I'd be a match for all noodles and all rogues," returned my 
sister, beginning 'to work herse f into a mighty rage. " And I 
couldn't be a match for the noodles without being a match tor 
your master, who's the duuder-headed king of the noodles. And 
i couldn't be a match for the rogues, without being a match for 
you, who are the blackest-looking and the worst rogue between 
this and France. Now!" 

"You're a foul shrew, Mother Gargery," growVd the journey- 
man. " If that makes a judge of rogues, you ought to be a good 
'im." 

(" Let her alone, will you V said Joe.) 

"What did you say f cried my sister, beginning to' scream. 
" What did you say ? What did that fel ow Orlick say to me, 
Pip '? What did he call me, with my husband standing by? ! 

! 0!" Each of these exclamations was a shriek; and I must 
remark of my sister, what is equally true of all the violent women 

1 have ever seen, tha*t passion was no excuse for her, because it is 
undeniable that, instead of lapsing into passion, she consciously 
and de iberately took extraordinary pains to force herself into it, 
and became blindly furious by regular stages; "what was the 
name he gave me before the base man who swore to defend me 1 
0! Hold me! 0!" . 

" Ah-h-h !" growled the journeyman, between his teeth, "I'd 
hold you, if you was my wife. I'd hold you under the pump, and 
choke it out of you." 

(" I tell you, let her alone," said Joe.) 

" ! To hear him !" cried my sister, with a clap of her hands 
and a scream together — which was her next stage. " To hear 
tlie names he's giving me ! That Orlick! In my own house! 
Me, a married woman ! With my husband standing by ! ! 
!" Here my sister, after. a tit of clappings and screamings, beat 
her hands upon her bosom and upon her knees, and threw her cap 
-off and pulled her hair down— which were her last stages on her 
road to frenzy. Being by this time, a perfect Fury and a com- 
plete success, she made a dash at the door, which I had fortunate- 
ly locked. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 93 

What could the wretched Joe do now, after his disregarded pa- 
renfhetical interruptions, hut stand up to his journeyman and«ask 
him whal he mean! by interfering benvixf himself and Mrs. Joe ; 
and further, whether he was man enough to come on 1 Old Or 
lie'/, felt that the situation admitted of nothing less. than coming on, 
and was on lis defence straightway : so, without so much as pull- 
ing off their singed and Imrned aprons, they went at one another 
like two giants. But if any man in that neighbourhood cou d stand 
up long against Joe, 1 never saw the man. Orlick,.as if he had 
been of no more account than the pale yoUhg gentleman, was very 
soon among the coal-dusl and in no hurry to come out of it! Then 
Joe unlocked the di or and picked up my sister, who had dropped 
inseiisihle at the window (nut who had seen the tight first, I think), 
and who was carried into l lie house and laid down, and who was 
recommended to revive, and would do nothing butstrugge and 
clench her hands in Joe's hair. Then came that singular ealm 
and silence which succeed all uproars; and then, with the vague 
sensation which 1 have always connected with that lull — namely, 
I hat ii was Sunday, and somebody was dead — I went up stairs to 
dress myself. 

When I came down again I found Joe and Orlicl; sweeping up, 
.without any other traces of discomposure than a slit in one of Or- 
lick's nostrils, which was neither expressive nor ornamental. A 
pot of beer had appeared from the Jolly Bargemen, and the)- were 
sharing it by turns in a peaceable manner. The lull had a seda- 
tive and philosophic influence on Joe, who followed me out into 
the read to say. as a parting observation that might do me good, 
" i Mi the Ram-page,, Pip, and oil' the Rampage. Tip — such is 1,. 

With what ab.sutd.einoiions ( or we 'think the feelings that are 
very serious in a man quite comical in a boy) I found myse f "gain 
g to Miss llavisham's mailers lirtle here. Nor how 1 pass* d 
and repassed the gate many times before I could make up my mind 
to ring; nor how 1 debated whether I should go away without 
ringing; nor how 1 should undoubtedly have gone, if my time had 
been my own to come bar!.. 

Miss-Sarah Pi e to the gate. No Estella. 

i.' You here again?" said Miss Pocket. "What 
U want I" 
When 1 said tb came to see how Miss Havisham was, 

baiab evidently < 'whether or no she should send me 

it my business. But unwilling to hazard the responsibjl 
let me in, and presently brought the sfl that 1 was 

come up." 

mi was alone. — 
, on me, " 1 hope you \ 
Hothing .' i ou'll gel nothii 
" iVu, indued. Mits iiaviiiutm. I only wanted you to know thai 



94 GfREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

I am doing very well in my apprenticeship, and am always much 
obliged to you." 

" There, there !" with the*old restless fingers. " Come now and 
then ; come on your birthday. Ay ! " she cried suddenly, turning 
herself and her chair toward me, "you are looking round for Es- 
Heyl" 

I had been looking round, in fact, for Estella; and I stammered 
that 1 hoped she was well. 

' " Abroad," said Miss Havisham ; " educating for a lady ; far out 
'of reach ; prettier than ever; admired by all who see' her. Do you 
feel that you have lost her ? " 

There was such a malignant enjoyment in her utterance of the 
last words, and she broke into such a disagreeable laugh, that I 
was at a loss what to say. She spared me the trouble of consid- 
ering by dismissing me. When the gate was closed upon me by 
>h, of the walnut-shell countenance, I felt more than ever dis- 
satisfied with my home and with my trade and with everything ; 
and that was all I took by that motion. 

As I was loitering along the High Street, looking in disconso- 
lately at the shop-windows, and thinking what I should buy if I 
were a. gentleman, who should come out of the book-shop but Mr. 
Wopsle. Mr. Wopsle had in his hand the affecting tragedy' of 
George Barnwell, in which he had that moment invested sixpence, 
with the view of heaping every word of it on the head of Pumble- 
chook, with whom he was going to drink tea. No sooner did lie' 
see me than he appeared to consider that a special Providence had 
put a 'prentice in his way to be read at; and' he laid bold of me 
and insisted on my a<*companyinghim to the Pumbleohookian par- 
lor. As I knew it would be miserable at home, and as the nights 
were dark and the way was dreary, and almost any companionship 
On the road was better than none, I made no grdat resistance ; con- 
sequently we turned into Pumblechook's just as the streets and 
the shops were lighting up. 

As 1 never assisted at any other representation of George Barn- 
well, I don't know how long it may usually take ; but 1 know very 
well, that it took until past nine o'clock that night, and that when 
Mr. Wopsle got into Newgate! thought he never would go to the 
scaffold, he became so much slower than at any former period of 
his disgraceful career. I thought it a little too much that he should 
complain of being cut short in his flower after all, as if he had not 
been running to seed, leaf after leaf, ever since he was taken up. 
This, however, was a mere question of length and wearisoufeness. 
What stung me was the identification of the whole- affair with my 
unoffending self. When Barnwell began to go wrong, I declare 
that I felt positively apologetic, Pumblechook's indignant stare so 
taxed me with it. Wopsle, too, took pains to present me in' the 
worst light. At once ferocious and maudlin, I was made to niur- 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 95 

der my uncle with no extenuatii astauces whatever ; Mil- 

wood put me down in argument on e.very occasion ; if became sheer 

nionumaui; 1 in niy master's daughter to care. ;i hill Inn for mil' ; and 
all 1 can say for my gasping and' procrastinating conducl on tbe 
fatal morning is, that it was worthy' of the general feeblenes: 
my character. Even after I was happily hanged,«and Wopslehad 
closed the book; Pumhlechqok sat staring at me, and shaking his 
head, and saying, "Take warning,. boy ! Hake warning- !" as if it 
were a well-known fact that, in my private I con empla 

ted murdering a near relation, provided 1 could induce one to have 
the weakness to become my benefactor. 

It was a very dark night when it was all ever, and when I set 
out will; Yir. Wopsle on the walk home. Beyond town we found a 
heavy misi out, and it fell we! and thick. The turnpike lamp was 
a blur, quite out of the lamp's usual place apparently, and its rays 
looked solid substance, on the fog. VVe were noticing this, and say- 
ing how that the mist rose with a change of wind from a certain 
quarter of our marshes, when we came upon a man slouching un- 
der the lee of the turnpike In 

" Halloa ! " we said stopping. " < Mick there ! " 

" .Mi !" he answered, slouching out. " i was standing by. a min- 

"ii the chance of company." 
■• Ton are late," I remarked. 

Orlick not unnaturally answered. '• Well .' And you've, late." 
" We have been," said Mr. Wopsle. exalted with his late per- 
formance — -"we have been indulging, Mr. Ojrliek, in an intellectual 
evening.'' 

Old Orlick growled, as if he had nothing to»say about that, 
we all went on together. I asked him presently whether he had 
spending his half-holiday up and down low 
" Yes," said he, "all of it. 1 come in behind yourself. I didn't 
see you, bul 1 must have been pretty close behind you. By-the-by 
ig again." 
.1 the Hulks?" said 1. 
"•Ay I Tftere'ji some of thesbirds flown from the The 

guns have been got dark, about. You'll hear one pres- 

ently." 

In (fleet, we had not walked man rfher when thewell- 

tnbened I i yard us. deadened by the mist, and 

ly rolled away along the low grounds by the river, as it' it 
were | ining tic 

■ ! nighl for cut i id < Hick. We'd he puz- 

iow to I. ring down a jail-bird on to-night." 

:id I thought about 

ill-requited uncle of th even- 
ing's ftragedy, fell to meditating aloud in his garden at C'amher- 
well. Orlick, with his hands in his pockets, slouched heavily at 



96 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

my side. It was very dark, very wet, very muddy, and so we 
splashed along. Now and then the sound of the signal eannon 
broke upon us again, and again rolled sulkily along the course of 
the river. I kept myself to myself and my thoughts. Mr. Wop- 
sle died amiably a Camberwell, and exceedingly gams on Bos- 
. Hi-ill Field, .and in the greatest agonies at Glastonbury. Orlick 
somi times growled, " Bear it out, beat it out — old Clem ! "With a 
clink for the stout — old 'Clem ! " I thought he had been drinking, 
but he was not drunk. 

L bus we came to the village.' The way by which we approached 
it-took us past the Three Jolly Bargemen, which we were surprised 
to rind — it being eleven o'clock — in a state of commotion, with the 
door wide open, and unwonted lights, that had been hastily caught 
up and put down, scattered about. Mr. Wopsle dropped in to ask 
what was the matter (surmising that a convict had been taken), 
but came running out in a great hurry. 

" There's something wrong," said he, without stopping, " up at 
your place, Tip. Run all ! " 

" What is it V 1 asked, keeping up with him. So did Orlick, at 
my side. 

" 1 can't quite understand. The house seems to have been vi- 
olently entered when Joe was out.. Supposed by convicts. Some- 
body has been attacked and hurt." 

\W were running too fast to admit of more being said, and we 
made no stop until we got into our kitchen. It was full of peo- 
ple ; the whole village was there, or in the yard ; and there was a' 
surgeon, and there was Joe, and there were a group of women, all 
on the floor in the midst of the kitchen. The unemployed by- 
standers drew back when they saw me, and so I became aware of 
my sister — lying without sense or movement on. the bare boards 
where she had been knocked down by a tremendous blow on the 
back of the head, dealt by some unknown hand when her face was 
'turned toward the lire — destined never to be on tin* ram-page 
again while she was wile of Joe. 



CHAPTER XVI. 



With my head full of George Barnwell, I was.at first disposed 
to believe that I must have had some hand in the attack upon my 
sister, or at all events that as her near relation, popularly known 
to be under. obligations to her, I was a more legitimate object of 
suspicion than any one else. But when, in the clearer li&ht of 



GEE A r EXPECTA i'l O SfS; 

next morning, I began to reconsider the {flatter and bo hear it dis. 
cussed around me on all sides, 1 took another vie 1 
which was more reasonable. 



Joe bad been at the 5Tbree Jo] 



K'l), Si lit i 



|ii,. 



'. to a quarter before fen. While 
he was I sister bad been seen standing al the ki 

I bad exchanged il wit h alarm 

home. The man could not b'e more particular as to th # e time at 
which lie saw her info dense confusion who- 

be) than -thai; it n been before nine. When Joe went 

home at five minutes before ten he found her struck down on the 
floor, and promptly called in assistance. The fir.i 
burned unusually low, nor was the snuff of the candle v\*ry long; 
the candle, bo d been blown out. 

Nothing bad been taken away ; 
the-r, beyond the blowing out of the eandle — which stood on a 'ta- 
ble ll.e door and my sifter, and was behind iter win n she 

ruck — was there any disarrange- 
ment Of thekitehen, excepting such as she herself had made- in 
falling and bleeding. But there was one remarkable pieee 1 of evi- 
dence JITe had been struck with something blunl 
and heavy on the head and *pine; after the blowawi 
something heavy had been thrown down at her with considerable 
violence as she lay on her face. And 'on the ground besid 
when Joe picked her ii] leg-iron whir'' 
filed asunder. 

Now doe. examining this iron with a smith's i 
have been filed asunder some time ago. The hue and cry going 
off to the Hulks, and p i uiingthepcetoexamiiie.il 

Joe's opinion was corroborated. They did not und 
it bad left the prison-ships, to whuah it undoubi 
belonged ; but they claimed to ki c ittain that tba,t particu- 

n worn by either of two con\ > had 
escaped I Further, one of those two Wi \ re- 

taken, and hoed himself of his iron. 

Kqowing what I knev an inieie ■ own here. 1 

belie iron to be my convict's iron — the iron 1 

and heard him filing at J mind dA 

viiii: put it to its latest use. F. ie of 

two other to have become possessed of it, have 

turned it to this cruel account. Either Oriiok;or;the i man 

who had shown me, the fde. 

No ' i- lick, be had gone itlj told 

us when we picked him up at the turnpike; he hi 
about town all the evening, , ps in 

several public houses, and he yself and Mr. 

Wopale. There wai nothing .dw lave the quarrel ; and 



98 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

my .sister bad quarreled ■with him, and with every body else about 
her, ten thousand times. As to the strange man, if he had come 
back for his two bank-notes there could have been no dispute 
about them,, because my sister was fuilj prepared to restore them. 
Besides, there had been no altercation ; the assailant bad come in 
so silent and suddenly that she had been felled before she could 
look round* • 

It was., horribie to think that I had provided the weapon, how- 
ever undesignedly, but I could hardly think otherwise. I suffer- 
ed unspeakable trouble while I considered and reconsidered whe- 
ther r'should at last dissolve that spell of my childhood, and tell 
Joe all the story. For months afterward I every day settled the 
question finally in the negative, and reopened and reargued it 
morning. The contention came, alter all, to this,' the seorej was 
such an old one now. had so grown into me and become a pa 
myself, that I could not tear it away. In addition to ike dread 
that, having led up to so much mischief, it would be now more 
likely than ever to alienate Joe from me if he believed ii. I had 
the further restraining dread that he would not be.ieve it , •but 
would assort it with the fabulous dogs and vea.1 cutlets a-, a mon- 
strous invention. However, I temporized with myself, of course 
— for, was I not wavering between right and Wrong, when the 
thing is always done 1 — and resolved to make a full (Jiscpsnre if 
i should see any such new occasion as a new chance of helping in 
the discovery of the assailant. 

The Constables, and ihe Bow Street men from London — for this 
happened in the days 'of the extinct red waistcoated police— were 
about. th|p house for a week or two; and did pretty much what I 
have heard and read of like authorities doing in other such cases. 
They took up several obviously wrong people, and they ran their 
heads very hard against wrong ideas, and persisted in trying.ro 
lit the circumstances to the ideas, instead of trying to extract ideas 
from the circumstances. Also, they stood about the door of the 
Jolly Bargemen, with knowing and reserved looks, that filled the 
whole neighborhood with admiral ion ; and they had a mysterious 
manner ot taking their drink, that was almost as good as taking 
the culprit. But not quite, for they never did it. 

Long after these" constitutional powers had dispersed my sister 
lay very ill in k-d. Her sight was disturbed, so that she saw ob- 
jects multiplied, and grasped at visionary tea-cups and wine-glass- 
es instead of realities; her hearing was greatly impaired'; her 
memory also ; aud her speech was unintelligible. When at hist 
she came round so far as 10 be helped down stairs, it was still ne- 
cessary to keep ray s.ate always by her, that she might indicate in 
writing what she could Hot indicate in speech. As she was (very 
bad handwriting apart) a more than indifferent speller, and as Joe 
was* a nior« than indifferent reader, extraordinat^ complications 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. yy 

arose between them, which I was always called in to solve. The 
administration of niutton instead of iiii'dicine, fctie substitufi 
Tea for Joe, and the baker for bacon, were afiiong the mildest of 
own rtikd'al 

However, her temper was greatly improved and she was'patii 
A tremulous uncertainty of the action of all her limbs soon became 
a part of her regular state, and afterward, at intervals of i*. 
three months, she would often pat her hands to bet* head and 
would then remain for about a week at a time in sort! 
aberration of mind. Wo wore a; a loss to lind a siiitab'le attend- 
ant for her, until a circumstance happened convenient:^ to relieve 
us. .Mr. Wopsk-'s great aunt conquered a confirmed habit of liv- 
ing into which she had fallen, and Biddy became P our 
establishment. • * 

It may have been about, a month after my sister's *reappe#rance 
in the kitdhen when Bidfly game to us with a small 
cohtainihg-the whole of her worldly effects, and became a bless- 
ing to the household. Above all, she was a blessing to Jo< 
the dear old fellow was sadly cut up by the constant c i 
tion of the wreck of his wife, and had been accustomed, while at- 
tending on her all the evening, to turn to me every now and then, 
and say. with his blue eye moistened, " Such a fin 
woman as she once were, Pip !" Kiddy instantly takh g 
crest charge of her, as though she had studied her from 
Joe became able in some sort to appre iate the greater quiet of his 
life, and to gel down to the Jolly Bargemen ""W &tid 'hen. for a 
change that did him good. It was characterise 
people that they had all more or less suspe v efced poor Joe (tli 
ever (mew it,) and that they had to a man concurred in 
ing him as one of the deepest spirits'they had e*ver cue >uu'-. 
tered; 

I>iddy's first triumph in her new office was to solve a difficulty 
had completely vanquished me. I had tried hard al it, but 
hal made nothing of it. Thus it was: 

g lin and again and again my sister had traced upon the slate 
a character that looked like a curious T, and then, with the utmost, 
eagerness, had cal ed our attention to it as something she. particu- 
larly wanted. 1 had in vain tried every thing producible' tha 
gan with a T, from tar to toast and tub. At length it had come 
into my head that the sign looked like a hammer, and on my lusti- 
ly calling that word in my sister's ear she had begun to hammer on 
the table, and expressed a qualified assent. Thereupon I had 
brought in all our hammers, one after another, but \ avail. 

Then 1 betbohghl me of a crutch, the shape being much the same, 
and I borrowed one of a criple iu the village, and displayed it to 
my bistu: with considerable oontiduuee. But ska shook her head 



UK) GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. 

to that extent, when she was shown it, that we were terrified lest, 
in her weak and shattered state, she should dislocate her neck.. 

When my sister found that Biddy was very (.j.nick to'uijderstand 
her, this -mysterious sign immediately reappeared on the slate. — 
Biddy looked thoughtfully at it, heard m nation, looked 

thoughtfully at my sister, looked thoughtfully at Joe, (who was al- 
ways represented on. the slate by his initial letter), avid ran 
the forge, followed by Joe and nie. 

" Why, of course!" cried Biddy with an exultant face. ".Don't 
you see ? It r s liha /" 

Orlick, without a doubt ! She had lost hi ooifirl 

only signify him by his hammer. We told hin.i why we wanted 
him to come into the kitchen,' and he slowly laid down his ham-- 
,mer, wiped Ids brow with his arm, took another wipi 
aprrom and came slouching out, with a curious loose, vagabond 
in the knees that strongly distinguished him. 

1 confess that I expected to see my sister denounce him, and 
that I was disappointed by the different result, .she manii' 
the greatest anxiety to be on good terms with him ; was evith 
much pleased by his being at length produced, and motioned that 
she would have him given something to drink. She watched hrs 
iteuaace as if she were particularly wishful to ho assured that 
he took kindly to his reception ; she showed every possible desire 
to conciliafe him ; and there was an air of humble propitiation in 
all she did, such as i have seen pervade tlie hearing of a frighten- 
ed child toward a hard master. After that day, a day rarely pass- 
ed without her drawing the hammer on her slate, and without Or- r : 
lick's slouching in and standing doggedly befoYe her, as if he knew 
re than 1 did what to make of it. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

1 now fell into a regular routine of apprenticeship life, which 
was varied, beyond the limits of the village and the marshes, by 
no more remarkable circumstance than the arrival of my birthday, 
and my paying another visit to Miss Havisham. I found Miss 
Sarah Pocket still on duty at the gate; I found Miss Havisham 
just as 1 had left her ; and she spoke of Estella in the very same 
way. if not in the very same words. The interview lasted but a 
iie gave me a guinea when I was going, and 
told me to come again on my next birthday. I may mention at 
&n«e tiiatthis Iwseame an annual custom. I tried to decline taking 



( i RE AT EXPECTATIONS. 101 

the guinea on the first occasion, but with no better effect than caus- 
ing 'her to ask inc. very angrily, if I expected more? Then 
after that, 1 took i - • 

So unchanging was the <luli otd house, the yellow light -in the 
darkened room, the faded spectre in the chair by sing-taMe 

glass, thai I felt as if the stopping of the clocks bad stopped Time 
in tljat mysterious place, and, while 1 and everything; else outside 
it grew older, it stood still. DayJight never entered the house as 
t'o 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 bate my trade and to he a of home. 

Imperceptibly 1 became conscious of a change in Biddy, howev- 
er. Her shoes came up at the feed, her hair grew bright afld neat, 
her hands were always clean. She was noi beautiful — she was 
common, ami could not he like»Estella — but she was pleasant and 
wholesome and sweet -tempered. She had not been with us more 
than a year (1 remember her being newly out of mourning at the 
time it struck me), when 1 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 lilting 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 

hat 1 was about. I laid down my pen, ami Biddy stopped in 

her needlework without laying 5* down. 

"Biddy," said 1. " how do you manage' it ? Either I am very 
Stupid or you are "very clever." 

*« What is il that I manage? '1 don't know,"' returned Biddy, 
smiling. 

She managed our whole domestic life, and wonderfully too ; but 
1 did not mean that, though that made what 1 did mean more sur- 
prising. 

"How do yon manage, Biddy," said I. " to learn everything that 
1 learn, and always to keep up with me ? " 1 was beginning to be 
Father vain of my knowledge, for 1 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 1 knew 
was extremely dear at the price. 

" 1 might as well ask you," said Biddy, "how you manage ?" 
• •; because when 1 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." 

"1 suppose I must catch i — like a cough," said Biddy, quietly ; 
and went on with her sewing. 

Pursuing my idea as 1 leaned bark in my wooden chair and 
looked at Biddy sewing away with her head on one side, 1 began 
to think her rather an extraordinary girl. For I called to my miud 



102 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

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 ! " 

.:y looked at me for an instant, and went on with her sew- 
" 1 \vas your first teacher though ; wasn't T ?" said she, as 
she, sewed. 

iddy !" I exclaimed in amazement. "Why, you are rry- 
ing ! 

.o, 1 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 
tear as it dropped on her work 1 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 circumstance- 

had been surrounded in the miserable little shop and 
able little noisy evening school, with that miserable old 
bundle of incompetence always to be dragged and shouldered. — 
\- reflected that even In those untoward limes there must have been 
I in Biddy what was now developed or developing ; for in my 
uneasiness and discontent I toad turned to her, as a matter of 
se, to help me. Biddy sat quietly sewing, shedding no more 
tears, and while I looked at her, and thought about it all, it oe- . 
I to me that perhaps I had' not been sufficiently grateful to 
Biddy. 1 might faa?e been too reserved^ arid should lave put roft- 
ized her more (though I did not use that precise wind in my med- 
itations) with my confidence. 

" Yes, Biddy," I observed, when I had done turning it over, 
were my first teacher, and that at a time when we I 
thought of ever being together like this, in this kitchen.'' 

h, poor thing !" replied Biddy; and it was like her self- for- 
ilness to transfer the remark to my sister, and to get up and 
be busv about her, making her more comfortable; "that's sadly 
■"* 
" Well!" said- 1, we must talk together a little more, as we used 
to do. And I must consult with you a little more, as I used 
to do. Let us have a quiet walk on the marshes next Sunday, 
a long chat" < 

sister was .never left alone now; but Joe mure than readi- 
ly undertook the care of her on that Sunday afternoon, and Biddy 
and 1 went out together. Jt was summer time and lovely weath- 
er. When we had passed the village and the church and the 
church-yard, and were out on the marshes, and began to see the 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 103 

sails of the ships as they sailed on, I began to combine Miss Hav- 
isham and Esttolla with flic prospect, in my usual way. WWn 
we came to fcfae river-side and sal duwn on the banki with the wa- 
ter rippling at our feet, matting if all more, quiet thai' ii would have 
been Without that s.mnd, 1 resolved that it was a good time and 
place for the admission of Biddy into my inner*C*onfidenci 

" Middy," said I. after binding her to Secrecy, '- 1 want to be a 
gent 'entail." 

" Oh, I wnu'dn't, if I was you !" she returned. " I don't think 
it would answer." 

"Biddy." said T, with some severity, "I have particular rea- 
sons for wauling to be a genlleman." 

*"' Yon know best, Pip; hut ddh't you think you are happier as 
you are ?" 

'.' Biddx ." I exclaimed', impatiently, "I am not at al happy as 
I am. I am disgusted wiih my ca ling and with my life. 1 have 
never taken to either since I was hound. Ddh't he absurd !" 

•' Was I absurd V? said Biddy, quietly raising her eyebrows ; 
" I atii sorry for that; I didn't mean to be. 1 only watit you to 
do well, and to be comfortable." 

"Well, then, understand once for all, hat I never shall or can 
he comfortable — or any thing but miserable — there, Biddy ! — un- 
less 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 sorrow- 
ful 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, 1 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 1 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 
short grass within reach, much as I had once upon a time pull- 
ed 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 no- 
then, and doe 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 pebple. I should haw been good 
enough for i/o)/ ; shouldn't I. Biddy I" 

Biddy sighed as she looked at the ships sailing on, and returned 
for answer, " Ves ; I am not over particular." It scarcely sound- 
ed flattering, but I knew she meant well. 

" Instead of that," said I, plucking up more grass and chewing 



104 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

a .blade or two, " see how T am going on. Djissatistied and un- 
comfortable, and — what would it signify to me, beiu ■ and 
common, if nobody had told me so!'' 

1 ly turned Ober face suddenly toward, mine, and looked far 
mon eTy at me than she had looked at the sailing ships. 

s neither a very true' nor a very polite thing to say," she 
remarked, directing her eyes to the ships again.. " Who said it?" 

1 was disconcerted, for- 1 had broken away without seeing wi- 
I was going. It was not, to be shuffled off now, however, and I 
answered, " The 'beautiful you'cg lady al Miss Ifavisham's, and 
she's more beautiful than any body ever was, and 1 admire her 
dreadfully, and 1 want to be a gentleman on her account." , Hav- 
ing made which lunatic confessed n to thro m-up 
grass in the river, as if I had some thoughts oi'folluv 

"Do you want to be a gentleman to. spite her <>:■■ i <- gain I 
over?" Biddy (juicily asked me. after a pause. 

" ] don't know," I moodily answered. 

•' Because, if it is to spite her,". Bide 1 should .think 

— but you know best — that might be better and more independent- 
ly Tlone by earing nothing for her words. And if il is to gain her 
over, I should think — but you i. it — she was not worth 

gaining." 

Exactly what I myself had thought man; ,iiat 

was perfectly manifest to me at the moment. But how could I, a 
poor dazed village lad, avoid that wonderful inconsistency into 
which the best and wisest men fell every day? 

" It may be all quite true," said I to Biddy, "but 1 admire her 
[fully." 

In short, I turned over on my face when I came to that, and 
! grasp on the hair on ea< h side of my head, and wrenched it 
• well. All the while knowing the madness of my heart to be so 
very mad and misplaced,' that I was quite conscious it .'would 'have 
served . right if I had lifted it up by my hair and knocked 

it against the pebbles as a punishment for belonging to such an 
idiot. 

Bidi ;rK and she tried to reason no more 

with me. She put her hand, which was a comfortable hand though 
roughened by work, upon my hands," one after another, and gently 
took them out of my hair. Then she softly patted my shoulder in 
thfng way, while with my face upon my sleeve i cried a lit- 
tle — exactly as I had done in the brewery yard — and felt vaguely 
convinced that I was very much ill-used by somebody, or by every 
body ; I can't say which. 

. •<■ I am glad of one thing," said Biddy, "and thai is, that you 
have felt you could give me your confidence, Pip. And 1 am glad 
of another thing, and that is, that of course yod know you may de- 
pend upon my keeping it and always to far deserving it. If your 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 105 

p.r (dear ! such a poor one, and so much in heed of being 
erself!) had been \ i present time, she 

thinks siic knows what lessen she would set-.' But it would 
hard one to learn, and you have got beyortfl her, and it's of rj 
." So, willi a quie r me, Middy rose from the b 

and sakl, wiiii a fresh sant change of vcoicfe, " ShaJ 

walk a hiile further, or go home :'" 

•• i'.i.ii)/', ; cried, jumping up, putting my arm round iier neck, 
and giving her a kiss, " 1 shall always led you every thing" 
" Till you're a irentlcnian." said Biddy. 

•■ You' know I never shall he, so rhai's always. Xot that I have 
any . • to tell yod any thing-, for yon know every . lii ntr 1 

know — as I told you at home Hie oilier night." 

••Ah!" said Biddy, qtrite in a whii die looked awa 

the ships. And then repeated, with her former pleasant 
•• Shall we walk a little further, or go home f 

J s;;i<j to Biddy we would walk a little further, and we did 
and the summer afternoon toned down into .the summer evening, 
vcr.y bea'utjffil. 1 began to consider whether ! was not 
more naturally and more wholesomely situated, after all. in 
[instances, than playing 1 beggar my neighbor by oaridlclig 
the room with the stopped clocks, and being despj . 
I fhpiight it would he very gbed for me if I c it of 

those remembrances and fancies, and 
could go to work determined to relish what I had to do, and 
make the best of it. 1 asked myself the question wh 
I did not surely know that if Kstella were beside m mo- 

ment ftistead of iiiddy she would make me miserable? I was 
. d to admit that 1 did know it for a certaft aid to- my- 

self, " Pip? what a fool you a 

■ talked a good deal as we walked, and all that Biddy said 

Biddy was never insulting or capricious, of Biddy 

ay and somebody eke to morrow: she would have derived only 

pain, ami not pleasure, from giving me pain; she would far.ra 

have wounded her own breast - nine. How could it be, then, 

that I did not like her much the b fhe two .' 

iiddy," said I, when we were walkr . ir.d, " J 

lould put me right.'; 
'• 1 wish 1 could." said Bid dy . 

'• If i could only get myself to fall in lo don t 

mind my speaking so openly to an old acquaintance.'" 

" Oh dear, not at all !" said l.iddy. " Don't mind me,'* 
" If I could get myse; that woiild be the thing for i 

" But you never will. Idy. 

It did not appeal' quite so unlikely to -me that evening as it 
Would have done if we had disscussed- it a. few hours before. 1 
therefore observed that [was not quite sure of -.that. But Bi 



106 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

said she was, and she said it decisively. In ray heart I believed 
her to be right ; and yet I took it rather. ill, too, that she should 
i positive, on the point. 

When we came near the church-yard we had to cross an embank- 
ment, and get over a stile near a sluice-irate. There started up, 
from the gate, or from the rushes, or from the ooze (which was 
quite in his stagnant way), old Orlick. 

"Holloa!" he growled; " where are you two going,?" 

" Where should we be going, but home ?" 

" Well! then," said he, " I'm j ggered if I don't see you home?" 

This penalty of being jiggered was a favorite supposititious Cjase 
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 dam- 
aging. When I was younger, I had a general belief that if he had 
jiggered me personally he would have done if with a sharp and 
twisted hook. 

Biddy was much against his going with ns, and said to me in a 
whisper, " Don t let him come; I don t like him." .As I did not 
like him either,- 1 took tire liberty of saying that we thanked him, 
but didn't want seeing home, fie received that piece of informa- 
tion with a yell of laughter, and dropped back, but came slouching 
after us at a. little distance. 

irious 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 die likes me." 

" Did he ever tell you he liked you I" 1 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, 1 did 
not doubt the accuracy of the interpretation. I was very hot iii- 
■ deed 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. 

" Iso, Biddy, it makes no difference to me; only I don't like it: 
1 don't approve of it." 

" Nof 1 either," said Biddy. " 'Enough that makes no differ- 
ence tolvou." 

" Exlbtly," said 1 ; " but i must tell you I should have no 
opinion of'you, Biddy, if he danced at you with your own con^ 

I kept an eye on Orlick alter that night, and, whenever circum- 
stances were- favorable to his dancing at Biddy, got before him to 
obscure the demonstration. He had struck root in Joe's establish- 
ment by reason of my sister's sudden fancy for him, or I should 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 107 

have Ivied to get him dismissed. lie quite understood and reci- 
procals .niid intentions, as 1 had reason to know thereafter. 

And now, heeause my mind was not confused enough beftire, 1 
complicated its confusion fifty thousand fold, by hating states 
seasons when 1 was clear ihat Kiddy was immeasurably 1> 
■than Estella, and that'the plain honest, working lif- to which I wa 
born had nothing in il to he ashamed of, but offered me sufficient 
means of self-respect and happiness. At those limes I would de- 
i onelusivel\ that my disaffeetion to, dear old doe and the forge 
way gone, and that 1 was growing up in a fair way to be, partners 
with doe and to keep company with Kiddy, when all in a moment 
some conftnmdilig remembrance of the llavisham days would fall 
upon me like a destructive missile and scatter my wits again. ! 
tcted wits take a long time picking up; and often, before I had 
nem Yudl together again, they would- be dispersed in all di- 
rections by <>ue stray thought that perhaps after all Miss llavi- 
sham was going to make my fortune when my time was out. 

If my time had run out, it would have left me still at the h 
of .my perplexities, 1 dare say. Il never did run out, howeve:. 
was brought to a premature end, as 1 proceed to relate. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

It was in the fourth year of my apprenticeship to Joe, and it 
was a Saturday night. There was a group assembled round the 
lire ai the Three Jolly Bargemen, attentive to Mr. Wopsle as he 
he newspaper aloud. Of thai group I was 

A highly popular murder had been committed, and Mr. Wopsle 
was imbrued in blood to the eyebrows, lie gloated over every ab- 
horrent adjectiv in the description, and identified himself with 
every witness at the Impiest. He faintly moaned, " I am done 
at the victim, and he barbarously bellowed, "I'll serve you 
out," as- tin- murderer. He gave the medical testimony, in pointed 
imitation of OUr, local practitioner; and he piped and shook, as the 
aged turnpike-keeper who had heard blows, to an extent so 
very paralytic as to suggest a doubt regarding tie' mental compe- 
tency <»f that witness. The coroner, in Mr. Wopsle's bands, 
came Timon of Athens ; the beadle, ( 'oriolanus. He enjoyed him 



108 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

self thoroughly ami we all enjoyed ourselves, and were delightfully 
comfortable. In this cozy stale of mind we came to the vet 
Willful Murder. 

Then, and not sooner, I bee 7 me aware of a strange gentleman 
leaning over the back of the set lie opposite me, looking on. 
There was an expression of contempt on his face, and he bit the 
side of a great forefinger as he watched the group of faces. " Well !'' 
said the stranger to Mr. Wopsle, when the reading was done, " 
have settled it all to your own satisfaction, I have no doubt ?" 

Every body started and looked up," as if it were the murderer. 
He looked at every bod} coldly and sarcastically. 

" Guilty, of course?'' said lie. " Out with it. Come-!"' 

".•Sir." returned Mr. Wopsle, "without having the honor of. 
your acquaintance, I do say Guilty/ 1 Upon this we all took cour- 
age to unite in a confirmatory murmur. 

" 1 know you do," said the stranger; " I knew you would, I 
iold you so. But now I'll ask you a question. Do you know, or 
do you not know, that the law of England supposes every man to 
be innocent until he is proved — proved — to be guilty VI 

" Sir," Mr. Wopsle began to reply, "as an Englishman myself, 
I_» , 

" Come ! " said the stranger, biting bis forefinger at him. -" Don't 
evade the question. Either you know it or you don't know it. 
Which is it to be?" 

He stood with his head on one side, ap'd himself ou one side, in 
a bullying, interrogative manner, and he threw his forefinger at 
Mr. AVopsle — as it were to mark him out — before biting it again. 

'* Now !" said be, '"Do you know it, or don't you know it T' 

"Certainly! know it," replied Mr. Wopsle. 

" Certainly you know it. Tnen why didn't you say so at first ? 
Now I'll ask you another question ;" taking possession of Mr. 
Wopsle, as if he had a right to him. " Do you know that none of ' 
these witnesses have yet been cross-examined ?" 

Mr. Wopsle was beginning, " 1 can only say — " when the 
stranger slopped him. 

"What? 'You won't answer the question, yes or no? Now 
I'll try you' again." Throwing bis finger at him again. "Attend 
to me. Are you aware, or are you not aware, that none of these 
witnesses have yet been cross-examined? Come, I only want one , 
word from you. Yes or no ?" 

Mr. Wopsle hesitaled, and we all began to' conceive rather a 
poor opinion of him. 

" Come !" said the stranger; " I'll help you. Y"ou don't deserve 
help, but I'll help yon.. Look at that paper you hold in vour hand. 
What is it?" 

'• What is it I" repealed Mr. Wopsle, eyeing it, much at a loss. 

" Is itv' pursued the stranger in his most sarcastic and suspici- 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 109 

mis manner, "the printed paper you have just been reading from I" 
" Undoubtedly." 

'" Undoubtedly. No<v turn to that paper and tell me whether ii 

rlctfy slates that the prisoner expressly said that his legal ad- 

rs instructed him altogether to reserve his defeiiee V 

" I read that just now,'' 31 r. Wopsle pleaded. - 

'• Never mind wliai you readjust now, Sir: I don't ask you what. 

yon read. ^ <>u may read the Lord's Prayer backward, ii' yon like 

— and. perhaps, haw done ii before to-day: Turn to the paper. 

No. . friend ; not to the top 6T the column ; you- know 

better than that : to the bottom, to the bottom." (We all 'began 

ink Mr. Wopsle lull of subterfuge.) Well I Have you to 
ii .'" 

•• Here ii is," said Mr. 'Wopsle. 

Rssage with your ej ii me whether 

unctly slates that the prisoner expressly said that he was iu- 
sirucled by ins lega*] advisers wholly to reserve his defence ! 
lo yoM make tbat of it '.'" 
Mr. Wopsle answered, " Those are not the e.xaei words." 
" Xoi the exact words ! " repeated the gentleman, bitterly. 
that tin- exact substanc 
i es," said Mr. Wopsle> 
""Yes ! " repeated the "anger, looking round at the rest of the 
company, with his right hand extended toward the witness, V 
sic "And no\ what you say to the conscience of that man 

who, with thai before. his eyes, can lay his head upon his 

pillow after having pronounced a fellow-creature guilty unnea 

We all began to Suspect that Mr. Wopsle was not .the man we 
had thought him, and that he was beginning to be found oui. 
■ \ud that same man, remember," pursued.the gentleman, throw 
;it Mr. Wopsle heavily ; "that same man might 1)0 
■1 as a juryman upon tins very trial, and, having thus 
himself, mighl return to the bosom of his 
ily and lay his head upon his piHow, after deliberately swearing 
that he would' well and truly try th lined betw< 

n Lord the King and the pri i od would 

• according to the evidence, s " help him God ! " 
W( Mod that i ■ mate Wppsle had 

stop iii hi ''T while 

.villi an air of authnrity not to he dis- 
puted, am 

iy do for each indjvidu- 
nle, and came 

i . his left hand i and he biting 

Uit* Gmtisger of his righk 



110 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

'"From information I have received," said lie looking round at 
us as we all quailed before him, " I have reason to believe there is 
a blacksmith among you, by name Joseph — or Joe — (uirgery. — 
Which is the man '( " 

" ilere is the man." said Joe. 

The strange gentleman beckoned him our of his place, and Joe 

"Ypuhrive an apprentice," pursued, the stranger, "eommonly 

wn as i'ip ? Is he here ? " 
•• 1 am here," I cried. 

ng$r did n'pl recognize me, but 1 recugnized him as the 

gentleman 1 had met on the stairs on the occasion of my second 

visit, to Miss HaVJsham. His appearance was too remarkable for 

me in liave forgotten. 1 had known him the moment 1 saw him 

looking over the settle, and now that, I stood confronting him 

his haul upon my shoulder, 1 cheeked off again in detail, 

his large he, id, his dark complexion, his deep-set eyes, his bushy 

black eye-brows, his large watch chain,-. his strong black dots of 

beard and whisker, and even the smell of scented soap on his 

t head. 

wish to have a private conference with you two," said he, 

when he had surveyed meat his leisure. " it will take a little 

Perhaps we had heuer go to your place of residence. 1 

[refer not lo anticipate my communication- here ; you will' impart 

as much pr as little of it as you please lo your friends afterward; 

; haVe nothing to do with that!'' 

Amidst a wondering silence we three walked I tlie Jolly 

Bargemen, and in a wandering silence walked home. While g( -' 
along, the strange gentleman occasionally looked at me, and 
'-ionally bit the side of his finger. As we near d home, doc 
ely acknowledging the occasion as an impressive and cere- 
monious one. went on ahead to open the front door. Our confer- 
ence was held in the state parlor, which was feebly lighted by one 
candle. 

It began with the strange gentleman's silting down at the table, 
drawing the candle to him, and looking over some entries in his 
p ickei-book. He then put up the pocket-book, and set the candle 
a little aside : after" peering round it into the darkness at Joe and 
me, to ascertain which was which, 

" 3.1 y name," he said, il is Jaggcrs, and I am a lawyer in Lon- 
don. I am pretty well known. 1 have unusual business to trans- 
act with you, and I commence by explaining that it is not of my 
originating. If my advice had been asked, I should not have 
le.n here. It was nor asked, and you see me here. What i have 
io do, as the confidential agent of another, I do. No less, no 
m re.'' , 

lauding thai ha could not see us verj well from, where he sat» 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS * 11] 

it up, and threw one r the back of a chair and leaned 

upon it; thus having one fool on the seat ofthe, chair, and one foot 

on the ground. 

", aiiw, .Joseph Gargery, I am the bearer.of an offer to relieVe 

f this young fellow, your apprentice, you, would notfobjeel 
to cancel his indentures, at his request, and tor his go*od .' 
would not want. au\ ihittg for so doing ! " 

,ord i'orliid that i should w.attt anything for hot- -standing in 
Pip's way !" said Job) staring. 

ml forbidding is pious, but not to the purpose." retur 

■rs. "The question is, would you want anything I' Do yoii 

anything /" 

londy. " 

1 ii I .red al doc as if he considered him 

a fool l'or his disinterestedness. But 1 was ioo much bewildered 
between bre'athle s curiosity and surp <■ sure of it. 

Cry well." said Mr. .luggers. M RecoMeci the admission 
al don't try to git from it presently!" 
" Who's a going to try I " reported Joe. 
•■ i don't say anybody is. Do you keep a' dog?" 
• ■• Yes. 1 do keep a dog." 

(ear in mind, theft, thai Brag is a good dog. but TluldfVt is 
abetter. Bear that, in mind, will yoYi ?"' repeated Mk'Jaggers, 
ing his eyes and -nodding his head at doc, as if be were tpr- 
giving him something. "Now, i ret urn to this young fellow. And 
the communication 1 have to mala' is, that he has great ex; 
toons, i 

; ed, and looked .at one another. 
"1 'am Instructed U>- communicate to him," 'said Mr. daggers, 
throwing his lingers at me sideways. " that he will come into a 
•on.e properly. Further, that it. is the desire of the pn 
.• -<or of that property that he he immediately removed from 
h'.s present .sphere of life and. front this place, and be I 

tleman — in a word, as a fellow of great expeeta- 

dream was ouj ; my wild fancy was surpassed by sober re- 
ality ; Miss iiavisham was going to make ;ny fortune on a grand 

": . Pip," pursued' t lie lawyer,"] address the rest of 

what I haw to say io you. Vo;-, are fa understand first, that it 
is the request of the person from whom 1 take my instructions, 
that you always bear the name -of Pip.' foil will have no objec- 
tion, I dare sa; & being encumbered with 

■ any objection, this is the 
time • 

heart was heating so fast, and there was such a singing in 
my tars, that 1 could scarcely sLauiuuir that i had uo objection. 



112 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" I should think, not! "iSow you are to understand, secondly, 
Mr. Pip. that" the name of the person who is your liberal benefac- 
tor remains a profound secret unlil rite person chooser to reveal 
it. 1 am empowered to mention that it is the intention of the 
wi to reveal it at first, hand by word of mouth to yourself. 
len that -intention may be" carried out I cannot say; no one 
call say. It may be years hence; even many years. Now. you are 
distinctly to understand tjtat you are most positively prohibited 
from making any inquiry on this bead, or any allusion Or refer- 
ence, .however distant, to any individtiarwhomsoever as ihc, indi- 

: all the communication you may have with tqe. \i 
nave a suspicion in your breast keep that suspicion in your own breast. 
it is not the least to the purpose what the reasons of this pro- 
hibition are; t here may be the strongest and gravest reasons, or 
they may be there whim. That is not lor you to impure into. — 
Tim condition is laid down. Your acceptance of it, arid your ob- 
servance of it as binding, is tire only remaining condition that J 
am charged with, by the person i'com whom I take my msirnc- 
tions, and for whom I am not otherwise responsible. That per- 
son is the person front whom you derive your expectations, and 
the secret is solely held by that person, and by me. Again, not, a. 
very difficult condition with wlflch to encumber such a rise in for- 
tune ; but if you have any objection to it, this is the time to men- 
tion if. Speak out." 

Once more I stammered with difficulty that I had ha objection, 
" I should think not i Now/Mr. Pip, I have done with stipula- 
tions." 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 sus- 
picion ; and even now'he occasionally she* his v .his 

r at me while he spoke, as muck' as to express 
all kinds of things* to my disparagement,' if he only chose to m'en- 
them. . " We eom.e next 'to mere details of arrangement! You 
.must know that, although I have' used the tenu -"expectations', 
more than once, you are 'not. endowed with expectations 'only. 
There is already lodged in my hands a sum of money amply suffi- 
cient for your sub a : il ion and maintenance. You will please 
icier me your guardian. Oh!" for 1 was going to thank him, 
-• 1 tell you at once I am paid for my services, or I shouldn't? ren- 
der 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 advan- 
tage." 

I said I had always longed for it. 
• "Never mind what you have always longed for, Mr. Pip," he 
retorted; u 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 1 Is that it V 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. • . 113 

I stammered) yes. that was it. 

ir Good., Xiiw your inclinations are to be cpnsulted. I don't 
think thai wise! mind, but it's my trust. Have you over heard of 
any tutor whom you would prefer to another '." 

1 had never heard of any tutor but Biddy. and Mr. Wopsle's 
great-aunt ; so I replied in' the negative. 

"There»is a certain tutor, of whom I have sonfe knowledge; who 
1 think might suit the purposed" said Mjr. daggers. " I don't re- 
commend him. observe; because I never recommend any body*. 
The gentleman* I speak of is one Mr. Matthew Pocket/' 

Ah ! I caught at the name directly. Miss Ilavishani's relation. 
The Matthew whom Mr. and Mrs. Camilla had spoken of 'The, 
se place was to be at Miss Ilavishani's head when . 
I y dead in her bride's dress on the bride's table. 
" You know the name .'" said Mr. Jaggers, looking shrewdly at 
and then shutting up his eyes while he waited for my answer. 
answer.was, that 1 had heard of the*n'ame.< 
" Oh !" said he " Vou liave heard of the name. But the ques- 
tion is. what do you say of i 

1 said, or tried to say, that I was much obliged to him for 
rccouimemLtion'-'- 

" No, my young- friend !" he interrupted, shaking his great head 
very slowly. "Recollect yourself!" 

Not recollecting myself, 1 began agpin that I was much oblig 
io hinr for his- recommendation — 

" No, my young friend, - ' he in: shaking bis head and 

frowning and smiling both at once; " no, no, no ; it's very ' 
done, -but it won't do? you. arc too young to fix me with it. 
iiendati ui is not (h< v ml. Mr. Pip. Try another." 
orreoting myself, 1 said that I was much obliged \<> bim for 
his mention of Mr. Matthew Pocket — 
'.' T. cried Mr. .Jag 

nd (I added) ! illy try that gentleman. 

"Good. You had better try him in his own house > 
shall.be prepared foryoufand you can see bis son first, who is in 
London. When will you come !■> Lou.! 

; .Joe, who stood looking on 010 'hat 

i ! could come dire 

.;! should have Bonn i 

io come in, and they should not be working clothes. Say this 
day week. 1'ou'll want Shall 1 leave you t v. 

guine. 

Be . with the e id count- • 

ed them out on the to me. This 

ime he had taken his leg from the chair. He sat astride 
ir when he had pusLed the i .. . . winging 

his pursu and eyeing Joi 



114 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" Well, Joseph Gargery ! Yon look dumb-foundered ?" 

"I am .'" .said Joe, in a very decided manner. 

"It was understood that you wanted nothing for yourself, re- 
member ?V 

" It were understood/" said Joe arc understood. .And 

it ever will be similar according." 

"But what," i&id Mr. Jaggers, swinging his purse* "what if 'it 
was in my instructions' to make you a present, as compensation. " 
' " As compensation what for ?" Joe demanded. 

" For the loss of his services. - ' 

Joe laid his hand upon- my shoulder with 1 ho touch of. a woman. 
I have often thought 4iim since like the ste"an\-hamnier,tha1 can crush. 
a man or pat an egg-shell, in his combination of strength w it h g 
lioness. "Pip is that hearty welcome," said Joe, "to gO'*fVi 
with his services to honor and fortun', as no words can tell him. 
Bui if you think as Money can make compensation to me for the 
loss of the little child — .what .come to the forge — and ever the best 
of friends!" Q dear, good Joe, whom I was so ready to leave, and 
so unthankful to, 1 see you ag .in, with yoiir muscular blacksmith's 
arm before your eyes, and \ our bread chest heaving, and your voice 
dying away. dear good faithful tender Joe, 1 feel the loving 
tremble of your hand upon my arm as solemnly this day as 
had been the rustle of an angel's wing! 

But I encouraged Joe at the time. I was lost in the mazes of 
my future fortunes, and could not retrace the by-paths we had trod- 
den together. I begged Joe to be comforted, tor (as he said) we 
had ever been the best of friends, and (as 1 said) we ever would be 
so.- Joe scooped his eyes with his disengaged wrist, as if he were 
bent (.n gouging himself, bur said not another word. 

Mr. Jaggers had looked on at this as bne who recognized in 
Joe the village idiot, and in me his keeper. . When it was over, he 
said, weighing in his hand the purse he had ceased tt) swing, 

" Now, Joseph Gargery, i warn you this is your last chance. 
neasu'res with me. If you mean to take a present that I 
it in charge to make you, speaK out, and you shall have it. 
If. on the contrary, you mean to say — " Here, to his great amaze- 
ment, he was stopped by Joe's suddenly working round him with 
every demonstration of a fell pugilistic purpose. 

"Which! me.iniersay." cried Joe, "that if you come into my 
place bull-baiting and badgering me, come out ! Which 1 mean-: 
tersay as such if you're a man, come on ! Which 1 meantersay 
what I say I meantersay, and stand or fall by !" 

i drew Joe away, and he immediately became placable; merely 

slating to me, in an obliging manner, and as a polite expostulatory 

hum it might concern, that be were not -..going 

to be bull-baited and badgered in his o\\ 'had. 

risen wh«u Joe demonstrated, and had backed to near me door. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 115 

Without evincing any inclination to come in again, he there deliv- 
ered his valedictory remarks. They were these: 

" Well, Mb. Pip, I think the sooner you leave, here— as you are 
to be a gciit.t-inan — the better. Let it stand for this day week, and 
you shall receive my printed address in the mean time. You can 
take a liackivy-conch at the stage-coach office in London, and i 
straight to me. Understand thai I express no opinion, one way or 
other, on the trust 1 undertake. I am paid. for undertaking it, ' lll d 
1 (to so. Now, understand that, finally. Understand th 

lie was tarowing his finger at both of us, and I think would 
have gone on. but for his seeming to think Joe.dangertfus 
in;: i 

nefhing came into my head which induced me io run after 
him,, as he was going down to the .lolly Bargemen where he had 
left a hired carriage. 

•• 1 beg year pardon. Mr. Jagge 

"Halloa!" said' he. facing round. " what's ; the matter !" 

•• I wish to be quite right, Mr. Jaggers, and to keep to your di- 
rections; so I thought I had belter ask. Would there be any ob- 
jection io til} taking leave of any one I know about here before I 

i away .'" 

•• No," said he. looking as if he hardly understood me. 

•• I don'i mean in .the- village'only. but up town." 

•• Xo." said he. " N j >n. 

I thanked him and ran home again, and there I found tnat Joe 
had already locked ilic froi and.' vacated .the state-parlor, 

and was ;i lire with a hand on each knee, gazing 

intently at the burning coals. 1 Too sat down before the fire and 

vd at (be coals, and nothing was said for a long time. 

My sister was in her cushioned chair in her corner, and Biddy 

at her needle-work before 'the fire, and Joe sat next Biddy, 

and 1 sat next Joe in the corner opposite my sister. The more 

1 looked into the glowing coaft the more incapable. I became of 

ring at Joe • *the longer the srfence lasted the more unable i 

felt 

At length I got out, "Joe, have you told Biddy 1 " 

ip," returned doe, still looking at the fire, and holding 
Ids knees light, as if he had private information that they intend- 
ed to m .mewhere, " which I left it to yourself, Tip." 

" 1 would rather you told, Joe." 

" Pip's a gentleman of foitun', then," said Joe, " and God bless 
him in it ! " 

Biddy dropped her work and looked at me. Joe held his knees 
and looked at, me. I looked at both of them. After a pause 
they both heartily congratulated me; but there was a certain 
■touch of sadness in their congratulations that I rather r s- 

I took it upon myself U impress Biddy (and through Biddy, 



116 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

Joe) with the grave obligation I considered my friends under, to 
know nothing and say nothing about the maker of my fortune. It 
would all come out in good time, I observed, aiuTjn 'the mean- 
while nothing was to.be said- save that .1 had come into great 
expectations from a mysterious patrbh. Biddy nodded her head 
thoughtfully at the lire as' she took up her work again, and said 
she would be very particular ; and J.oev still detaining is knees, 
said, "Ay, ay, I'll bei ekervally partickler, .Pip ; " and then they 
congratulated me again, and went on to ex ("tress so much ponder 
at the notion of my being a gentleman that didn't half like it. 

Infinite pains were then taken by Biddy to Convey to'. my sister 
some idea If wliat had happened. 'I\> the best. of my 'belief those 
effort's entirely failed. She laughed and noded her head a great . 
many limes, and even, repeated* after Biddy the words '• P[p • and 
"Property." But I doubt if they had more meaning in them than 
an election cry, and ! cannot 'suggest a darker picture of her state 
of mind. 

1 never could have believed it without experience but as Joe 
and Biddy became more at their cheerful ease again i became 
quite gloomy. Dissatisfied with my fortune of course i oulu not. 
be; but it is possible that I may have been, without quilt* knowing 
it, dissatisfied with myself. 

Anyhow, 1 sat with my elbow on my knew and my face upon 
m\ band, looking into the- tire, as those two talked about my go- 
ing, away, and about what they should do with me, and all li 
And whenever I caught one of them looking at me, though > !; ' 
so pleasantly (and they often looked at me-^particularly Biddy),! 
fell in a manner offeude : as if they were expressing seme mis- 
trust of me. Though Heaven knows they never did by word on 

Sl "11 

At those times I would get up and look out at the door ; for 
our kitchen door opened at once upon the night, and stood open 
on summer evenings to air the room. The very stars to which I 
then raised my eyes, I am afraitl i took to be but poor and hum- 
ble stars for glittering on the rustic objects among which i had 
passed my life. 

"Saturday night," said I, when we sat at our. supper of bread 
and cheese and beer, "five more days, and then the day before 
the day ! They'll soon go." 

" Yes, Pip," observed Joe, whose voice sounded hollow in his 
beer mug. "They'll soon go." . 

" Soon, soon go," said Biddy. 

" I have been thinking, Joe. that when I go down town on Mon- 
day, and order my new clothes, I shall tell the tailor that I'll 
come and put tkem on there, or that I'll 'have them sent to Mr. 
Puuibiechook s. It would be very disagreeable to be stared at by ' 
all th« $6HJtp)<* hero." 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. J 17 

ill', and TNTi-s. Hubble might like to see. you in your new fig- 
ure " --aii! Jotv industriously cutting his bread;. Villi his 
cliec-'e'on it, in thy unci glancing al my un- 
tastod supper as if he thought of the rime w.liynvwfi used to com- 
pare slices. " So niigh'i Wopsle. And the Jolly Bargemen rilight 
lake if as a compliment.*' 

"Thai's just what 1 don't want, Joe. They would make - 
a business of il — such a coarse and Common business — thai 1 
eouldn'l bear myself." 

Ah. that indeed. Pip ! '" said doe. " If you couldn't ahear 
yourself — " 

Biddy asked me here, as she sat holding my sister's plate, 
" Have you thought about when you 11 show yourself to Mr. Gar- 
gejy, and your sister, and me ! You will show yourself to us, 
won"l you .' "' 

•■ Biddy." I refurned. with SQine resentment, " you are so ex- 
ceedingly quick that it's difficult to keep up with you." 

(" She always were quick,' 1 '' observed Joe.) 

"If you Had waited another m'oment, iBiddy, you would have 
heard me say that 1 shall bring my clothes here in a bundle one 
evening — most likely on the evening before I go away." 

Biddy said no more. Handsomely forgiving her, i soon exchang- 
ed an affectionate" good night with her and Joe, and went up to 
lied. When I gol into my little i'bora I sat down and took a long 
look .at il as a mean little room t hat 1 should soon he parted from 
aud raised above forever. It was •furnished with fresh young re- 
membrances too, and even at the same moment I fell into much 
the same coiifused'uivisioii of mind between it and the better rooms 
to which I was. going, as I had been in so often between the 
and Miss llavishanfs, and Biddy and Estella. 

The sun had been shining brightly all day on the roof of my 
attic, and the room was warm. As I put the window opeirV\nd 
stood looking out, I saw doe come -slowly forth at the dark door 
below, ami take a turn or two in the air; and then I aw 
Biddy come and bring him a pipe and light it for him. He nev- 
er smoked so late, and it seemed to hint to me that he wanted 
comforting, for some reason or other." 

He presently stood at the door immediately beneath me, smok- 
ing his pipe, and Biddy stood there too, quietly talking to him, 
aud 1 knew that they talked of me. for I heard my name men- 
tioned in a loving tone by both of them more than once. 1 
would not have listened for more, if I could have heard more ; 
so I drew away from the window and s;i down in my one chair 
by the bedside, feeling it very sorrowful and strange that this 
first, night of my bright fortunes should be the loneliest I had ever 
known. 

Looking toward the window, I saw light wreaths from Joe's 



118 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

pipe floating there, and I fancied that it wa? like a Messing fnom 
jo,. — no t obtruded on me or paraded before me, but pervading the 
e s,ha'red together. I put my light out and crept into lied; 
and it was an uneasy bed now, and I never 'slept the old sound 
sleep m it any more. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Morxiag made a considerable difference in my general jfrospect 
of Life, and brightened it so much fhat.it scarcely seemed .the same. 
What lay heaviest on my mind was the consideration that .six 
'days intervened between me and the day of- departure: for I. 
could riot divest myself of a misgiving that something might Rap- 
pen to London in the meanwhile, and that, when 1 .got there, it 
id be greatly deteriorated or clean gone. 

Joe and Biddy were very sympathetic and pleasant when T 
spoke of our approaching separation ; but they only referred ,to it 
when 1. did. After breakfast Joe brought out my indentures from 
tbejiressin the best parlor, and we put them in the fire, and 1 
felt that 1 was free. With all the novelty of my emancipation on 
me, I went to church with Joe, and thought perhaps 'The clergy- 
man wouldn't have read that about the rich man and the kingdom 
of heaven if he had known all. 

iWer an early dinner I- strolled out alone; purposing to finish off 
the marshes at once, and get them done with. As I passed the 
church, I felt (as I had felt during service in the morning)' a sub- 
•■Knmassion for the poor creatures who were destined to go 
there, Sunday after Sunday, all their lives through, and to lie ob- 
scurely at last among the low green mounds. I promised myself 
that I "would do something for them one of these days, and formed 
a plan in outline for bestowing a dinner of roast beef and pi una - 
pudding, a pint of ale, and a gallon of condescension, upon every 
body in the village. 

If I had often thought before, with something allied to shame, 
of my companionship with the fugitive whom 1 had once seen 
limping among those graves, what were my thoughts on this Sun- 
day, when the place recalled the wretch, ragged and shivering, 
with his felon iron and badge.! My comfort was that it happened 
a loug time ago, and that he had doubtless been transported a long 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 119 

way (Jff, and that he was dead to me. and might ably dead 

into the hargaihj. 

>.'o more low, we! grounfls, no more dykes and sluices, no more 
of these grazing cattle — though they seemed, in their dull manner, 
to wear a more respectful air now, and to fare round, in order that 
they might stare as long as possible at the possessor of such great 
expectations — farewell, monotonous acquaintances of my childhood, 
henceforth 1 was for London and greatness: not for smith's work 
in general and for you ! I made my exultant way to the old bat- 
tery, and, lying down there to consider the question whether Miss 
Uavishani intended me. for Lstella. fell asleep. 

When I awoke 1 was much surprised to lind Joe sfftirig beside 
me smoking his pipe. He greeted me with a cheerful smile on my 
opening my eyes, and said : 

,? As being the last time. Pip, 1 ihought I'd. toller." 

" And, Joe, 1 am very glad you did - 

"Thankee, Pip," said doe. ' 

•' You may be sure, dear doe." 1 went on, after we had shaken 
hands, •• that 1 shall never forget you." 

" No, no. Lip ! 'said doe, in a comfortable tone, '■/'/;/ .sure of 
that. Ay,- ay.'ol 1 cha ! I'd ess you, ii were only necessary to get 
ii well round in a man's mind to be certain on it. But it took a 
bit of time to get it well round; the change come so oncommon 
plump ; didn't ii i ' 

Somehow 1 was not best pleased with .Toe's being so mightily 
secure of me. I should have liked him to have betrayed emotion, 
or to have said, " It does you credit, Lip," or something of that 
sort. Therefore I made no remark on doe's tirst head : merely 
saying, as to his second, that the tidings had indeed come sudden- 
ly, but thai 1 had always wanted to be a gentleman, and had often 
and often speculated on what I would do if I were one. 

" Have you though !" said Joe. " Astonishing ! " 

•' It's a pity now, due." said I. "that you did not gel on a little 
more, when we had our lessons here ; isn t it ?" 

" Well, I don't know," returned Joe. " I'm so awful dull. I'm 
only master of my own trade. It were always a pity as I was so 
awful dull ; but it's no more of a pity now than it was — say this 
day twelvemonth — don't you sejB ! " 

What I had meant was, that when I came into my property and 

was able to do something for doe, it would have been much more 

• sable if he had been better qualified for a rise, in station, He 

was so perfectly. innocent of my meaning, however, that I thought 

I would mention it to Biddy in preference. 

So, when we had walked home and had had tea, I took Biddy 
into our little garden by the aide of the lane, and, after throwing 
out in a general way for the elevation of her spirits, that I should 
never forget her. said I had a favor to ask of her. 



120 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

"And it is, Biddy," said I. "that you will Dot omit any tippor- 
tunit\ ing Joe on a -little." 

"How helping him on ?" asked Biddy with a stead)- sort of 
glance. 

"Well ! Joe is a dear good fellow — in fact, I think he is the 
dearest, fellow that ever lived — but he is rather backward in some 
things. For instance,' Biddy, in his learning and his maimers." 

Although I was looking at Biddy as I spoke, and although she 
opened her eyes very wide when had I spoken, she djd not look at 
me. ' 

" Oh. his manners ! 'Won't his manners. do then 1 " asked Bid- 
dy, plucfting a black currant leaf. 

"My dear Biddy, they do very well here — " 

" Oh, they do very well here \ " interposed Biddy, looking cjose- 
ly at -the leaf in her hand. 

" Hear .me out — but if I were to remove Joe into a higher sphere, 
as I shall hope ro'remove him when I come into my property, they 
would hardlydo" him justice.'' 

"And cfbn't you think he knows that? " asked Biddy. 

It was such a very provoking question (for it had never in the 
most distant maimer, occurred to me), that I sank snappishly* 
" Bi sou mean '( " 

Biddy having rubbed the leaf to pieces between her hands — and 
tiie smeil of a black current bush has ever since recalled to. me 
that evening in the little garden by the side of the lane — said, 
"'Have you ever considered that he may be proud .'"' 

"Proud !" 1 repeated with disdainful 'emphasis. 

- I >h ! there are many kinds of pride," said Biddy, looking lull 
at me and shaking her head ; " pride is not all of one kind — " 

" Well ! What are you stopping for]" said I. 

" Not all of one kind," resumed Pdddy. " ^ e mav ' te 1 "° proud 
to let any one take him out of a place that he is competent to till, 
and fills welKmd with respect. To tell you the truth, 1 think he 
is ; though it sounds bold in me to say so, for you must know him 
far better than I do." 

" Now, Biddy r said I, " I am very sorry to see this in you. I 
did not expect to see this in you. You are envious* Biddy, and 
grudging. You are dissatisfied on account of my rise in fortune, 
and you can't help showing it." 

"If you have the heart to think so," returned Biddy, "say so. 
Say so oyer and over again, if you have the heart, to think so. ' 

"If you have the heart to be so, you mean, Biddy," said I, in a 
virtuous and superior tone ; " don't put it off upon me. . I am 
very sorry to see it, and it's a — it's a bad side of -human nature. 
I did intend to ask you to use any liule opportunities you might 
have after I was gone of improving dear Joe. But after this I 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 121 

ask you nqtlii extremely sorry to see this in you. Bid- 

dy," ! repeated. "It's & — it's a bad side of human natiiri ." 

•• Whether you scold me or api Bid- 

t]yV"you Lily depend upon my trying ig do all that lies 

in in) pi at all limes. And whatever 'opinion you 

away of mei shall make no difference in my wmeinbrance of you. 
Yri a -I iih'inan should jmi be unjust neither," said Biddy, turn- 
ing away her head. 

1 again warmly repealed that il was a had side of human na- 
tur ■ (ie which sentiment, waiving its application, 1 have since seen 
reason to tjiink I was right), and T walked down the fitrte 
away from Biddy, and Biddy weni into the house, and 1 went on! 
al the garden* gate and took a dejected str#U until siipper-T 

.; feeling ii very sorrowful and strange thai this, the second 
night of my brrghl fortunes, should be as lonely and unsatisfacio- 
ry as the first. 

i morning mice more brightened my view, and 1 extended my 
clemency t,0 Biddy, and we dropped the subject. Putting on 
hest .(dollies 1 had, L went into town as early as ] could hope to 
rind the shops open, and presented myself before Mr. Trabh, the 
tailor, who' was having his breakfas.1 in the parlor behind Ins shop, 
and who did n4 think il worth his while to come out to me, hut 
called me in to him. 

" Well ! " said Mr. Trabb, in a hail-follow-well-met kind of May. 
i\v are you, and what can I do for you 1 " 

Mr. Trabh had sliced his hot roll into three Feather beds, arid 
was slipping buttef in between the blankets, and covering il up. — 
lie was a prosperous old bachelor, and his open window looked 
into a prosperous little garden and orchard, and there was a pros- 
perous iron safe lor into tiie wall at tha side of his fire-placy, and 
I did not doubt that heaps of his prosperity were put away in it 
In bags. 

" Mr. Trabh,'' saidT, " it's an unpleasant thing (o have to men- 
tion, because it looks like boasting; but 1 have come into a hand- 
some property/' 

A change passed over Mr. Trahk lie forgot the butter in bed, 
got up from the bedside and wiped- his fingers on the tab.c-elolh, 
exclaiming, "Lord bless my soul ! " 

an; going up io my guardian in London," said I. casually 
drawing some guineas out of my pocket, and looking at them ; 

1 want, a- fashionable suit of clothes io go in. I wish to 
for them.' - I added — otherwise 1 thought he might only pretend 
to make them, " with ready mom 

" My. dear Sir," f .' as he respectfully bent his 

body, opened his arms, and took the liberty of touching me m 
outside of each eibow* "don't bur; me by mentioning May 



122 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

I venture to ppngratulate you ? Would you.do me ihe favor of 
striping irtr'o ,t,hc si,- 

Now Mr. Trubb'h I o.v was the most, audacious hey in 
country-side, Whefi 1 had entered lie was sweeping llic shop, 
and he had sweetened his labors by sweeping uv'er inc. He was 
still sweeping when 1 came out into the shop with Mr. Trahh, and. 
he knocked the broom against all possible corners and obstacles, 
to express (as I understood it) equality" with any black mith, alive 
or dead. 

"Hold that noise," said Mr. Trabb. wilh ii r stern- 

ness, "'or I'll knock your head off,! Do me the faVbr to be seat- 
ed. Sir. Now this," said Mr. Trabb, taking down a roll of cloth, 
and lidmg it out in j#fb>wing manner over the counter, preparatory 
to getting his hand under it to show the gloss, " is a very sweet 
article. I can recommend it for your purpose, Sir, because it 
really is extra super. lint' you shall see some others. Give me 
Number Four, you !'' ( To the boy, and with dreadful severity, 
foreseeing the danger of that miscreant's brushing me with it, or 
making some otiier sign of familiarity.) 

Mr. .Trabb never removed his stern eye from the boy until he 
had deposited number four on the counter and was at a safe dis- 
tance again. Then he commanded him to bring number live and 
number eight. " And lei me have none of your tricks here," sa d 
L'rabfo, "or you shall repent it. you young scoundrel, the 
longest day you have to live." 

Mr. Trabb then bent over number four, and in a sort of defer- 
entj'al confidence recommended it to me as a light article for sum- 
mer wear, an article much in vogue among t be nobiliiy and gen : 
try, an article that it would ever be an honor to him to reflect upon 
a distinguished fe low-townsman's (if he might claim me for a fel- 
low-townsman) having worn. "Are you bringing numbers five 
and eight, yon vagabond." said Mr. Trabb to the boy after that; 
'• or shall I Kick you out of the sine,) and bring them myself?" 

I selected the materials f >r a sub. with the assistance of Mr. 
Trabb's judgment, and re-entered the parlor to be measured. For, 
although Mr. Trabb had my measure already, and had previously 
been qui '-contented with it.hesafd apologetical y that it "wouldn't 
do under existing circumstances, Sir — wouldn't do at all.' 
So Air. Trabb measured and calculated me, in the parlor, as if I 
were an estate and he the finest species of surveyor, and gave him- 
self such a worid of trouble that I felt that no suit of clothes con d 
possib y remunerate him for his pains. When he had at last done, 
and had appointed to send the articles to Mr. Pumblechook's on 
the Thursday evening, he said, with bis hand upon the parlor 
lock, " I know, Sir, that London gentlemen can not be expected 
to patronize local work, as a rule, but if you.wou.d give me a turn 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. LS3 

now and then in.the quality of a townsman, 1 should greatly es- 
teem it. (iii d-i 'ning.SIr; much .obliged. Door!" 

ing al (In* boy, who had nol tl.eleasi no- 
tion what it meant. Bui I saw him col apse as his'master rubbed 
hie out with his. hands, and my first decided experience of ti." 
Stupendous power of money was, that it bad morally laid upon his 
hack Trahb's hoy! 

After this memorable event. J went to the hatter's, and the 
bootmaker's, and the hosier's,, and felt rat lifer like .Mot her Hub- 
bard's flog, whose out tit required the services of so many (trades. 
1 also went to the cnach-ollicc, and look my place for seven o'clock 
mi Saturday morning. It was not to explain every 

where that 1 had coma into a handsome proper!) ; but whenever 
1 said any thin.tr to thai etlecl.it billowed that the officiutilig 
tradesman ceased to have his attention diverted through the win- 
dow liy the liigh Street, aiul concentrated his mind upon hie. 
When 1 had' ordered every thing 1 wanted 1 directed my steps 
toward I'umhlcchook's, and as I approached that gentleman's 
place of business 1 saw"hini standing at his door. 

lie was' waii ing for me with great impatience He had been 
early with his chaise carl, and had called at the forge and heard 
the mws. lie had prepared a collation forme in the Barnwell 
lor, and he too ordered his sjinpnian to " come out of the gang- 
way' as my sacred person passed. 

•' My d ar iriebd." said Mr. Pifmblechook, taking me by both 
hands, when l.e and I and the collation were alone, " [-give you 
joy of. your good fortune; Well deserved, well deserved !" 

This was coming to the point, and I thought it a sensible way 
of expressing bin- 

" To think," said Mr. Pumbleenook, after. snorting admiration 
at me f.rsonie moments, " that I should have been the humble 
instrument of leading up to this, is a proud reward.'' 

1 begged Mr. Pnmhlechook to remember that nothing was to 
be ever said or hinted on that point 

" My dear young friend," said Mr. Pumblccimok, " if you will 
allow me to call you so—" 

I murmured "Certainly;" and Mr. Fumblechook took me by 
both bands again, and communicated a movement to his waist- 
ooa< thai had an emotional appearance, though it was rather low 
down — " My dear young friend, rely upon my doing my Utile a 1 
in your absence, by keeping- the fact before the mind of Joseph. 
Joseph !" said Mr. Puuiblechook, in the v compassionate 

adjuration. "Joseph! Joseph!" Thereupon he shook his head 
and tapped it, expressing his sense of deficiency in Joseph. 

"But my dear young friend." said Mr. l'umblechook, "you 
must be hungry, you must be exhaused. Be seated. Here is a 
chicken had round from the Boar, here is a tongue had round from 



124 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

the Boar, here's one or two little things that I hope you may not 
despise.' But /do I," said Mr. PumMcehopk, getting up again 
niomeril after he had sat down " see afore me, him as I eve*r sjjur.t,- 
ed with in Ids limes of happy infancy '. And may Y—om'y 1 — ?" 

This May- 1 meant, might he. shake hands? I consented,. and 
he was fervent, and .then sat' down agiia 

"Here is wine,'' said Mr. Putnb echook. ' '" Let us drink. 
Thanks to Fortune, and may she ever piek out her favorites with 
equal judgment! A'nfl yet I can nut,' said Mr. Pumblechook, 
getti|ig»up again, "see ai'ore me One — and likeways drink, to One 
— without agitin expressing — May I — may I — V 

I said he might, and he shook hands with me again, and emp- 
tied his glass and turned it upside down. I did the same; and if 
I had turned myself upside down before drinking,' the wine would 
not have gone more direct to my head. 

Mr. Pomblechoob helped me to th# liver wing, and to the best 
slice of tongue (none of those out-of-the-way JSio Thoroughfares 
of Pork now), and look, comparatively, speaking, no care of him- 
self at all. '-Ah! poultry, poultry ! Yrtii little thought," said 
Mr. Pumhlechook. apostrophizing the fowl in the dish*, " whenyou 
was a young fledgeling, what was in store for you. You li 
thought you was to be refreshment beneath this humble rool 
one as — Ball it a weakness, if you. will," said Mr. Punrbleck 
getting up again, "bat may I ? may 1 '" .L 

It began to he unnecessary to repeal the form of saying he- 
might, so he did it, at once. How he ever did it so often without 
mortally wounding himself with my knife, { don't know. 

"And your sister," he resumed. after a little steady eating, 
"which had the honor of bringing you up by hand! It's a sad . 
pictcr, to reflect that, she's no longer equal to fully understanding 
the honor. May — " 

I saw he was about to come at me again, and T stopped him. 

" We'll drink her health," said 

" Ah I" cried Mr. Pumblechook. leaning back in his chair, quite 
flaccid with admiration, "that's the way von know 'em, .Sir !" (I 
don't know who Sir was, but he certainly was not I, and there 
was no third person present) ; " that's the way you know the no- 
ble minded. Sir ! Ever forgiving and ever affable. , It might," 
said the servile Pumblechook, putting down his untested glass in 
a hurry and getting up again, "to a common person, have the 
peararice of repealing — but may I — ?" 

When he bad done it he resumed his seat and drank to my sis-' 
ter. "Let us never be blind," said Mr. Pumblechook, "to 
faults of temper, but it is to be hoped she meant well." 

At about this time I began to observe that he was getting flush- 
ed in the face: as to myself, I felt all face, .steeped in wine and 
smarting. 



■ GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 125 

I mentioned tn Mr. Fumblec-hook that T wished to have rriy 
clollies sen.1 to his house, and lit- was ecstatic on my so distinguish- 
ing him. J mentioned my reason for desiring Ui avo'i^ybservaj 
[ion in the village, at (flic lauded it to the skies. There was no- 
body hut himself, lie intimated, worthy of my confidence, and — 
in Short, might lie? Then he asked me tenderly if 1 rememl" 
our b'oyish games at sums, and how we had gone t: gel her to have 
mejiouud apprentice, and, in effect-, how he had ever been my fa- 
vorite fancy and my chosen friend I If 1 had taken ten times as 
many glasses of wine as I had. I should have known that In- never 
had stood in. that relation toward me,. and shou d in my heat 
hearts ha\e repudiated Hie i,dea. Yet for all that,] remember 
leeling'coiiviiiced t hat' 1 had been much mistaken in him, and that 
he was a sensible, practical*, good-hearted, prime fellow. 

i'.\ decrees he fell to reposing such great confidence in me. as 
to ask my ad»vice in referenee to his own affairs. He mentioned 
rha m opportunity for a great amalgamation and 

monopoly ol'ilc coin and seed trade on those premises, if enlarg- 
ed' occurred before in thai, or any other m 
iioi'hood. What a one was wanting to the realization of a vast 
t'.iie he considered to he More, Capital. Those were the two 
little words, more capital. Now it appeared to hi.u (Punible- 
chojik) that if tlrt capital were gut into the business through a 
sleeping partner, Sir: which sleeping partner would have-jio 
to i\o but wa,k 'in, by sell' or deputy, whenever he ph 
ejainine the books — and walk - in twice a year and rake his profits 
uv. ay in his pocket, lo the tune of fifty per ceffl — il.appeaied to 
him that -that ■ might tie. an opening for aiyoifng gent lemaii of spirit 
combined with* property, which would be-worihy of attention. 
what did I think? lie. had great confidence in my opinion, and 
what did 1 think ? J gavejt as my opinion, " Wait a bit y The 
united vastness and distinctness ol .this view so struck him 

■ked if he, might shak$ hands with me, but said he 
really must — and did. 

We, drank all the wine, and Mr. Pumbleehook pledged bin 
owrand over again to keep Joseph up' to the mark (i don't know 
what mark), and to render me efficient and constant servh 
don't know what ser\ ice), lie 1 also made known tome for the 
■ in my life, and certain. y alter having kept his' secret 
wonderfully well, thai he had always said of me, "That boy is 
no common boy, and mark me, his fortun' will be 'no common for- 
tun'." I If said with a tearful smile that it was a singular thing 
to think of now, and ! said so too. finally, 1 went out into the 
air with a dim perception that there was something unwonted in 
the conduct of the Nunahine d that I had sl'umherously 

got to I he turnpike Viilhoiit ken any account of the road. 

Tliery 1 was rou*cU by Air. i/uuibiecbuuk's hailing uie. JbU 



1-26 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. 

was a long way down the sunny-street, and was making expressive 
gestures for me In stop. I stopped, and he came up breath ess. 

'• No, iny'dear friend," said he, when lie 'had recovered wind 
for speech. " Not if I can help it. This occasion shall not en- 
|y pass without that, affability on your part. — May 1, as an 'old 
friend and well-wisher / May, I ?" 

Wfe slmok hands for the hundredth time at least, and lie order- 

a young carter out of myway willi the greatest indignation. 

blessed me, and sto; d waving his hand to me nut il rhad 

-<-d the crook in the road ; and then I turned into a field and 

had a long nap under a hedge before I pursued my way home. 

I Had .scant iugga^e to take with me to London, for little of the 
little I possessed was adapted to my new station, .lint I heg*an 
packing that same afternoon, and wildly packed up things that I 
knew 1 should want next morning, in a-fntinn that there was nut 
a moment fo be lost. 

So Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday passed, and on Friday 
morning I went to Mr. Pumblechook's to put on my new 'clothes 
and j>a\ my visit to. Miss Iiavisham. Mr. Pumblechook's own 
:■ mm was given tip to me to dress in, and was decorated with clean 
towels expressly for the event. My clothes we're rather a disap- 
pointment, 'of course. Probably every new and eagerly expected 
garment ever put on since clothes came in fell a trifle shVrt of the 
Wearers expeciaihm. But after I had bad hiy new suit on : 
half an hour, and had 'gone •through an i inensity -of posturing 
with Mr. Pumblechook's very limited dressing glass, in the futile* 
endeavor t<j see- my legs, it seemed to ti/'nie better. It In 
market morning at a neigh boring town some ten miles off. *$r. 
Pumbleebook was not at home. .1 had not told him exactly when 
1 meant to leave, and was «not likely to, shake hands with him 
in before departing. This Mas all as ii should he, and I went 
out i;i my new array : .fearfully ashamed of having to pass the 
man, and suspicious afti^r all that 1 was at a pergonal disad- 
vantage, something like Joe in bis Sunday- suit. 

1 weni circuitously to Miss liavisham's by all the back ways, 
and fang at the bell constrainedly, on account of the stiff loiig 
is of my gloves. Sarah 1'ocket came to 'he i:ale. and posi- 
tively reeled bapk when she saw 7 me so changed ; her walnut-shell 
countenance likewise turned from brown tOjgreen and yellow. 

"You/" said she. " You, good gracious/ What do you 
want/*' • 

" Lam going to London, Miss Pocket," said I, "and want to 
say good by fo Miss Iiavisham." 

i was not expected, for she left me locked in Ike yard while she 
wenr to as . ifi were to bt admirted. After a short delay she re- 
turned and touk me up, staring at me all the way. 

Miss Havisiiam was taking tiurcUe iu the room with the long 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 127 

spread table', leaning on her erntched stick. The room was light- 
ed as uf;yore, and al l*he sound of our entrance si e stopped and 
turned. Sh«,W$sVhen just abreast of the rotted die. 

<■ Don! I go, Sarah, " she said. " Well, Pip >" 
" f start lor London, .Miss Havisham, to-morrow "— 1 was ex- 
ceedingly careful what 1 said — "and 1 thought you would kindly 
rvol mind my falling leave of you." 

" This is a -ay figure, Pip;,'.' said she, maMng her enitehed stick- 
play round me, as il siie, the fairy, godmother' Who had chat 
me. were bestowing the finishing gift, 

'• 1 have coineiuio such g*>od fortune since l saw yon last, Miss 
iJavisham," I murmured. " And I am so thankful lor it .Miss 
ishainr' 

y !'" said she looking at the discomfitted and envious 
nil maniicst. deii«h!. " I have seen Mr. daggers, /have 
heard about it, Pip. So you go to-morrov. 
" Yes, Miss li'avisrtuun." 
'■• And yoii are adopted by a rich person V. 
" Yes, iss Havisham." 
" Not. named I ' 
" No._Mi.ss liavisham." 

'.nd Mr. Jagsers is, made your guardian?" 
" Yes, Miss liavisham." 

•■ quite gloated on these questions and answers, so keen' 
her enjoyment of Sarah Pocket's' jealous dismay'. " Well ! ' 
she went on; " ;e a |U'oniising career before you. . He : 

— deserve Lt-i-and al ■ide by Mr. Jaggers's instructions.'! She 
looked at me, and looked at Sarah, and Sarah's coahtei'iance 
g out of her watchful lace a cr el smile. " Oood-hy, Pip ! — 
you will always keep the name of Pip ?'' 
" Yes, Miss liavisham." 

'{Good by, Pip!" 

She stretched out her hand, and I went down-on my knee and 
pul ii to my lips. 1 had not considered how. J sjmuld ivdce leave 
e naturally to.mt* a: tht monies! to do this. She 
looked at Sarah I'm' el with, triumph hi her* v weir'd eyes, and so L 
le/J ufiy Fairy gftdmoth t. with both her hands* orf iier erutched 
. siandmg in the midst of the. dimly ighted room. beside the 
rolien hride-c as hidden in cobwebs. 

,vn as if I were a gh mist 

en out. She could not gel over my appearance, land was in 
the lasl dPgree confounded. I said, " (Jood-Uy, Miss Pocket ;"' hut, 
red 1 ! and did not seem colleclcd cm. ugh to know that 
1 had spoken. Clear of the house, 1 made the hesl of my 
back to Pumbl • ■ i lothes, made them into 

a bundle, uud went back home iu my older drest^ carrying it — to 



12^ GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

speak the truth, much more, at my ease too, "though I had the bun- 
dle to, carry. 

And now .those six days which were to have run out so slowly, 
hat! ast and were gone: and to-morrow looked ine in the 

face mure steadily than I could look at it. As the six evenings 
dwindled away to five, to four, to -three, to two, I had become 
e'and more appreciative of the society of Joe aiftl Biddy. On 
last evening I dressed myself out in my new clothes for their 
:hf. and sat iri my •splendor until bed-time. W'e'hada hot sup- 
on the occasion, graced by the inevitable roast, fowl, 'and . 

with. We were all very low, ami none the higher for 
fjlding to be in spirils. 
I was to leave our village at iive in the morning, carrying my 
little liand-portmanteau, and I had 'told .Toe that I wished to walk- 
away all alone. 1 am afraid— I am sore afraid — that this purpose 
mated in my sense of the Contrast there would be between me 
doe if we went to the coach together. I had pretended with 
myjself thai there was nothing of this taint in the arrangement?; 
bal when i went up to my little room on this last, night i felt com- 
i (J to admit that it might be so, ami had .an iihpufse npon me 
i down again and entreat Joe with me in the 

:• all. I did not. 
All night there v, ■ en sleep, going to wr 

places instead of to London, and having in the traces, rfow tiog$, 
cats, now pigs, now men — never horses. Fantastic fa;. 
iirmws occupied me until the day dawned and the bi 
siugidg. I*hen, i got up and pari -d, am! sat at the win- 

•:. ■ a last look out, and in taking it fell asleep, 
ddy was astir so early to get my breakfast that, although 1 
• an hour, 1 swelled the smoke of the kitchen tire when 
, terrible idea that, it hiust be late. in the after- 
■ noon. But long after that, and long ai'ter I had heard 
- and wits (juite ready, I wanted the . 
lirs. After all, 1 remained up there, tiding to cl 
repcaU'dlv'uuloekiiig and. unstrapping my &miall , *port- 
rappiiig#tVp again, until Biddy called 
! I wasj; '■■. 

Jv : breakfast with in it. I got up from 

the meal, saying with a sort of JjriSkuess, as if it had only just oc- 
curred to me, "Well! I suppose' I must be off! ' and then I 
kis;- ; e ter, who was laugh trig ami nodding and shaking in 

her i ir, and kissed' Biddy, and threw my arms around 

Joe's neck. Then 1" took up my little portmanteau Snd walked 
out. Tim w of them was when 1 presently heard- a scuffle 

behind me. ami looking back, saw Joe. throwing an old shoe after 
me and Biddy throwing another old s?me. I stopped then to 
wave my hat, and dear uld Jee waved his strong right arm above 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 1» 

his head, crying huskily. " Hooroar !" and Biddy put her apron to 
her face! 

■ I walked .-'.way at a good pace, thinking it was easier fo go than 
I had supposed it would be, and reflecting that it would neVCr 
have done to have an old shoe thrown after the coach, in sighl 
all the High Street. 1 whistled and made nothing of it. But, the 
village was very peaceful and quiet, and the light mists were sol- 
emnly rising, as it' to show me the world, and I had been so in- 
nocent and little there, and all "beyond was so unknown and -real, 
that all in a moment with a strong heave and sob ] broke into 
tears. It was by the finger-post at the end of the village, and 1 
laid my band upon it. and said, "Cood-hy, my dear, dear friend !" 

Heaven fcifows we need never be ashamed of shedding tears, 
for they arc ram upon the blinding dust of earth, owrlyi.ig our 
hard hearts. I was better after- 1 had cried than before— mure 
sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle altogether. 
[f I had crijed pfifpre, l should have had Joe with me 11 

Sq subdued 1 was by those tears, and by their breaking 
again nao pee in the course of the quiet walk, that when. 1 

was on the eoach, and it was clear of the town, I deliberated with 
an aching h.-art whether 1 would not get down when we changed 
horses, and walk back, and have another evening at home, and a 
better parting. We changed, and I had not made up my mind, 
and still i ■■ for my comfort that it would be quite practi- 

cable for me to get down and walk back, when we changed again. 
And while 1 was occupied with these deliberations, I would fancy 
act resemblance to Joe in some man coming along the road 
toward us, and my heart would beat high. As if he- could pos- 
sibly be there ! 

We changed again, and yet again, and it was now loo late and 
too far to go back, and i fcrent on. And the mists had all solemn- 
and the world was before me. 

Tins ;s THK END OF ') HB KIKsT s'l'AOK OF PlP'S KXl'F.l TATIONS. 



CHAPTER XX. 



The journey from our town to the metropolis was ajoun 
about five hours. It was a little past mid-day when the four horse 
stage-coach by which I was a passenger got into the ravel of iiv.f- 
fie frayed out about the Cross-Keys, Wood Street, Cheapside. Lon- 
don. 

We Britons had at that time particularly settled that it was trea- 
9 



L30 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

Konableto doubt cur having and our being the best of everything.; 
otherwise, while T was scared by the immensity of London, I think 
I might have, had some faint doubts whether it was hot-rather ugly, 
crooked, narrow, and smoky. 

Mr. Jaggers had duly sent me his address; it was Little Britain, 
and he had written after it on his card, "just out of Smithfield, 
and close by the coach office." Nevertheless,. a hackney-coachman, 
who seemed to have as many capes to his greasy great-coat as he 
was years old, packed .me up in his coach and hemmed me in with 
a folding and jingling barrier of steps, as if he were going to take 
' me fifty miles. His getting on his box, which I remember to have 
been decorated with an old weather-stained pea-green hammer- 
cloth, moth-eaten into rags, was quite a work of time. Altogether, 
it was a wonderful equipage, with six great coronets outside, and 
ragged things behind for I don't know how many footmen to hold 
on by, and a harrow below them, to prevent amateur footmen from 
yieldingito the temptation. 

I had scarcely had time to enjoy the coach and to think how 
like a damp straw-yard it was, and yet how like a rag-shop, and 
to -wonder why- the horses' nose-bags were kept inside, when I ob- 
served the coachman beginning to get down, as if he were going 
to stop presently. And stop we presently did, in a gloomy street, 
al certain offices with an open door, whereon was painted Mr. Ja(;- 

UERS. 

" How much V I asked the coachman. 

The coachman answered, "A shilling — unless you wish to make 
itjnoiv.' 

1 naturally said I had no wish to make it, more. 

" Then it must be a. shilling," observed the coachman. " 1 don't 
want 'to get into, trouble. I. know ki?n ! " He darkly closed an 
ey.e at Mr. dagger's name, and shook hi*s head. 

When he had got his shilling, and hacl in course of time com- 
pleted the ascent to his box, and had got away (which appeared 
to relieve Ins mind), 1 went into the front office with my port- 
manteau in my hand, and asked, .Was Mr. Jaggers at home % 

" He is not, ' returned the clerk. He is in Court at present. Am 
1 addressing Mr. Pip '?" ■ 

I signified that he was addressing Mr. Pip. 

" Mr. Jaggers left word would you wait in his room. He could't 
say how long he might be, having a case on. But it stands to 
reason, his. time being valuable, that he won; be longer than he can 
help." 

With those words the clerk opened a door, and ushered me into 
an inner chamber at the back.. Here we found a gentleman with 
one eye, in a velveteen suit and knee-breeches, who wiped his nose 
with his sleeve on being interrupted in the perusal of the news- 
paper. 



tfREAT EXPECTItIONS. 131 

ro and wait outside. .Mike," said the cjerk. 

I/began to say. thai I hoped I was not interrupting — when the 
clerk slipved th^s gentleman nut with as lit tie. ceremony .is 1 ever 
saw used, and tossing his l'ur cap out after him, left me alone. 

Mr.. Jaggers's room was lighted by a skylight only, and was a 
most dismal placej the skylight eccentrically patched, like a bro- 
ken head, and the distorted adjoining houses looking as if hey had 
twisted themselves to peep down at me throui iere were 

10 many papers about as I shotdd have expected to see ; and 
there were some odd objects about that ! should hot i 1 n \ - 
ed to see — such as an old rusty pistol, a sword in a scabbard, sev- 
eral strange- looking boxes and packages, and two dreadful casts 
on a shelf o: faces peculiarly swollen, and twitchy ab'ditl the nose. 
Mi;. Jaggers's own high-backed chair was of, deadly black horse- 
hair, with rows of brass nails round it like a coffin ; and 
I could see how he leaned back in -it, and bit his forefin^ 
clients. The room was but small, and the clients seemed io ! 
had a habit of backing up against the wall : for the wall, especial- 
ly opposite to Mr. Jaggery's chair, was greasy with shouhlors. i 
recalled, too, that the one-eyed gentleman had shuffled forth agi 
the wall when I was the innocent cause of his being turned our. * 

I sat down in the cliental chair placed over against Mr. .Jag- 
gers's chair, and became fascinated by the dismal atmosphere of 
the place, i called to mind that the clerk had the same air i^( 
knowing something to every body else's disadvantage as his mas- 
ler had. I wondered how many other clerks there were up stairs, 
and whether tfley all Claimed to have the same detrimental mas- 
tery of their H'Mow-crcaiures. I wondered what was thehisto 
all the odd litter about the room, and how it came there. I won- 
dered whether (he two -wo lien faces were of Mr, Jaggers's family, 
ami, if he were so unfi as io have had a pai b ill- 

looking relations, why he siuc.lc them on that dusty, pu eh I'm - the 
blacks and flies to settle on. instead of giving them a place at home. 
- i had no experience of a London summer day, and my 
spirits may have been oppressed by the hot exhausted air, and. by 

• list and grit thai lay thick on every thing. Bot I sat . 
deling and waiting in Mr. Jaggers's close room. untiM really could 
not bear the two casts on the' shell' above Mr. Jaggers's chair, and 
got up and went out. 

When 1 told the clerk that I would take a turn in the air .while 1 
waited, be advised me to go round the corner and I shoulci eon e into 
Smithrield. So I came into Smithfield, and the shameful p 
being all asmear with filth and fat and blood and foam, seemed to 
stick, t0 me ' ^° I ru bbed it off with all possible speed 1 y turning 
into a street where I saw the great black dome of Saint Paul's 
bulging at me from behind a grim stone building which a by-stander 
±u±d was Jvewgato Prison. Following the wall of tlm jail, 1 found 



139 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

the roadway covered with straw to deaden the noise of passing 
vehicles; and from this, and from 1 he quantity of people standing 
about, smelling strongly of spirits and beer, I inferred that the tri- 
als were on. 

While I looked about me here, an exceedingly dirty and partial- 
ly drunk .minister of justice alsked me if I would |like to step in and 
hear a trial or so : informing me that he could give me a front 
place for half a crown, whence I should command a full view of the 
Lord Chief Justice in his wig and robes — mentioning that awful 
personage like wax-work, and presently offering him at the red 
price of eighteen pence. As. I declined the proposal on the plea of 
an appointment, he was so good as to take me into a yard and show 
me where the gallows was kept, and also where people, were' pub- 
licly whippe'd,' and then he showed me _lhe Debtors' Door, 01 
which culprits came to be hanged: heightening the inieresi of that 
dreadful porial by giving me to understand that "four on -em" 
would 'come o-.t at that door the day after to-morrow at eight in 
the morning, to be killed in a row. This was horrible, and gave 
me rather a sickening idea of London : tin* more so as the Lord Chief 
Justice's proprietor wore (from his hat down to his boots, and up 
again to his pocket-handkerchief inclusive) mildewed clothes, which 
had evidently not belonged to him originally, and which,. I took 
. it into my head, he had bought cheap of the executioner. Under 
these circumstances I thought myself well rid of him tor a shilling. 

i dropped into the office to ask if Mr. daggers had come in yet, 
and I found he had not. and i strolled out again. This time 1 
e the tour of Little Britain, and turned into Bartholomew Close; 
and now I became aware that other people were waiting about for 
Mr. Jaggers as well as I. There were two men of secret appear- 
ance biunging in Ba w Close, and thoughtfully fitting their 
feet into the cracks of the pavement 'as they talked together, one of 
whom said to the other when they firM passed me, that ".Mr. Jag- 
gers could do it" if it was to be do e." There was a knot of three 
men and two women standing at a- corner, and one of the w- 
was crying on her dirty shawl, and the other comforted her by 
saying, as she pulled her own shawl over her shoulders, "Jaggers 
is for him, "> , and\dj i more coyhl you have?" There was a 
• lew who came into the Close while I was loitering 
it:i re, iii company with a second little Jew whom he sent upon an 
errand: and while the messenger was gone, I remarked this Jew, 
who highly excitable temperament, performing a jig of 
anxiety under a lamp-pOst, and accompanying himself, in a kind tf 
frenzy, with the words, " ( )h Jaggerth, Jaggerth, Jaggerth ! „ all 
otherth it h Cag-Maggertbi, give me Jaggerth!" These testimonies 
to the popularity of my guardian made a deep impression on me, 
ana" I admired and wondered more than ever. 

A* length/ as I was looking out at the iron gate of Bartholo- 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 133 

mew Close info- Little Britain, I saw Mr. Jaggers coming across 
tire road toward me. All the others who were waiting saw him at 
tlic same time", and ihere was quite 3 r;ish at ram. Mr. Jaggers, 
putting a hand on my shoulder and walking me on at his side 
without saying any thing to me. addressed himself to his followers. 

First, he took the two secret men. 

" Now, I have nothing to say to you," said Mr. Jaggers, throw- 
ing his linger at them. " I want'to know no more than I know. 
As to the result, it's a toss-up. 1 told you from the first it was a 
toss-up. Have you paid Wemriucli '.' 

" We made the money up this morning, Sir," said oue of the 
men, suhmissively, while the other perused Mr. Jaggers's fare. 

'• I don't ask ton when you made it up, or where,, or whether 
ypu made it up at all. Has Wemiuick got it f" 

" Yes, Sir," said both the men together. 

";' Very well; then you may go. Now, I won't, have it!" said 
Mr. daggers, waving his hand at them to put them behind him. 
" If you say a word to me I'll throw up the case." • 

" We thought, Mr. Jaggers — " one of the men began, pulling 
off his hat. 

" That's what I told you not to do," said Mr. Jaggers. ( " You 
thought ! I think fir you ; that's enough for you. It I want, you, 
1 know whe,re to find you; I don't want you to find me. Now, I 
won't have it. ' I won't hear a word." 

The two men looked at one another as Mr. Jaggers waved them 
behind again, and humbly fell back and were heard no more. 

"And now you!" said Mr. Jaggers, suddenly stopping, and 
turning on the two women with the shawls, from whom the three 
men had meekly separated. "Oh! Amelia, is it ?" 

" Yes. Mr. daggers." 

•' And do you remember," retorted Mr. Jaggers, "that but for 
>u wouldn't be here and couldn't be here ?" 

" < )u yes, Sir \" exclaimed both women together. "Lord bless 
you. Sir, well we knows that," 

" Then why," said Mr. Jaggers, " do you come here .'" 

" My Bill, Sir.!" the eryirfg woman pleaded. 
, " Now, 1 tell you' what, !" said Mr. Jaggers. " Once for all. If 
you don't know that, your Bill's in good hands, I know it. And 
if you come here, bothering about your Hill. I'll make an example 
of boih your Bill and ymi. and let him slip through my fingers. 
Have you paid Wemiuick' ?" 

" Oh yes, Sir ! Every farden." 

" Very well. Then you have dime all you have got to do. Say 
another word — one single word — and Weinmick shall give you 
your money 'hack." 

This terrible threat caused the two women to fall off immedi- 
ately. No one remained now but the excitable Jew, who had 



134 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

already raised the skirts of Mr. Jaggers's coat to bis lips several 



limes. 



" I don't know this man ! " said Mr. Jaggers, in the same de- 
vastating Strain. " What dues this fellow want ? " 

" Ma thear "Mithter Jauirertb. Hown brother to Habraham 
Latharuth ! "' 

" Who's he ? " said Mr. Jaggers. " Let go of my coat*' 

The suitor, kissing the hem of the garisent again before relin- 
quishing it, replied, "Habraham Latharuth j on thuthpithibn of 
plate." 

"You're ioo'late," said Mr. Jaggers " I am over the way." 
. " Holy father, Mithter Jaggerth," cried my ■ acquain- 

tance, turning white, "don't thav vou'iv again Habraham Latha- 
ruth ! " 

" I am," said Mr. Jaggers, " and there's an end of it. Gel 
of the w a 

'.I it liter Jaggerth ! Haifa moment! My hown cuthen'th 
gqpe to Mithter Wemmick at thith prethent minute, to -li offer him 
hany termth. Mithter Jaggerth ! Half a quarter of a' moment ! 
If you'd have the coridethenth'nn to be bought off from the t'other 
thide — a r . hany thuperior prithe ! — money no object 1 — Mithter 
-lib— Mithter— !" 

My guardian threw his supplicant off • with supreme indifference, 
and left him dancing on the pavement as if it were 1 red-hot. With- 
out further interruption we reached the front office,' where we found 
the clerk and the man in velveteen- with the fur cap. 

'• Here's Mike,'.' said the clerk, getting down from his stool, and 
approaching Mr. Jaggers confidential]}. 

"Oh ! " said Mr. Jaggers. turning to the maii, who was pulling 
a lock of hair in the middle of his forehead, like the Bull in Cock 
Robin pullintr at the bell-rope; " vour man comes on this after- 
' noon. Well?'; 

" Well, Mas'r Jaggers," returned Mike, in the voice of a suffer- 
er from a constitutional cold; " arter a deal o' trouble I've found 
one, Sir, as might do." 

" What is he prepared to swear I " • 

" Well, Mas'r Jaggers," said Mike, wiping his nose on his fur 
cap this time, " in a general way, any think." 

Mr. Jaggers suddenly became most irrate. "Now I warned you 
before," said he, throwing his forefingerat tire terrified client, "that 
if you ever presumed to talk in that way tiere I'd make an exam- 
ple of you. You infernal scoundrel, how dare you tell me that ( " 

The client looked scared, but bewildered too, as if be were un- 
conscious what he had done. 

" Spooney ! " said the clerk, in a low voice, giving him a stir 
with his elbow. " Soft bead ! Need you say it face to face i " 

" Now, I ask you, you blundering booby," said my guardian, very 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 135 

sternly, "once more, and for the last time, what the man you have 
brought here is prepare. 1 to swear ? " 

Mike looked bard at my guardian! as if lie were trying to learn 
a less. in from liis face, and 'slowly repjiecj, " Ayther to ch'aYacter, 
or to having been in his company and never left him all the night 
in question. 

ow, he careful. In what station qf life is this man I" 

Mike looked at his cap, and looked at the floor, and iobked at 
the ceiling, and looked at the elerk, and even looked at, m i before 
beginning to reply, in a nervous manner. " We've dressed him up 
like — " when my guardian blustered i 

•• What I Vott wii.t,, will you ?" 

i" Spooney ! " added the elerk* again, with another stir.) 

After some helpless casting about, Mfke brightened and began 
again : 

" lie is dressed like a 'spectable pie-man. A son of pastry- 
cook:" 

" Is tie here I" asked my guardian. 

" I left hiiii," said M£ke, "a settiri' on some door-steps round the, 
corner." 

•• Take him past that window, and let me see him." • •' 

The window indicated was The office window. We all three 
went to. it behind the wire blind, and presently saw the' client gb 
by in an accidental manner, with a murderous-looking tall indi- 
vidual, in a short suit of white limicn and a paper cap. This guile- 
less confectioner was not by any means sober, and had a black 
eye in the green stage 61 recovery, which was painted over. 

"Tell him to take his witness away directly," said my guar- 
dian to the elvrk, in extreme disgust, '" and ask him what he means 
by bringing such a fellow as that," 

My guardian then took me into his own room, and while he 
lunched, standing, from a sandwich box and a pocket-flask of sher- 
ry (he seemed to bully his very sandwich as he ate it), informed me 
what 'arrangements he had made for me. I was to v:o to " Bar- 
nard's Inn," to young Mr. Pocket's room, where, a bed had been 
sen! in i\n- my accommodation.; 1 was to remain with young Mr. 
Pocket until Monday: on Monday I was to go with him to bis 
fatheWs house on a visit, that I might try how I liked it. Also I 
was told what my allowance was to be — it was a very liberal one — 
ami had handed to me from one of my guardian's drawers the 
cards of certain tradesmen with whom I was to deal for all kinds 
of clothes, and such other things as L could in reason want. — 
" Tou will find your credil good, Mr. Tip,'" said my guardian, 
whose iiask of sherry smcllcd like a whole caskl'ul, as he hastily 
refreshed himself; "but I shall by this means be able to check 
your bills, and to pull you up if I find you outrunning tho con- 



136 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

stable. Of course you'll go wrong somehow, but that's no fault 
of mine." 

■ After L had pondered a little over this jbncouraging, sentiment, 
I asked Mr. daggers if I could send for a coach I He said it 
was -not worth while, I was so near my destination : Wemmiek 
should walk round with me if I pleased. 

I then found that Weuuniek was the clerk in the next room. 
Another clerk was rung down frcm up stairs to take his place 
while, he was out, and I accompanied him into the street, after 
shaking hands with my guardian.- We found a new set of people 
lingering outside, but Wemmiek made a way among them by say- 
decisively, " t tell you it's no use ; he won't ha\ 
word to say to one of you;" and. we soon got clear of them, and' 
went on side bv side. 



CHAPTER XXI. 



>sTi\r, my eyes on Mr. Wemmiek as we went along, to see 
what he was like in the light of day. 1 found him to he a dry man, 
rather short in stature, with a square wooden \pres- 

sion seemed to have been imperfectly chipped out with a dull-edg- 
ed chisel. There were some marks Hi ii that might have been 
dimples, if the material had been softej* and the instrument finer, 
but which', as it was. were only dim-. The chisel had made three 
or four of these attempts at embellishment over his nose, hut had 
given them up without an effort to smooth them off. I judged 
him to be a baclv-lor from the frayed condition of his linen, and 
he appeared to have sustained a good many bereavements ; for 
he wore at least four mourning rings, besides a brooch represent- 
ing a lady and a weeping willow at a tomb with an urn on it. I 
noticed, too, that seyeral'riflgs and seals hung at his watch-chain, 
as it he were quite laden with remembrances of departed} friends. 
He had glittering eyes — small, keen, and black — and thin white 
mottled lips. He had had them, to the best of my belief, from 
forty to tiny years. 

" So you were never in London before I " said Mr. Wemmiek to 
me. 

| lo," said I. 

"i was new here once," said Mr. Wemmiek. "Rum to think 
of now ! "' 

" You are well acquainted with it now ? " 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS'. 137 • 

" Why, yes," said Mr. Wemmiek, " I know the moves of it." 
• " Is ii a very wicked place .' " 1 asked, mure for the sake or say- 
ing something than for information. 

" You may get Cheated, robbed, and murdered in London. Bui 
there are plenty of people anywhere who'll do Unit for you." 

" If there -is bad blood between you and theui," said 1. to soft- 
en it off a little. 

"Oh ! 1 don't know about bad blood." returned Mr. Wemmiek ; 
'•'there's not much bad blood about. If therms anything tci be 
go1 by if." 

" That makes it Worse 

" Vim think- so :'" returned Mr. Weiiuniek. ''Much about. the 
same, i should say." 

lie wore his hat on the back of his head and looked straight 
before him : walking in a self-contained way as if there, were no- 
thing iii'the streets fo claim his attention. His mouth was such 
a post-office of a mouth that he had a mechanical appearance of 
smiling. We had got to the top of Holborn Hill before I knew 
thai it was merely a mechanical appearance, and that he was not 
smiling at all. 

•• Do you know where Mr. Matthew Pocket lives?' 1 I asked 
Mr. Wemmiek. 

" Yes," said he, nodding in the direction. " AtHornsey, north 
Of London." 

•■ Is that far?" 

" Well ! Say five miles," 

•' Do you know him !" 

" Why, you are a regular examiner !" sajd Mr: Wemmiek, look- 
ing at me with an approving air. " Yes, I know him. 1 know 
him!" ' 

- There was an air of toleration or depreciation about his utter- 
ance of these words that, rather depressed me"; and I was still 
looking sideways at his bloc!; of a face in searcji of any encour- 
aging note to the text, when he said here we w<*h- at Barnaid's 
Inn. My depression was not alleviated by the announcement, for 
I had supposed that establishment to be" a ho. el kept by one Bar- 
nard, to which the Blue Boar in our town was a mere public-house. 
Whereas 1 now found Barnard to be a ghost, and his inn the 
dingiest collection of shabby buildings ever squeezed together in 
a rank corner as a "club for Tom-cat's. 

We entered this haven through a wicket-gate, and we rfl firs- 
gorged by an introductory passage into a melancholy little square 
thai looked to me like a very confined buryii.g-grou'nd. I thought 
it had the most dismaftrees in it, and the m'ostrdismal sparrows, 
and the most dismal cats, and the most dismal houses (in number 
half a dozen or so), that 1 had ever seen. 1 thought the windows 
of the sets of chambers into which these houses were divided were 



• 138 great expectations. 

in every stage of dilapidated blind and curtain, crippled flower- 
pot, cracked g'ass, dus'y decay and miserable make-shift; while" 
To Let To Let To Let glared at me frortli empty rooms, as if no 
new Wretches ever came there, and the vengeance of the soul of 
Barnard were being slowly appeased by the gradual suicide of the 
present occupants and their unholy interment under the gravel. A 
frouzy mourning of soot and smoke (I thought) attired this forlorn 
creation .of Laniard, and it had strewn ashes on its head and on 
all its members, and was undergoing penance and humiliation as 
a mere dust-hole. Thus far the sense of sight; w'hi'e dry-rot and 
wet-rot and all the silent rots that rot in neglected roof and cel- 
lar, jot ot rat and mouse and bug and coaching-stables near at 
hand besides, addressed themselves faintly to my sense of smell, 
and moaned, "Try Barnard's Mixture." 

So imperfect was this realization of the first, of my great expec- 
tations, that I looked in dismay at Mr. Wemmiek. "Ah"!" said 
he, mistaking me; " the retirement reminds you of the country. 
So it does me." 

He led me into' a corner and conducted me up a flight of stairs 
— which appeared to me to be slowly collapsing into saw-dust, so 
that one of these days the upper lodgers would look out. at their 
doors and. find themselves without t lie means of coming down — to 
a set of chambers on the top floor. Mr. Pocket, Jutv., was 
painted on the door, and there was a label on the letter-box, " lit- 
turn shortly." 

" He hardly thought .you'd come so soon," Mr. Wemmiek ex- 
plained! "You don't want me any more I" 

" No, thank you," said I. 

"As .1 keep the cash." Mr. Wemmiek observed, "we shall 
most likely, meet pretty often. Good-day." 

"Good day." 

I put out my band, and Mr. Wemmiek at first looked at it as if 
he thought 1 waited something. Then lie looked at me, and said, 
correcting himself, 

" To be sure ! Yes-. You're in the habit of shaking hands?" 
■ I was rather confused, thinking it. must be out of the London 
fashion, but said yes. 

" I have got so out of it !" said Mr. Wemmiek — "except at last. 
Very glad, I'm sure, to make your acquaintance. Good-day !" 

When we had shaken hands and he was gone, I opened the 
staircase window, and had pearly beheaded myself, for the lines 
had rotted away, and it came down like the guillotine. Happily 
it was so quick that I had not. put my head out. After this escape 
I was content 1o take a fuggy view of the Inn through the. win- 
dow's incrusting dirt, and to stand dolefully looking out, saying 
to myself that London was decidedly overrated. 

Mr. Pocket, Junior's, idea of Shortly was not mine, far I had 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 1 39 

nearly maddened myself with loofsing out for half an hour, and 
had written my name with my finger several limes in the dirj of 
every pane in the window, before I heard! footsteps mi tfle stairs. 
(gradually there arose before me the bat, betid, Jrieckcloth', waist- 
coat, trowsers, hoots, of a member of society of about my own 
sraftdi.flg. lie bad a paper-hag under each arm, ami a pottle of 
strawberries in one band, and was but of breath. 

"Mr. Pip?" said he. 

"Mr.ipocke! I" said I. 

"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "I am extremely sorry : but 1 
knew there was a coach from your part of the country at mid-day, 
and 1 thought you would come by that one. The fact is. I haw 
been put (in your account — not. that it is any excuse — for I thot 
coming from the country, you might like a little fruit after din- 
ner, ami 1 went tq Overt Garden Market to get. it good." 

t a reason that 1 had 1 felt as if my eyes would start out of 
my head. I acknowledged his attention .incoherently, and began 
to think this was a dream. 

•' Dear me !" said Mr. Pocket. Junior. " This door sticks so." 

As he was fast making jam of his fruit by wrestling with the 
l" while the paper-bags were tinder his arm, 1 begged him to 
allow me to hold them. He relinquished them with an agreeable 
smile, and combattetl with the door as if it were a wild beast. It 
yielded so suddenly at last that he staggered back upon me, and I 
s aggered bad! upon the opposite door, and we both laughed. But 
still 1 felt as if my eyes must start out of my head, and as if this 
must be a dream. 

" Pray come in." said Mr. Pocket, Junior. " Aliow me to lead 
the way. I am rather bare here, but 1 hope you'll be able to 
make out tolerably well till Monday. My father thought you 
would get on- more agreeably through to-morrow with me than 
with him, and might like to take a walk about London. I am 
sure 1 shall be very happy to show London to you. As to- our 
table, you won't find that bad! 1 hope, for it will he supplied from 
our coffee-house here, and (it is only right,] sho.U.'d add) at ;■ 
• expense, such, being Mr. Jaggery's directions. As to our lodging, 
ii's not by any means splendid,' because 1 have my own bread to 
earn, and my father hasn't any (hi e me, and I shouldn't 

be willing to take it if.be pad. This is our siiting-room — just 
such chairs and tables and carpet and so forih. yon see, as' they 
.1 spare from home. You mustn't give me credit for the table- 
cloth, spoons and casiors. they come, for you from the coffee-house. 
This is my littlq bedroom — rather musty ; but Laniard's is musty. 
This is your bedroom ; the furniture's hired for .the occasion, but 
1 trust it will answer the purpose; if \ou should want any thing, 
I'll go and letch it. The chambers are retired, and we shall be 
alone together: but we sha'n't tight, I dare say. But, dear me. ! 



140 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

beg your pardon, you're holding the fruit all this time. Pray let 
me take these bags from you;. 1 am quite ashamed." ' 

As 1 si odd opposite .to Mr. Pocket, Junior, de rYering him the 
bags, One, Two,. I saw the starting appearance come into ins own 
eyes that I knew to be in mine, and he said, falling back : . 
" Lord bless^ me. you're the prowling boy !" 
" And you," said I, " are the pale young gentleman !" 



CHAPTER XXII. 

The pale young gentleman and I stood contemplating one ano- 
ther in Barnard's Inn until we both burst out laughing. "The 
idea of its being you!" said he. "The idea of its' being you/" 
said I. And then we contemplated one another afresh, and laugh- 
ed again. " Well ! " said the pale young gentleman, reaching out 
his hand good-humoredly, "it's all over now, I hope, and it will 
be magnanimous in you if you'll forgive me for having knocked 
you about so." 

1 derived from this speech that Mr. Herbert Pocket (for Her- 
bert was the pale young gentleman's' name) still rather confound- 
ed bis .intention with his execution. Put I made a modest reply, 
and we shook hands warmly. 

You hadn't come into your good fortune at that time ? " said 
Herbert l'ocket. 

<• No," said I. 

" No," he acquiesced ; " I heard it had happened very lately. — 
1 was rather on the look-out for goofi %tune then." 

•"Indeed?" 

" Yes. Miss Havishatn had sent for me, to see if she could 
take a fancy to me. But she couldn't — at all events she didn t." 

I thought it polite to remark iliat I was surprised to hear 
that. 

"Bad taste." said Herbert, laughing, " but a fact. Yes, she 
had sent for me on a trial visit, and if I had come out of it suc- 
cessfully, I suppose I should .have been provided for ; perhaps I 
should have been what-you-may-called it to Estella." 

" What's that?'' 1 asked, with sudden gravity. 

He was arranging his fruit in plates while we talked, which 
divided his attention, and was the cause of his making this lapse, 
of a word. " Affianced," he explained, still busy with the fruit. — 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 141 

" Betrothed. Engaged. YVhat's-his-uamed. Any word of that 
sort." 

' low did you hoar your disappointment 1 " I asked. 

•• [Voh !"' said he. "1 didn't care much for it. She's a Tar- 
Miss Ilavisliani ?" I suggested. 

"I don't say no to that, but I •mean Estella. Thai girl's hard 
and haughty and capricious t(t fhe'last degree, and has been brought 
up by Miss Ilavisliani to wreak vengeance on all the male se 

" What rclalionjs she to Miss Ilavisliani 1 " 

" None," said lie. ••< Inly adopted." 

" Why should she wreak revenge on all the male sex I What 
pge .' ' 

•• Lord. Mr. Pip ! " said he. "J know? " 

>." said I. 

"Dear me! It's.q'uite a story, and shall be saved till dinner 
nine. And now lei me take the liberty of asking you a ques- 
ow did you come there that (U.\ I" 

I told him, and he was attentive until I had finished, and then 
hurst out laughing again, anil asked life if 1 was sore afterward? 
L didn't ask him fOe was, for my eonvietion on that point, was 
perfectly established. , 

•• Mr. Jaggers is .your guardian. I understand ? " he went on. 

'• Yes." 

" You know he 'is Miss llavisham's man of business and solic- 
. and has her confidence when nobjqdy 'else has !" 

This was bringing me (I iell) toward dangerous ground. I an- 
swered with a constraint I made no attempt To disguise, I 
had seen Mr. uagge.rs in Miss Havisham's bouse on the very day 
b'f our combat other time, and thai I beli 

he had no recollection of haying ever seen me there. 

•■ He was S0 ( obliging as to suggest my father for your tutor, and 
he called on my father to propose it. Of course he knew about 
my father from his, connection with Miss Havishai father 

iss llavisham's nephew; not' that that implies -familiar in- 
tercourse between them, for he is a had courtier and will nol 
piliatc her." 

Herbert J'ocket had a frank and easy way wilh him that was 
very taking. J had never seen anyone then, and I have h 
seen i.ny one since, who so strongly expressed to me, in every 
look and tone, a natural incapacity to do anything secet or mean. 
There was something wonderfully hopeful ahout his general air, 
.and something that at jhe same lime whispered to me that he 
Would never he very successful or rich. I don't know how this 
was. 1 became imbued wilh ihe notion on that first occasion be- 
fore we sat down to dinner, hut 1 cannot define by what means. 

H* was still a palo young gentleman, and had a certain con- 



148 GREAT KXPKCTATIONS. 

i languor atyqijt him in the midst ofTiis spirits and hrisk- 

iiiai did not seem indicative of natural strength., [$.e had nol 

a'handsome face, bul it was better than handsome: being ex- 

v amiable and clie*ef?ul. J lis figure was a Mttie ungainly, 

when my knuckles had taken such liberties with 

always be light and yoi i-j. — 

■ Mr. Trabb's local work would :efullj of) 

niiu rtiun on n it I am conscious thai he 

his rathi i I carried 

y ne\ 

.1 commit 
<: be a had return. - I to our years. 1 therefore tqld 

him my small-story, and laid struts on my being forbid nuiro 

was. 1 f] 
blacksmith in i ve"ry li;- 

I he would - 

•- W 
you'll 

I lh 

•• 1 tads like 

■ lit of the ) thai be 

fell into a puiid. or 

• ! the mil 

1 .ul 

have be< 

-- 
■■ 1 

. 

• 
smith."' 

•• i should Ml 

" Then, my • he, turn. door 

opened, "hen I must beg of you to take 

top of the table, L»i ' your providing." 

This I would nol — - top. and I faced him. , 

nice little dinner — seemed to me then a very Lord May- 
or's Feast — and it acquired additional relish from being eaten 
under ihose independent circumstances, with no old pe 
and with Loudon all axuuiiii u&. XLi* again, was heightened by 



GREAT EXPECTATION 143 

a certain gipsy character thai set the banquet off; for while the 
table was, as Mr. Ptfhibleeliook might have said, tl luxu- 

ry — hein.ir entirely furnished forth from the coffee-house — th( 
cunriacenl region of fitting-room wa> parafjvelj pasture- 

and shift j r: imposing on the Waiter the wandering 

habits of putting ihc covers on the floor (where he fell over them), 
the melted butter in the arm-chair, the bread on the bookshelves, 
the cheese in the coal-scuttle, arfd the boiled fowl into my bed in 
the r.i ! found nine, of, its parsely and batter in 

a si '.'lion when I retired for the night. All this 

made the lig^/ul, and when the waiter was not there to 

i me m\ pleasure was without alloy. 
AY hi in the dinner, 1 reminded 

Herbert of bis prblmise to tell me about Miss Havisham. 

" T replied. " I'll e. Let me ihtro- 

dflee the topic, Handel, by mentioning i hat in London ii is notthe 
custom to put the Inure in the mo enti — and 

thai while ;he fori; is re i' thai use, ii is not* pu,1 further in 

than Is necessary. Ii i ly worth* mehtioning, only ii 

well to do as oilier rally 

over-ba^nd 

otir mouth better (whirb after aii . and you save 

a gbod deal of the attitude of opening . on the pari of the 

elbow." 
lie Offered these friendly suggestions in sin li a li'vely way i hat 

10th laughed, and 1 scarcely hlu> 
•■ Now," he pursue.!, ■ Havisham. Miss Havi- 

sham, you must know, was a spoiled child. Her mother died when 
she was a baby, and her father denied»her nothing. Her father 
was 'a country gentleman down in your part of the world, and 
a brewer. 1 don't know why il should be'a cfacfe thing to 
brewer; but U is indisputable that wflile. you cannot* possibly be 
eel and bake, you may be a.s»genteel ,as never was and brew, 
see it even da; 
"Yet a cenileman may not keep a public-house; may he.' - ' 

Not on any account/' returned Herbert • " but a public-house 
maj keep a gentleman.. Well ! Mr. Havisham was very rich ami 
very proud. So was his daughter." 
, " Miss Havisham was an only child P 1 hazard" 

"Stop a moment, I am coming to that. No, she -Was not an 
child : ■ she had a half-brother. Her laihcr privately married 
in — his cook', I ra't her. think." 
"1 thought he was proud," said I. 

" My good Handel, so he was. He married his second wif pri- 
vately, because he was proud/and in co'urs6*of time she died. When 
she was dead, I apprehend he hut told his daughter what he had 



144 GEE AT EXPECTATIONS. 

done, and then the son became a part of the family, residing in the 
house you are acquainted with. As the son grew a young man he 
turned out riotous, extravagant, undutiful — altogether had. At 
last his father disinherifedTnm'; but he softened when he was dy- 
ing, and left him well off, though not nearly so well off as Miss 
Havisham., Take another glass of wine, and excuse my mention- 
ing that, society' as a body does not expect one to be so strictly 
conscientious in- emptying one's glass as to turn it bottom- upward 
with the rim on one's nose:" 

I had been doing this, in an excess of attention to his recital. I 
thanked him and apologized! He said, •'Not at all," and re-' 
sumed. 

" Miss Havisham was now an .heiress, and you may suppose was 
looked after as a great match. Her half-brother had now ample 
means again, but what with debts and what with new madness 
wasted them most fearfully again. There were stronger differ- 
s between him and her than there had been between him and 
his father, audit is suspected that he cherished a deep and mortal 
grudge against her, as. haying influenced the father's anger. Now 
cruel part of the story — merely breaking off, my dear 
Handel, to remark that a dinner-napkin will not go into a tumbler." 

Why I was trying to pack mine into my tumbler I am wholly 
unable to say. 1 only know that I found myself, with a persever- 
ance worthy of a much better cause, making the most strenuous 
exertions to compress it within those limits. Again I thanked hini 
and apologized, and again he said, in the cheerfulest manner, " IS'ot 
at, all, 1 am sure!" and resumed. 

'■' There appeared upon the scene — say at the races, or th pub- 
lic balls, or any where else you like — a certain man, who made 
A iss Havisham. I never saw. him, for this happened five- 
and-lwenty years ago, bVfore you and I were, Handel, but I have 
heard my father mention that he was a showy man,' and the kind 
of man for the purpose. But that he was not to be, without ignor- 
. ance or prejudice, mistaken for a gentleman', my father im 

severates ; because it. is a principle of his that no man who 
was not a true gentleman- at heart ever was, since the world began, 
a true gentleman in manner. He says no varnish can hide the 
grain of the wood ; and the more varnish you put on the more the 
grain will express itself. Well ! This man pursued Miss Havi- 
sham closely, and professed to-be devoted to her. I believe she* 
had not shown much susceptibility up to that time ; but all she 
possessed certainly came out then, and she passionately loved him. 
There is no doubt that she perfectly idolized him. He practiced 
oh her affection in that systematic way, that he got great sums of 
money from her, and he induced her to buy her brother out of a 
share in the brewery (which had been weakly left him by his father) 
at an immense price, on the plea that when no was her husband he 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 145 

must hold and manage it all. Your guardian was not at that time 
in Miss Havisham's councils, and she was too haughty and -too 
much in love to be advised by any one. Her relations were poor 

and scheming, with the exception of my father; he was poor enough, 
but not time-serving or jealous. The only independent ,me among 
them, lie warned her that she was doing too much for this man, 
and was placing herself too unreservedly in his pow took 

the first opportunity of angrily ordering my father out of the house, 
in his presence, and my father has never seen her since." 

1 thought of her having said, "Matthew will come and see me 
at last when I am laid dead upon that table ;" and I asked Ber- 
ber! whether his father was so inveterate against her] 

" It's not that, - ' said he, "hut she charged him hi fore tier in- 
tended husband with being disappointed in' the hope of fawning 
upon her for his own advancement, and, if he were to go to her 
now. it would look true — even to him — and even to her after all. 
To return to the man, and make an end of him. The marriage 
day was fixed, the wedding dresses were bought, the wedding tour 
was planned out, the wedding guests were invited. The day came, 
but not the bridegijpom. lie wrote her a letter — " 

" Which she received/' I struck in, " when she was dressing for 
her marriage I At twenty biiimtes to nine I" 

"At the hour and minute," said Herbert, nodding. " at which 
she afterward stopped all the clocks. What was in if, further than 
that ii most, heartlessly broke the marriage off, I can't tell you, be- 
cause I don't know. When she recovered from a bad illness that 
she had, she laid the whole place waste, as you have seen it, and 
she has 1,1 w r since looked upon the light of day."' 

" Is that all the story I" I asked, after considering it. 

•• All 1 know of it; and indeed I only know so much through 
piecing it out for myself; for my father always avoids it, and, < 
when Miss Havisham invited me to go there, told me no more of it 
than it was absolutely requisite I should understand. Bui I have 
itten one thing. If has been supposed that, the man to whom 
ave her misplaced confidence acted throughout in concert with 
her half-brother; that it was a conspiracy between them ; and that, 
they shared the profits." 

". I wonder he didn't marry her and get all the property," said I. 

" He may have been married already, and her cruel mortification- 
may have been a part of her half-brother's scheme," said Herbert. 
" Mind ! I don't know that." 

" What became of the two men 1 ?" I asked, after again consider- 
ing the subject. 

" They fell into deeper shame and degradation — if there can be 
deeper — and ruin." 

" Are they alive now ?" 

" I don't know." 
10 



146 GREAT EXPECT ATI0N6. 

" Yon said just, now that Estella was not related to Miss Havi- 
sham, but adopted. "When adopted V 

Herbert stfrugged his Shoulders. " There has always been an 
Estella since I have heard of a Miss Ilavisham. i know no more. 
And now Handel,*' said he, finally throwing off the story, as it 
were, "there is a perfectly open understanding between us. All 
that 1 know about Miss Havishaui you know." 

"And all that I know," I returned, "you kno 

" I fully believe it. So there can be ho competition or perplex- 
ity between you and me. And as to the condition on which you 
hold your advancement in life — namely, that you are not to inquire 
or discuss in whom you owe it — you may be very sure that it will 
never be encroached upon, or even approached by me, or by any 
one belonging to me.* 

In truth, lie said this with so much delicacy, that I fell the sub- 
ject done with, even (hough I should be under his father's roof for 
years and years to come. Yet lie said it with so much meaning, 
too, that I felt he as perfectly understood Miss Havishaui to be 
my benefi i I understood the fact myself. 

It had not oocurred to me before that he had led up to the th 
for the purpose of clearing it out of our way ; but we were so much 
the lighter and easier for having broached it, that I now perceived 
this to be the case. We were very gay and sociable, and I asked 
hitn, in the course of conversation, what he was I lie replied, "A 
capitalist an insurer of Ships." I suppose he saw,me glancing 
obout the room in search of some tokens of Shipping, or capital, 
for he added, " In the City." 

I had grand ideas of the wealth and importance of Insurers of 
Ships in the City, and I began lo think with awe of having laid a 
young Insurer on hfs back, hlackened his enterprising eye, and cut 
his responsible head open. But, again, there came upon me, for 
my relief, that odtrtrnpression that Herbert Pocket would never be 
very successful or rich. 

" I shall not rest satisfied with merely employing my capital in 
insuring ships. I shall buy up some good Life Assurance shares, 
and cut into the Direction. 1 shall also do a little in the mining 
way. None of these things will interfere with my chartering a 
few thousand tons on my own account. I think I shall trade," said 
•he, leaning back in his chair, " to the East Indies, for silks, shawls, 
spices, dves. drugs, land precious woods. It's an interesting 
trade." 

" And the profits -are large ? " said I. 

" Tremendous ! " said he. 

I wavered again, and began to think here were greater expecta- 
tions than my own. 

" I think I shall trade, also," said he, putting his thumbs in his 



GREAT EXPECTATION*. 147 

waistcoat pockets, " to the West Indies, for sugar, tobacco, and 
rum. Also to Ceylon, specially 1 for elephants' tusks." 

" You will want a good many ships," said I. 

" A perfect flee!," said he. 

Quite overpowered by the magnificence of these transactions, 
I asked him where the ships lie insured mostly traded to at pres- 
ent ? 

" 1 haven't begun insuring yet," he replied. "I am looking 
about tne." 

Somehow, that pursuit seemed more in keeping with Barnard's 
Tun. 1 said (in a tone of conviction), " Ahdi ! " 

" Yes. 1 am in a counting-house, and looking about me." 

" Is a counting-house profitable ?" I asked. 

" To — do you mean to the young fellow who's in it ? " he asked, 
in reply. 

" Yes ; to you." 

" Why, n-no : not to M6." He said this with the air of one 
carefully reckoning up and striking a balance. "Not directly prof- 
itable. That is, it doesn't pay me anything, and I have to — keep 
myself." 

This certainly had not a profitable appearance, and T shook ray 
head as if 1 would imply that it would be difficult to lay by much 
aocunlalative capital from such a«soorce of income. 

" But the tiling is,'' said Herbert Pocket, "that you look about 
you. "Ekafa the grand thing. You are in a counting-house, > on 
know, and y,ou look about you." 

it struck me as a singular implication that you couldn't lie out 
of a odunting-bouse, you know, and look about you ; but 1 silently 
deterred to iiis experience. 

" Then the time comes," said Herbert, " when you see your open- 
ing. And you go in and you swoop upon it, and you make your 
capital, afld then there you are ! When you have once made your 
capital, you have nothing to do but em, loy it ! " 

This was very like his way of conducting that encounter in the 
leri; very "like. His manner of bearing his poverty, too, ex- 
actly corresponded to his manner of bearing that defeat. It seem- 
ed to me that, he took all blows and buffets now, with just the 
same air as he had taken mine then. It was evident that he had 
nothing around him but the simplest necessaries, for everything 
that I remarked upon turned out to have been sent in on my ac- 
count from the coffee-house or somewhere else. 

Yet, having already made his fortune in his own mind, he was so 
unassuming with it that I felt quite grateful to him for net being 
puffed up. It was a pleasant addition to his naturally pleasant 
ways, and we got on famously. In the evening we went, out for a 
walk in the streets, and went half-price to the theatre; and next 
day we went to church at Westminister Abbey, and in the after- 



148 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

noon we walked in the parks ; and I wondered who shod all the 
the horses there, and wished Joe. did. 

On a moderate computation, it was many months, that Sunday, 
since 1 had left Joe and Biddy. The- space interposed between 
myself and them partook of that expansion, and our marshes were 
any distance off. That I could have been at our old church in my 
old church-going clothes, on the very last Sunday that ever was, 
seemed a combination of impossihilii \ raph'ical and social, 

solar and lunar, Yet in 1 lie London streets, so crowded with peo- 
ple and so brilliantly lighted in the dusk of evening, there were de- 
pressing hints of reproaches for that I had put the poor old kitch- 
en at home so far away ; and in the dead of night the footsteps of 
some incapable imposter of a porter mooning about Barnard's Inn, 
under pretense of watching it, fell hollow dri Bay heart. 

On the Monday morning at a quarter before nine, Herbert went 
be counting-house to report himself — to look about him, too, 1 
suppose — and i bore him company. He was to come away in an 
hour o%two to attend me to Hammersmith, and I was to wait about 
for i.im. It appeared to me that the eggs from which young in- 
surers were hatched were incubated in dust and heat, like the v^^ 
of ostriches, judging from the places to which those incipient giants 
repaired on a Mdnday morning. Nor did the counting-house where 
Herbert assisted show in my eyes as at all a good Observatory ; 
being a back : -or up a yard, of a grimy presence in all 

particulars, and with a look into another back seconq door rather 
.• look out. 

1 wailed about until it was noon, and I went upon 'Change, Ind 1 
saw flue)' men sitting- there under the bills about shipping, whom I 
tool. al merchants, though I couldn't understand why they 

should all lie out of spirits. When Herbert came, we went and 
had lunch at a celebrated house which I then quite Generated, but 
now believe to have been the most abject superstition in Europe, 
and where 1 could not help noticing* 'even then, that there 
much more gravy on the table-cloths and knives and waiters' clothes 
than in the steaks. This collation disposed of at a moderate price 
(considering the grease, which was not charged fur), we went back 
rnard's Inn and got my little portmanteau, and then took 
coach fur Hammersmith. We arrived there at two or three o'clock 
in the afternoon, and had very little way to walk to Mr. Pocket's 
house. Lifting the latch of a gate, we- passed direct into a little 
garden overlooking the river, where Mr. Tucket's children were play- 
ing about. Ami unless 1 deceive myself on a point where my in- 
terests or possessions are certainly not concerned, I saw at once 
that Mr. and Mrs. Pocket's children were nut growing up or being 
brought up, but were tumbling up. 

Mrs. Pocket was sitting on a garden chair under a tree, reading, 
with her legs upon another garden chair ; and Mrs. Pocket's two 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 149 

nursemaids were looking about them while the children played. — 
'• Mamma." said' Herbert, "this is young Mr. Pip." Upon which 
Mrs. Pocket; received me wiih an appearance of amiable dignity, 
and I thought her a swmU woman. 

•• Master Aliek and Miss Jane," cried one of the nurses to two 
of the children, " if yon go a bouncing up against them bushes 
you'll fall over into the river and be drownded. and what'll your pa 
say then ! " 

At the same time this nurse picked up Mrs. Pocket's handker- 
chief, and said, "If that don't make six times you've dropped it, 
Mum ! " Upon which Mrs. Pocket laughed, and said, "Thank you, 
Flopson ; " and settling herself in one chair only, resumed her 
book. Her countenance immediately assumed a knitted and intent, 
expression, as if she had been reading for a week ; but before -she 
could have read half a dozen lines she fixed her eyes upon me and 
said, "I hope your mamma is quite well ?" This unexpected in- 
quiry pul me into such a difficulty that 1 began saying in the ab- 
surdest way that if there had been any such person 1 had no doubt 
she would have been quite well, and would have been very much 
obliged, and would have sent her compliments, when the nurse 
came to my rescue. 

" Well ! " she cried, picking up the pocket-handkerchief, "if that 
don't make seven times ! What ARE you a doing of this after- 
noon, Mum > " Mrs. Pocket received her property at first with a 
look of unutterable surprise, as if she had n verseen it before, and 
then with a laugh of recognition, and said, "Thank you, Flopson," 
and forgot me. ami reading. 

I found, now I bad leisure to count them, that, there, were now 
fewer than six little Pockets present in various stages of tumbling 
up. 1 had scarcely arrived at the total when a seventh was heard, 
as in the region of air, wailing dolefully. 

If there ain't gaby !" said Flopson, appearing to think it most 
surprising. " Make basic up. Millers ! " 

Millers, who was the other nurse, retired into the house, and by 
degrees the child's wailing was hushed and stopped, as if it were 
a young ventriloquist with something in its mouth. Mrs. Pocket 
read all the time, and I was curious to know what the book could 

be. 

We were waiting, I supposed, for Mr. Pocket to come out to us ; 
at any rate, we waited there, and so I had an opportunity of ob- 
serving the remarkable family phenomenon that whenever any of 
the children strayed near Mrs. Pocket in their play, they always 
tripped themselves up and tumbled over her — always very much 
to her momentary astonishment and their own more enduring la- 
mentation. I was at a loss' to account for this surprising circum- 
stance, and could not help giving my mind to speculations about 
it, until by-and-by Millers came down with the baby, which baby 



150 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

was handed to Flopson, which Flopson was handing to Mrs. Pock- 
et, when she too went fairly headforemost over Mrs. Pocket, baby 
and all, and was caught by Herbert and myself. 

" Gracious me, Flopson," said Mrs. Pocket, " every body's tum- 
bling ! " 

" Gracious you, indeed, Mum ! " returned Flopson, very red in 
the face ; " what have you got there 1 " 

"7 got here Flopson 'I " asked Mrs. Pocket. 

" Why, if it ain't your footstool ! " cried Flopson. "And if you 
keep it under your skirts like that, who's to help tumbling,! Here ! 
Take the baby, mum, and give me your book." 

Mrs. Pocket acted on the advice, and danced the infant a little 
in her lap, while the other children played about it prettily. This 
haddasted but a very short time, when Mrs. Pocket issued sum- 
mary orders that they were all to be taken into the house for a 
nap. Thus I made the second discovery on that first occasion, that 
the nurture of the little Pockets consisted of alternately tumbling 
up and lying down. 

Under these circumstances, when Flopson and Millers had got 
the children into the house like a little flock of sheep, and Mr. Pock- 
et came out of it to make my acquaintance, I was not much sur- 
prised to find that Mr. Pocket was a gentleman with a rather per- 
plexed expression of face, and with his hair disordered on his 
head, as if he didn't quite see his way to putting anything straight. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Mr. Pocket said he was: v glad to see me, and he hoped 1 was 
not sorry to see him. " For 1 really am not," he added, with his 
sun's smile, " an alarming personage." Pie was a young-looking 
man, in spite of his perplexities, and his manner seemed quite 
natural. I use the word natural in the sense of its being unaffect- 
ed ; there was something comic in his distraught way, as though 
it would have been downright ludicrous but for his own perception 
that it was very near being so. When he had talked with me a 
little, he said to Mrs. Pocket, rather anxiously, "Belinda, I hope 
you have welcomed Mr. Pip h" And she looked up frum her book, 
and said, "Yes." She then smiled upon me in an absent state of 
mind, and asked me if I liked the taste of orange-flower wafer I 
As the question had no bearing, near or remote, on any foregone 
or subsequent transaction, I consider it to. have been thrown out, 
lilt her previous approaches, in general conversational hospitality. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 151 

I found out within a few hours, and may mention it at once, that * 
Mrs. Pocket- was the only daughter of a certain quite accidental 
deceased Knight, who ha 1 invented for himself a conviction that 
his deceased lather would have been made a Paronet but for some- 
body's determined opposition, arising out of entirely personal mo- 
tives — 1 forget whose, if I ever knew — the Sovereign's, the Prime 
Minister's, the Lord Chancellor's, the Archbishop of Canterbury's, 
any body's — and hail tacked himself on the nobles of the earth 
in right of this quite supposition fact. I believe he had been 
knighted himself for storming the Knglish grammar at the point 
of a pen in a desperate address engrossed on vellum, on the occa- 
sion of the laving of the first stone of some building or other, and 
handing some Royal Personage eii er the trowel or the mortar. — 
Be that as it may, he had directed Mrs. Pocket to be brought up 
from her cradle as one who in the nature of things must marry a 
title, and who was to lie guarded from the acquisition of plehian 
domestic knowledge. So successful a watch and ward had been 
established over the young lady by this judicious parent that she 
tiad grown up highly ornamental, hut perfectly helpless and use- 
less. With her character thus happily formed, in the first bloom 
of her youth she had encountered Mr. Pocket, who was. also in the 
first bloom of youth, and not (pule decided whether to moual 
4 he Woolsack, or to roof himself with a Mitre. As his doing the 
one or the other was a mere question of lime, be and Mr*. Pocket 
had taken Time by the forelock (at a season when, to judge from 
its length, it would seem to have wanted cutting), and had married 
without the knowledge of the judicious parent. The judicious pa- 
rent having- nothing to bestow or wbhhold but his blessing, bad 
handsomely settled that dower upon them after a short struggle, 
and bad informed Mr. Pocket that his wife was " a treasure for a 
Prince." Mf. 'Pocket had invested the Prince's treasure in the 
ways of the world ewer since, and it was supposed to have brought 
in hut indifferent interest. Still Mrs. Pocket was in general the 
• of a queer sort id' respectful pity, because she had not mar- 
ried a title; while Mr. Pocket was the object of a queer sort of 
forgiving reproach because he had never got one. 

Mr. Pocket took me into the house and showed me my room, 
which was a pleasant one. and so furnished as that I could use it 
with comfort for my own private sitting-room. He then knocked 
doors of two other similar rooms, ami introduced me to their 
occupants, by name Drumnde and Startop. Drummle, an old- 
looking young man, of a heavy order of architecture, was whist- 
ling. Startup, younger in years and appearance, was reading and 
holding his head, as if he thought himself in danger of exploding 
it with too strong a charge of knowledj 

Both Mr. and Mrs. Pocket had such a noticeable air of being in 
somebody else's hands, that I wondered who really was in posses- 



152 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

sicm of the house and let them live there, until I found this un- 
known power to be the servants. It was a smooth way of going 
on. perhaps, in respect of saving trouble ; but it had the appear- 
ance of being expensive, for the servants felt it a duty they owed 
to themselves to lie nice in their eating and drinking, and to keep a 
deal of company down stairs. They allowed a very liberal table 
to Mr. and Mrs. Pocket; yet it always appeared to me that by far 
the best part of the house to have boarded in would have been 
the kitchen — always supposing the boarder capable of self-defense, 
for, before I had been there a week, a neighboring lady, with whom 
the family were personally unacquainted, wrote in to say that she 
had seen Millers slapping the baby. This greatly distressed Mrs. 
Pocket, who burst into tears on receiving the note, and said it was 
an extraordinary thing that the neighbors couldn't mind their own 
business. 

By degrees I learned, and chiefly from Herbert, that Mr. Pocket 
had been educated at Harrow and at Cambridge, where he had 
distinguished himself; but that when he had had the happiness of 
marrying Mrs. Pocket, very early in life, he had impaired his pros- 
pects and taken up the calling of a Grinder. After grinding a 
number of dull blades — of whom it was remarkable ti.it their fath- 
ers, when influential, were always going to help him to preferment, 
but always forgot to do it when the blades had left the Grindstone 
— he had wearied of that poor work and come, to London. ' Here, 
after gradually failing in loftier hopes, he had "read' with divers 
who had lacked opportunities or neglected them, and had refur- 
bished divers others for special occasions, and had tinned his ac- 
quirements to the account of literary compilation and correction, 
and on such means, added to some very moderate private resour- 
ces, srill maintained the house 1 saw. 

Mr. and Mrs. Pocket' had a toady neighbor — a widow lady of 
that highly sympathetic nature that she agreed with everybody. 
blessed everybody, and shed smiles and tears on pvery body ac- 
pording lo circumstances. This lady's name was Mrs. Coder, and 
I had the honor of taking her down to dinner on the day of my 
installation. She gave me to understand on the stairs that it was 
a blow to dear Mrs: Pocket that dear Mr. Pocket should be under 
the necessity of receiving gentlemen to read with him. That did 
not extend to me, she told me in a gush of love and confidence (at 
that time I had known her something less than five minutes) ; if 
they were all like me, it would be quite another thing. 

"But dear Mrs. Pocket," said Mrs. Coder, "after his early dis- 
appointment (not that dear Mr. Pocket was to blame in that), re- 
quires- so much luxury and elegance — " 

"Yes, ma'am," said I, to stop her", for I was afraid she was go- 
ing to cry. 

" And she is of so aristocratic a disposition — " * 



GREAT EXPECTATION. io3 

"Yes, ma'am," I said again with the same object as before.. 

" — that it is hard," said Mrs. Coile/, "to have dear Mr. Pocket's 
time and attention diverted from dear-Mrs Pocket." 

I could not help thinking that il might be harder if the batcher's 
time and attention were diverted from dear Mrs. Pocket; but I 
said nothing, and indeed had enough to do in keeping a bashful 
watch upon my company maimers. 

It came to my knowledge through what passed between Mrs. 
Pocket and Drummle while I Wrf£s attentive to my knife and fork, 
spoons, glasses, ;md other instruments of self-destruction, that 
Drummle, whose christian name was Pent ley, was actually next 
heir but two to a baronetcy. It further appeared thai tim book L 
had seen J\Irs. Pocke; reading in I lie garden was all about titles, 
and that she knew the dale at which her grandpapa would have 
come into the book, if he ever had come at all. Drummle didn't 
say much but in his limited way (he struck me as a sulky kind of a fel- 
low) he spoke as one of the elect, and recognized Mrs, Pocke! as a. wo- 
nianunda sister. No one but themselves and Mrs. ('oiler, the toady 
neighbor, showed any interest in this part of the conversation, and it 
appeared to me that it was painful to Herbert ; but it promised to 
last a long time, when the page came in With the announcement of 
a domestic affliction. It was, in ctfect, that the cook had "mislaid" 
the beef. To my unutterable amazement, 1 now. for the first time, 
saw Mr. Pockel relieve his mind by going through a performance 
that struck me as very extraordinary, but winch made no effect on 
any body else, and with which I soon is familiar as the 

rest, lie laid down the carving knife and fork — being engaged in 
carving at the moment — put his two hands into his disturbed hair, 
and appeared to make an extraordinary effort to raise himself up 
by it. When he had done this, and had not lifted himself up at all, 
he quietly went on with w as about. 

Mrs. (Joiler then changed the subject, and began to liaiierme. — 
1 liked it for a few moments, but she flattered me so very grossly 
that the pleasure was soon over. She had a serpentine way of 
coming close at me when she pretended to be vitally interested in 
the friends and localities I had left, which was altogether snaky 
and fork-tongned ; and when she made an occasional bounce upon 
Startop (who said very little), or upon Drummle (who said less), 
I rather envied them for being on the opposite side of the table. 
. After dinner the children were introduced, and Mrs. Coder made 
admiring comments on their eyes, noses, and legs — a sagacious way 
of improving their minds. There were lour lit lie girls and two 
little boys, besides the baby, who might have been either, and the 
baby's next successor who was yet neither. They were brought. 
in by Flopson and Millers, much as though (hose two non-com mis- 
sioned officers had been recruiting somewhere for children and had 
enlisted these; while Mrs. Pocke) looked at. the young Nobleathai 



154 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

ought to have been, as if she rather thought she-had had the pleas- 
ure of inspecting them before, but didn't quite know what to make 
of them. 

" Here ! Give me your fork, mum, and take the baby," said 
Flopson. "Don't take it that way, or you'll get it's head under 
the table." 

Thus advised, Mrs. Pocket took it the other way, and got its 
head upon the table ; which was announced to all present by a 
prodigious concussion. 

" Dear, dear ! Give it me back, mum," said Flopson ; " and Miss 
Jane come and dance to baby, do ! " 

One of the little girls — a mere mite, who seemed to have pre- 
maturely taken upon herself some charge of the others — stepped 
out of her pla e by me, and danced to and from the baby until it 
left off crying and laughed. Then all the children laughed, and 
Mr. Pocket (who in the meantime had twice endeavored to lift 
himself up by the hair) laughed, and we all laughed and were 
glad. 

Flopson, by dint of doubling the baby at the joints like a Dutch 
doll, thea got it safely into Mrs. Pocket's lap, and gave it the nut- 
crackers to play with ; at the same time recommending Mrs. 
Pocket to take notice that the handles of that instrument were not 
likely to agree with its eyes, and sharply charging Miss Jane to 
look' after the same. Then the two nurses left the room,, and had 
a lively scuffle on the staircase with a dissipated page who had' 
waited at dinner, and who had clearly lost half his buttons at the 
gaming-table. 

I was made very uneasy in my mind by Mrs. Pocket's* falling 
into a discussion with Drummle respecting the dates of two baro- 
uetcies while she ate a sliced orange steeped in sugar and wine and 
forgetting all about the baby on her lap, who did most appalling 
things- with the nut-crackers. At length little Jane, perceiving its 
young brains to be imperiled, softly left her place, and with many 
small artifices coaxed the dangerous weapon away. Mrs. Pocket 
finishing her orange at about the same time, and not approving of 
this, said to Jane : 

"You. naughty child, how dare you I Go and sit down this in- 
stant. ! " 

" Mamma dear," lisped the little girl, " baby ood have put hith 
eyeth out." 

" How dare you tell me "so ! " retorted Mrs. Pocket, " Go and 
sit down in your chair this 'moment." 

Mrs. Pocket's dignity was so crushed that I felt quite abashed, 
as if I 'myself had done something to rouse it. 

" Belinda," remonstrated Mr. Pocket from the other end of the 
table, " how can you be so unreasonable. Jane only interfered for 
the protection of baby." 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 155 

" I will not allow any body to interfere," said Mrs. Pocket. " I 
am surprised, Matthew, thai you should expose me to the affront 

of interference.'" 

"Good God !" cried Mr. Pocket in an outbreak of desperation. 

" Are infants to be liul-crackered into their tombs, and is nobody 
to save them V 

"I will not be interfered with by Jane," said Mrs. Pocket, with 
a majestic glance at that innocent little offender. " 1 hope 1 know 
my poor grandpapa's position. Jane, rhdeed ! " 

Mr. Pocket got his hands into his hail again, and Ibis time really 
did lift himself some inches out of his chair. "Hear this! 
helplessly exclaimed to the elements. " Babies are to be niitcrack- 
ered dead, for people's poor grandpapa's positions! " Then be let 
himself down again, and became silent. 

We all looked awkwardly at the table-cloth while this was go- 
ing on. A pause succeeded, during which the honest and irrepres- 
sible baby made a series of leaps and crows at little .lane, who ap- 
peared to me to be the only member of the family (irrespective of 
servants) with whom it had any decided acquaintance. 

"Mr. Drummle," said Mrs. Pocket, "will you ring for Flopsnn I 
Jane, you undutiful little thing, go and lie down. Now. baby- 
darling, come with ma ! " 

The baby was the soul of honor, mid protested with all its might. 
It doubled itself up the wrong way over Mrs. Pocket's arm, ex- 
hibited a pair of knitted shoes and dimpled ankles to the company 
in lieu of its soft face, ami was carried out in the highest state of 
mutiny. And it gained its point after all, for I saw it through 
the window within a few minutes, being nursed by little Jane. 

It happened that the other live children were left behind at the 
dinner-table, through Flopson's having some private engagement 
and their not being any body else's business, i thus became aware 
of the mutual relations between them and Mr. Pocket,* which 
were exemplified in the following manner. .Mr. Pocket, with the 
normal perplexity of his face heightened and his hair rumpled, 
looked at them for some minutes as if he couldn't make out how 
they came to be boarding and lodging in that establishment, and 
why they hadn't been billeted by Nature on somebody else. Then, 
in a distant missionary way, he asked th< HI e. rlain questions — as 
why little Jot had that hole in hi- frill: who said. Pa, Flopson 
was going to mend it when she had lime — and 'how little Fanny 
came by that- whitlow : who said, Pa, Millers was going to poul- 
tice it when she didn't forget. Then he melted into parental ten- 
derness, and gave them a shillin and (old them to go ami 
play ; and men as they went out ie very strong effort to 
lift himself up by the hair, he dismissed the hopeless subject. 

In the evening there was rowing on the river. As Drummle and 
Startop had each a, boat 1 resolved to set up mine, and to out them 



1 56 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. 

both out. I was pretty good at most exercises in which country 
boys are adepts, but as I was conscious of wanting elegance of 
style for the Thames — not to say for other waters — I at once en- 
gaged to place myself under the tuiiion of the winner of a prize- 
wherry who plied at our stairs, and to whom I was introduced by 
my new allies. This practical authority confused me very much 
by saying I had the arm of a blacksmith. If he could have known 
how nearly the compliment lost him his pupil I doubt if he would 
have paid it. 

There was a supper-tray after we- got home at night, and I 
think we should all have enjoyed ourselves but for a rather dis- 
agreeable domestic occurrence. Mrs. Pocket was extremely sweet, 
and Mr. Pocket was iu good spirits, when a housemaid came in, 
and said, " If you please, Sir, I should wish to speak to you." 

" Speak to your master ? ' said Mrs. Pocket, whose dignity was 
roused again. " How can you think of such a thing! Go and 
speak to Flopson. Or speak to me at some other time.'' 

"Begging your pardon, ma'am," returned the housemaid, " I 
should wish to speak at once, and to speak to master." 

Hereupon Mr. Pocket went out of. the room, and we made the 
best of ourselves until he came back. 

"This is a pretty thing, Belinda !" said Mr. Pocket, returning 
with a countenance expressive of grief and despair. " Here's the 
cook lying insensibly drunk on the kitchen floor, with a large bundle 
of fresh butter made up in the cupboard ready to sell for grease !" 

Mrs. Pocket instantly showed much amiable emotion, and said, 
" This is that odious Mary Anne's doing ! " 

" What do you mean, Belinda?" demanded Mr. Pocket. 

'•Mary Anne has told you," said Mrs. Pocket. "Did I not 
see her with my own eyes and hear her with my own ears, come 
into the room just now and ask to speak to you 1 " 

" But has she not taken me down stairs, Belinda," returned Mr. 
Pocket, "and shown me the woman, am! the bundle too? " 

" And do you defend her, Matthew," said Mrs. Pocket, " for 
making mischief? " 

Mr. Pocket uttered a dismAj groan. 

" Am I, grand-papa's grand-daughter, to be nothing in the house ?" 
said Mrs. Pocket, " Besides, the cook has always been a very 
nice respectful woman, and said, in the most natural manner, when 
she came to look after the situation, she felt I was born to be a 
Duchess." 

There was a sofa where Mr. Pocket stood, and he dropped upon 
it in the attitude of the Dying Gladiator. Still in that attitude, 
he said, with a hollow voice, " Good-night, Mr-. Pip," when 1 deemed 
it advisable to go to bed and leave him. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 157 



oiiArTEirxxiv. 

After two or three (lays, when I had established myself in my 
room, and had gfOjne backward .and forward Id London several 
times, and had ordered all 1 wauled of my tradesmen, Mr. Pock- 
et and 1 had a long talk together'. He knew more of my hit, Tid- 
ed career than 1 knew myself, for he referred to Ins having been 
rtild by IVIiv Baggers that I was not. designed fur any profession, 
and that 1 mould he well enpugb educate ! for my destiny if L 
could " hold my own " with the average of young men in pros- 
perous circumstances. I acquiesced, of course, knowing nothing 
lo the contrary. 

He advised my attending certain places in London, for t lie ac- 
quisition of Mich mere rudiments as ! wanted, and my investing 
him witli the functions, of explainer and director of all my studies. 
He hoped thai with intelligent assistance 1 should meet with little 
tit discourage me, and should soon he able to dispense with any 
aid hut his. Through Ins way of saying this, and much mot 
similar purpose, he placed himself ofi confidential terms with me 
in an admirable manner; and I may stale at once that he was al- 
ways so zealous and honorable in fulfilling his compact with me, 
that he made me zealous and honoraMe in fulfilling mine with 
him. If lie had shown indifference as a master, 1 have no doubt 
1 should have returned ihe compliment as a pupil; he gave me 
no such excuse, and each of us did the other justice. Nor did I 
ever regard him as Inning anything ludicrous about him — or any- 
thing hut what was serious, honest, and good — in his 'tutor commu- 
nication with me. 

When these points were settled, and so far carried out as that 
1 hud begun to work in earnest, il occurred to me th.il it' 1 could 
retain my bedroom in Barnard's Inn, my life would he agreeably 
varied, while my manners would be none the worse for Herbert's 
society. My. Pockel did not object lo this arrangement, but urged 
that before any step could possibly be taken in it, it must be 
submitted to my guardian. 1 felt that his delicacy arose out of 
the considerate n that the plan would save Herbert some expense; 
so Invent off to kittle I'.iitain, and imparted my wish to .Mr. Jag- 
gerd 

"If I could buy the furniture now hired for me," said I, " and 
one or two other little tb.il Id be quite at home there." 

•• &0 il ! " said Mr. Jaegers, with a short laugh. " I told you 
you'd get on. Wall ! How much do you want V 



158 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

I said I didn't know how much. 

" Come ! " retorted Mr. Jaggers. " How much 1 Fifty pounds 1" 

" Oh, not nearly so much." 

" Five pound-' ( " said Mr. Jaggers. 

This was such a great fall, that I said in discomfiture, "Oh ! 
e than that." 
ioijB than that, eh ?" retorted Mr. Jaggers, lying in wait for 
iih his hands in his pockets, his head on one side, and his 
eyes nil the wall behind me ; " how much more 1 " 

" It is so difficult to fix a sum," said I, hesitating. 

" Clinic !" said Mr. Jaggers. "Let's get at it. Twice-five ; 
will that do ? Three times five ; will that do ? Four times BVe ; 
will that do ? " 

I said I thought that would do handsomely. 

"Four limes five will do handsomely, will it?" said Mr. Jag- 
gers, knitting his brows. " Now what do you make of feur times 
five?" 

" What do I make of it ? " 

" Ah ! " said Jaggers ; " how much 1 " 

"I suppose you male it twenty pounds." said I, smiling. 

'^fcu'ver mind what I make it, my friend," observed Mr. Jag- 
. with a knowing and coiTtradictory toss of his head. " I want 
to know what you make Lfcitt- 

" Twenty pounds, of course!." 

" Wemmiek !" said Mr. daggers, opening his office-door. "Take 
Mr. Pip's written order, and pay him twenty pounds." 

This 'strongly marked way of doing business made a strongly 
marked impression on me, and that not of an agreeable kind. — 
Mr. daggers never laughed; but he wore great bright creaking 
boots, and in poising himself on these boots, with his large head 
bent down, and his eyebrows joined together, awaiting an answer, 
he sometimes caused the boot's to creak, as if they laughed in a 
dry and suspicious way. As he happened to go out now, and as 
Wemmiek was brisk and talkative, I said to Wemmiek that I 
hardly knew what Jo make of Mr. Jaggers's manner. 

"Tell him that, and he'll take it as a compliment," answered 
Wemmiek : " lie don't mean that you should know what to make 
of it. Oh ! " for. I looked surprised, " it's not personal ; it's pro- 
fessional : only professional."' 

Wemmiek was at his desk, lunching — and crunching — on a dry, 
hard biscuit ; pieces of which he threw from time to time into his 
slit of a mouth, as if he were posting them. 

"Always seems to me," said Wemmiek, "as if he had set a 
man-trap and was watching it, Suddenly — click — you're caught !" 

Without remarking that man-traps were not among the ameni- 
ties of life, I said 1 supposed he was very skillful I 

"Deep," said Wemmiek, "as Australia." Pointing with his 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 159 

pen at the office floor, to express that Australia was understood 
fur the purposes of the ligure to he diametrically on the opposite 
spot of the g obe, •' U' there was any thing deeper," added Wem- 
mick, bringing his pen to paper, " he'd he 

Then 1 said I supposed thai he had a tine business, and Wem- 
mick said " Ca-pi-tal !'' Then 1 asked if there were many clerks? 
To which he replied : 

" We don't ran much into clerks, because there' i%nly one.Jag- 
gers, and [iconic won't have him at second-hand. There arc only 
four of us Would you like to see 'em I You are one of us. as I 
may say." 

1 accepted the office. When Mr. Wemmick had put all his 
biscuit into the post, and had paid me my money from a cash-he* 
in a safe, the key of which safe he kept somewhere down his hack, 
and produce.; from his coat-collar like an iron pigtail, we went up 
stairs The house was dark and shabby, and the greasy shoul- 
ders that had left their mark in Mr. Jaggcrs's room seemed to 
have been shuflling up and down the staircase for years. In the 
front first floor, a el looked something between a publican 

and a rat-catcher — a large, pale, puffed-, swollen man — was atten- 
tively engaged with three or four people of shabby appearance. 
whom he treated as 'unceremoniously as every body seemed to be 
treated who contributed to Mr. Jaggcrs's coffers. "Getting evi- 
dence together," said Mr. Wemmick. as we came out. "for the 
l'.ailey." In the room over that, a lit! e flabby terrier of a clerk 
with dangling hair (his crop: ing seemed to have been forgotten 
when he was a puppy) was similarly engaged with a man with 
Weak eyes, whom Mr. Wemmick presented to me as a smelter 
v\i:o kept his pot always boiling, and would melt me any thing I 
sed — ami who was in an excessive white-perspiration, as if he 
been trying his art on himself. In a back room, a high-shoul- 
dere'd nan, with a face-ache tied up in dirty flannel, who was 
dressed in old black clothes that bore the appe ranee ol having 
been waxed, was stooping over his work of making fair copies of 
'he noies of the other two gentlemen, for Mr. Jaggers's own use. 

This was all the establishment. When we went down stairs 
again- Wemmick led me into my guardian's room, and said. "This 
you've seen already." 

" Pray," said 1, as the two odious casts with the twitchy leer 
upon them caught my sight again, "whose likenesses are those (" 

••These?" said Wemmick. getting niton a chair, and blowing- 
the dus'1 otl'the horrible heaiKbefore bringing 1 them down. "These 
are two celebrated ones. Famous c .ieiits of ours that go! us a 
world of credit. This chap (win yon must have come down in 
the night and been peeping into the inksland. to gel this hot upon 
your eyebrow, you old rascal !) murdered his master, and, consid- 
ering that h« wasn't; brought up to evidence, didn't plan it badly," 



•160 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" Is if like him V I asked, recoiling from the brute, as Wem- 
mick spat upon ^is eyebrow and gave it a rub with his sleeve. 

" Like him ?. It's himself, you know. The cast was made in 
Newgate, directly afrer he was takeu down. You had a particu- 
lar fancy for me, hadn't you, Old Artful V said Wemmick. He 
then explained this affectionate apostrophe, by touching his brooch 
representing the lady and the weeping willow at the tomb with 
the urn upon it, and saying, " Had it made for me, express !" 

•• Is the lady anybody V said I. 

"No," returned Wemmiek. "Only his game. (You liked 
3 our bit of game, didn't you ?) No ; deuce a bit of a lady in the 
case, Mr. Pip. except one — and she wasn't of this slender, lady- 
like sort, and you wouldn't have caught her looking after this urn 
— unless there was something to drink in it." Wemniick's atten- 
tion being thus directed to his brooch, he put down the cast and 
polished the brooch with his pocket-handkerchief. 

"Did that other creature come Wine same end?" I asked. 
'■ He has the same look." 

" You're right," said Wemmick, "it's. the genuine look. Much 
as if one noslril was caught up with a 1; rse-hair and a little fish- 
hook. Yes. he came to the same end ; quite the natural end here, 
I assure you. He forged wills, this blade did, if he didn't also put 
the supposed testators to sleep — and it looked previous like it. 
You were a gentlemanly Cove. too. "'(Mr. Wemmick w T as again 
apoBtrophieing), "and you said yon could write Greek. Yah, 
Bpunceable ! What a liar you were ! 1 never met such a liar as 
you!" efore putting his late friend on his shelf again, Wem- 
mick touched the largest of bis mourning rings, and said, " Sent 
out to buy it forme only the day before." ,,• 

While he was putting up the other cast and coming down from 
the chair, the thought crossed my mind that all his personal jew- 
elry was derived from like sources. As he had shown no diffi- 
dence m; the subject,! ventured on the liberty of asking him the 
question, when he stood before me, dusting his hands. 

"Oh yes," he returned, " these are all gifts of that kind. One 
brings another, you see; that's the way of it. 1 always lake 'em. 
They're curiosities. And they're property. They may not be 
worth much, but, after all, they're property and portable. It 
don't Signify to you with your bri liant look-out, but as to myself, 
my guiding-star always is, ' Get hold of portable property.' " 

When I had rendered homage to this light, he went on to say, 
in a friendly manner: 

'• Jf at any odd time, when you have nothing better to do, you 
wouldn't mind coming over to see me at Walworth, I could offer 
you a bed, and I should consider it an honor. I have not much 
to show you ; but guch two or three curiosities as I have got you 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. * 161 

might like to look over ; and I am fond of a bit of garden and a 
summer-house." 

I said I should be delighted to accept his hospitality. 

" Thank'ee," said he ; "then we'll consider that it's to come 
off, when convenient to you. Have you diued with Mr. Jasrgers 
yet ?" 

" Not yet." 

" Well," said Wemmick, " he'll give you wine, and £Ood wine. 
I'll give you punch, and not bad punch. And now I'll tell you 
something. When you go to dine with Mr. Jaggers, look at his 
housekeeper." 

" Shall I see something very uncommon V 

" Well," said Wemmick, " You'll see a wild beast tamed. Not 
so very uncommon, you'll tell me. 1 reply, that depends on the 
original wildness of the beast, and the amount of taming. It 
won't lower your opinion of Mr. Jaggers's powers. Keep your 
eye on it." 

1 told him 1 would do so with all the interest and cuiiosiiv that 
his preparation awakened. As I was taking my- departure, he 
asked me if I would like to devote five minutes to seeing Mr. 
Jaggers " at it," 

For several reasons, and not least because I didn't clearly know 
what Mt, Jaggers would be found to be "at," I replied in the 
affirmative. We div^d into the City, and came up in a crowded 
police-court, where a blood-relation (in the murderous sense) of 
the deceased with the fanciful taste in brooches was standing at. 
the bar, uncomfortably- chewing something; while my guardian 
had a woman under examination or cross-examination — I don't 
know which — and was striking her, and the bench, and every 
body present with awe. If any body, of whatsoever degree, said 
a word thai lie didn't approve of, he instantly required to have it 
" taken down." If any body wouldn't make an admission, he said, 
" I'll have ii out of you!" and if any body made an admission, he 
said, "Now I have got you !" The magistrates shivered under 
a single bite of his finger. Thieves and thief-takers bung in dread 
rapture on iiis words, and shrank when a hair of his eyebrows 
turned in their direction. Which side he was on I couldn't make 
out, for he seemed to me to be grinding the whole place in a mill ; 
I only know that when I stole out on tip-toe he was not. on the 
side of the b;mch, for he was making the legs of the old gentleman 
who presided quite convulsive under the table, by his denuncia- 
tions of his conduct as the representative of British law and jus- 
tice in that chair that dav. 



U 



l&£ GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

Bentley Drhmmle, who was so sulky a fellow that he even 
took np a book as if its writer had done him an injury, did not 
take up an acquaintance in a more agreeable spirit Heavy in 
figure, movement, and comprehension — in the sluggish complex- 
inn of his face, and in the large, awkward tongue that seemed to 
loll about in his mouth as he himself lolled about in a room — he 
was idle, proud, niggardly, reserved, and suspicious. lie came of 
rich 'people down in Somersetshire who had nursed this combina- 
tion of qualities until they made the discovery that it was just of 
age and a blockhead. Thus Bentley Drummle had come to Mr. 
Pocket when he was a head taller than that gentleman, and half a 
dozen heads thicker than most gentlemen. 

Startop had been spoiled by a weak mother and kept at home 
when he ought to have been at school ; but he was devotedly at- 
tached to her, and admired her beyond measure. He had a wo- 
man's delicacy of feature, and was — ";is you may see, though you 
never saw her," said Herbert to me — exactly like his mother. It 
was but natural that I should take to him much more kindly than 
to Drummle, and that even in the earliest evening of our boating 
he and I should pu'l homeward abreast of one another, conversing 
from boat to boat; while Bentley Drummle came up in our wake 
alone, under the overhanging hanks and among rushes. lie would 
always creep in shore like some uncomfortable amphibious crea- 
ture, even when the tide would have sent him fast upon his way, 
and I always think of him as coming after us in the dark or by the 
hack-water, when our own two boats were breaking the sunset or 
the moonlight in mid-stream. 

Herbert was my most intimate companion and friend. I pre- 
sented him with a half-share in my boat, which was the occasion 
of his often coming down to Hammersmith; and my possession of 
a half-share in his chambers often took me up to London. We 
used to walk between the two places at all hours, and 1 have an 
affection for the road yet (though it is not so pleasant a road as it 
was then), formed in the impressibility of untried youth and hope. 

When 1 had been in Mr. Pocket's family a month or two .Air. 
and Mrs. Camilla turned up. Camilla was Mr. Pocket's sister. 
Georgiana, whom I had seen at Miss Havisham's on the same oc- 
casion, also turned up. She was a cousin — an indigestive single 
woman, who called her rigidity religion, and her liver love. These 
people hated me with the hatred of cupidity and disappointment. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 1G3 

As a matter of course, they fawned upon me in my prosperity with 
the basest meanness. Toward Mr. Pocket, as a sort of grown-up 
infant with no notion of his own interests, they showed the com- 
placent forbaarsthce I had heard them express. Mrs. Pocket they 
Beld in contempt; but they allowed the poor dear soul to have 
been heavily disappointed in life, because that shed a full reflect- 
ed light upon themselves. 

These were the surroundings among which I settled down, and 
applied myself to education. I soon contracted expensive habits, 
and began to spend an amount of money that within a few short 
months I should have thought almost fabulous ; but, through good 
and evil, I stuck to my books. There was no other merit in this 
than my having sense enough to feel my deficiencies. Between 
Mr. Pui-ket and Herbert I got on fast, and with one or the other 
always at my elbow to give me the directions I wanted, and clear 
obstructions out of my road, I must have been as great a dolt as 
Drummle if I had done less. 

I had not seen Mr. Weromick for some weeks, when T thought 
T would write him a note and propose to go home with him on a 
certain evening, lie replied that it would give bin. much plea- 
sure, and that he would expect me at the office at six o'clock. 
Thither 1 went, and there I found him putting the key of las safe 
down his back as the dock struck. 

" Did you think of walking down to Walworth?" said he. 

"•Certainly," said I, "if you approve." 

"Very much," was Wcmmiek's reply, "for I have had my legs 
under the desk- all day, and shall be glad to stretch 'em. Now 
I'll tell you what I have got. for supper, Mr. Pip. I have got a 
stewed stake — which is of home preparation — and a cold I 
fowl— which is from the cook-shop. I think it's tender, because 
the master of the shop was a juryman in some cases of ours the 
other day, and we let him down easy. I reminded him of that 
when 1 bought the fowl, and 1 said, ' Pick us out a good one, old 
fellow, because if we had chosen to keep you in the box another 
day or two we could easily have done it,' He said to that, ' Let 
me make you a present of the best fowl in the shop.' 1 let him, 
of course. As far as it goes, it's property and portable. You 
don't object to an aged parent, I hope ?" r 

I really though $ he was still speaking of the fowl, until he ad- 
ded, " Because I have got an aged parent at my place." I then 
eaid what politeness required. 

" So you haven't dined with Mr. Jaggers yet?" ho pursued, as 
he walked along. 

"Not, yet." 

" He told me so this afternoon when he heard you were coming 
to see me. I expect you'll have an invitation to-morrow. He's 
going to ask your pals, too. Three of 'em, ain't there ?" 



164 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

Although I was not in the habit of counting Drummle as one of 
niy intimate associates, I said, " Yes." 

"Well, he's going to ask the whole gang'' — I hardly felt com- 
plimented by the word. — "and whatever he gives you, he'll give, 
good. Don't look forward to variety, but you'll have excellence. 
And there's another rum thing in his bouse," proceeded Wem- 
niick, after a moment's pause, as if the remark bestowed on the 
housekeeper was understood; "he never lets a door or window 
be fastened at night." 
" Is he never robbed ?", 

" That's it," returned Wemmick. " He says, and gives it out 
publicly, " I want to see the man who'll rob me.' Lord bless you, 
I ba^e beard him a hundred times if 1 have heard him once, say to 
regular cracksmen in our front office. ' You know where I live; 
now no bolt is ever drawn there; why don't you do a stroke of 
business with rn 1 Come, can't I 'tempt you?' Not a man of 
'em, .sir, would be bold enough to try it on for love or money." 
" They dread him so much," said I. 

"Tread him:" said Wemmick. "Ah! I believe you, they 
dread him. Not but what he's artful, even in his defiance -of 'em; 
silver, Sir. Britannia metal every spoon." 
" Si, they wouldn't have much," I observed, "even if they — " 
"Ah! but he would have much," said Wemmick, cutting me, 
short, " and they know it. He'd have their lives, and the lives of 
scnr.es of 'cm. He'd have all he could get. And it's impossible 
to say what be couldn't get, if he gave his mind to it." 

1 was falling into meditation on my guardian's greatness, when 
Wemmick remarked : 

" As to rhe absence of plate, that's only his natural depth. A 
river's its natural depth, and he's his natural depth. Look at his 
watch-chain. That's real enough." 
" "lis very massive,'' said 1. 

" Massive ." repeated Wemmick. '' 1 think so. And his watch 
is a gold repeater, and worth a hundred pounds if it's worth a pen- 
ny. Mr. Pip ! There are about five hundred thieves in this town 
who know all about thai watch : there's not a man, a woman, or a 
child among 'em who wouldn't identify the smallest link in that 
ls if it was red-hot if inveigled into touching it," 
Al first with such discourse, and afterward with conversation of 
a more general nature, did Mr. Wemmick and I beguile the time 
and the road until he gave me to understand that we had arrived 
in the district of Walworth. 

It appeared to be a collection of back lanes, ditches, and little 
g&rdens, and to present the aspect of a mighty and dull retirement. 
Weimiiick's house was a little wooden cottage in the midst of plots 
of garden, and the top of it was cut out and painted like a battery 
mounted with guns. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS 165 

" 3Iy own doing," said Wemmick. "Looks pretty, don't it." 

I highly commended it. I think it was the smallest house I 
ever saw ; with the queerest Gi)thic windows (by far the greater 
pari of them sham), and a Gothic dobf, almost top small to get 
in at. 

"There's a real flag-staff, you see," said WemAick, " aud on 
Sundays I run up a real (lag. Then look here. After I have 
crossed this bridge I hoist it up — so — and cut off the communica- 
tion." 

The bridge was a plank, and it crossed a chasm about four feet 
wide and two deep. But it was very pleasant to see the pride with 
which he hoisted it up and made it fast; smiling as hi' did so with 
a relish, and not merely mechanically. 

"At nine o'clock every night. Greenwich time," said Wemmick, 
" the gun tires. There he is, you see ; and when you hear him go, 
1 think you'll say he's a StingeV 

The piece of ordnance referred to- was mounted into a separate 
fortress, lightly constructed of lattoe-work. It was protected from 
the weather by an ingenious little tarpaulin contrivance in the na- 
ture of an umbrella. 

" Then, at the back," said Wemmick, "out oi' sight, so as not 
to impede the idea of fortifications — for it's a principle with me, if 
yon have an idea, carry it out and keep it up. I don't know wheth- 
er that's your opinion — " 

1 said, decidedly. 

" At the back, there's a pig, and there are fowls and rabbits ; 
then I knock together my own little farm, you see. and grow cu- 
cumbers ; and you'll judge at supper what sort of a salad 1 can 
raise. So, Sir," said Wemmick, smiling again, but rather serious- 
ly too, "if you can suppose the little place besieged, i: would hold 
out a devil of a time in -point of provisions. 

Then he conducted me to a. bower about a dozen yards off, but 
which was approached by such ingenious twists of path that it 
took quite a long time to get at; and in this re real our "glasses 
were already set forth. Our punch was cooling in an ornamental 
lake, on whose margin the bower was raised. This piece of water 
(with an island in the middle which might have been the salad 
for supper) was of a circular form, and he had constructed a foun- 
tain in it, which, when you set a little mill going and took a cork 
out of a pipe, played to that powerful extent that if made the 
back of your hand quite wet. 

" 1 am my own engineer, and my own carpenter, and my own 
plumber, and my own gardener, and my own Jack of all Trades," 
said Wcmmick, in acknowledging my compliments. " Well it's a 
good thing, you know. It brushes the Newgate cobwebs away, 
and pleases the Aged. You wouldn't mind being at once intro- 
duced to the Aged, would you ? It wouldn't put you out ?" 



16ft GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

I expressed -the readiness I felt, and we went into the Castle. — 
There we found, sitting by a fire, a very old man in a flannel coat : 
•.•lean, cheerful, comfortable, and well cared for, but intensely deaf. 
■ Well, aged parent," said Wernmick, shaking hands with him 
., . cordial and jocose way, " how are you ? " 
" All light, John ; all right; " replied the old man. 
Here's Mr. Pip, aged parent," said Wernmick, "and I wish 
coukl hear his name. Nod away at him, Mr. Pip : that's what 
ne likes. Nod away at him like winking ! " 

" This is a fine place of my son's, sir," piped the old man, while 
i nodded as hard as I possibly could. " This is a pretty pleas- 
ground, sir. This spot and these beautiful works upon it ought 
e kept together by the Nation after my son's time, for the peo- 
ple's, enjoyment." 

•' You're as proud of it as Punch ; ain't you, aged parent V said 
Wi mmick, contemplating the old man with his hard face really 
softened ; "there's a nod for you," giving him a tremendous one ; 
" / hire's another for you," giving him a still more tremendous one ; 
"yon 'ike that, don't you? If you're not tired, Mr. Pip — though 
i know it's tiring to strangers — tip him one more. You can't 
think how it pleases him." 

1 ripped him several more, and he was in great spirits. W T e 
; bestirring himself to feed the fowls, and sat down to our 
h in the arbor; where Wernmick told me as he smoked a 
that it had taken him a good many years to bring the prOp- 
{) to its present point of perfection. 
it your own, Mr. Wernmick ?" 
•' »h, yes,'' said Wernmick, "I have got hold of it, a bit at a 
it's a freehold, by George! " 
it, indeed? I hope Mr. J aggers admires it? " 
'"5\'ever seen it," said Wernmick. " Never heard of it. Never 
Mrn the Aged. Never heard of him. No; the office is one thing 
private life another. When I go into the office I leave the 
Castle behind me, and when I come into the Castle I leave the 
office behind me. If it's not in any way disagreeable to you, you'll 
oblige me by doing the same. I don t wish it professionally spo- 
ken about." 

Of course I felt my good faith to be involved in the observance 
of this request. s The punch being very nice, we sat there drinking 
it and talking until it was most nine o'clock. " Getting near gun- 
fire," said Wernmick then, as he laid down his pipe ; " it's the 
Aged's treat." 

Proceeding into the Castle again, we found the Aged heating 
the poker, with expectant eyes, as a preliminary to the performance 
of this great nightly ceremony. Wernmick stood with his watch 
in his hand, until the moment was come for him to take the red-hot 
poker from the Aged, and repair to the outworks. He took it 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 167 

and went out, and presently the Stinger went off with n, bang 
shook the crazy little box of a cottage as if it must fall to pieces, 
and made every glass and tea-cup in it ring. Upon which the 
Aged — who I believe would have been Mown out of Ids arm-chair 
but for holding on by the elbows — cried out, exultingly, " He's 
fired! 1 heerd him !" and I nodded at the old gentleman until 
it is no, figure of speech to declare that I absolutely could not Bee 
him. 

The interval between that time and supper- "Wenfjpick devoted 
to showing meJiis collection of curiosities. They were mostly of 
a felonious character; comprising the pen with which a celebrated 
forgery had been committed, a distinguished razor or two, some 
locks of hair, and several manuscript confessions written under 
condemnation — upon which Mr. Wemmick set a particular value 
as being, to use his own words, "every one of 'em lies, sir." — 
These were agreeably dispersed among small specimens of china 
and glass, various neat trifles made by th^ proprietor of the mu- 
seum, and some tobacco-stoppers carved by the Aged. They were 
all displayed in that chamber of the Castle into which I bad been 
first inducted, and which served not only as the general sitting- 
room, but as the kitchen too, if I might judgeirom a sauce-pan 
on the hob, and a brazen bijou over the fire-pla ted for th« 

suspension of a roasting-jack. 

There was a neat little girl in attendance, who looked after the 
Aired in the day. When she had laid the supper-cloth the bridge 
was lowered to give her means of egress, and she withdrew for the 
night. The supper was excellent; and though the Castle was 
rat I km- subject to dry-rot, insomuch that it tasted like a bad nut," 
and though the pig might have been farther off, 1 was heartily 
pleased wi h my whole entertainment. Nor was there any draw- 
back on my Hi tie turret bedroom beyond, there being such a thin 
ceiling between me and the flag-staff that when I lay down on my 
back in bed it seemed as il 1 had lo balance tnat pole on my 
forehead all night. 

Wemmick was up betimes in the morning, and I am afraid 1 
1 him cleaning my boots. After that he fell to gardening, 
and T saw him from ray gothic window pretending to employ the 
Aged, and nodding at him in a most devoted manner. Our break- 
vas as good as the supper, and at half-past eight precisely 
we started for Little Britain*. By degrees Wemmick got dryer 
and harder as we went along, and his mouth tightened into a 
Dost-ofnce again. When we got to his place of business, and he 
pulled out his key from his coat collar, he looked as unconscious 
of his Walworth property as if the Castle and the drawbridge 
and the arbor and the lake and the fountain and the Aged had all 
been blown into space together by the last discharge of the 
Stinger. 



168 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

It fell out, as Wemmick had told me it would, that I had an 
early opportunity of comparing my guardian's establishment with 
that of his cashier and clerk. My guardian was in his room wash- 
ing his hands with his scented soap when I went into the office 
from "Walworth, and he called me to him, and gave me the invi- 
tation for myself and friends which Wemmick had prepared me to 
receive. " No ceremony," he stipulated, "and no dinner dress, 
and say to-morrow." I asked him where we should come to (for 
I had no idea where he lived, and I believe it was in his general 
objection to make an* thing like an objection), and he replied, 
" Come here, and I'll Take you home with me." I embraced this 
opportunity of remarking that he washed his clients off as if he 
were a surgeon or a dentist. He had a closet in his room, fitted 
up for the purpose, which smelled of the scented soap like a per- 
finmer's shop. It had an unusually large jack-towel on a roller 
inside the door, and he would wash his hands, and wipe th'em and 
dry them all over this towel, whenever he came in from a police- 
court or dismissed a client from his room. When I and my friends 
repaired to him at six o'clock nt j xt day, he seemed to have been 
engaged on a case of a darker complexion than usual, for we 
found him with his head butted into this closet, not only washing 
his hands, but laving his face and gurgling his throat. And even 
when he had done all that, and had gone all round the jack-towel, 
he took out his penknife and scraped the case out of his nails be- 
fore he put on his coat. 

There were, some people slinking about as usual when we pass- 
ed out into the street, who were evidently very anxious to S] ta ! . 
with him ; but. there was something conclusive in the halo of 
scented soap that encircled his presence%and they gave it up for 
that day. As we walked along westward he was recognized ever 
and again by some face in the crowd of the streets, and whenever 
that happened he talked louder ; but he never otherwise recog- 
nized any body, or took notice that any body recognized him. 

He conducted us to Gerrard Street, Soho, to a house on the 
south side of that street, Rather a stirtely house of its kind, but 
doleful for want of painting, and with dirty windows. He took 
out his key and opened the door, and we all went into a stone 
hall, bare, gloomy, and little used. So, up a dark brown staircase 
into a series of three dark brown rooms ou the first floor. There 
were carved garlands on the paneled walls, and as he stood among 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 169 

them giving us welcome, I know what kind of loops I thought, 
they looked like. 

Dinner way laid in the besf of these rooms; the second was his 
dressing-room; the third his bedroom*. He iold us-that.be held 

the whole house, hut rarely used more of it than we saw. The 
table was comfortably laid — no silver in the service, of course — 
and at the side of his chair was a capacious dumb-waiter, with a 
variety of bottles on it, and four dishes of fruit for desert. I no- 
ticed then, and throughout, that he kept every thing under his 
own band, distributed every thing himself. 

There was a book-case in the room, and I saw, from the hacks 
of the book?, that they were about' evidence, criminal law, crimi- 
nal biography, trials, acts of parliament, and such things. The 
furniture was all very solid and good lilte his watch chain. It 
bad an official look, however, and there was nothing merely orna- 
mental to be se In a corner was a little table of papers with 
a shaded lamp, that be seemed to bring the office home with 
him in that respec ; too, and to wheel it out of an evening and fall 
to work. 

As he had scarcely seen my three companions until now — for 
lie and 1 had walked together — he stood on the hearth-rug, after 
ringing the bell, and took a searching look at them. To my sur- 
prise, he seemed at once to be principally if not solely interested 
in Urummle. 

" Pip," said he, putting his large hand on my shoulder and mo- 
ving me to the window, "I don't, know one from the other. Who's 
the spider '." 

'•The spider?" said I. 

"The blotchy, spanky, sulky fellow." 

•' That's limit ley Drummle." I replied; "the one with the deli- 
cate face is Startup. " 

Not making the least, account of "the one with the delicate 
face,'" be returned : •• Bent^gy Drummle is his name, is it.? Ah ! 
I like tlie look of that fellow." 

He immediately began to talk to Drummle ; not at all deterred 
by his replying in his heavy reticent way. but apparently led on 
by it to screw discourse forcibly out of him. I was lookjjDj 
the, two when there came between me and them the houseke 
with the first dish for the table. 

She was a woman of about, forty, I supposed — but I may have 
thought her older than she was, as if is the maimer of youth to do. 
Rather tall, of a lithe, nimble figure, extremely pale, with large 
blue eyes, and a quantity of streaming light, hair. Lean no! say 
whether any diseased affection of the heart caused her lips to be 
parted as it she were paining, and her face, to bear a curious ex- 
pression of suddenness and flutter; but I know that I had been to 
see Macbeth at the theatre a night, or two before, aid that her 



170 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

face looked to me as if it were all disturbed by fiery air, like the 
faces I had seen rise out of the caldron 

She set the dish on, touched me quietly on the arm with a finger 
to notify t hat dinner was ready, and vanished. We took our 
seats at the round table, and my guardian kept Drummle on one 
side of him, while Startop sat on the other. It was a noble dish 
of fish that the housekeeper had put on the table, and we bad a 
joint of equally choice mutton afterward, and then some equally 
choice birds. Sauces, wines, all the accessories we wanted, and 
all of the best, were given out by our host from his dumb-waiter, 
and when they- had made the circuit of the table he always put 
them back again. Similarly, he dealt us clean plates, and knives 
and forks, for each course, and dropped those just disused into 
two baskets, on the gnwiid, by bis chair. No other attendant 
than the housekeeper appeared. She set on every dish, and I 
a, ways saw ,in her face a face rising out of the caldron. Years 
afterward 1 made a dreadful likeness of that woman by causing a 
face that had no other natural resemblance to it than it derived 
from flowing light air, to pass behind a bowl of flaming spirits in 
a dark room. 

Induced to take particular notice of the housekeeper, both by 
her own striking appearance and by Wemmick's preparation, t 
observed that whenever she was in the room, she kept her eyes 
attentively on my guardian, and that she would quite remove her 
hands from any dish she put before him, watching as if she dread- 
ed his calling her hack, and wanted him to speak when she was 
nigh, as if he had any thing to say. 1 fancied that I could detect, 
in his manner a consciousness of this, and a purpose of holding 
her in suspense. 

Dinner went off gayly, and although my guardian seemed to 
follow rather than originate subjects. 1 knew that he somehow 
wrenched the weakest part of our dispositions out of 'us. For 
myself, I found that 1 was expressing my tendency to lavish ex- 
penditure, 'and to patronize Herbert, and to boast of my great 
prospects, before I quite knew that I had opened my eyes. It 
was so with ail Of us. but with no one more than Drummle: the 
development of whose inclination to gird in a grudging and sus- 
picious way at the rest, was screwed out of him before the fish 
was tax en off. 

it was not then, but when we had got to the cheese, that our 
conversation turned upon our rowing feats, and that Drummle 
was rallied for coming up behind of a night in that slow amphibi- 
ous way of his. Drummle upon this informed our host that he 
much preferred our loom to our company, and that as to skill he 
was more than our master, and that as to strength he could scat- 
ter us like chaff. By some invisible agency my guardian — it 
could have been no one else — wound him up to a pitch little short 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 171 

of ferocity about this trifle; and he fell to baring and spanning 
his arm tit show how muscular it was, and we ail fell lo baring 
and spanning our arms in a ridiculous manner. 

Now the housekeeper was ai thai time clearing the table, and 
my guardian, taking no heed of her, but with the side of his (ace 
tamed from her, was leaning batik in his chair biting the side of 
his forefinger, and showing an interest in Drummle thai, to me, 
was quite inexplicable. Suddenly he clapped his large hand on 
the housekeeper's as she stretched it across the table, like a trap. 
So suddenly and smartly, that wo all stopped in our foolish con- 
tention. 

" If you talk of strength," said Mr. .Taggers. " I'\\ show you a 
wrist. Molly, let them see your wrist." 

Her entrapped hand was on the tahle, but. she had already put 
her other hand behind her waist. "Master," she said, in a low 
voice, with her eye's attentively and timidly fixed upon him, 
•'Don't !" 

" r\\ show you a wrist," repeated Mr. daggers, with an immov- 
able determination to show it. " Molly, let them see your wrist.". 

"Master," she again murmured, s* Please!" 

"Molly," said Mr. Jaggers, not looking at her, but obstinately 
compressing his lips, and looking at the opposite side of the ro 
" let them see both tour wrists. Show them. Come ! " 

lie roughly look his hands from hers, and turned that wrist up 
on the tabic. She brought her oilier hand from behind her, and 
held the two out side by side, ihe last wrist, was much di 
ufed — deeply scarred, *nd scarred across and across. When she 
held her hands out she took her eyes from Mv. daggers, and turned 
them watchfully on every one of the rest of US in succession. 

"There's power here," said Mr. daggers, tracing out the sin- 
ews with his forefinger ^ithoul touching them. "Very few men 
have the power of wrist thai this woman has. It's remarkable 
what mere force of grip there is in these ham's. I have had oc- 
casion to notice ninny hands, but I never saw stronger in thai 
specfe; man's or woman's, than these." 

While he said these words in a leisure, critical way, she contin- 
ued to look at every one .if us in regular succession as we sat. — 
The moment he ceased she looked at him again. "That'll do, Mol- 
ly," said Mr. Jaggers, giving her a slight nod; "you have been 
admired and can go." She withdrew her hands and went quietly 
out of the room, and Mr. daggers, putting the decanters on from 
his dum- waiter, tilled his glass, and passed round the wine. 

"A; half-past nine, gentlemen," said he, "we must break up. — 
Pray make the best use of your time. 1 am glad to see you all. 
Mr. Drummle, 1 drink to you." 

if his objeel in singling out Drummle were \o bring him out 
still more.it perfectly succeeded. In a sulky triumph, Drummle 



172 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

showed his morose depreciation of the rest of us in a more and 
more offensive degree, until he became downright intolerable. — 
Through all his stages Mr. Jaggery followed him with the same 
inexplicable interest. He actually seemed to serve as a zest to 
Mr. daggers'* wine. 

In our boyish want of discretion I dare say we took too much 
to drink, ami 1 know we talked too uiuch and too noisily. We 
became particularly hot upon some boyish sneer of Drummle's. to 
the effect that we were too free with our money. It led to my 
remarking, with more zeal than politeness, that it came with a 
bad grace from him, to whom Startup had lent money in my pres- 
ence bill a week' or so before. 

" Well," retorted Drummle. "he'll be paid." 

"I don't mean to imply that he won't," said I; "but it n 
make vou hold vour tongue about us and our money, I should 
think.-' 

•' You should think !'' retorted Drummle. "0 Lord!" 

"1 dare say," I went on, meaning to be very severe, "that you 
wouldn't lend money to any of us if we wanted it," 

"You do me justice," said Drummle. "1 wouldn't lend one of 
you a sixpence. 1 wouldn't, lend anybody a sixpence" 

".Rather mean to burrow under tbosd circumstances, 1 should 

% 

" You should say ! " repeated Drummle. "Oh Lord ! " 

This was so very aggravating^-t he more especially as I found 
i if making no way against bis surly obtuseness — that I said, 
arding Herbert's efforts to check me: 

" Coi >, Mr. Drummle. since we are oiribo subject, I'll tell you 
what passed between Herbert here ami me, when you borrowed 
that money." 

'•/ don'1 want to know what passed between Herbert there and 
you," growled Drummle. And 1 think he added, in a lower growl, 
that we might go to the devil and shake ourselves. 

"I'll tell ym;. however," said I, " whether you want to ki 
or not. We said that as you put it in your pocket, you seemed 
to be immensely anmsed'at his being ass as to lend it." 

Drummle laughed out^jghr, and sat laughing in our faces, with 
bis hands in his pockets and his round sbooh I d, plainly 

signifying that it was quite true, and that he despised us as asses 
all. 

Hereupon Startop took him in hand, though with a much better 
grace than 1 bad shown, and exhorted him to be a little more 
able. Startop being a lively, bright young fellow, and Drummle 
leii,g the exact opp< site, the latter was always disposed to n 
him as a direct personal affront He now retorted in a coarse, 
lumpish way, and Startop tried to turn the discussion aside with 
some small pleasantry that made us all laugh. Resenting this 






GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 173 



little success more than anything, Drummle, without any threat or 
warning, pulled bis bands out of his pockets, dropped his round 
shoulders, swore an oath, took up a large glass, and would infalli- 
bly have ffung it at his adversary's head, hut for our entertainer's 
dexterously seizing it at the instant when it was raised for that 
purpose. 

"Gentlemen," said Mr. daggers, very deliberately putting down 
the glass', and hauling out his gold repeater by its massive chain, 
"1 am sorry to announce that it i half-past nine." 

On this hint we all rose to depart. Before we got to the street- 
door Startop was cheerily calling Prumnde " old fellow," as if noth- 
ing had happened. But the old fellow was so far from respond- 
ing that he would not even walk to Hammersmith on the same 
of the way; so Ilerhert and I, who remained in town, saw 
them going down the street on opposite sides; Startop leading, 
and Prumnde lagging on behind in the shadow of the houses, 
much as he was wont to follow in his boat. 

As the door was not yet shut, 1 thought I would leave Herbert 
there for a moment, and run up stairs again to say a word of apol- 
ogy to my guardian. I found him in his dressing-room, surrounded 
by his boots, already hard at it, Washing his hands of us. 

1 told hhn that I had come up again to say how sorry I was 
that any thing disagreeable should have occurred, and that I hop- 
ed he would not blame me very much. 

" 1'ooh !" said he, sluicing his face, and speaking through the 
water-drops; " it's nothing. Tip. I like thai spider though." 

He had turned toward me now, and was shaking his head, and 
blowing, and toweling himself. 

'• 1 am glad you like him. sir," said 1 ; " but I don't." 

" No, no," my guardian assented ; " don't have too much to do 
with him. Keep as clear of him as may be. hut I like the fel- 
low, 1'ip; he is one of the true sort ; 1 have not been disappointed 
in him. Why, if 1 were a fortune-teller — *' 

'king out of the towel he caught my eye. 

•• Bui 1 am not a fortune-teller," he said, letting his head drop 
into a festoon of towel, and toweling away at his two ears. "You 
know what 1 am. Good-rlight, Pip." 

'■ I Miod-night, sir." 

In about a month after that the Spider's time with Mr. Pocket 
was up for good, and, to the great relief of all the house but Mr*. 
Pocket', he went home to the family hole. He called me Black- 
smith when he went away, qualified to be an indifferent hostler or 
a bad game-keeper. 



J 74 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 



"My Dear Mr. Pip. — T write this by request of Mr. Gargery, 

fur to let you know that he is going to London in company with 
Mr. Wopsle, and would be glad if agreeable to be allowed to see 
you. lie would call at Barnard's Hotel Tuesday morning 9 o'clock, 
when if not agreeable please leave word. Your poor sister is much the 
same as when you left. We talk of you in the kitchen every night, 
and wonder what you are saying and doing. If not considered 
in the light of a liberty, excuse it for the love of poor old days. — 
No more, dear Mr. Pip, from your ever obliged and affectionate 
Servant, Biddy. 

" P. S. — He wishes me most particularly to write what larks. — 
He says you will understand. I hope and do not doubt it will be 
agreeabje to see him even though a gentleman, for you had ever a 
good heart and he is a worthy .worthy man. I have read him all, 
excepting only the last little sentence, and he wishes me most par- 
ticular to write again tohat larks." 

I received this letter by the post on Monday morning, and there- 
fore ils appointment was for next day. Let me confess exactly 
with what feelings I looked forward to Joe's coming. 

Not with pleasure, though I was bound to him by so many 
ties; no ; with considerable disturbance, some mortification, and 
a keen sense of incoi gruity. If I could have kept him away by 
paying money, I ceitainly would have paid money. My greatest 
reassurance was that he was coming to Barnard's Inn, not to 
Hammersmith, and consequently would not fall in Bentley 
Drummie's way. I had little objection to his being seen by Her- 
bert or his father, for both of whom I had respect; but I had the 
sharpest sensitiveness as to his being seen by Drummle, whom I 
held in contempt. So, throughout lite, our worst weaknesses and 
meannesses are usually committed for the sake of the people whom 
we most despise. 

, I had begun to be always decorating the chambers in some 
quite unnecessary and inappropriate way or other, and very ex- 
pensive those wrest'es with Barnard proved to be. By this time 
the rooms were vastly different from what 1 had found them, and 
1 enjoyed 1he honor of occupying a few prominent pages in the 
books of a neighboring upholsterer. 1 got on so fast of late that 
I had even started a boy in boots — top boots — in bondage and 
slavery to whom I might have been said to pass my days. For 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 176 

after I had made my monster (out of the refuse of my washer- 
woman's family), and had clothed him with a blue coat, canary 
waistcoat, while cravat, creamy breeches, and the hunts already 
mentioned, I had to find him a little to do arid a gteal deal to eat ; 
and with both of those lmrrihle retirements he haunted my ex- 
istence. 

This avenging phantom was ordered to be on duty at eight on 
Tuesday morning in the hall (it was two feet square, as charged 
for floor-cloth), and Herbert suggested certain things for break- 
fast that, he thought; Joe would lie. While I felt sincerely 
oh igcd to him for being so interested and considerate, I had an 
odd, half-provoked sense of suspicion upon me thai if due had 
been coming to see him he wouldn't have been quUe so brisk; 

However, I came into town on the Monday night to be readj 
for Joe, and I got up early in the morning, and caused the sit- 
ting-room and breakfast- table to assume their most splendid ap- 
pearance. Unfortunately the morning was foggy, and an at 
could not have concealed the fact that Barnard was shedding 
Booty tears outside the window, like some weak giant of a Sv, 

As the time approached I should have liked to run away, bul 
the Avenger, pursuant to orders, was in the hall, and presently I 
heard Joe oil the staircase. 1 knew ir was Joe by his clumsy 
ner of coming up stairs — his state boots being always too big 
for him — and by the time it took htm to read the nam< 
other floors in the course of his ascent. When at last he stopped 
outsi.de our door, I could hear his linger tracing over the painted 
letters of my name, and I afterward heard him breathing in at 
the key-hole. Finally he gave a faint single rap, and Pepper — 
i was the name of the avenging boy — announced "Mr. Gar- 
gery ! "• 1 thought he never would have done wiping his feet, and 
1 must have gone out to lift him off the mat, but at la,sl be 
e in. 
" .Ice. how are yon, Joe .''' 
• o. how \RE you. Pip (" 
With his good honest face all glowing and shining, and his hat 
put down on the floor .between us, he i ioth my hands and 

ed them straight up and down, as if 1 had been the last pa- 
tented rump. 

-hied to see you, doe. i >• hat." 

: up with both hands like a hirdnest with < 
in it, wo parting with that piece of property, 

in standi! ; over it. in a most Uncomfortable way. 

" Wl ion v :,,,,! th a | ,< NV el ed 

efolked :" Joe considered a litl e before he din- 
red this . if to your king 
and country." 

" And yuu, Joe, look wonderfully well." 



mu ■ .. <*.* ** *. mm 

176 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" Thank God," said Joe, " I'm ekerval to most. And your 
sister, she's no worse than she were. And Biddy, she's ever 
right and ready. And all friends is no backerder, if not no forard- 
er. 'Optin' Wopsle; he's had a drop." 

All this time (still with both hands taking great care of the 
birdsnest) Joe was rol'ing his eyes round and routtd the room, 
and round and round the flowered pattern of my dressing-gown. 

" Had a drop, Joe?" 

"Why, ves," said Joe, lowering his voice, " he's left the 
Church, and went into the play-acting. Which the play-acting 
have likeways brought him to London along with me. And his 
wish were," said Joe, getting'the birdsnest under his left arm for 
the moment and groping in it for an egg with his right; " if no 
offence', as I would 'and you that." 

I took what Joe gave me, and found it to be the crumpled 
play-bil of a small metropolitan; theatre, announcing the first ap- 
pearance on the ensuing Monday of " the celebrated Provincial 
Amateur of Roscian renown, whose unique performance in the 
highest tragic walk of our National Bard has lately occasioned s© 
great a sensation in local dramatic circles." 

" Were you at his performance, Joe?" I inquired. 

" I were," said Joe, with great solemnity. 

" W*as there a great sensation ?" 

" Why," said Joe, "yes, there certainly were a peck of orange- 
peel. Partickler, where he see the ghost, Though I put it to 
Yourself, Sir, whether it were calc'lated to keep a man up to his 
work with a good hart, to be continiwally cutting in betwixt him 
and i he Ghost with 'Amen!' A man may have had a misfortun' 
and been in the Church," said Joe, lowering his Voice to an ar- 
gumentative and feeling tone, "but that is no reason why you 
should put him out at such a time. Which I meantersay, if the 
ghost of a man's own father can not be allowed to bckipy his at- 
tention, what can, Sir ? Still more, when his mourning 'at is un- 
fortunately made so small as that the weight of the black feathers 
brings it off, try to keep it on how you may." 

A ghost-seeing effect in Joe"s own countenance informed me 
that, Herbert had entered the room. So I presented Joe to Her- 
bert, who held out bis hand ; but Joe backed from it, and held on 
by the birdsnest, 

" Your servant, Sir," sa'd Joe "which I hope as you and Pip" 
— here his eye fell on the Avenger, who was putting some eggs on 
the table, and so plainly denoted an intention to make that young 
gentleman one of the family; that I frowned it down and confused 
him — " 1 meantersay, you two gentlemen — which I hope as you 
get your elths in this close spot 1 For the present may be a werry 
good inn, according to London opinions," said Joe, persuasively, 
" and I believe its character do stand i,* bait I wouldn't keep a 



' GREAT EXPECTATIONS ~ 177 

pig in it myself — not in the case that I wished him to fatten 
wholesome and to eat short with a me.ller flavor on him." 

Having borne this flattering testimony to the merits of our 
dwelling-place, and having incidentally shown this tendency to 
call me "Sir," Joe, being invited to sit down to table, looked 
all round the room for a suitable spot, on which to deposit his hat 
— as if it were only ou some very few rare substances in nature 
that it could find a resting-place — and ultimately stood it on an 
extreme corner of the chimney-piece, from which it ever afterward 
fell oil' at intervals. 

"Do you lake tea. or coffee. Mr. fiargeryf" asked Herbert, 
who always presided of a morning. 

" Thankee. Sir," said doe, stiff from head to foot, " I'll take 
whichever is most agreeable to yourself." 

" What do you say to coffee .'" 

"Thankee, Sir,*' returned Joe. evidently dispirited by die pro- 
posal, "since you are so kind as to put. that name to it, I will not 
run contrairy to your own opinions. But don't you never find it 
a little 'eat in;: ? 

" Say tea. then,"' said. Herbert, pouring it out. 

Here Joe"s hat tumbled off the mantle-piece, and he started and 
picked it up, aud fitted it to the same exact spot. As if it were 
an absolute point of good-breeding that it should tumble off again 
soon. 

" When did you come to town, Mr. Gargery V 

" Were it yesterday afternoon ?" said Joe, after ooughing as if 
he had caught the whooping-cough' since he came. " No i! were 
not. Yes it were. Yes. It were yesterday afternoon," (with an 
appearance of mingled wisdom, relief, and strict impartiality). 

•' Have you seen any thing of London yet?" 

"Why, yes, Sir," said Joe, "me aud Wopsle went off to look 
at the Bjacking Ware'us. But we didn't find that it come up to its 
likeness in the red picters at the shop-doors ; which. 1 meanter- 
say," added Joe, in explanatory manner, " as it's drawd too archi- 
tect oortttooral." 

1 really believe Joe would have prolonged this word (mightily 
expceaelve to my mind of some architeclure* that I know) into a 
perfecl Chorus, but for his attention being providentially at trad- 
ed by his hat, which was toppling. Indeed it demanded from him 
a constant attention and a quickness of eye and hand very like 
that exacted by wicket-gate keeping. He made the most extraor- 
dinary play with it, and showed the greatest skill ; now, rushing 
at it and catching it neatly as it dropped; now, merely stopping 
it midway, beating it up, and humoring it in various pans of the 
room and against a good deal of the pattern of the paper on the 
wall, before he felt it safe to close with it; finally splashing it into 
the slop-basin, where I took the liberty of laying hands upon it. 
IS 



17* GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

As to Ins shirt-collar and his coat-collar, they were perplexing 
to reflect upon — insoluble mysteries. Why should a man scrape 
himself to 111 at extent before lie could consider himself full dress- 
ed 1 Why should he suppose it necessary to be purified by suf- 
fering for his holiday clothes 1 Then he fell into such maccuunt- 
able fits of meditation, with his fork midway between his plate 
and his mouth ; had lis eyes attracted in such strange directions ; 
was Afflicted with such remarkable coughs', sat, so far from the 
table, and dropped so much more than he ate, and pretended that 
he hadn't dropped it; that I was heartily glad when Herbert left 
us for the City. 

I had neither the good sense nor the good feeling to know that 
this was all my fault, and that if I had been' easier with Joe, Joe 
would have been easier with me. I felt impatient of him and out 
of temper with him ; in which condition he heaped coals of lire on 
my head. 

•' Us two being now alone, Sir," — began Joe. 

" Joe," 1 interrupted, pettishly, " how can' you call me Sir ?" 

Joe looked at me for a single instant with something faintly like 
reproach. Utterly preposterous as his cravat was, and as his col- 
lars were, I was conscious of a sort of dignity iii the look too. 

" Us two being now alone,' resumed Joe, " and me having the 
intentions and abilities to stay not many minutes more, I will now 
conclude — leastways begin — to mention what have led to my hav- 
ing had the present honor. For was it not," said Joe, with his 
old air of lucid exposition, " that my only wish were to be useful 
to you, I should not have had the honor of breaking 'wittles in 
the company and abode of gentlemen." 

.1 was so unwilling to see the look again that I made no remon- 
strance against this tone. 

" Well, Sir," pursued Joe, " this is how it were. I were at the 
Bargemen t'other night, Pip ;" whenever he subsided into affection, 
lied me Pip, and whenever he relapsed into politeness he eall- 
e Sir ; " when there come up in his shay-cart Pumblechook. 
Which that same identical," said Joe, going down a new track, 
" do com'o my 'air the wrong way sometimes, by giving out tip and 
down town as it were him which ever had your infant companiona- 
tion and were looked upon as a play -feller by yourself." 

" Nonsense. It was you, Joe." 

" Which I fully believed it were, Pip," said -Joe, slightly toss- 
ing his head, "though it signify little now, Sir. Well, Pip; this 
same identical, which his manners is given to blusterous, come to 
me at the Bargemen (wot a pipe and a pint of beer do give re- 
freshment to the working man. Sir, and do not over stimulate), 
and his word were, « Joseph, Miss Havisham sue wish to speak to 
you.' " 

" Miss Havisham, Jo© f" 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 179 

" ' She wish,' Were Pumblechqqkis word, 'to speak to you."' 
Joe sat and rolled his exes at the ceiling. 

" Yes, Jo6 .' (Jo on, please/' 

" Next day, Sir," said doe, looking al me as if I were a long 
way off, •• having cleaned myself, 1 go and I see Miss 

" Miss A.. Jo'el Miss Havisham I" 

" YYhich 1 say. Sir," replied due. " -Miss A., or Havisham. Her 
expression air then as follering : ' Mr/ Gargery. You air in cor- 
respondence with Mr. Tip V Having had a letter from, you, 1 were 
aide to say • J am.' (When 1 married your sister, Sir, 1 said ' I 
will;' and when 1 answered your friend. Tip, I said 'lam.) 
* Would you tell him, then,' said she, 'that which Estella has come 
home and would he glad to see him :' " 

I felt my face lire upas 1 looked at due. I hope one remote 
cause of its tiring may have been my consciousness that if J had 
known his errand 1 should have given him mure enouragemcni. 

".Biddy," pursued doe. "when 1 got home and asked her fur 
tc write the message to you, a little hung hack'. Biddy says, ' I 
know he will he very glad to have it by word of mouth, it is holi- 
day-time, you want to see him, go !' 1 have now concluded, Sir," 
said doe, rising from his chair, " and, Tip. I wish y well 

and ever prospering to a greater and greater heighth.'" 

'• But you are not going now, Jo 

" Yes I am," said doe. 

"But you are coming hack to dinner, Joe 1" 

" Xo, 1 am not" said J6e. 

Our eyes met, and all the " Sir" melted out of that honest open 
heart as he gave me his hand. 

" Pip, dear old chap, life is made of ever so many partings weld- 
ed together, as I may say, and one man's a blacksmith, and one's 
a whitesmith, and one's a goldsmith, and one's a coppersmith. 
Diwisions among such must come, and must be met as they come. 
If there's 1 een any fault at all to-day, it's mine. You and me is 
not two figures to be together in London ; nor yet any wheres else 
but what is private, and beknown, and understood among friends. 
It ain't that 1 am proud, but that I want to be right, as you shall 
never see me no more in these clothes. I'm wrong in these clothes. 
I'm wrong but of the forge, the kitchen, or off th* meshes. You 
won't find half so much fault in me if you think of me in my.forge- 
dress, with my hammer in my hand, or even my pipe. You won't 
find half so much fault in me if, supposing as you should ever wish 
to see me. you come and put your head in at the forge-win low and 
see Joe the blacksmith there at the old anvil, in the old burned 
apron, at the old work, as he used to be when he first carried you 
about. I'm awful dull, but 1 hope I've beat out something nigh 
the rights of this at last. And so God bless you, dear old Pip; 
old ohap, Quo bless you !" 



180 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. 

I had not been mistaken in my fancy that there was a simple 
dignity in him. The fashion of his dress could no more come in 
its way when he spoke these words than it could come in its way 
in heaven. He touched me gently on the forehead and went out. 
As soon as I could recover myself sufficiently I ran out after him 
and looked for him in the neigh boring streets ; but he was gone. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

It was clear that I must repair to our town next day, and in 
the first flow of my repentance it was equally clear that I must 
slay at Joe's. But when I had secured my box-place by to-mor- 
row's coach and had been down to Mr. Pocket's and back, I was 
not by any means convinced on the last point, and began to Invent 
reasons and make excuses for putting up at the Blue Boar. I 
should be an inconvenience at Joe's ; I was not expected, and my 
bed would not be ready ; I should be too far from Miss Havi- 
sham'o, and she was xacting and mightn't like it. All other 
swindlers upon earth are nothing to the self-swindlers, and with 
such pretences did 1 cheat myself. Surely a curious thing, That 
I should innocently take a bad half-crown of somebody else's man- 
ufacture is reasonable enough ; but that I should knowingly reck- 
on the spurious coin of my»own make as good money! An oblig- 
ing stranger, under pretence of compactly folding up my bank-notes 
for security's sake, abstracts the notes and gives me nut-shells; 
but what is his sleight of hand to mine, when I fold up my own 
nut-shells and pass them on myself as notes ! 

Having settled that I must go to the Blue Boar, my mind was 
much disturbed by indecision whether or no to take the Avenger. 
It was tempting to think of that expensive Mercenary airing his 
boots in the arch-way of the Blue Boar's posting-yard ; it was al- 
most solemn to imagine him casually produced in the tailor's shop 
and confounding the disrespectful senses of Trabb's boy. On the 
other hand, Trabb's boy might worm himself into his intimacy and 
tell him things ; or, reckless and desperate wretch as I knew he 
could be, might hoot him in the High Street, My patroness, too, 
mighi hear of him, and not approve. On the whole, I resolved 
to leave the Avenger behind. 

It was the afternoon coach by which I had taken my place, and, 
as winter had now come round, I should not arrive at my desti- 
nation until two or three hours after dark. Our time of starting 
from the Gross Keys wa§ two o'clock. I arrived on the ground 



GREAT EXPECTATION?. 181 

with a quarter of an hour to spare, attended hy the Avenger — if 1 
may connect that expression with one who never attended on me 
if he could possibly help ii. 

At that time it was customary to carry convicts down to the 
dock-yard by stagQ-coach. As I had often heard of them in the 
capacity of outside passengers, and had more than once seen them 
on the liigh-road dangling their ironed legs over the coach roof, I 
had no cause to he surprised when Herbert, meeting me in the 
yard, came up ami told me there were two convicts going down 
with me. But 1 had a reason that was an old reason now, for 
constitutionally faltering Whenever 1 heard the word convict. 

"You don't mind them, Handel .' " said Herbert. 

" Oh no ! " 

" I thought you seemed as if you didn't like them ? " 

"I can't; pretend that I do like them, and I suppose you don't 
particularly. But T don't mind them." 

" See ! There they are, ' said Herbert. " coming out of the Tap. 
What a degraded arid vile sight it is ! " 

They had been treating; their guard, t suppose, for they had a 
jailer with them, and all three .came out wiping their mouths on 
their hands. The two convicts were handcuffed together, and had 
irons on their legs — irons of a pattern that I knew very well. They 
wore the dress that I likewise knew very well. Their keeper had 
a brace of pistols, and carried a thick-knobbed bludgeon under his 
arm ; but lie was on terms of good understanding with them, and 
stood, with them besid . him, looking on at the puttiug-to of the- 
horses, rather with an air as if they were an interesting exhibition 
not formally open at the moment, and he the curator. One was a 
taller and stouter man than the other, and appeared, as a matter 
of course, according to the mysterious ways of the world, both 
convict am! free, to have bad allotted to him the smallest suit of 
(dot lies. His arms and legs were like great pin-cushions of those 
shapes, and his attire disguised him absurdly; but I' knew his 
half-closed eye at. one glance. There stood the man whom I had 
seen on the settle at t lie Three Jolly Bargemen on a Saturday 
night, and who had brought me down with ids invisible gun ! 

It was easy to make sure that as yet he knew me no more than 
if he had never seen me in his life. He looked across at me and 
his eye appraised my watch-chain, and then he incidentally spat 
and said something to the other convict, and they laughed and 
slued themselves round with a clink of their coupling manacle, aud 
looked at something else. The great numbers on their backs, as 
if they were street doors ; their coarse, mangy, ungainly outer sur- 
face, as if they were lower animals; their ironed legs, apologeti- 
cally garlanded with pocket -handkerchiefs ; and the way in which 
all present looked at then) and kept from them, made them (as 
Herbert had said) a most disagreeable and degraded spectacle. 



182 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

But this was not the worst of it. It came out that the whole 
of the back of the coach had been taken by a family removing 
from London, and that there were no places for the two prisoners 
but on the seat in front behind the coachman. Hereupon a chol- 
eric gentleman, who had taken the fourth place on that seat, flew 
into a most violent passion', and said that it was a breach of con- 
tract, to mix him up with such villainous company, and that it was 
poisonous and pernicious, and infamous, and shameful, and I don't 
know what else. At this time the coach was ready and the coach- 
man impatient, and we were all preparing to get up, and the pris- 
oners had come over with their keeper — bringing with them that 
curious flavor of bread-poultice, baize, rope-yarn, and hearth-stone 
which attends the convict presence. 

" Don't take it so much amiss, sir," said the keeper to the angry 
passenger ; " I'll sit next to you myself. I'll put 'cm on the out- 
side of the row. They won't interfere with you, sir. You needn't 
know they're there." 

"And don't blame me, r growled the convict 1 had recognized. 
" / don't want to go. i~ am quite ready to stay behind. As far 
as I am concerned, any one's welcome to my place." 

" Or mine," said the other, gruffly. "I wouldn't have incom- 
moded none of you, if I'd a had my way." Then they both laugh- 
ed, and began cracking nuts, and spitting the shells about: As I 
really think I should have liked 1o do myself, if I had been in 
their place and so dispised. 

At length it was voted that there was no help for the angry gen- 
tleman, and. that he must either go in his 'chance company or re- 
main behind. So he got into his place, still making complaints, 
and the keeper got iuto the place next to him, and the convicts 
hauled themselves up as well as they could, and the convict I had 
recognized sat behind me with his breath on the hair of my head. 

" Good-by, Handel ! " Herbert called out, as we started. I 
thought what a blessed fortune it was that he had found another 
name for me than Pip. 

It is impossible to express with what acutencss I felt the con- 
vict's breathing, not only on the back of my head, but all along 
my spine. The sensation was like being touched with some pun- 
gent and searching acid, and it set my very teeth on edge. He 
seemed to have more breathing to do than another man, and to 
make more noise in doing it ; and I was conscious of growing 
high-shouldered on one side in my shrinking endeavors to fend him 
on. 

The weather was miserably raw, and the two cursed the cold. 
It made us all lethargic before we had gone far, and when we had 
left the Half-way House behind, we habitually dozed and shivered 
and were silent. I dozed oft' myself in considering the question 
whether 1 ought to restore a couple of pounds to this creature 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 183 

before losing sight ot him, and how it could best be done. In 
tne act of dipping forward, as if I were going to bathe among 
the horses, 1 awoke in a frighl and look the question up again. 

But I must have lost it- linger than I had thought for. since, 
although I could recognize nothing in the darkness and the fitful 
lights and shadows of our lamps, 1 traced marsh country in the 
cold damp wind that blew at us. Cowering forward for warmth, 
and to make me a scree* against the wind, the convicts were 
closer to me than before The very first words 1 heard them in- 
terchange as 1 became conscious were the words of my own 
thoughts, " T.wo Qne-Poinra notes." 

"How did he get 'em .' " said the convict I had never seen. 

" Hbw should I know.'" returned the other, "lie had 'em 
stowed away somehows. Giy him by friends, 1 expect.'' 

"I wish." said the other, with a bitter curse upon the cold, 
"that I had 'em here." 

" Two one-pound notes or friends ?"' 

"Two one-pound notes. I'd sell all the friends I ever had for 
one. Well.' So he says— T' 

"So he says," resumed the convict I had recognized — " it was 
all said and done in half a minute behind the pile of timber in 
the yar ' — 'you're going to be discharged'.'' Yes, I was. Would 
1 find om that boy that had fed him and kep' his secret, and give 
him them two one-pound notes/ Yes, I would. And I did." 

" .More fool you," growled the other. " I'd have spent 'em on 
a Man in wit ties and drink. He' must have been a green one. — 
Mean to say he knOwed nothing of you ?■" 

"Not a ha'porth. Different gangs and different ships, lie was 
tried again lit" prison breaking, and got made a Lifer. That's 
what he took by his motion, and that's all I know of him." 

" And was that— Honor ! — the only time you worked out in this 
part of the country 1 " 

" The only time." 

" What might have been your opinion of The place ?" 

" A most infernal place. Mudbank, mist, swamp, and work ; 
work, swamp, mist, and mudbank." 

'ihev both execrated the place in very strong language, and 
gradually growled themselves out and had nothing left to say. 

After overhearing this dialogue, I should assuredly have got 
down and been left in the solitude and darkness of the highway, 
but for feeling certain that the man had no suspicion of my identi- 
ty. Indeed, I was not only so changed in the course of nature, 
but so ditl'ercnlly dressed and so differently circumstanced, that it 
was not al all likely he could have known me without accidental 
help! Still, the coincidence of our being together on the coach 
was sufficiently strange to fill me with a dread that some other 
coincidence might at any moment connect me, in his hearing, with 



184 GREAT EXPE CTATIONS. 

my name. For this reason I resolved to alight as soon as we 
touched the town, and put myself beyond his hearing. This device 
I executed successfully. My little portmanteau was in the boot 
under my feet ; I had but to turn a hinge to get it out ; I threw it 
down before me, got down after it, and was left at Ihe first lamp 
on the first stones of the town pavement. As to the convicts, they 
went their way with the coach, and I knew at what point they 
would be spirited off to the river. In my fancy I saw the boat 
with its convict crew waiting for them at the slime-washed stairs — 
again heard the gruff " Give way, you !" like an order to dogs — 
again saw the wicked Noah's Ark lying out in the black water. 

I could not have said what I was afraid of, for my fear was alto- 
gether undefined and vague, -but there was fear upon rriel As I 
walked on to the hotel, I felt that a dread, exceeding the mere ap- 
prehension of a painful or disagreeable recognition, made me trem- 
ble 1 . I am confident that it took no distinctness of shapo, and that- 
it was the revival for a lew minutes of the terror of childhood. 

The coffee-room at the Blue Boar was empty, and I had nol 
only ordered my dinner there, but had sat down to it. before the 
waiter knew me. As soon as ever he had apologized tor the re- 
missness of his memory, he asked me if he should send Boots for 
Mr. Pumblechook ! 

" No, : ' paid I, " certainly not." 

The waiter (it was he who had brought up the Great Remon- 
strance from the Commercials on when I.was hound) ap- 
peared surprised, and took the earliest opportunity pf putting a 
dirty old copy of a local newspaper so directly in my way, that ] 
took it up and read this paragraph : 

"Our readers will learn, not altogether without interest, in re- 
ference to the recent romantic rise in fortune of a yoiibg artificer 
in iron of this neighborhood (what a theme, 1 by-the-way, for the 
magic pen of our as yet nut universally acknowledged townsman 
Tooby, the poet of our columns !), that the youth's earliest patron, 
companion, and friend, was a highly-respected individual not en- 
tirely unconnected with the corn and seed trade, and whose emi- 
nently eunvenient and commodious business premises are situate 
within a bundled miles of the High Street. It is no; wholly irre- 
spective of our personal feelings that we record Hi.m as the Mentor 
of our young Telemachus, for it is good to know that our town 
produced the founder of the latter's fortunes. Does the thought- 
contracted brow of the local Sage or the lustrous eye of local 
Beauty inquire whose fortunes? We believe that Quentin Matsys 
was the Blacksmith of Antwerp. Verb. Sap." 

I entertain a conviction, based upon large experience, that if in 
the days of my prosperity I had gone to the North Pole, I should 
have met somebody there, either wandering Esquimaux or civil- 
ized man, who would have told me that Pumblechook was my ear- 
liest patron and the founder of my fortunes. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 185 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

Betimes in t lie morning I was up and out. It was too earl) 
yet to go to Miss Havisham's, so 1 loitered into the Country on 

Miss Havisham's side of town — which was not Joe's side; I could 
gel there to-morrow — thinking about my patroness, and painting" 
brilliant pictures of her plans for me. 

She had adopted Estella, she had as goftd as adoptgd me, and it 
could not fail ta*be her mtention to bringus .together. She re 
served it for me to restore the desolate house, admit the sunshine 
into the dark rooms, set the clocks a going and the cold hearths a 
blazing, tear down the cobwebs," destroy the vermin — in short, do 
all the shining Ciwds of the young Kriight of romance, and marry 
llie Princess. .1 had stopped to look at the house as 1 passed ; and 
its seared red brick walls, blocked windows, and strong green ivy 
clasping even the stacks of chimneys with its twin's and ten. 
as if with sinewy old arms, had made up a rich attractive mystery, 
of which I was the hero. Estella was the inspiration of it, and 
the heart of it, ot § « ourse. But. though she had taken such strong 
possession of me, though my fancy and my hope were so set upon 
her', though her influence on my boyish life and character had been 
all-powerful, 1 did not, even that romantic morning, iiiveSl her with 
any attributes save those she possessed. I mention this in this 
pthoe, of a. fixed purpose, because it is the clew by whrcfo I am to 
he followed into my poor labyrinth, such as it is. According to 
njy experience* the conventional notion of a lover can not be al- 
ways true. The unqualified truth is, that when I loved Estella 
with the love of a man, 1 loved her because I found her irresistible. 
Once for all ; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, it not always, 
that 1 loved her against reason, against promise, against pe 
against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that 
could He. Once for all : J loved her none the less because I knew 
it, and it had no more influence in restraining me than if I had 
devoutly and conventionally believed her to be human perfection. 

1 so shaped out my walk as to arrive at the gate at my old time. 
When I had rung at the bell with an unsteady band 1 turned my 
back upon the i_ r ate, while I tried to get my breath and keep the 
beating of cay heart moderately quiet, I heard the side-door open 
and steps come across the court-yard ; but I pretended not to hear. 
even when the gate swrJflg on its rusty hinges. 

ing at last touched on the shoulder, 1 started and turned. I 
started much mote naturally ihen to find myself confronted by a 



186 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

man in a sober gray dress. The last man I should have expected 
to see in that place of porter at Miss Havisham's door. 

« Orlick !" 

"All, young master, there's more changes than yours. But come 
in, conic in. Its opposed to my orders to bold the gate open." 

I entered ami he swung it, and locked it, and took the key out. 
"Yes!" said lie, facing round, after doggedly preceding me a few 
steps towards the house. "Here I am !" 

" How did yon come here ?•" 

" I come here," he retorted, " on my legs. I had my box 
'brought alongside me in a barrow." • 

" Are \ on here for good V ' 

" 1 ain t here for harm, young master, I suppose ?" 

I was not so sure of that. 1 bad leisure to mitertaiu the retort 
in my mind, while he slowly lifted his heavy glance from the pave- 
ment, up my legs and arms, to my face. 

" Then yon have left the forge !" I said. 

"Do this look like a forge?" replied Orlick, sending his glance 
all around him witli an air of injury. " Now, do it look like it P 

1 asked him how long he had left Gargery's forge? 

"One day is so like another here,' be replied, " that I don't 
know without casting it up. However, I come here some time 
since you left." 
'" 1 could have told you that, Orlick." . 

" Ah !" said he, dryly. " But then you've got to lie a scholar." 

By this time we bad come to the house, where I found bis room 
to be one just within the side-door, with a little window in it look- 
ing on the court-yard, in its small proportions it was not unlike 
the kind of place usually assigned to a gate-porter in Paris. Otr- 
tain keys were hanging on the wall, to which he now added the 
gate key, and his patch-work covered bed was in a little inner divi- 
sion or recess. The whole had a slovenly, confined, ami sleepy 
look, like a cage for a human dormouse : while he looming dark 
and heavy in the shadow of a comer by the window, looked like 
the human dormouse for whom it was fitted up — as indded be was. 

" I never saw this room before," I remarked ; " but there used 
to be no porter here." 

"No," said he ; " not till it got about that there was no protec- 
tion on the premises, and it come to he considered dangerous, with 
convicts and Tag and Rag and Bobtail going up and down. And 
then 1 was recommended to the place as a man who could give 
another man as good as be brought, and I took it. It's easier than 
bellowsing and hammering. That's loaded, that is." 

My eye had been caught by a gun with a brass-bound stock over 
the chimney-piece, and his eye had followed mine. 

" Well," said I. not desirous of more conversation, "shall I go 
up to Miss Havisbam ? " 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 187 

"Burn me if I know!" he retorted, first stretching himself and 
then shaking himself; "myoiders ends here, young pfiasteh I 
give this hen-' bell a rap with this here hammer, and you go on 
along the passage till you meet somebody." ' 

" I am expected, 1 believe ! " 

" Burn me twice over if 1 can say ! " said he. 

Upon that I turned down the long passage which 1 had first 
trodden in my thick hoots, and lie made his hell sound. At the 
end of the passage, while the hell was still reverberating, I found 
Sarah Poekei. who appeared to have now ; onstitutionally 

green and vellow by reason • 

"Oh !" said she. * " You, is it. .Mr. Tip V 

" It is, Miss Pocket. I am glad to tell you that Mr. Pootel and 
family are all well." 

"Are they any wiser?" said Sarah, with a dismal shake of the 
head; "they had better he wiser than well. Ah, Matthew, Mat- 
thew ! You know your way, sir > " 

Tolerably, for 1 had gone up the staircase in the dark many a 
time. I ascended it now, in lighter boots than of yore, and t;;- 
in my old way at the door uf Miss llavisham's room. " I 
rap," 1 heard her say, immediately ; •• come in, Pip." 

She was in her chair near the old table, in the old dress, with 
her two hands crossed on her stick', her chin resting on them, and 
her eyes on the tire. Sitting near her, with the white shoe that 
had never been worn in her hand, and her head bent as she looked 
at it, was an elegant lady whom I had never seen. 

"Come in. Pip," Miss Havisham continued to mutter, without 
looking round or up : " come in. Pip : how do you do, Pip ! so you 
kiss my hand as if I were a queen, eh .' — "Well I " 

She looked up at me suddenly, Only moving her eyes, and re- 
peated, in a grimly playful manner, 

" Well V 

."1 heard, Miss Ilavisham," said I, rather at a loss, "that you 
were so kind as to wish me to come and see you, and I came di- 
rectly." 

" Well ? " 

The lady whom I had never seen before lifted up her eyes and 
looked archly at me, and then I saw that the eyes were Estella's 
eyes. But she was so much changed, was so much more beautiful, 
so much more womanly, in all things winning admiration had made 
SiVh wonderful advance that 1 seemed to have made none. I fan- 
cied, as 1 looked at her, that I bad slipped hopelessly back into 
the coarse and common boy again. < >h the sense of distance and 
disparity that came upon me. and the inaccessibility that came 
about her! 

She gave me her han i. T stammered something about the pleas- 



188 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

ure T felt in seeing her again, and my having looked forward to it 
for a long/tong time. 

"Do you find her much changed, Pip?" asked Miss Havisham 
with her greedy look, and striking her stick upon a chair that stood 
between them, as a sign to me to sit down there. 

" When I came in, Miss Havisham, I thought there was nothing 
of Estella in the face or figure; but now it all settles down so cu- 
riously into the old — " 

" What ? You are not going to say into the old Estella?" Miss 
Havisham interrupted. " She was proud and insulting, and you 
wanted to go away from her. Don't you remember ?" 

I said, confusedly, that that was long ago, and that I knew no 
better then, and the like. Estella smiled with perfect composure, 
and said she had no doubt of my having been quite right, and of 
her having been very disagreeable. 

"Is he changed ?" Miss Havisham asked her. 

"Very much."' said Estella, looking at me. , 

." Less coarse and common ? " said Miss Havisham, playing with 
Estella's hair. 

Estella laughed, and looked at the shoe in her hand, and 
laughed again, and looked at me, and put the shoe down. She 
treated me as a boy still, but she lured me on. 

We sat in the dreamy room among the old strange influences 
which had so wrought upon me, and I learned that she' had but 
just come home from France, and that she was going to London. — , 
Proud and willful as of old, she had brought those qualities into 
such subjection to her beauty that it was impossible and out of na- 
ture — or I thought so — to seperate them from her beauty. Truly 
it was impossible to dissociate her presence from all those wretched 
hankerings after money and gentility that had disturbed my boy- 
hood — from all those ill-r gulated aspirations that had first made 
me ashamed of home and Joe — from all those visions that had rais- 
ed her face in the glowing fire, struck if out of the iron on the an- 
vil, extracted it from the darkness of night to look in at the wooden 
window of the forge and flit away. In a word, it was impossible 
for me to separate her, in the past or in the present, from the in- 
nermost life of my life. 

It was settled that I should stay there all the rest of the day, 
and return to the hotel at night, and to London to-morrow. When 
we had" conversed for a while, Miss Havisham sent us two out to 
walk in the neglected garden ; on our coming in by-and-by, she said 
I should wheel her about a little as in times of yore. 

So Estella and I went out into the garden by the gate through 
which I had strayed to my encounter with the pale young gentle- 
man, now Herbert ; I, trembling in spirit and worshiping the very 
hem of her dress; she, quite composed and most decidedly not wor- 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 189 

shiping the hem of mine. As we drew near the place of encoun- 
ter she slopped and said : , 

" I must have been a singular little creature to hide ami see that 
fight that day ; but I did, and I enjoyed it. very much." 

" You rewarded me very much;" 

"Did 11 " she replied, in an incidental and forgetful way. " I 
remember I entertained a great objection to your adversary, be- 
cause I took it ill that he should be brought here to pester me with 
his company." 
■ "We are great friends now," said I. 

"Are you? I think I recollect though, that you read with his 
father?" 

"Yes." 

I made the admission with reluctance, for it seemed to have a 
bovL-di look, and she already treated me more than enough like a 
boy. 

" Since your change of fortune and pics cots you have changed 
your companions," said Ks.clia. 

" Naturally, ' said 1. 

■• And necessarily," she added, in a haughty tone; "what was 
fit company for you once wouid be (pule until company for yob 
now." 

In my conscience I doubt very much whether I had any linger- 
ing intention left, of going to see Joe; but if I hud, this observa- 
tion put it to flight. 

" You had no idea of your impending good fortune in those times ?" 
said Estella, with a slight wave of her hand, signifying in the fight- 
ing times. 
"'• Not. the least,"' 

The air of completeness and superiority with which she walked 
at my side, and the air of youlhfiilness and'deiVrence with which I 
walked at hers, made a contrast that 1 strongly felt, It would 
have rankled in me more than it did, if I had not regarded my- 
self as eliciting it by being so set apart for her and assigned to 
her. 

The garden was too overgrown and rank for walking in with 
case, and after we had made the round of it twice or thrice we 
• out again into the brewery -yard. 1 showed her to a nicety 
where I had seen her walking on the casks, thai first old day, and 
she said, with a cold and careless look in that direction, "Did 1 ?" 
1 reminded her where she had come out of the house, and given 
me my meat and drink, and she said, " 1 don't remember." " Not 
remember that you made rue cry .'" said I. "No," said she, and 
k her head and looked about her. I verily believe that her 
not remembering, and not minding it in the least, made me cry 
again inwardh — and that is the sharpest crying of all. 

" You miu»t know," said EeteLla, condescending to ms as a brfl- 



19U GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

liant and beautiful woman might, '(that I have no heart — if that 
lias any thing to do with my memory." 

I got through some jargon to the effect that I took the liberty of 
^loubting that. That I knew better. That there could be no such 
beauty without it. 

Hi ! I have a heart to be stabbed in or shot in, I have no 
doubt," said Estella, " and, of course, if it ceased to beat I should 
reasc to be. But you know what I mean. I have no softness 
( here, no — sympathy — sentiment — nonsense." 

What 7vas it that was borne in upon my mind when she stood 
still and looked attentively at me ? Any thing that 1 had seen in 
Havisham? No. In some of her looks and gestures there 
was that ting*e of resemblance to Miss Havisham which may often 
be noticed to have been acquired by children from grown persons 
with whom they have been much associated and secluded, and 
which, when childhood is past, will produce a remarkable occasion- 
al lik ness of expression between faces that are otherwise quite dif- 
ferent. And yet I could not trace this to Miss Havisham. I look- 
ed again, and though she was still looking at me, the suggestion 
was gone. 

AVh at was it ? 

" 1 am serious," said Estella, not so much with a frown (for her 
brow was smooth) as with a darkening of her face ; " if we are to 
lie thrown much .together, you had better believe it at once. No !" 
imperiously stopping me as 1 opened my lips. " I have not be- 
stowed my tenderness any where. 1 have never bad any such 
thing." 

In another moment we were in the brewery so long disused, and 
she pointed to the high gallery where I had seen her going out on 
that same first day, and told me she remembered to have been up 
there, and to have seen* me standing scared below. As my eyes 
followed, her white hand, again the same dim suggestion that I 
could not possibly grasp crossed me. My involuntary start occa- 
sioned her to lay her hand upon my arm. Instantly the ghost 
passed once more, for the last time, and was gone. 

What was it ? 

" What is the matter V said Estella: "are you scared again V 

"I should be, if I believed what you said just now," 1 replied, 
to turn it off. 

" Then you don't 1 Very well. It is said, at any rate. Miss 
Havisham will soon be expecting you at your old post, though I 
think that might be laid aside now, with other old belongings. Let 
us make one more round of the garden, and then go in. Come ! 
You shall not shed tears for my cruelty to-day ; you shall be my 
Page, and give me your shoulder." 

Her handsome dress had trailed upon the ground. She held it 
fa one hand now, and with the other lightly touched my shoulder 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 191 

as we walked. We walked round the ruined garden twice or 
thrice more, and it was ;ill in bloom for hoe. If the green and 
yellow growth of weed in the chinks of the old wall had been ihe 
most precious flowers that ever blew, it could not have been more 
cherished in my remembrance. 

There was no discrepancy of years between us to remove her 
far from me ; we 'wore of nearly the same ;igc, though of course 
the age told far more in her case than in mine; but the air of in- 
accessibility which her beauty and her manner gave her, torment- 
ed me in the midst of my delight, and at the height of the assur- 
ance I felt that our patroness had chosen us for one another. 
"Wretched boy ! 

At last we went back into the house, and there I heard, with 
surprise, that my guardian had come down to see Miss Ilavisham 
on business and would come back to dinner. The old wintry 
branches of chandeliers in the room where the mouldering table 
was spread, bad been lighted while we weie out, and Miss Ilavi- 
sham was in her chair wailing for me. 

It, was like pushing the chair itself back into the past, when we 
began the slow circuit round about the ashes of the .bridal feast. 
Bui in the funereal room, with that figure of the gr ve fallen back 
in tlie chair fixing its eyes upon" her. Kstella looked more bright 
and beautiful than before. I was under stronger enchantment. 

The time so melted away that our early dinner-hour drew close 
land, and Estella left us to prepare herself. We had slopped 
near the centre of the long table, and Miss Ilavisham, with one of 
her withered arms stretched out of the chair, rested that clenched 
hand upon the yellow cloth. As Estella looked back over her 
shoulder before going out at the door, Miss Ilavisham kissed that 
hand to her, with a ravenous intensity that was. of its kind, quite 
dreadful. 

Then. Estella being gone and we two left alone, she turned to 
me, and said, in a whisper, 

"Is she beautiful', graceful, well-grown I Do you admire her '/"' 

■' Every body must who sees her. Miss Hayisham." 

She drew an arm round my neck, and drew my head close down 
tb hefs'aa she sat in the chair. " Love her, iove her, love her! 
How does she use you V 

Before I could answer (if I could have answered such a difficult 
question at all) she repeated, "Loye her, love her. love her! If 
she favor* you, love her. It she wounds yo'u, love her. If she 
tears your heart to pieces — and as it gets older and stronger it 
wiil tear deeper — !ove her. love her) love'ir 

N( ver had I seen such passionate eagerness as was joined to 
her utterance of these words. I could feel the muscles of the 
thin arm round my neck swell with the vehemence that possessed 
her. 



192 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" Hear me, Pip! I adopted her, to be loved. I bred her and 
educated her, to be loved. I developed her into what she is, that 
she might be loved. Love her!" 

She said the word often enough, and there could be no doubt 
that she meant to say it ; but if the often repeated word had been 
bafe instead of love — despair — revenge — dire death — it could not 
have sounded from her lips more like a curse. 

. " I'll- tell you," said she, in the same hurried passionate whis- 
per, " what real love is. It is blind devotion*, unquestioning self- 
humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief, against yourself 
and against the world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the 
sniilcr — as I did !" 

When she came to that, and to a desperate cry that followed 
that, I caught her runnel the waist. For she rose up in the chair, 
in her shroud of a dress, and wildly struck at the air as if she 
would as soon have struck herself against the wall and have fallen 
dead. 

All this passed in a few seconds. As T drew her down into her 
chair, I was conscious of a scent that I knew, and turning, saw my 
guardian in the room. 

He always carried (I have not yet mentioned it, I think) a 
pocket-handkerchief of rich silk and of imposing proportions, 
which was of great value to him in his profession. I have seen 
him so terrify a client or a witness by ceremoniously unfolding his 
pocket-handkerchief as if he were immediately going to blow his 
nose, and then pausing, as if he knew lie shon d not have time to 
do it before such client or witness committed himself, that the self- 
committal has fol owed directly, quite as a matter of course. 
When 1 saw him in the room, .he had this expressive pocket- 
handkerchief in both hands, and was looking at us. On meeting 
my eye, he said plainly by a momentary and silent pause in that 
attitude, "Indeed? Singular!" and then put the handkerchief 
to its right use with wonderful effect, 

Miss Havisham had seen him as soon as I, and was (like every 
body else) afraid of him. She made a strong attempt to compose 
herself, and stammered that he was as punctual as ever. 

"As punctual as ever." he repeated, coming up to us. " (How 
do you do, Pip ? Shall I give you a ride, Miss Havisham 1 Once 
round .'} And so you are here, Pip?" 

I told him when I had arrived, and bow Miss Havisham had 
wished me to come and see Estella. To which he replied, "Ah! 
Very fine young lady !" Then he pushed Miss Havisham in her 
chair before him with one 'of his large hands, and put the other in 
his trowsers-pocket, as if the pocket were full of secrets. 

" Well, Pip ! How often have you seen Miss Estella before ? " 
said he, when he came to a stop. 

" How often ? " 



ttSEAT EXPECTATIONS. tig 

i' Ah ! How many limes/ 'i'rn thousau;! times '? " 

" Oil ! < '.-rl duly 7ioi so mam." 

" Twice ? " 

"^aggers," irttefeposed Miss ilavisham, much to my re! 
"leave my Lin alone, and go with him to your dinner." 

He complied, and we groped our way down the dark stairs to- 
gether. While we wdre still on our way lo ihose fletiach 
menls across ihe rjftved yard at ihe had., lie asked me how often i 
had seen Miss ilavisham eat and drink ; offering me ;) breadth of 
choice, as us:;al, between a hundred times and once. 

1 considered, and said " New 

•• And never will. !'ij>." he retorted with a frowniryj smile. "She 
has never allowed herself to he seen doing either siikm she lived 
this present- life of hers. She wanders about in the nhiht.aml lays 
hands on such food as she takes." 

•' Pray, sir." said I. " may I ask you a question ? " 

" Von may." said he, "aud I may decline to answer it. Pit 
your quest! 

" Ratellsfs name, [s it Ilavisham, or 1 " T had nothing to 

add. 

"Or, what I " said lie. 

" Is it Ua\isham I " 

" It is Ilavisham." 

This bro'ughl mcr-iable, where she and Sarah Pock- 

et awaited us. Mr. Jaggers presided, Estella sat opposite to him, 
1 laced my green and yellow friend. We dined very well, and 
were wailed on by a maid-servant whom I had never seen in ail 
my comings and gdingS", hut who, for anything I know, had been 
in that mysterious house, 1 he whole lime. After dinner a buttle of 
choice old port was placed before my guardian (he was evidently 
well acquainted with ihe vintage)] and the two ladies left us. 

Anything to equal the determined reticence of Mr. Jaggers under 
that roof i never saw elsewhere, even in him. lie kepi his very 
looks lo himself, and scarcely directed his eyes to Estella's face 
once during dinner, when she spoke to him, ho listened, and in 
due course answered, but never looked at her that I could see. — 
On the other hand, she often looked at him, with interest and curi- 
osity, if no; distrust, but his face never s owed the least conscious- 
ness. Throughout dinner-he took a dry delight in making Sarah 
Pocket greener and yellower, by often referring in conversation 
with me to my expectations; hut bete, again, he showed no con- 
sciousness, and even made it appear that he extorted — and even 
did extort, though 1 don't, know bow — those references out of my 
innocent self. 

And when he and I were left alone together, he sal with an air 
upon him ot general lying by in consequence of information he 
possessed, that really was too amah for rue. He •nw-examined 
LS 



VJ4 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. * 

his very wine when he had nothing 'else in hand, lie held it be- 
tween himself and the candle, tasted the port, rolled it in his 
mouth, swallowed it. looked at 'She port again, smelled it, tried it, 
drank it, rilled again, and cross-examined the glass again, until I 
was as nervous as if I had known the wine to be telling him some- 
thing to my disadvantage. Three or four times I feebly thought 
I would star! Conversation ; but whenever he saw me going to ask 
him anything he looked at me with his glass in his hand, and roll- 
ing his wine aboul in bis mouth, as if requesting me to ta;<e notice 
that it was of no use. for he couldn't answer. 

I think Miss Pocket was conscious that tin* sight of me involve.! 
her in the danger of being goaded to madness, and perhaps tearing 
off her cap — winch was a very hideous one, in the nature of a mus- 
lin mop — and strewing the ground with her hair — which assuredly 
had never grown on Iwr head. She did m>i appear when we after- 
ward went up to Miss Havisham's room, and we four played at 
whist. In the interval, Miss Ilavisham, in a wild way, had put 
Some of the most beautiful jewels from her dressing-table^ irtto Es- 
lella's hair, and about her bosom ami tfti I saw eve.; 

guardian look at her from under his thick eyepraws.and raise ihem 
a little when her loveliness was before him, with tlms,' rich (lushes 
of glitter and color in it. 

Of the manner and extent to which be took cur trumps .into cus- 
tody, ami came out with mean litib the ends of hands, before 
which the glory of our Kings and Queens was utterly abased, ! 

othing; nor of i lie feeding that I bad, respecting his lool 
upon us personally in the light of three very obvious and poor rid- 
iiat he had found out long ago. What I suffered from was 
the incompatibility between bis cold presence and my feelings to- 
ward Estella. It was not that I'knew I could never bear to speak 
to him about her, that I knew 1 could never bear to hear him 
creak his boots at her, that I knew I could never bear to see him 
wash his hands of her; it was, that my admiration should be with- 
in a foot or two of him — ii was, that my f< clings should be in the 
same place with him — that, was the agonizing circhmstai 

We played until nine o'clock, and then it was arranged that 
when Estella came to London I should be forewarned other com- 
ing and should meet her at the coach ; and then I took leave of-her, 
and touched her and left her. 

My guardian lay at the Boar, in the next room to mine. Far 
into the i 3 Havisham's words, "Love her, love her, love 

her !" sounded in my ears. I adapted them for my own repeti- 
tion, and said 1o my pillow, " 1 love her, I love her, I love her ! " 
thousands of times. TJien a burst of gratitude came upon me, 
she should lie destined for me. once the blacksmith's boy. — 
Then, I thought, if she were, as I feared, by no means rapturously 
.errateful for that destiny y«t» when would she he^in to he into*- 



GHE.LT EXPECTATIONS. 19a 

ested in me ? When should I awaken the heart within her that 
was mute and steeping ncfw I 

All me ! I thought those were high and great emotions. But 
I never thought there was any thing low and small in my keep- 
ing away from Joe, because 1 knew she would lie contemptuous of 
him. It was hut a day gone, and doe had brought the tears into 
my eyes; they had soon dried. God forgive -me ! soon i 



CHAPTER XXX. 

Aftf.i: \\\\\ considering the matter while 1 was dressing at the 
BkieBoanin the ipornurg, I revolted to tell my guard; . 
doubted < <r. ; e!v's being the right sort of a man to fill a post of 
irusi at -Ali--' HayisbauTs. " Why, of course he is not the right 
sort of a Ulan, Pip," said ply guardian, comfortably satisfied be- 
forehand 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 ac- 
cidentally and exceptionally held by the right sort of man, and be 
listened in a satisfied manner while I told him what knowledge 1 
had of Orliek. "Very good, Pip," he observed, when 1 had con- 
cluded. '• IT go round presently, and pay our friend cfff," 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. '" ( )'u 
no he won't," said my guardian, making his pocket-handkerchief 
point with | erfeet co fidenee; " I should like to see him. argue the 
question with me? 

- 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 ©f say- 
ing that 1 wanted a walk, and that I would go on along the Lon- 
Etoad 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 



196 ©EEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

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 fdrgptten something, and pass me 
face to facte — on which occasions I don'i 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 ail 
dissatisfied with it, until Fate threw me in the way of that unlim- 
ited miscreant, Trabb's bov. 

Casting my eyes along the street at a certain point of my pro- 
gress. T beheld Trabb's boy approaching, lashing himself with an 
empty blue bag. Deeming that a serene and unconscious con- 
templation of him would best beseem me, and would be most 
likely to quell his evil mind, 1 advanced with that expression of 
countenance, and was rather congratulating myself on my -suc- 
cess, when suddenly the knees of Trabb's boy smote together, Ids 
hair uprose, his cap fell off, he trembled violently in every limb, 
staggered out in the road, and crying to the populace, "Hold 
rue ! 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 'he 
dust'. 

This was a hard thing to bear, but this was nothing. I had 
not advanced another two hundred yards, when, to my inexpressi- 
ble terror,, amazement, and indignation. I again beheld Trabb's 
boy approaching^ He was coming round a narrow emmer. Hi i 
blue \^ng was slung over his shoulder, honest industry beamed m 
his <m . , a. determination to proceed to Trabb's with .cheerful 
briskm- ■■■> was indicated in his -ait. With a shock he became 
awaie i ; me, and wa ■ seve ely visited as before; but this time his 
motion was rotary, and be staggered round and round me < 

e afflicted, and with uplifted bands as if beseeching for 
mercy Hi: sufferings were hailed with the greatest joy by a knot, 
of spectators; and I felt uUe/iy confounded. 

1 had not got as much further down the street as the post-o ■". 
when [ again beheld Trabb s boy shooting round by aback way. 
This time ntirely changed. He wore the blue bag in the 

maimer ol . at-coat, and was strutring along tbe pavement 

toward me on , site side, of the street, attended by a com- 

pany 'of delighted young friends to whom he from time to time 
exclaimed, with a waive of his hand, " don't know yah !" Words 
can not si at;' the amount of aggravation and injury wreaked upon 
me by Trabb's boy, when, passing abreast of me, be pulled up his 
shirt-collar, twined his side hair, stuck an arm akimbo, and smirk- 
ed extravagantly by, wriggling Iris elbows and body, and drawl- 
ing to his attendants, " Don't know yah, don't know yah, 'pun 
n.»' s*nl tloa'fe know yah I" f?ha disgrace attejidan t ob hia im.m»- 



GRE vT EXPECTATIONS. I9r 

diately afterward taking to crowing and pursuing me across the 
bridge with crows as from an exceedingly dejected fojgl who had 
known me when I was a blacksmith. cujtnigared th*e disgrace, witli 
whieli I left the town, and was. so to sneak, ejeeied by it into the 
open country. 

But unless I had taken the life of Trabh's hoy on that occasion, 
I really do' not even now see what I could have done save endure. 
To have struggled with him in the street, or to have exacted any 
lower recompense from him than his heart's best blond w.uild 
have been futile and degrading. Moreover he was a hoy whom 
no man could hurt ; an invulnerable and dodging serpent who, 
when chased into a corner, flew out again between his captor's 
legs, scornfully yelping. I wrote, however, to Mr. Trabb by 
next day's post, to say that 3Ir. Pip must decline to deal further 
with one who could so far forget what he owed to the best inter- 
ests of society, as to employ a hoy who excited Loathing in every 
respectable mind. 

The coach, with Mr. Jaggers inside, came up in due time, and 
1 tool; my box-seat again, and arrived in London safe — but not 
sound, for my heart was gone. As soon as 1 arrived I sen' a 
penitential codiish and a barrel of oysters to Joe (as reparation 
for not having gene myself), and then went on to Laniard's Inn.- 

1 found Herbert dining on cold meat, and delighted to welcome 
me back. Having dispatched the Avenger to the coffee-house for 
an addition to the dinner. 1 fell that \ must open my breast that 
every evening to my friend and chum. As confidence was out of 
the question with the Avanger Sn the hall, which eoivd merely be 
regarded in the light of an ante-chamber 1o the keyhole, I sent him 
to the Llay. A better proof of the severity of my bondage to 
that task-master could scarcely be afforded than the degrading 
shifts to which 1 was constantly driven to find him employment. 
Mt mean is extremity thai - ( sometimes sent him to Hyde Park 
corner to see what o'clock it was. 

Dinner done and we sitting with our feet upon the fender, I said 
to Herbert, '' My dear Herbert, I have something very particular 
to tell you." 

!.' My dear Handel," he returned, " [ shall esteem and respect 
your confidence." 

" It concerns myself, Herbert,"' said I, "and one other person." 

Herbert crossed his feet, looked at the fine with his head on one 
side, and having looked at it in vain for some time, looked at me 
because I didn't go on. 

"Herbert," said I, laying my hand upon his knee. "I love — 
I adore — Lstella." 

Instead of befog transfixed, Herbert replied in an easy, matter- 
of-course way. "Exactly. Well?" 

" Well, Herbert ?' Is that all vou say ? Well ?" 



198 GREAT EXPECTATIONS 

".What next, I mean?" said Herbert. "Of course I know 
that." 

" How do you know it?" said I. 

" How do I know it, Handel 1 Why, from you." 

" I never told you." 

Told me ! You have never told me when you have got your 
hair cut, hut I have had senses to perceive it. You have always 
adored her, ever since 1 have known you. You brought your 
adoration and portmanteau here together. Told me ! Why you 
have always told me all day long. When you told me your own 
story, you told me plainly that you began adoring her the first 
time you saw her, when you were very young indeed." 

'• Very well, then," said I, to whom this was a new and not 
unwelcome light, " I have never left off adoring her. And she 
has come hack a most beautiful and most elegant creature. And 
1 saw her yesterday. And if I adored her before, I noW'doubly 
adore her." 

"Lucky for you then, Handel," said Herbert, "that you are 
picked out for her and allotted to her. Without encroaching on 
forbidden ground, we may venture to say that there can be no 
.doubt between ourselves of that fact. Have you any idea yet of 
Estella's views on the adoration question ? ' 

I shook my head gloomily. "Oh! she is thousands of miles 
away from me," said I. 

" Patience, my dear Handel: time enough, time enough. But 
you have something more to say V 

" 1 urn ashamed to say it," I returned, "and yet it's no worse 
to say it than to think it. You call me a lucky fellow. Of course, 
1 am. i was a blacksmith's boy but yesterday ; T am — what shall 
1 say I am — to-day ?" 

" .Say a good fellow, if you want a phrase," returned Herbert, 
smiling, and clapping bis hand on the back of mine, " a good fel 
low with impetuosity and hesitation, boldness and diffidence, ac- 
tion and dreaming, curiously mixed in him." 

I stopped for a moment to consider whether there really was 
this mixture in my character. On the whole, I by no meaus re- 
cognized the analysis, but thought it not worth disputing. 

"When I ask what I am to call myself to-day, Herbert," I 
went on, " I suggest what I have in my thoughts. You say I 
am lucky. I know I have done nothing to raise myself in life, 
and that Fortune alone has raised me; that is being very lucky. 
And yet, when I think of Estella— " 

(" And when don't yon, you know ?" Herbert threw in, with 
his eves on the fire; which I thought kind and sympathetic of 
him.) 

" — Then, my dear Herbert, I can not tell you how dependent 
and uncertain 1 feel, and how exposed to hundreds of chances. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS' 199 

Avoiding forbidden ground as you did just now, I may still say 
that on the constancy of one person (naming no person) all my 
expectations .depend. And best, h.ow indefinite" and un- 

satisfactory only to know so vaguely what they are!" In saying 
this. I relieved my mind of what, had always been there, more or 
less, though no doubl most Sipoe. yesterday. 

"Now Handel;" Herbert replied, in his gay, hopeful way, '-it 
sinus to me that in the despondency of the lender passion we are 
looking into our gift-horses mouth with a magnifying-glass. Like- 
wise, it seems 1o me that concentrating our attention on thai examina- 
tion we altogether overlook one of the best points of the animal. — 
Didn't you tell me that your guardian, Mr. daggers, told you in the be- 
ginning .thai youwerenm endowed withexpeetaiions only ? And even 
if lie had not told you so — though that is a very large It', I grant — 
could you believe that, of all men in London, Mr. Jaggers is the 
man to hold his present relations toward you unless he were sure 
of his ground ? " 

I said that 1 could not deny that this was a strong point, 1 said 
it (people often do so, in such eases) like a rather reluctant conces- 
sion to truth and justice — as if 1 wanted to deny il ! 

"1 should, think [twos a strong poiut," said Herbert, " and I 
should think you would bepuzzled to imagine a stronger; as to 
the rest, you must, hide your guardian's time, and he must bide his 
client's time. You'll be one-and-twenty before you know where 
you are, and then perhaps you'Tfi get some further enlightenment. 
At all events, you'll be nearer getting ir. for it must come at last.'' 

" What a hopeful disposition you hafce ! ' sud 1. gratefully ad- 
miring his cheery ways. 

" 1 ought to have," said Herbert, "for I have not much else. — 
1 must acknowledge, by-the-by, that the good sense of what 1 have 
just said is Dot my own, but my father's. The only remark that I 
ever heard him make on your story was the final one : ' The thing 
is settled and done, or Mr. Jaggers would not be in It.' And now 
before 1 say any thing more about, my father or my father's son, 
and repa\ confidence with coutid -nee, I want, to make myself se- 
riously disagreeable to you for a momerit — positively repulsive.' 

" You won't succeed," said I. 

'.'( >ii yes 1 shall ! " said he. "One. two, three, and now 1 am 

in for it. Handel, my good fellow " — though he spoke in this light 

he was much in earnest — " 1 have been thinking sipcewehave 

talking with our feet on this fender, that Esteila surely cannot 

condition of, your inheritance, if she was never referred to by 

your guardian. Am 1 right in so understanding what you have 

told me. as that he never referred to her, directly or indirectly, in 

any way I Xever even hinted, for instance, that your patron might 

have views as to your marriage ultimately ? " 

" Xever."' 



800 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

"Now, Handel, I am quite free from the flavor of sour grapes, 
upon my soul ! Not being bound to her, can you not detach your- 
self from her 1 — I told you I should be disagreeable." 

I turned my head aside, tor, with a 'rush and a sweep, like the 
old marsh winds coming up from the sea, a feeling like that which 
had subdued me on the morning when I left the forge, when the 
mists were solemnly rising, and when I laid my hand upon the 
village finger-post, smote upon my heart again. There was silence 
between us frr a little while. 

"Yes, but my dear Handel," Herbert went on, as if we had been 
talking instead of silent, "it's having been so strongly rooted in 
the breast of a boy whom nature and circumstances made so 'ro- 
mantic renders it very serious. Think of her hringing-up, and think 
of Miss Havisham. Think of what she is herself (now I am re- 
pulsive, and you abominate me). This may lead to miserable 
things." 

" I know it, Herbert " saicl I, with my head still turned away, 
"but I can't help it." 

" You can't detach yourself? " 

" No. Impossible ! " 

" You can't try, Handel % " 

"No. Impossible!" 

"Well ! " said Herbert, getting up with a lively shake as if he 
had been asleep, and stirring the fire, "now I'll endeavor to make 
myself agreeable again." 

•So he went around the room and shook the curtains out, put the 
chairs in their places, tid#d the book* and so forth that were lying 
about, looked into the hall, peeped into the letter-box, shut the 
door, and came back to his chair by the fire ; where he sat down, 
nursing his left leg in both arms. 

"I was going to say a word or two, Handel, concerning my 
father and my father's son. I am afraid it is scarcely necessary for 
my father's son to remark that my father's establishment is not 
particularly brilliant in its housekeeping." 

" There is always plenty, Herbert," said I : to say something 
encouraging. 

" Oil yes ! and so the dustman says, I believe, with the strong- 
est approval, and so does the marine store-shop in the back street. 
Gravely, Handel, for the subject is grave enough ; you know how 
it is as well as I do. I suppose there was a time once when my 
father had not given matters up ; but if there 'ever was, the time 
is gone. May I ask you if you have ever had an opportunity of 
remarking down in your part of the country, that the children of 
not exactly suitable marriages are always most particularly anxious 
to be married 1 " 

This was such a singular question that I asked him in return, 
" Is it so ? " 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 20 J 

"I don't kuow," said Herbert; "that's what I want to know. 
Because it is decidedly the case with us. My poor sister Char- 
lotte, who was next me and died before slid was fb'urtqen, was a 
striking example. Little Jane is (he same. In her desire I 
matrimonially established, you might suppose Iut to have passed 
her short existence in the perpetual contemplation of "domestic bliss. 
Little Alick, in a Frock, has already made arrangements for his un- 
ion with a suitable yefung person at Kew. And indeed. I think 
we are alt, Engaged except the baby." 

•■ Tiien you are." said I. 

•• I am," said Herbert, "bul it's a secret." 

I assured him of my keeping the secret, and begged I 
vnred with further particulars. lie had spoken so sensibly and 
feelingly of my weakness, ihat I wanted to know something about 
his strength. 

" May I ask the name ? ** I said. 

"Name of Clara," said Herbert. 

"Live in London ! " 

"Yes. Perhaps ] ought to mention," said Herbert, who had 
become curiously crestfallen and meek since we entered oji the in- 
teresting theme, "thai she is rather below my mother's nonsensical 
family notions. Her father had to do with the vitualing of pas- 
senger-ships 1 think he was a species oi purser." 

•• What is lie now ! " said I. 

"lie's an Invalid now," replied Herbert. 

" Living on - I " 

"On the first floor," said Herbert. Which was not at all what 
I meant, for 1 had intended my question to apply to his means, 
"t have never seen him, lor he lias always k. pt his room over- 
head since I have known Clara. Pmt I have heard him con 
>;autly. lie makes tremendous rows — roars, and pegs at the door 
with some frightful instrument." in looking at me and then 
laughing heartily, Herbert for the time recovered his usual lively 
manner, 

"Don't you expect to see him ?" said I. 

"Oh yes, I constantly expect to see him," returned Herbert, "be- 
cause I never hear him without expectimr him to come tumbling 
through the ceiring: Hut 1 don't know bow long the rafters may 
hold." 

When we bad once mere laughed heartily he became ra^ek again, 
and told me the moment that he began to realize Capital it 
his intention to marry this young lAly. He added, as a self-evi- 
dent proposition, engendering low spirits, " But \v\\ caiii marry, 
you know, while you're looking about you." 

As we contemplated the lire, and as I thought what a diliicuit 
vision to realize this same capital sometimes was, i -put my hands 
in my pockets. A folded piece of prtpeu in one of them attracting 



202 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

my attention, I opened it, and found it to be the playbill I had 
received from Joe, relative to the celebrated provincial amateur of 
Roseian renown. " And, bless my heart ! " I involuntarily added 
aloud, " it's to-night ! " 

This changed the subject in an instant, and made us hurriedly 
resolve to go to the play. So, when I had pledged myself to 
comfort and abet Herbert in the affair of his heart by all practi- 
cable and impracticable means, and when Herbert told me that 
his affianced already knew me by reputation, and that I should short- 
ly be presented to her, and when we had warmly shaken hands up- 
on our mutual confidence, we blew out our handles, made up pur 
fire, locked our door, and issued forth in quest of Mr. Wopsle in 
Denmark. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

On our arrival in Denmark we found the king and queen of 
that country elevated in two arm chairs on a small kitchen-table, 
holding a Court. The whole of the Danish nobility were in at- 
tendance ; consisting of a noble boy in the wash leather boots of 
a gigantic ancestor, a venerable Peer with a dirty face, who seem- 
ed to have risen from the people late in life, and the Danish chiv- 
alry with a comb in its hair and a pair of white silk legs, and pre- 
senting on the whole a feminine appearance. My gifted towns- 
man stood gloomily apart, with folded arms, and I could have 
wished that his curls and forehead had been more probable. 

Several curious little circumstances transpired as the action 
proceeded. The late king of the country not only appeared to 
have been troubled with a cough at the time of his decease, but 
to have taken it with him to the tomb and to have brought ii 
back. The royal phantom also carried a ghostly manuscript 
round its truncheon, to which it had the appearance of occasion- 
ally referring, and that, too, with an air of anxiety and a tendency 
to lose the place of referent which wer.e suggestive of a state of 
mortality. It was this, 1 conceive, which led to the Shade's be- 
ing advised by the gallery to "turn over!" — a recommendation 
which it took extremely ill. It was likewise 1o be noted of this 
majestic spirit that whereas it always appeared with an air of 
having been out a long time and walked an immense distance, it 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 203 

perceptibly came from a closely contiguous wall. Tin's occasion- 
ed its terrors to he received derisively. The Queen of Denmark, 
a very buxom lady, though rio doubt historically b raze nl- was con- 
sidered h\ ilie piddle to have too*'much brass about her; her chin 
being attached to her diadem by a br.oad baud pf that metal (as 
ii' slie bad a gorgeous toothache), her waist being e^icirc ed by 
another, and eachtof her arms by another, so that she was openly 
mentioned as "the kettle drum." The noble boy in the ancestral 
boots was inconsistent, representing himself, as it, were iq one 
breath, as an able seaman, a scrolling actor, a grave-digger, a 
cjerg ;;, man. and a person of the utmost important loiirt 

fencing-match, on the authority of whose practised eye and nice 
discrimination thelinest strokes were judged. This gradually led 
to a waul .of toleration for him, and even — on his being delected 
in holy orders, and declining to perform the funeral service — to 
the genera; indignation taking the form of nuts. Lastly, Ophelia 
Was a prey to such slow musical madness, that when, in cours* 
time, she had taken ofl" her white muslin scarf, folded it up, and 
buried it, a sulky man who had been long cooling his impatieui 
nose against an iron bar in the front row of the gadery, growled, 
"Now the baby's put to bed let s have supper !" which, to saj 
the least of d, was out, of keeping. 

Upon my untortunate townsman all these incidents accumula- 
ted with playful effect. Whenever that undecided Prince had to 
ask a question or state a doubt, the pub ie helped him out with ii. 
As tor example : on the question whether 'twas nobler in the mind 
to sutler, some roarejj yes, and some no, and some inclining to 
both opinions said, "toss up for it ;" and unite a Debating Socie 
1y arose. 'When he asked what should such fellows, as i 
crawling between earth and heaven, he was encouraged with loud 
cries of "Dear, hear!" When he appeared with his stocking 
disordered (its disorder expressed, according to usage, by pne very 
neat told in the top, which I suppose to be always got up with a 
flat-iron), a' conversation took place in the gallery respecting the 
paleness of his kg. and whether it was occasioned by Mm turn the 
ghost had given him. On his taking t he recorders — very I i 
little black flute thai had just been payed in the orchestra and 
handed out at the door — in- was caked upon unanimously for Ride 
Britannia. When he recommended the player not. to saw the 
tlms. the Vulky man said, "And don't ybu do it, neither; you're 
a deal worse than h/m!" And 1 grieve tq add that, peals of 
laughter greeted Mr. YVopsle on every one of to ions. 

ut his greatest trials were in the church-yard, which had the 

arauce of a primeval forest, with ;; kind of small ecclesiastical 

wash-house on otoe side and a turnpike-gate- on the •ther. Mr. 

Wopsle, in a' comprehensive black cloak, being descried entering 

at the turnpjke. the grave-digger was admonished in a friendly 



204 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

way, " Look out ! Here's the undertaker a coming to see how 
you're a getting on with your work !" I helieve it is well known 
in a constitutional country that Mr.- WojTsle could not possibly 
have returned the skull, after moralizing over it, without dusting 
his fingers on a white napkin taken from his breast, ; but even that 
innocent and indispensable action did not pass without the 'com- 
ment " Wai-ter !" The arrival of the body fpr interment, in an 
empty black box, with the lid tumbling open, was the signal for a 
general joy, which was much enhanced by the discovery, among 
the bearers, of an individual obnoxious to identification. The joy 
attended Mr. Wopsle through his struggle with Laertes on the 
brink of the orchestra and the grave, and slackened no more until 
he had tumbled the king off the kitchen-table, and died by inches 
from the ankles upward. 

We had made some pale efforts in the beginning to applaud 
Mr: Wopsle; but they were too .hopeless to be persisted in. 
Therefore we had sat,- feeling keenly lor him, but laughing, never- 
theless, from ear to ear. I laughed in spite of myself all the time, 
the whole thing was so droll ; and yet I had a latent impression 
that there was something decidedly fine in Mr. Wopsle's elocution 
— not for old associations' sake, I am afraid, but because it was 
very slow, very dreary, very up-hill and down-hill, and very un- 
like any way in which any man in any natural circumstances of 
life or death ever expressed himself about any thing.' When the 
tragedy was over, and he had been called for and hooted, 1 said 
to Herbert, "Let us go at once, or perhaps we shall meet him." 

We made all the haste we cpuld down stairs, but we were not 
quick enough either. Standing at the door was a Jewish man 
With an unnaturally heavy smear of eyebrow, who caught my eye 
as we advanced, and said, when we came up with him : 

"Mr. Lip and friend?" 

Identity of Mr. Pip and friend confessed. 

"Mr. Waldengarver," said the man, "would be glad to have 
the honor." 

" Waldengarver ?" I repeated — when Herbert murmured in my 
ear, " Probably Wopsle.' 

" Oh !" said I. " Yes. Shall we follow you ?'■ 

"A few steps, please." When we were in a side alley, be 
turned and asked, "How did you think he looked-? — I dressed 
him." 

I don't know what he had looked like, except a funeral; with 
the addition of a large Danish order hanging round his neck by a 
blue ribbon, that had given him the appearance of being insured jn 
some extraordinary Fire Office. But I said he had looked very 
nice. 

" When he come to the grave," said our conductor, " he show- 
ed his cloak beautiful. But, judging from the wing, it looked to 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. W5 

me that when he see the ghost in the queen's apartment, he might 
have made more of his stockings." 

T modestly assented, and we all fell through alittle dirty swing- 
door, into a sort of hot packing-ease immediately hehind it. Here 
Mr. Wopsle was divesting himself of bis Danish garments, and 
here there was just room lor ns to look at him over one another's 
shoulders, hy keeping the packing-case door, or lid, wide open. 

" Gentlemen, M * said Mr. Wopsle, "1 am proud to see you. I 
hope, Mr. Pip. you wi.l excuse my sending round. I had the 
happiness to know \on in former times, and the Drama has ever 
had a claim which has ever been acknowledged, on the noble and. 
the affluent, 

Meanwhile. Mr Waldengarver, in a frightful perspiration, was 
trying to get himself out ol his princely sables. 

" Skin rh.e stockings off, Mr. Waldengarver," said the owner 
of that property, "or you'll bust Cm, and you'll bust live-and- 
thirty shillings. Shak'speare never was complimented with a finer 
pair. Keep ipiiet in your chair now, and cave 'em to me." 

With that lie went upon his knees, and began to flay his vic- 
ti: i; who, on the first stocking QOWing Off, woifld certainly have 
fa len over backward with bis chair, but for there being no room 
to fall anyhow. 

I had been afraid until then to say a word about the play. — 
But when Mr. Walaengarvei" looked up at us complacently, anil 
s;;id. 

".Gentlemen, how did it s em to you to go, in front !" 

Herbert said from behind (at the same time poking me), "capi- 
tally." So I said "capitally." 

"How did you like my Heading of the character gentlemen?" 
said Mr. "Waldengarver, almost, if not quite, with patronage. 

Herbert said from behind (again poking me), "massive and ex- 
So 1 said boldly, asif 1 had originated it, and must in- 
sist upon it. " massive and excellent." 

'• i am glad to have your approbation, gentlemen," said 
"Waldengarver, with an air of dignity, in spite of his being ground 
si the wall at the line, and holding on b\ the seat of fhe 
chair. 

- 1'mt i'il tell you one thing, Yrr. Waldengarver." said the man 
wim was on his knees, "in which you're out in your reading. E 

1 den", care who sa^ s contrairy ; I tell you so. You're out 
in your reading of Hamlet when you gel your legs in prtffle. The 
1 dressed, made tfle same mistakes in his reading 
at rehearsal, till 1 got him to put a large red v afer on each of 
ins, and then at that rehearsel (which was the last) I was in 
front, sir. to the heck of the pit, and whenever his Heading broughl 
hire into profile I '1 don't see no waters!' And at 

night hi* reading was Lovely." 



206 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

Mr. Waldengarver smiled at me, as much as to say, "A faithful 
dependent — I overlook his folly ; " and then said aloud, "My view 
is a little ('lassie and thoughtful for them here; but they will im- 
prove, they will improve." 

Herbert and I said together, Oh, no doubt they would improve. 
."Did you observe, gentlemen," said Mr. Waldengarver,-" that 
there was a man in the gallery who endeavored to cast derision on 
the service — I mean, the representation 1 " 

We basely replied that we rather thought we had noticed such 
a man. I added, " He was drunk, no doubt," 

" Oh dear no, sir," said Mr. Wopsle, " not drunk. His employ- 
'er would see to that, Sir. . His employer would not allow him to 
be drunk." 

" You know his employer ?" said I. 

Mr. Wopsle shut his eyes, and opened them again ; performing 
both ceremonies very slowly. "You must have observed, gentle- 
men," said he, "an ignorant and blatant ass, with a rasping throat. 
and a countenance expressive of low malignity, who went through 
— 1 will not say sustained — the role (if 1 may use a French ex- 
pression) of Claudius King o! Denmark. That is his employer, 
gentlemen. Such is the profession !" 

Without distinctly knowing whether I should have been more 
sorry for Mr. Wopsle if he had been in despair, I was so sorry for 
him as it was, that I took the opportunity of his turning round'to 
have his braces put on — which jostled us out at the door-way — 
fo ask Herbert what he thought of having him home to supper? — 
Herbert said he thought it would be kind to do so ; therefore I 
invited him, and he went to Barnard's with 'us, wrapped up to the 
eyes, and we did our best for him, and he sat until two o'clock in 
the morning, reviewing his success and developing his plans. 1 
forget in detail what they were, but I have a general recollection 
that he was to begin with reviving the Drama, and to end with 
crushing it; inasmuch as his decease would leave it utterly bereft 
and without a chance pr hope. 

Miserably I went to bed after all, and miserably I thought of 
Estella, and miserably dreamed that my expectations were all can- 
celed, and that I had to give my hand, in marriage to Herbert's 
Clara, or play Hamlet to Miss Havisham's Ghost before twenty 
thousand people without knowing twenty words of it. 



GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 207 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

Oak day when I was busy with my books and TVfr. Pocket, f 
received a note by the post", (he mere outside of which threw me 
into a great duller: 'for, though 1 had never seen the handwriting 
in which it was addressed, 1 divined whose hand it was. It had 
no set beginning, as Dear Mr. Tip, or Dear Pip, or Dear Sir, or 
Dear Anything, but ran thus: 

•• I am to come to London the day after to-morrow by the mid- 
Qoaclf, I helicve it was settled you should meet me 1 al all 
events Miss Havisham has that impression, and I write in obejdi- 
. > it. She scuds you her regards. 

Yours, Esviolla. 

If there had been lime, 1 should probably have ordered several 
suits of clothes for this occasion ; but as there was not, 1 was fain' 
;o lie content with those I had. My appetite vanished instantly, 
! knew no peace or rest until the day arrived. Not that its 
arrival brought me either ; for then I was worse than ever, and be- 
gan haunting the coach-office in Wood Street, Okeapside, before 
the coach had left the Blue lSoar in our town. For all that I knew 
this perfectly well, I still felt as if it were not safe to let the 
coach-office he out of my sight longer than five minutes at. a time; 
and in this condition of unreason 1 had performed the first half- 
hour of a watch of four or five hours, when Mr. Weinmiek ran 
against me. 

•• Halloa, Mr. Tip," said he, " how do you do 1 I should hardly 
have thought this was yput heat." 

I explained that 1 was waiting to meet somebody who was coin- 
ing Up by coach, and 1 inquired after the Castle and the Aged: 

" Hot h 'flourishing, thank ye," said Wemmick, "and particularly 
the Aired, lie's iii wonderful feather. He'll he eighty-two next 
birthday. 1 have a notion of tiring eighty-two times, if I he neigh- 
borhood shouldn't coi!i]i!;iin, and that cannon of mine should prove 
equal to the pressure. However, this is not London talk. Where 
do \ on think 1 am going to !"' 

"To the iid I, for he was tending in that direction. 

e.\t thing to it,' returned Wemmick, "1 am going to New- 
We are in a bauker's-parcel case just at present, and 1 have 
been down the road taking a squint at tfie abene of action, and there- 
upon must have a word or two with our client." 

• I M your client cnniuiit the robbery I" I a&ked. 



•208 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" Bless your soul and body, no," answered Wemmick, very drily. 
" But he is accused of it. So might you or I be. Either of us 
might be accused of it, you know." 

"Only neither of us is," I remarked. 

" Yah ! " said Wemmick, touching me on the breast with his 
forefinger ; " you're a deep one, Mr. Pip ! Would you like to have 
a look at "Newgate 1 Have you time to spare 1 " 

I had so much time to spare that toe proposal came as a relief, 
i t withstanding its unreconcilability with my latent desire to keep 
my eye on the coach-office. Muttering that I would make the in- 
quiry whether I had time to wall: with him, I went into the office 
ascertained from the clerk, with the nicest precision and much 
be trying of his temper, the earliest moment at which the coach 
couYd he expected — which I knew beforehand quite as well as he. 
i then rejoined Mr. Wemmick, and affecting to consult my watch 
and to be surprised by the information I had received, accepted 
ffer. 

We were at Newgate in a few minutes, and we passed through 
the lodge where some fetters were hanging up on the bare walls 
among the prison rules into the interior of the jail. At that time 
the jails were much neglected, and the period of exaggerated re- 
actinn consequent on all public wrong-doing — and which is always 
its heaviest and longest punishment — was still far off. So felons 
were not lodged and fed better than soldiers (to say nothing of 
paupers), and seldom set fire to their prisons with the excusable ob- 
jeet of improving the flavor of their soup. It was visiting time 
when Wemmick rook mo in; and a potman -was going his rounds 
with beer; and the prisoners behind bars in yards were buying 
beer and talking to friends ; and a frouzy, ugly, disorderly, de- 
pressing scene it Was. 

It struck me that Wemmick walked among the prisoners much 
as a gardener might walk among his plants. This was first put 
into my head by his seeing a shout that had come up in the night, 
and saying. ' AVhat, Captain Tom? Are you there? Ah, in- 
deed ! ' and also, " Is that Black Bill behind the cistern 1 Why, 
I didn't look for you these two months; how do you find your- 
self?" Equally in his stopping at the bars and arrending to 
anxious whisperers — always singly — Wemmick, with Ids post-office 
in an immoveable state, looked at them while in conference as if 
he were taking particular notice of the advance they had made, since 
last observed, toward coming out in full blow at their trial. 

He was highly popular, and I found that he took the familiar 
department of Mr. Jaggers's business; though something of the 
state of Mr. Jaegers hung about him too, forbidding approach be- 
yond certain limits. His personal recognition of each successive 
client was comprised in a nod, and in his settling his hat a little 
easier qu his head with both liaads, and limn tightening tha po&fc. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. *J9 

office, and putthjg his hands in his pockets. In one or two in- 
stances there was a difficulty respepting the raising of fees, and 
then Mr. Wemmick, backing as far as possible from the insufficient 
money produced, said, " li's no use. my hoy. I'm only a subordi- 
nate. I can't take it. Don't go on in that way with a subordi- 
nate. If you arc unable to snake up your quantum, my hoy. you 
had better address yourself to a principal ; there are plenty of prin- 
cipals in the profession, you know, and what is not worth the while 
of one may lie worth ihe while of another — that's my recommen- 
dation to you, speaking as a subordinate. Don't, try on useless 
measures. Why should you ! Now, who's next ?" 

Thus we walked through Wemmick's green-house until he turn- 
ed to me and said, " Notice the man I shall shake hands with." 
I should have done so without the preparation as he, had shaken 
hands with no one yet. 

Almost as soon as he had spoken, a portly upright man (whom 1 
can see now as I write) in a well-worn, olive-colored frock-coat, 
with a peculiar palor overspreading the red in his complexion, and 
eyes that went wandering- about when he tried to fix them, came 
up to a corner of the bars, and put his hand to his hat — which 
Inula greasy and fatty surface like cold broth — with a half serious 
and half jocose military salute. 

" Colonel 10 you !" said Wemmick ; "how are you, Colonel ? " 

"All right, Mr. Wemmick." 

"Every thing was done that could be done, but the evidence was 
loo strong f 'f us, Colonel." 

" Yes, it was too strong, Sir — but /don't care." 

"No. no.' said Wemmick coolly,"y»W don't care." Then, turn- 
ing to me, " Served His Majesty this man. Was a soldier in the 
line and bought bis discharge.'' 

i Baid, •• indeed [" and the man's eyes looked over my head, and 
ihen looked all around me, and then he drew his hand across his 

lips and laii rhTed. 

•' 1 think 1 shall he off on Monday, sir," he said to Wemmick. 

" Perhaps/' returned my friend, "but there's no knowing.'' 

" I am gl id to have the chance of bidding yon good-hy, Mr. 
Wemmick," said the man, stretching out bis hand between two 
bars. 

" Than!; ye," said "Wemmick, shaking bands with bim. " Same 
to you, Colonel." 

" If what I had upon me when taken bad been real, Mr. Wem- 
mick," said the man, unwilling to let his band go, " I should have 
asked the favor of your wearing another ring — iu acknowledgment 
of your alti ntion." 

"I'll accept the will for the deed," said Wemmick. "By-the- 
by, you \v< re quite a pigeon-fancier." The man looked up at 
the sky. " .1 am told you had a remarkable breed of tumblers. — 
U 



HiO GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

Could you commission any friend of yours to bring me a pair, if 
you've no further use for 'em 1 " 

" It shall be done, Sir." 

"All right," said Wemmick, "they shall be taken care* of. — 
Good-afternoon, Colonel. fi<iod-by ! '" 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 hanged on Monday. Still you see, as far as it goes, a 
pair of pigeons are portable property, ajl 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 consid- 
ering 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 turn- 
keys, 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 ga/tes, and 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 mal$& of it? 

" Why don't you ask him ? " returned Wemmick. 

" Oh yes, I dare say," said the turnkey. 

"Now, thaTs the way with them here, Mr. Pip," remarked Wem- 
mick, turning to me with the postoffice 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 I " asked the turnkey, with a grin at Mr. Wemmick's 
humor. 

"There he goes again, you see ?" cried Wemmick, " I told yon 
so ! Asks another question of the subordinate before his first is 
dry ! Well, supposing Mr. lip is one of them ?" 

" Why, then," said the turnkey, grinning again, " lie knows what 
Mr. Jaggers is." 

" Yah ! ' cried Wemmick, suddenly hitting out at the turnkey in 
a facetious way* "you're as 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 of false imprison- 
ment against, j 

The turnkey laughed, and gave us good-day, and stood laugh- 
ing at us over the spikes of the wicket when we descended the 
steps into the street, 

"Mind you, Mr. Tip," said Wemmick, gravely, in my ear, as 
>ok my arm to be more confidential ; " I don't know that Mr. 
Jaggers decs a better thing than the way in which he keeps him- 
self so high. He's ahvays so high. His constant height is of a 
piece with his immense abilities. That Colonel durst tio more take 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. *i 1 

leave of him, than that turnkey durst ask him his intention- 
speoting i 'iien between his height and them he slips in 

his subordinate — don't, you see I — and so he has 'em, soul and 
body: ' 

I was very much impressed, and not for the first rime, by mv 
guardian's subtietv. To confess the truth. I very heartily Wished, 
and not for the first time, that I had had some other guardian of 
minor abilities. 

Mr. Wemmick and I parted at the office in Little Britain, where 
suppliants for Mr. Jiggers's notice were lingering about as usual, 
and I returned to my watch in the street of the coach-otlice, with 
some three hours on hand. I consumed the whole time in thinking 
how stfftage it was that 1 should he encompassed by all this taint 
of | risen am! crime ; that in my childhood out on our lonely marsh- 
es on a wint-'r evening 1 should have first encountered i; ; that it 
should have reappeared on two occasions, starting- out like a. stain 
that was faded but not gone; that it should in this new way per- 
vade my fortune and advancement. I thought, of the beautiful 
young Estelia. proud and refined, coming toward me while my mind 
was thus enraged, and thought with absolute abhorrence of the 
contrast between the jail and her. I wished that Wemmick had 
not met me, or that 1 had not yielded to him and gone with him, 
so that, of all days in the year, on this day I might iv! haw had 
Newgate in my breath and on my clothes. I beat the prison-dust 
off my feet as I sauntered to and fro. and I shook it out of mv 
dress, and I exhaled its air from my lungs. So contaminated did 
1 feel, remembering who was coming, that the coach came qui kly 
after all, and I was not yet free from the soiling consciousness of 
Mr. Wemoiick's conservatory, when I saw her face at the coach 
window and her hand waving to me. 

What was the nameless shadow which again in that one instant 
bail passed '. 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

In her farad traveling dress, Estelia seemed more delicately 
beautiful than she had ever seemed yet, even in my eyes. Her 
manner was more winning than she had cared to let it be to me before, 
and I thought 1 saw Miss Havisham's influence in the change. 

We stood in the Inn Yard while she pointed out her luggage to 
me, and when it was all collected I remembered — having forgotten 
everything but herself in the meauwhile — that 1 kuww nothing of 
b«r destination. 



3i2 GREAT EXPECT ATIOTS. 

t 

"I am going to Richmond," she told me. "Our lesson is, that 
there are two Richmonds, one in Surrey and one in Yorkshire, 
and tha,t mine is Surrey Richmond. The distance is ten miles. I 
am to have a carriage, arjd you are to take me. This is my purse, 
and you are to pay my charges out of it. Oh, you must tak" the 
purse! We have no choice, you and 1, but to obey our instruc- 
tions. We are not tree to fol.ow our own devices, you and 1." 

As she looked at me in giving me the purse, I hoped there was 
an inner meaning in her words. She said them slightingly, but 
not with displeasure. ■ 

" A carriage will have to be sent for, Estella. Will you rest 
here a little. P 

" Yes, I am to'rest here a little, and I am to drink some tea, 
and you are to take care of me the while." 

She drew her arm through mine, as if it must be done, and I 
requested a waiter who had been staring at the coach like a man 
who had never seen such a thing in his life, to sshow us a private 
sitting-room. Upon that he pulled out a napkin, as if it were a 
magic clew without which he couldn't find the way up stairs, and 
led us to the black hole of t lie establishment; titled up with a 
diminishing mirror (quite a superfluous article considering the 
hole's-proportion), an anchovy sauce-cruet, and somebody's pat- 
tens. On my objecting to this retreat, he took us into anolher 
room with a dinner-table for thirty, and in the grate a scorched 
leaf of a copy-book under a bushel of coal-dust. Having looked 
at (his extinct Conflagration and shaken his hc.ad, he took my or- 
der: which, proving to be merely " Some tea for the lady," sent 
him out. of the room in a very low state of mind. 

I was. and I am, sensible that the air of this chamber, in its 
strong combination of stable with soup-stock, might have led one 
to infer that the coaching department was not doing web, and that 
the enterprising proprietor was boiling down the horses i'or the 
refreshment department. Yet the room was all in all to me, Es- 
tella being in it. 1 thought that with her I could have been hap- 
py there for life. (I was not at all happy there at the time, ob- 
serve, and 1 knew it well.) 
." Where are you going to, at Richmond '/" I asked Estella. 

"I am going to live," said she, "at a great expense, with a 
lady there, who has the power — or says she has — of taking me 
about and introducing me, and showing people to me and showing 
me to people." 

" 1 suppose yen will be glad of variety and admiration." 

" Yes, I suppose so." 

She answered so carelessly that I said, "You speak of your- 
self as if you were some one else." 

" Where did you learn how I speak of others? Come, come," 
■<aid Estella, smiling delightfully, " you must not expect me to go 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 213 

to school to you ; I must talk in mv own way. ■ How do von 
thrive w'uh Mr. Poekel V 

" I live quite pleasantly there ; at least — " It appeared to me 
that I was losing a ohan 

44 At least V repeated Ksle'la. 

" As pleasantly as I could any where, away from you." 

41 You, silly boy." said Kstella, 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 bis own.'" interposed Estella, " for I hate 
that class pf men. But he really is disinterested, and above small 
jealousy and spite. I have heard ?" 

44 I am sure 1 have every reason to say so." 

" You have not every reason to say so of the rest of bis 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." 

44 They do me no barm, I hope 1 ?" said I. 

Instead of answering, Estella burst our laughing. This was 
very singular to me, and I looked at her in considerable perplex- 
ity. 'When she let 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." 

44 No, no, you may be sure of that," said Estelfa. "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 
veiy singular to me, for 1 could not doubt its being genuine, and 
yet it seemed too much for the occasion. I i bought 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 
-faction it gives me to see those people thwarted, or what an 
enjoyable mmm' of the ridiculous 1 have when they are made ridi- 
culous. 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 child- 
ish eyes wider and wider to the discovery of that impostor of a 



214 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

woman who calculates her stores of peace of mind when she wakes 
up in the night — T did." 

It was no laughing matter with Estejla how, nor was she sum- 
moning these remembrances from any shallow place. I would 
not have been the cause of that look of hers for all my expecta- 
tions in a heap. 

" Two things I can tell you," said Estella. •' First, notwith- 
standing 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 a hundred years — impair your ground with Miss 
Havisham/in any particular, great or small. Second, I am. be- 
holden to you as the cause of their being so busy and so mean in 
vain, and there is my hand upon it." 

And -she gave it 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 spirit in which I once let you kiss my 
cheek ]" 

" What was it?" said I. 

\ l I must think a moment. A spirit of contempt for the fawn- 
ners and plotters." 

" If I say yes, may I kiss the cheek again V' 

"You should have asked me before you touched the hand. But, 
yes, if you like." 

I leaned down, and her calm face was like a statues " I\ow," 
said Estella, gliding away the instant I touched her cheek, " you 
are To take care that I have some tea, and you are to lake 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 every thing 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 re- 
peat it a thousand times 1 So it always was. 

I rang for the tea, and the waiter, reappearing with his magic 
clew, brought in by degrees some fifty adjuncts to that refresh- 
ment, but of tea not a glimpse. A tea-board, cups and saucers, 
plates, knives and forks (including carvers), spoons (various), salt- 
cellars, a meek little muffin confined with the utmost precaution 
under a large strong tin cover, Moses in the bulrushes typified by 
soft bit of butter in a quantity of parsley, a pale loaf with a pov- 
dered bead, 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 preci- 
ous appearance containing twigs. These I steeped in hot water. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 215 

and so from the whole of these appliances extracted one cup of I 
don't know what, for Estella. 

The bill pad, and the waiter renumbered, and tin* hostler not. 
forgotten, and the chambermaid taken into consideration — in a 
word, the whole house bribed into a state of contempt and ani- 
mosity, and Estella's purse much lightened — we got into ourpost- 
i 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, mur- 
muring " Wretches ! " 1 would not have confessed to my visit, for 
any consideration. 

" Mr. Jaggers," said I. by way of p itting it neatly on some- 
body else, -'has the reputation of being more in the secrets of that 
dismal place than any man in London." 

•• lie is more in the secrets of every place I think," said Es- 
teila, in a low voice. 

" You have been acoustomed to see him often. I suppose. 1 ' 

"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 1 could speak plainly. What is your own experience 
of him ? l'o 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 Estell i, shrinking. " that, must be a curious 

place." 

" It is a curious place " 

T should have been chary of discussing my guardian too freely 
even with her; but 1 should have gone ou 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 
ah alight and alive with that inexplicable feeling I had had he- 
fore ; and when we were out of it, I was as much dazed for a few 
iieuts as if I had been in lightning. 
we fell into other talk, and it was principally about the way 
by which we were traveling, and about what parts of London lay 
on tnis 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 
neighborhood until she had gone to France, and she had merely 
passed tbrougb 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 at- 



216 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

tract 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 onr being dis- 
posed of by others, I shou'd have felt that she held my heart in 
her band because she willfully chose to doit, 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. Mafthew Pocket lived, and said it was no great' w^y from 
Richmond, and that I hoped I should see her sometimes. 

" Oh yes, you are to see me ; you are to come when yon 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 mem- 
ber ol I. 

"No; there are only two — mother and daughter. The mother 
is a lady, of some station, I believe, though not averse to increas- 
ing ber 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 Es- 
tella, with a sigh, as if she were tired ; " I am to write to her con- 
stantly and see her regularly, and report how I go on — 1 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 Pichmond 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. Soma ancient 
trees before the house were still cut into fashions as fo mal and mi- 
natural as the hoops and wigs and stiff skirts they had cast their 
shadows on; but their own allotted places in the great procession 
of the d ad 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 diam- 
ond-hilted sword, Here are the shoes with red heels and the blue 
solitaire — sounded gravely in the moonlight, and two * herry-eolor- 
ed maids came fluttering out to receive Estella. 1 he door-way 
soon absorbed her boxes, and she give 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 1 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 heartache, and 1 got out with a worse heartache. 
At our own door I found little Jane Pocket coming home from a 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 217 

party escorted by her little lover; and I envied her little lover, in 
spite of Ins being subject to Flopsqn. 

Mr. Pocket was out lecturing ; for he was a most delightful lec- 
turer on domestic economy, and Ins treatises on the management 
of children and servants were ponsidered the very best text-hooks 
on those themes. But Mr-', Pocket was at home, and was in a lit- 
tle difficulty, on account OI the baby's hdvfng been accommodated 
with a needle-case to keep him quiet during the unaccountable ab- 
sence (with a relative in tlte Foot (iuards) of Millers, and of more 
needles being missing than' il could be regarded as, quite whole- 
some lor a patient of such tender years either to apply externally 
or to take as a tonic. 

As Mr. Pocket was also justly celebrated for giving most excel- 
lent!, practicaj advice, and for having a clear and sound perception 
of things and a highly judicious mind. 1 had some notion in my 
heartache of begging hira to accept my confidence. But happen- 
ing to look up at Mrs. Pocket as she sat reading her book of dig- 
nities, after prescribing Bed as a .sovereign remedy for baby, i 
thought, Well— No, 1 wouldn't, 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

8 1 had grown accustomed to my expectations 1 had insensibly 

begun to notice their effect upon myself and those around me. 
Their influence on my own character 1 disguised from my recogni- 
tion as much as possible-; but I know very well that it was not all 
good j 1 lived in a stale of chronic uneasiness respecting my be- 
havior to doe. 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 J should have 
been happier and better if 1 had never seen Miss Havisham's face, 
and had risen to manhood content to he partners with Joe in the 
honest old forge. Many a time oi an evening, when 1 sat alone, 
locking at the tire, 1 thought, after all there was no lire like the 
forge lire and the kitchen lire at home. 

Yet Eslclla was so inseparable from all my restlessness and dis- 
of mind, that 1 really fell Into couluMon as to the limits of 
m\ own part in its production. That is to Say, supposing 1 had 
bad uo expectations, ami yet had Estella to think of, 1 could not 
make out to my satisfaction that 1 should have done much better. 
.Now, poncerning the influence of my position on others, I was in no 
such difficulty, and so I perceived — though dimly enough, per- 



2 13 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

haps — that it was not beneficial to any bod}', and, above all, that 
ii whs nut beneficial to Herbert. My lavish habits led his easy 
nature info-expenses that he could not afford, corrupted the simpli- 
city of his life, and disturbed his peace with anxieties and regrets. 
I was not at, ail remorseful for having unwittingly set those other 
branches of the Pocket family to the poor arts they practical : 
because such littlenesses were their natural bent, and would have 
been evoked by any body else, if 1 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 sparely-fur- 
nished 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. 1 could hardly begin but 
Herbert must begin too, so* he soon followed. At Startop's sug- 
gestion, we put ourselws down for election into a club called The 
Finches of the Grove : the object of which institution I had 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 enJs were so invariably accom- 
plished that Herbert and 1 understood nothing else to be referred 
to in the first standing toast of the society, which ran: " Gentle- 
men, may the present promotion of good feeling ever reign pre- 
dominant 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 
honor of joining the Grove, was. Beiitley Drunnnle : at that time 
floundering about town in a cab of his own, and doing a great deal 
of daiumage to the 'posts at the street comers. Occasionally he 
shot himself out of his equipage head-foremost, over the apron ; and 

-aw 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 1 was not a Finch, and could not be, according to the 
sa«rred laws of the society, until I came of age. 

In my confidence in my own resources 1 would willingly have 
taken Herbert's expenses on myself; out Herbert was proud, and 
1 could make no such proposal to him. So he got into difficulties 
in every direction, and ec ntinued to look about him. When we 
gradually fell into keeping late hours and late company, 1 noticed 
that he looked about him with a despondent eye at breakfast-: 
that he began to look about him more hopelessly about mid-day ; 
that he drooped when he came in to dinner ; that he seemed to de- 
scry Capital in the distance ra'hcr clearly, after dinner ; that he 
all but realized Capital and banked it toward midnight: and that 
at about two o'clock in the mornfag he became so deeply despon- 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 21 6 

dent again as to talk of buying a rifle and going to America, with 
a general purpos r - of cornpelling buffaloes' to make his fortune. 

1 was usually at Hammersmith aboul half the week, and when 
I was at Hammersmith I haunted Richmond; whereof separately 
by-and-bv. Herbert would often come to Hammersmith when 1 
was there, and 1 think at those seasons his father would occasion- 
ally have some passing perception that the opening he was looking 
for had not appeared yet. Hut in the general tumbling up of 
family, his tumbling out in life somewhere, was a thing to trail 
itself somehow. In the meantime Air. I'oeket grew graver, and 
tried oftener to lift himself out of his perplexities by tin 1 hair. — 
While Mrs. I'oeket tripped up the family with her footstool, read 
her hook of dignities, lost her pocket-handkerchief, told us about 
her grandpapa, and taught the young idea how to shoot, by shoot- 
ing it into bed whenever it attracted her notice. 

As I am now generalizing a period of my life with the object of 
clearing the way before me. I can scarcely do so belter than by at 
once completing the description of our usual maimers 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 ■ iquaintance were in the 

same condition, '1 "here was a gay Action 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 aapeel a 
rather common one. 

eery morning, with an air ever new, Herbert went into 
to look about him. I often paid him a visit in the dark back- 
room in which he consorted with an ink-jar, a at-peg, a coal-box, 
a string-box, an almanac, a desk and stool, and a ruler; and 1 do 
not remember that I ever saw him doing anything else but looking 
about him. If we all did what we undertake to do as faith 1 
as Herbert did, we might live in a Republic «\' the He 

had nothing else to do, poor fellow, except at a certain hour of ev- 
fieriionn in "gq to Lloyd's"' — in observance of a ceremony of 
seeing his principal, I think. He never did anything else in 
nection with Lloyd's thai 1 could find out. . 

When he felt his case unusually serii itively 
must find an opening, he would go on 'Change at 
and walk in and i ind of gloomy cot n try -del] 
among the assembled "For, Herbert tu me, 
coming home to dinner on one oi i " I 
the truth to be. I! ; an opei i one. bur- 
one lilUSt g**fcJ0 il so I .,(,«■ been.'* 

If we I: ' .1 think ' 

have hated on^Tniother regularly every n i 

nid could 



220 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

not endure the sight of the Avenger's livery ; which had a more 
expensive and less a remunerative appearance then than at any oth- 
er lime in the four-and-twenty hours. As we got. more and more 
into dehti breakfast became a hoi lower and hollower form, and,* be- 
ing on one occasion at breakfast-time threatened (by letter) with 
legal proceeding, "not unwholly unconnected," as my local paper 
might put it, " with jewelry," I went so far as to seize the Aveng- 
er by his 1)1 ne colar 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 French roll. 

At certain times — meaning at uncertain times, for they depended 
on our humor — I would say to Herbert, as if it were a remarka- 
ble 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 our affairs." 

We always derived profound satisfaction from making an ap- 
pointment for this purpose. I always thought myself, 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 generally ordered something rather special for dinner, with a 
bottle of something similarly out of the common way, in order that 
our minds might lie 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 blot- 
ling paper. For there was something very comfortable in having 
plenty of stationery. 

1 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'* 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 burned in Lighting candles, stuck for weeks into the 
looking-glass, and otherwise damaged. The sound of our pens go- 
ing refreshed us exceeding, insomuch that. I sometimes found it 
difficult, to distinguish between this eddying business proceeding 
and actually paying**he money. In point of meritorious charac- 
ter 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 fig- 
ures. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 221 

"They are mounting up, Handel," Herbert would say ; "upon 
my life, Ihey are mounting up." 

"l>eiirm, Herbert," 1 would retort, plying my own pen with 
great assiduity.; " Look the thing in the face. Look into your af- 
fairs. Stare them out of countenance/' 

"So 1 would, Handel, only tliey are staring me out of cpunte 
nance." 

However, my determined manner wpnld liaveiis effect, and Her 
ltert would fall to work again. After a time, lie would give up 
once more, on the plea that he had not got Cobb's bill, or Lobb's, 
or Nobb'i , as the ease might he. 

••Then, Herbert, estimate it; estimate it in round numbers, ami 
put it down'." 

"What a fellow of resource you are ! " my friend would reply, 
with admiration. " Really your business powers are very remark- 
able." 

1 thought so too. I established with myself on these occasions 
the reputation of a first rate man of business — prompt, decisive. 
energetic, clear, cool-headed. When I had got all my responsi- 
bilities down'upon my list. I compared each with the bill, ami ticked 
it off, My self-approval when I ticked an entry was almost a lux* 
urious sensation. When 1 had no more ticks to make, 1 folded 
all my bills up uniformly, docketed each on the back, and tied the 
whole into a symmetrical bundle. Then 1 di I th same for Her- 
bert (who modestly said be had int my administrative genius), 
and felt that I had brought his affairs into a focus for him. 

My business habits had one other brigbl feature, which 1 called 
'• leaving a margin." For example ; supposing Herberts dolus to 
be one hundred and sixty-four pounds four-aud-tWo pence, 1 would 
say, "leave a margin, and put them down at two hundred." Or 
supposing my own to be four times as much, 1 would leave a mar- 
gin, and put them down at seven hundred. 1 had the highest 
opinion of the wisdom and prudence of this 1 same margin; but 1 
am bound to acknowledge that, on looking back, I deem it to have 
been an expensive device. For we always ran into new debt im- 
mediately, to the full extent of the margin, and sometimes, in the 
sense of freedom and solvency it imparted, got pretty far on into 
another margin. 

But lliere'was a calm, a rest, a virtuous hush, consequent on 
these examinations of our affairs, that gave me, for the time, an 
admirable (minimi of myself. Soothed by try exertions, my meth- 
od, and Herbert's compliments, I would sit with his symmetrical 
lie and my own on the table before me among the stationery, 
and feel like a bank 'of some sort, rather than a private individual. 

We shut our outer door on these solemn occasions, in order that 
we might not be interrupted. 1 had fallen" into m\ serene state 
one «veniu£, when we heard a letter dropped through the slit" in 



222 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

the said door, and fall on the ground. " It's for you, Handel," 
said Herbert, going out and coming back with it, " and I hope 
there is nothing' the matter." This was in allusion to its heavy 
black seal and border. 

The. letter was signed Trabb & Co., and its contents were sim- 
ply, that 1 was an honored Sir, and that they begged to inform 
me that Mrs. J. Gargery had departed this life on Monday last, at 
twenty minutes past six in the evening, and that my attendance 
was requested at the interment on Monday next at three o'clock in 
the afternoon* 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

It was the first time that a grave had opened in my road of 
life, and the depth of the gap it made in the smooth ground was 
wonderful. The figure of my sister in her chair by the kitchen 
fire haunted me night and day. That the place could possibly be 
without her was something my mind seemed unabl ' to compass; 
ami whereas she had seldom or never been in my thoughts of late, 
I had now the strangest iib-as that she was coining toward me in 
fli' street, or that she would presently knock at the door. In my 
■;. too; with which she had never been at all associated, there. 
was at once Ihe blankness of death and a perpetual suggestion of 
the sound of her voice or the turn of her face or figure, as if sjie 
were still alive and had been often there. 

Whatever my fortunes might have been, 1 could scarcely have 
recalled my sister with miicti tenderness. But I suppose there is 
a shock of regret which may exist without much tenderness. Un- 
der its influence (and perhaps to make up for the want of the softer 
feeling) I was seized with a violent indignation againffc the assail- 
ant from whom she had suffered so much ; and 1 felt that, on suf- 
ficient proof, I could have revengefully pursued Orlick, or any one 
else, 1o the last extremity. 

Having writte.n to Joe, to offer consolation, and to assure him 
that I should come to the funeral, 1 passed the intermediate days 
in the curious state of mind 1 have glanced at. I went down 
early in the morning, and alighted at the Blue Boar in good time 
to walk ove* to the forge. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 223 

It was fine summer weather again, and, as T walked along, the 
time when 1 was a little helpless creature, and my sister did not 
spare me, vividly returned. Hut they returned -with a gentle tone 
upon them that softened even the edge of Tickler. For now the 
very breath of the beans and clover whispered to my heart that 
the day must come when it would lie well for my memory thet 
others walking in the sunshine should be softened as they thought 
of me. 

At last T came within sight of the house, and then I immedi- 
ately saw tin at Tf abb & Co. had put in a funeral execution and 
taken possession. Two dismally absurd persons, eaeh ostenta- 
tiously exhibiting a crutch done up in a hlaek bandage — as if that 
instrument could possifily communicate any comfort to any bodj — 
were posted at the front door; and in one of them 1 recognized a 
post-hoy discharged from the Hoar for turning a young couple into 
a saw-pit on their bridal morning, in consequence of intoxication 
rendering it necessary for him to ride his horse clasped around the 
neck wiih both arms. All the children of the village, and most of 
the women, were admiring these sable warders and the closed win- 
dows of the house and forge; and as 1 came up, one o( the two 
warders (ihe post-boy) knocked at the door — implying that I was 
far too much exhausted by grief to have strength remaining to 
knock lor myself. 

Another sable warder (a carpenter who had once eaten two geese 
for a wager) opened the door, and showed me into the best parlor. 
Here Mr. Trabh had taken unto himself the best table, and had 
got all the leaves up, and was holding a kind of black Bazar, with 
the aid of a quantity of black pins. At the moment of my arri- 
val he had just finished putting somebody's hat into black long- 
evities, like an African baby ; so lie held out his hand for mine. 
Hut 1. misled by the action, and confused by the occasion, shook 
iiaiids with him with every testimony of warm affection. 

Poor dear .foe, in a little black cloak tied in a large how under 
his chin, was seated apart at the upper end of the room ; where, as 
chief mourner, he had evidently been deposited by Trahb. When 
\ lent down and said to him, " Dear Joe, how are you I " he said, 
" Pip. old chap, you knowed her when she were a fine figure of a — " 
clasped my hand, and said no more. 

Biddy, looking very neat and modest in her black dress, went 

quietly here and there, and was very helpful. When I had spoken 

to Biddy, as 1 tho'ughl it not a lime for talking I went and sal 

n near Joe, and there began to wonder in what pari of the 

se it — she — my sister — was. The air of the parlor being faint 

i the smell of sweet cake, I looked about for the table of re- 

ments; i! was scarcely visible until one had goi accustomed 
;o the gloom, but there was a cut-up plum-cake upon it, and theic 
were cut-up oranges, and &andwicli«s, and biscuits, and two U#- 



234 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

canters that I knew very well as ornaments,, but. had never seen 
used in all my life, one full of port and one of sherry. Standing 
at this table, i became conscious of the servile PuniBleohuok, in a 
black cloak and several yards of hat-band, who was alternately stuf- 
fing himself, and making obsequious movements to catch my atten- 
tion. The moment he succeeded he came over to me (breathing 
sherry and crumbs), and said, in a subdued voice, " May I, dear 
Sir 1 " and did. 1 then descried Mr. and Mrs. Hubble — the last- 
named in a decent speechless paroxysm in a corner. We were all 
g to "follow," and were all in course of being tied up sepa- 
rately (by Trabb) into ridiculous bundles. 

" Which I meanteitsay, Pip," Joe whispered me, as we were be- 
ing what Mr. Trabb called " formed " in the parlor, two and two — 
and it was dreadfully like a preparation for some grim kind of 
dance — "which I meantersay, Sir, as I would in preference have 
carried her to the church myself, along with three or four friendly 
ones wot come to it with willing harts and arms ; but it were con- 
sidered wot the neighbors would look down on such, and would be 
of opinions as it were wanting in respect." 

" rocket-handkerchiefs out, all!" cried Mr. Trabb at this point, 
in a depressed business-like voice. "Pocket-handkerchiefs out! 
We are ready ! " 

So we all put our pocket-handkerchiefs to our faces, as if our 
noses were bleeding, and hied out two and two ; Joe and I ; Bid- 
dy and Pumblechook ; Mr. and Mrs. Hubble. The remains of my 
poor sister had been brought round by the kitchen door; and, it be- 
ing a point of Undertaking ceremony that 1 he six bearers must be 
stifled and blinded under a horrible, black velvet housing with a 
white border, tlie whole looked like a blind monster with twelve 
?i legs, shuffling and blundering along, under the guidance of 
.two keepers — the post-boy and bis comrade. 

The neighborhood, however, highly approved of these arrange- 
ments, and we were much admired as we went through the vil- 
lage; the more youthful and vigorous part of the community mak- 
ing dashes now and then to cut us off, and lying in wail 
cept us at points of vantage. At such times the more exuberant 
among them called out in an excited maimer, on our emergence 
round some corner of expectancy, " Here they come ! Here they 
are !" and we were all but cheered. In this progress I was much 
annoyed by the abject Pumblechook, who, being behind me, per- 
sisted all the way, as a delicate attention, in arranging my stream- 
ing hat-baud and smoothing my cloak. My thoughts were further 
distracted by the excessive pride of Mr. and Mrs. Hubble, who 
were surpassingly conceited and vain-glorious in being members of 
so distinguished a procession. 

At last the range of marshes lay clear before us, with the sails 
of the ships on the river growing out of it ; and we went into tbe 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. <S* 

churbh-yard c'ose to the graves of my unknown parents, Philip 
Pirrip, late of this parish, and Also Georgiana, Wid' of the Above. 
And Hiere i iy 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 i!i!' conduct of the worldly-minded Pumblcchook \i 
was doing 1 desire fco say no more than it was all addressed to me ; 
and that even when those noble parages were read which remind 
h'uiminity bow ft brought nothing into the world and can take no- 
thing out, and how ii fleetli like a shadow and neverConHiineth 
long in one stay, I heard him cough a reservation of the case of a 
young gent 'cman who came unexpectedly into large properly. 
When we g'<t hack, lie had the hardihood to tell me that ho wish- 
ed my sisle: - could have known 1 had done her so mnch honor, and 
to hint thai she would have considered it purchased reasonably at 
the price of her death: After that he drank all the rest of the 
sherry, and VI r. Hubble drank the port ; and the two talked (which 
I hn\ ed to he customary in such cases) as if they 

w.-re o('(jiii!o 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 
thai he was the, founder of my fortunes and my earliest benefactor. 

When they were all gone, and when Trabb and his men- 
no! his boy : 1 looked for him — had crammed their mummery into 
!i;igs, and M ere gone too, the house felt whole.somer. Soon afler- 
Wftrd Biddy, Joe, and I had a cold dinner together; but we dined 
in (he best parlor, not in the old kitchen, and Joe was so exceed- 
ingly particular wh;\t he did with his. knife and fork, and the salt- 
cellar, and wbal 'not, that there was great restraint upon us. 
after dinner, when 1 made him take his pipe, and when 1 had loi- 
tered with him about the forge, and when we sat down together on 
:' stfme outside it, we trot on better. 1 noticed 
funeral Joe changed his clothes so far as to make a 
compromise be/wei ,mday dress and working dress; in 

natural and like the Man he was. 

lie was -> .TY.mwel! pleased by my asking if I might sleep in my 
own little rofivn, and I was pleased too; for 1 felt tiiat I had done 
rather a gnat thing in making the request. When the shadows of 
evening were closing in, I took an opportunity of getting into the 
gaiden with. Biddy for a little talk. 

" Biddy," said I, " I think you might have written to me about 
these sad matters." 

"Do you. Mr. Pip?'" said Biddy. " I should have written if I 
had thoughl that.?' 

" Don't suppose that I mean to he unkind, Biddy, wheu 1 say I 
consider that you ought to havo thought that." 

" Do you, Mr. Pip>' 
16 



226 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

She wasso quiet, and had such an orderly, good, and pretty way 
with her, that I did not like the thought of making her cry again. 
After looking a little at her downcast eyes, as she walked beside 
me, I gave up that .point. 

".I suppose it will be difficult fur you to remain here now, Bid- 
dy dear?" 

" Oh ! I can't do so, Mr. Pip," said Biddy, in a tone of regret, 
but still of quiet conviction. " I have be n speaking to Mrs. Hub- 
ble, and 1 am going to her to-morrow. '1 hope we shall lie able 
to take some care of Mr. Clargery, together, until he settles down." 

" How are you going to live, Biddy 1 If you want any rhp — " 

" How am I going to live? ' repeated Biddy, striking in, with a 
momentary flush upon her face. " I'll tell you, Mr. Fiji. I am 
going to try to get the place of mistress in the new school flearlj 
iinished here. I can be well recommended by all (lie neighbors, 
and I hope I can be industrious and patient, and teach myself 
while !• teach others. You know, Mr. Pip," pursued Biddy, with 
a smile, as she raised her eyes to my face, " the new Schools arc 
not like the old, but I learned a good deal from you alter that time, 
and have had time since Then to improve-" 

" I think you would always improve, Biddy, under any circum- 
stances." 

" Ah ! Except in mv bad side of human nature," murmured 
Biddy. 

It was not so much a reproach as an irresistible thinking aloud. 
Well! I thought 1 would give up tnat point too. So 1 walked a 
little further with Biddy, looking silently at her downcast eyes. 

" J have not heard the particulars of my sister's death, Biddy.' 

" They are very slight, poor thing ! .She had been in one of her 
bad states — though they had got better of late, rather than worse 
— for four days, when she came out of it in the evening, just at 
tea-time, and said, quite plainly, 'Joe.' As she had never said 
any word for a long while, I ran and fetched in Mr. (largely from 
the forge. She made signs' to me that she wanted him to sit down 
close to her, and wanted me to put her arms round his neck. So 
I put them round his neck, and she laid her head down on his 
shoulder quite content and satisfied. And so she presently said 
'Joe' again, and once ' Par.don,' and once 'Pip.' And so she 
never lifted her head up any more ; and it was just an hour later 
when we laid ii down on her own bed, because we found she was 
gone." 

Biddy cried ; the darkening garden, and the lane, and the stars 
that were coming out were blurred in my own sight. 
" Nothing was ever discovered, Biddy ?" 
"Nothing."' 
" Do you know what is become of Orlick ?" 



GREAT EXPECTATION*. 527 

" I should think, from the color of his clothes, that he is work 
in the quarries." 

" ( )f course yop have seen him then ? Why are you looking at 
that dark' tree in the lane ?" 

" 1 saw hi. a there op the qjght she died." 

J8#I"hat was not the las! lime either, Biddy V 

"No ; I have seen him there since we have been walking herd. 
It's of no use." said Biddy, laying her band upon my arm as I 
was for running out ; " you know I would nor deceive you ; he was 
not. there a minute, and lie is gone." 

It revived my utmost indignation to find that she was still pur- 
sued by this fellow, and I felt inveterate against hi ;;. 1 lold her 
no. and lold her that i would spend any money or fake any pains 
to drive him out of that country. By degrees, she led me into more 
temperate talk, and she told me how Joe loved me, and how 
never complained of any thing — she didn't say of me ; she had no 
need ; I knew what she meant — but ever did his duty in his 
of life with a strong hand, a quiet tongue, and a gentle heart. 

»".Indeed if would be hard to say too much for him." said I ; 
"and Biddy, we must often speak of these things, for of course i 
shall be often down here now. I am not going to leave poor J( e 
• 

Hiddy said ne\tT a single word. 

• lUddv. don't^vou bear me ?" 

•'Yes. Mr. Pip." 

•' Not to mention your calling me Mr. Tip — which appears to me 
to be in bad taste, Biddy — what do you mean ?" 

'• What do 1 mean ?" asJiieJ. Biddy, timidly. 

•• Biddy," 'aid I, in a vu;tubusly self-asserting manner, " 1 must 
request to know what von mean by this ?" 

"By this ;■ " said Biddy. 

" Now, don't echo," i retorted. "You used not toecbo, Biddy." 

" Used nm ! "' said Biddy. " Oh, Mr. Pip ! I'sed ! " 

We'd ! I rather thought I would give up that point too. After 
another silent turn in the garden I fell back on the main position. 

*' Piddy," said I, " 1 made a remark respecting my coining down 
here often to see Joe, which you received with a marked silence. — 
Have the goodness, Biddy, to tell me why.'' 

•' Are you quite sine, then, that you will eome to see him of- 
ten '?*' asked Biddy, stopping in the narrow garden walk, and look- 
ing at me under the stars with a clear and honest eye. 

" Oh, dear me ! " said 1, as if I found myself compelled to give 
up Biddy in despair. "This really is a very bad side of human 
nature! Don't say any more, if you please, Biddy. This shocks 
nie very much/' 

For which cogent reason I kept Biddy, at a distance during sup- 
per, and when I went up to my own old little room took as stately 



fc« GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

a leave of her as I could, in my murmuring soul, deem reconcila- 
ble with the church-yard and the event of the day. As often as I 
was restless in the night, and that was every quarter of an hour, I 
reflected what an unkindness, what an injury, What an injustice 
Biddy had done me. 

Early in the morning I was to go. 'Early in the morning I was 
out, and looking in, unseen, at one of t!ic wooden windows of the 
f6nge. There I stood, for minutes, looking at Joe, already at work, 
with a glow of health and strength upon his face that made it show 
as if the bright sun of the. life in store for him were shining on it. 

" Good-by, dear Joe ! — No don't wipe, it oil' — far God's sake give 
me your blackened hand ! I shall be down soon, and often." 

" Never too soon, Sir," said .Joe, " and never too often, Pip ! " 

Biddy was waiting for me at the kitchen door, with a nTug of 
new milk and a crust of bread. " Biddy," said I, when i gave her 
my hand at parting, " I am not angry; but 1 am hurt!" 

"No, don't he hurt." she pleaded quite paihetically ; "let only 
me he hm't. if 1 have, been ungenerous." 

( hice more the mists were rising as I walked away. if (J 
disclosed to me, as I suspect they did, that 1. shiuld not come baek, 
and that Biddy was quite right, all I can say is — they were quite 
right too. 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 



Hi5R[;ERT-and I went on from bad to worse, in the way of in- 
creasing our debts, looking into our affairs, leaving margins, and 
the like exemplary transaction^; and Time went on, whether orno, 
as he has a way of dUfrig ; and 1 came of age in fulfillment, of 
Herbert's prediction that I should do so before I knew where I 
was. 

Herbert, himself had come of age eight, months before me. As 
he had nothing else than his majority to come into, the event did no; 
make a profound sensation in Barnard's Inn. But we had looked 
forward to my one-and-twentieth birthday with a crowd of specu- 
lations and anticipations, for we had both considered that my guar- 
dian could hardly help saying something definite on that.occa- 
siou. 

I had taken care to have it well understood in Little Britain 
when my birthday was. On the day before it I received an official 
note from Wemmick, informing me that Mr. J aggers would be glad 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS; 229 

if I would call upon him at five in the afternoon of the aus-pic 

day. This convinced ns 1 hat something great was to happen, and 
threw me into an ■unusual flutter when I repaired to my guardian's 
offiee, a model of punctuality. 

jjLn the ouier oiliee Wemmick offered me his congratulations, and 
incidentally ruhhed the side of his nose with a folded piece el' tissue-pa- 
lter that 1 liked the look of. Hut he said nothing respecting it, 
and motioned me with a nod into my guardian's room. It was 
November, and my guardian was standing before Ids tire loaning 
his hack against the chimney-piece, with his hands under his coat- 
tails. 

" Well. Pip," said lie. " I must call you Mr. Pip to-day. Con- 
gratulations, Mr. Pip." 

We shook hands — he was always a' remarkable short shaker — 
and 1 thanked him. 

" Take a chair. Mr. Pip," said my guardian. 

As 1 sat down, and he preserved his attitude and bent his brows 
at his boots, 1 fell at a disadvantage, which reminded nfo of that 
(dd time when I had been put upon a tomb stone. The two ghast- 
ly casts ou the shelf were not far from him, and their expression 
was as if they were making a stupid appoplectio attempt to attend 
to the conversation. 

" Now. my young friend," my guardian began, as if I were a 
witness in the box, ': 1 am going to have a word or two with you." 

" If you please, Sir." 

" What do you suppose," said Mr. daggers, bending forward to 
look at the ground, and then throwing his head back to look at 
the ceiling, " what do you suppose you are living at the rate of'?" 

■• At the rate of, Sir '." 

"At," repeated Mr. daggers, still looking; at the ceiling, " the — 
rate — id*?" And then looked all around the room, and paused with 
his pocket-handkerchief in his hand, half way to his nose. 

I had loo :ed into my affairs so often that 1 had thoroughly de- 
stroyed any slight notion 1 might ever have had of their bearings. 
Reluctantly. I confessed myself quite unable to answer the q 
tion. This reply seemed agreeable to Mr. daggers, who said, " I 
thought so ! " and blew his nose with an air of satisfaction. 

'• Now. I have asked yqu a question, my friend," said Mr. -Tag- 
gers. " Have you anything to ask me '." . 

•• ( )f course it would be a great relief to me to ask you several 
questions, Sir ; but I remember your prohibition." 

" Ask one." said Mr. daggers. 

■• Is my benefactor to be made known to me to-day V 

" Xo. Ask another." 

" Is that confidence to be imparted to me soon ? " 

" Waive that a moment," said Mr. Jaggers. " and ask an- 
other." 



230 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

I looked about me, but there appeared to be now no possible 
escape from the inquiry, " Have — I — anything to .receive, Sir 1 " — 
On that Mr. Jaggers said, triumphantly, " T thought We should 
come to it !" and called to YVemmiek to give him that piece of 
paper. Wemmiek appeared, handed it in, and disappeared. 

" Now, Mr. Pip," said Mr. J aggers, " attend, if you please.-— 
You have been drawing pretty freely here; your name occurs 
pretty often in Wemmick's cash-book ; but you are in debt of 
course ■] " 

" I am afraid I must say yes, Sir." 

" You know you must say yes, don't you ?" said Mr. Jaggers. 

"Yes, Sir." 

" 1 don't ask you what you owe, because you don't know ; and 
if you did know you wouldn't tell me — you wonld say less. Yes, 
yes, my friend," cried Mr. Jaggers, waiving his fprtsfijiger to stop 
me, as I made a show of protesting, "it's likely enough that you 
think you wouldn't, but you would. You'll excuse mc but 1 know 
better than you. Now take this piece of paper in your hand. — 
You have got it / Verv good. Now Unfold it and tejl] me what it 
is.'' 

" This is a bank note," said I, " for five hundred pounds." 

"That is a bank note," repeated Mr. Jaggers, J' for I'm- hundred 
pounds. And a very handsome sum of money, too, I think. You 
consider it so ?" 

" How could I do otherwise !" 

;h ! But answer the question," said Mr. Jaggers. 

" Undoubtedly^/' 

" You consider it. undoubtedly, a handsome sum of money/ Now 
that handsome sum of money, Pip, is your own. It is a present to 
you on this day, in earnest (if your expectations. And at the rate 
of that handsome sum of money per annum, and at no higher rate, 
you are to live until the donor of the whole appears. That is to 
hay, you will now take your money affairs entirely into your own 
hands, and you will draw from YVemmiek one hundred and twenty- 
five pounds per quarter, until you are in communication with the 
fountain-head, and no longer with the mere agent. As I have told 
you before, I am the mere agent. I execute my instructions, and 
I am paid for doing so. I think them injudicious, but I am not 
paid for giving any opinion on their merits. 

I was beginning to express my gratitude to my benefactor for 
the great liberality with which I was treated, when Mr. Jaggers 
stopped me. "I am not paid, Pip," said he, coolly, "to carry 
your words to any one;" and then gathered up his coat-tails, as 
tie had gathered up the subject, and stood frowning at his boots 
as if he suspected them of designs agaiust him. 

After a pause, I hinted: 

" There was a question just now, Mr. Jaggers, which you de- 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 93* 

sired me to waive for a moment. I hope I am dtfing nothing 
Wrong in asking it again '." 

" What, is it r said he. 

I mi^ht have kno\vn that he would never help me out: but it 
took me aback to have to shape the question afresh, as if it were 
quite new. " Is it likely." I said, afu-r hesitating, " that my 
patron, the fountain-head you have spokn of, Mr. J aggers, wil 1 
soon — " There I delicately stopped. 

" Will soon what ?" said Mr. daggers. " That's no question as 
it stands, you know." 

•' Wi 1 soon come to London," said I, after casting ahout for a 
precise form of words, "or summon me any where else.'" 

"Nowhere." replied Mr. Jaggers, fixing me for the first time 
with his dark deep-set eyes, "we must revert to the evening when 
we first encountered one another in your village. ' What did I tell 
you then, Pip ?." 

"You told me, Mr. Jaggers, that it might be years hence when 
that person appeared." 

"Just So," said Mr daggers, " that's my answer." 

As we looked full at one another I felt my breath come quicker 
in my strong desire to get something out of him. And as I felt 
that ii came quicker, and as I felt that be saw that it came (puck- 
er. I tell that 1 had less chance than ever of getting any thing out 
of him. 

•• Do you suppose it will still he years hence, Mr. Jaggers V 

Mr. Jaggers shook his head — not m negativing the question, 
hiit in altogether negativing the notion that he could anyhow be 
got to answer it — and the two horrible casts of the twitched faces 
looked, when my eyes strayed up to them, as if they had come to 
a crisis in their suspended attention, and were going to sneeze. 

"Come!" said Mr. Jaggers, warming the backs of his legs 
with his warmed hands, " I'll be plain with yon, my friend, Pip. 
'That's a question I must not be asked You'll understand that 
better when 1 tell you it's a question that might compromise me. 
Come! I'll go a little further with you; I'd say something 
more." 

lie bent down so low to rown at his boots that he was able to 
rub the calves of his fegs in the pause he made. 

" When that person discloses." said Mr. Jaggers, straightening 
himself, "you and that person will settle your own affairs. When 
that person discloses, my part in this business will cease and de- 
termine. When that person discdoses, it will not he necessary 
for me to know any thing about it. And that's all I have got to 
say." 

• We looked at one another until I withdrew my eyes, and looked 
thoughtfully at the floor. From this last speech I derived the 
notion that Miss Havisham, for some reason or no reason, had 



232 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

not taken him into her confidence as to her designing- rae for Es- 
tella; that he resented this, and felt a jealousy about it; or that, 
he really d<id object, to that scheme, and would have nothing to dn 
with it. When I raised my eyes again I found that he had been 
shrewdly looking at me ali the time, and was doing so still. 

" If that is all you have to say, Sir," I remarked, " there can 
be n< itliing- 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 cham- 
bers, with Herbert. As a necessary sequence, I as! < ;1 him if he 
would favor us with his company, and he promptly accepted the 
invitation. But lie insisted on walking home with me, in order 
that I might make no. extra preparation for him, and first he had 
a :etler or iwo to write, and(of course) had his hands to wash. 
So I said I would go into the outer office and talk to Wemmiek. 

The fact was, that when the five hundred pounds had come into 
my pocket, a thought had come into my bead which had been 
often there before ; and it appeared to me that Wemmiek was a 
good person to advise with concerning such thought. 

He had already loek'ed up his safe, and made preparations lor 
going home. He had left his desk, brought, out his two gre«s\ 
oii'ec candlesticks and stood tlfein 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 hhiself ali 
over the chest with his safe-key, as an athletic e:.ereise after 
business. 

"Mr. Wemmiek'," said I, " I want to ask your opinion, i am 
very desirous lo serve a friend." 

Wemmiek tightened his post-office and shook his head, as if his 
opinion were dead against any fata! Weakness of that sort. 

"This friend," I pursued, "is trying to get on in commercial 
life, but lias no money and finds it difficult and disheartening to 
make a beginning. Now, 1 want somehow to -help him to a begin- 
ning." 

" With money down ?" said Wemmiek, in a tone drier than any 
saw-dust. 

" With some money down," I replied, for an uneasy remem- 
brance shot across me of that symmetrical bundle of papers at 
home ; " with som& money down, and perhaps some anticipation of 
my expectations." 

"jVIr. Pip," said Wemmiuk, "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 : t here's Lon- 
don, one; Southwark, two ;' Blackfriars. three; Waterloo, four; 
Westminster, five; Vauxhall, six." He had checked off each 
bridge in its tuft, with the liand'e of his safe-key on the palm of 
his hand. " There's as mauy as six, you see. choose from.'' 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 231 

" 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 (be 
Thames over the renin- arch of your bridge, and you know t he 
end of it. Serve a friend w'ih 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 \ cry discouraging," said I. 

• " Meant, to he. ' said Weinniick. 

"Then is it your opinion,'' 1 inquired, with some little indigna- 
tion, " (hat- a man should never — " 

" — Invest portable property in a friend?" said YVemmiek. 
" Certainly he should not. Unless he wants to get rid of the 
friend — and then it. heroines a question, how much portable' pro- 
perty it may b.e worth to get rid of him. 

"And that," said 1. "is vour deliberate opinion, Mr. Wem- 
mick T 

" That," he returned, "is my deliberate opinion in this office." 

"Ah!" said I. pressing him, fori thought I saw- him near a 
loophole here; "but would that be your opinion at Walworth :' 

" Mr. Tip." he replied, with gravity, " Walworth is one place, 
and this office is another. Much as l he Aged is one person, and 
Mr. daggers is another. They must not be confounded together. 
My Walworth sentiments must be taken at Walworih; none but 
my official sentiments can be taken in thisoffice." 

" Very well*", said I, much relieved, " then I shall look you up 
at Walworih, you may depend upon it," 

"Mr. Pip," he returned, " you will be welcome there in a pri- 
vate.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 ap- 
peared i« his door-wny. toweling his hands, Wemmick got on his 
great-coat and stood by io snuff out the caudles. We al ihree 
went into the street together, and from tin- door-step Wemmick 
turned his way. and Mr. daggers and I turned ours. 

I could not help wishing more than once that evening that Mr. 
daggers had an Angel ill (ierrard Street, or a Stinger, or a Some- 
thing, or a Somebody, to unbend his brows a little. It was an un- 
comfortable consideration on a twenty-first birthday, that coming 
of age at all seemed hardly worth while in such a guarded 
suspicious world as he made of it. He was a thousand times bet- 
ter informed and cleverer than Wemmick, and yet 1 would a thou- 
sand times rather have had Wemmick to dinner. And Mr. Jtig- 
gers made not me alone intensely melancholy, because, after he was 
gone, Herbert said of himself, with bis eyes fixed oh the fire, that 
lie thought he mus have committed a fcllony aud forgotten it, liu 
felt *o dejected and guLliy 



234 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 



Deemixu Sunday the best day for taking- Mr. Wemmick's Wal- 
worth sentiments, I devoted the .next ensuing Sunday alternoon to 
a pilgrimage to the Castle. On arriving before. the battlements V I 
found the Union Jack flying and the drawbridge' up ; but undeter- 
red 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 eve- 
rything, 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, 1 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 1 ". I nodded 
harder. "Which makes it- more surprising in my son," said the 
old man, "for he was not brought up to tlie Law, but to the 
Wine-Coopering." 

Curious to know how the obi gentleman stood informed concern- 
ing 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 1 have not the faintest notion what he 
meant, or what joke he thought I iiad made. 

As I could not sit there nodding at him perpetually, without 
making some other attempt to interest him, I shouted an 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, 1 
at last succeeded in making my meaning understood. 

"No," said The old gentleman ; "the warehousing the ware- 
housing. First over yonder;'' he appeared to mean up the chim- 
ney, 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. 



GREAT EXPECTATION.?. 

" — Yes', hard pf hearing) having that infirmity coining upon 
me, my sun he wenl into the Law, and he took charge of me, and 
he by little and little made out this elegant and beautiful proper- 
ty. I'm returning to what you said, you know," pursued the old 
man, agajn laughing heartily, "what I say is. No to be sure; you're 
right." 

I was modestly wondering whether my utmost ingenuity would 
have enabled tue to say anything t at would have amused him half 
as much as this imaginary pleasantry, when I was startled by a 
sudden (dick in the wall on one side of the chimney, and the ghost- 
ly tumbling open of a little wooden flap with " John " upon it. — 
Tbe old man, following my eye-, cried with graaf triumph, " My 
sun's come home ! " and we both went ont to the drawbridge. 

It was wort!) any money to see \\ emmick waving a salute to me 
from the other side of tin' moat, when we might have shaken hands 
across it with the greatest ease. The Aged was so delighted to 
work the drawbridge that 1 made no offer to assist him, and stood 
quiet until. Wcnimick had come across, and had presented me to 
Miss Skiftins: a lady by whom he was accompanied. 

Miss t^kitnns was of wooden appearance, and was, like iter es- 
cort, in the post-oihee. branch of the serviee. She might havebeen 
some two or three years younger than. Wcmmiek, and 1 judged her 
to stand possessed of portable property. The cut of her dress 
from the waist upward, both before and behind, made her ii, 
very like a boy's kite: and 1 might have pronounced her gown 
a little too decidedly orange, and her gloves a little too intensely 
green. But she seemed to be a very good sort of fellow, and show- 
ed a high regard for the Aged. i was not long in discovering 
that she was a frequent visitor at the (,'astle; 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 atten- 
tion for a moment to the other side oi the chimney, and disappear- 
ed. • Presently another click came, and another little door tumbled 
open with " Miss Skiffins" on it ; then .Miss Skiliins shut up. and 
John tumbled open: then Miss SkiHins and John both tumbled 
Open together, and finally shut up together. < Mi Wemmick's return 
from wording these mechanical appliances I expressed the great 
admiration with which 1 regarded them, and he said, "Well, yon 
know, they're both pleasant and useful to the Aged. And by 
George, Sir, it's a thing worth mentioning, that? of all the pi i 
who come to this gate, Uie secret of those pulls is only known \o 
the Aged, Miss Skitlins, anil me! " 

"Ami Mr. Wemmick made them," added Miss Skiffins, " with 
his own hands out of his own head." 

While Miss Skiliins was taking off her bonnet (she retained Iter 
green gloves during the evening, as an outward and visjlrie 
that there was company), Wemmick i vited mo to tola 



236 " GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

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, 1 seized the opportunity as 
soon as we were out of the Castle. 

Having thought of the matter with care, T approached my su-h- 
j vt as if I had never hinted at it before. I informed WerhmicK 
t iat I was anxious in behalf of Herbert Pocket, and I I old him how 
we had first met, and how we had fought, I glanced at Herbert's 
home and at his character, at his having no means but such as he was 
dependent on his father for: those, uncertain and unpimctual. I 
alluded to the advantages I had derived in my first rawness and 
ignorance from hi* 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 back 
ground 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 dis- 
trusts, retaliations, or designs! For all these reasons (I told Wem- 
mick), 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 somt\ present 
income — say of a hundred a year, to keep him in good hope and 
neari — and gradually to buy him on to. some small partnership. — 
1 begged Wemmick, in conclusion, to understand that niy help 
must always be rendered without Herbert's knowledge or suspi- 
cion, and that there was no one else in the world with whom I 
potild advice, i wound up by laying my hand upon his shoulder, 
and saying, " I can't help onfiding 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 yofi." 

" 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're 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 dune 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 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 237 

strictly in our private and personal Opacity, still, there arc New- 
gale cobwebs about, and it'brushes them away." 

After a little- furilx-r conversation to the same effect we return- 
ed into the Castle, where we found Miss Skiflins preparing tea. 
The responsibly duty (ff 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, bu' a vigormrs re- 
ality. The Aged prepared such a hay-stack of lmltered toast 
that 1 could scarcely see him over it as il simmered on an 'nam 
stand hooked on to the top-har; while Mi<s Skiflins brewed such 
a j rum of tea that the pig in the hack premises became strongly 
excited, and audibly expressed his desire to participate in the. en- 
tertainment. 

The flag had been struck- and the gun had been fired at the 
right moment of time, ai Q I fe I as -nu-ly cut off from the rest of 
Walworth as if the moat wt re t! irty feci wide by as many deep. 
Not'hii g disturbed the tranquility of the Cast le but the occasional 
iiig open of .loh'n and Miss Skiflins; which lilte doors 
were a prey to some spasmodic iuiirntity that made me sympa- 
thetically uncomfortable until 1 got used to it. 1 inferred from 
ike methodical nature of Miss Skiffin's arrangements that she 
made tea there every Sunday night: audi rather suspected that 
a classic brooch she wore, representing the profile of an umicsirn- 
b e 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 Jhe toast and drank tea in proportion, and 
it was delightful to see how warm and greasy we all got after it. 
Tie Aged especially, might bare passed for some clean old chief 
of a savage tribe, just oih d. After a short pause of repose. Miss 
Sklffiha — in the absence pf the little servant who, it seemed, re- 
tired to the bosom of her family on Sunday afternoons — washed 
up \\a- tea things in a trifling lady-like amateur manner that <■ 
premised mmc of us. Then she put on her gloves again, and we 
drew round ike fire, and Wemmick said, "Now Aged Parent, tip 
us the paper." 

Wemmick explained to me whi'e the Aged got his spectacles 
OUt, that ibis was according to custom, aikl thai it gave the old 
gentleman infinite satis/action to read the news aloud. "1 Won't 
offer an apology." said Wemmick. "for he isn't capable of man) 
pleasures — are you aged 1'. ?." 

" All right. John, all right," returned the old man, seeing him- 
self spoki a to. 

"Only tip him a nod every now and then when he looks off his 
paper," said Wemmick, " and be'U be as happy as a king. We 
are all atiejiLiija, Aged Qua." 



S38 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" All right, John, all right !" returned the cheerful old man : so 
busy and so pleased that it really was quite eharpiihg: 

The Aged's reading reminded me of the classes at Mr. Wop- 
sle's great-aunt's with t.he p'easanter peculiarity that it seem- 
ed 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 watch- 
ing 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 
"he greatest interest and amazement, and nodded until he re- 
sumed 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 s owly and 
gradually stealing hi'- arm round Miss SiThns's'waist. In course 
oi tjme 1 saw his hand appear on the otter 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 1 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. 

Bv-aiid-by I noticed Wemmick's arm beginning to disappear 
again, and gradually fading out of view. Shortly afterward 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 MLss 
Skiffins stopped it with the neatness of a practiced boxer, look off 
that girdle or cestus as before, and laid it on the fable. 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 timer for Wemmick to produce a little kettle, a tray o! glasses, 
and a back bottle with a porcelain-topped cork, representing some 
clerical dignity of a rubicund and social aspect. With the aid of 
these appliances we ail 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 Mi^s 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. 

B«ifore a week wag out I received a note from Wemmick. dated 



GEE AT EXPECTATIONS. 23 9 

Walworth, stating 'that lie hoped he had made some advance in 
that matter appertaining to our private and pefsonal capacities, 
and that lie would he glad if i could come and see him again upon 
it. So 1 went (Mil again, and yet again, and yet again, and I saw 
him by appointment in the City several times, hut never held any 
communication with him mi the subject in or near Little titain. 
Tile upshot was that we found a worthy young merchant or ship- 
ping-broker, not long established in business, who wanted intelli- 
gent 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 1 paid 
him half of my live hundred pounds down, and engaged for sundry 
other payments: some, to fall due at certain dates out of my in- 
come: some, contingent on my coming into my pr ■perty. Miss 
Skidins's brother conducted the negotiation : Weiinnick 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 if. I never shall for- 
get 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 irferohant's name), and of Clarriker hav- 
ing shown an- extraordinary inc.-iiiation toward him. and ©f his be- 
lief that the opening had come at last. Day by. day as his hope- 
grew stronger, ami i;;s face brighter, he must have thought me a 
more and more affectionate friend, for I had the greater difficulty 
of restraining my tears of triumph when I saw him so happy. At 
length the thing being done, and he having that day entered Clar- 
viker's House, and lie having talked to me for a whole evening in 
a (lush of pleasure and success. L did really cry in good earnest 
when I went to bed, to think that my expectations had done good 
to somebody. 

A great event in my life, the turning point of my life, now opens 
on my view. Hut before I proceed fo narrate it. and before I 
pass on to all the changes it involved. 1 must give a chapter to 
Esteila. It is not much to give to the theme that so long tilled 
;nv heart. $ 



240 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 



CHAPTER XXXVIIL 

that si aid old house near the Green at Richmond should 
ever come to be haunted When J am dead, it will be haunted, sure- 
ly, bv my ghost. Oh the many, man, nights and days through 
wbrnh the unquiet spirit within me haunted that house when Es- 
lived there J Let my body be where it would, my soul was 
always wandering, wandering, wandering, about that house. 

The lady with whom Estella was placed, Mi's. Brandley byname. 
a widow, with one daughter several years older than Estella. 
The mother looked young, and the daughter looked old ; the moth- 
er'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 pusi'ion,' and visited, and were vis- 
ited by, numbers of people. Little if any community of feeing 
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 JVKsS Hav- 
isham's before the time of her seclusion. 

In Mrs. Brandley"s house, and out of l\lvx. Br. house, I 

suffered every kind and degree of torture that Estella could cause 
me. The nature of my relations with her, which placed meou 
terms of familiarity wit hour' placing me on terms of favor, con- 
duced to niv distraction. She made use of me to tease other ad- 
mirers, and she turned the very iamiliarity between herself and me 
te account of putting a constant slight on my devotion to her. 
if 1 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 1 
was nearest to her. The" privilege of calling her by her name and 
hearing her call me^w mine became, under the circumstances, an 
aggravation of my trials; and while 1 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 I&chmond, I heard of her often in town, and 
I used often to take her and the Braruhcys on the* water; there- 
were pic-nics, fete days, plays, operas, concerts, parties — all sorts 
of pleasures, through which I pursued her — and they were all 
miseries to nie. I never had one hour's happiness in her society, 



••Do 
1 sin 



GHEAT EXPECTATIONS. sMl 

and yet niy mind all round the four-arid-twenty hours was harping 
on fife liap|)i:i ss of having her with me unto death. 

Throughout (his pari of our intercourse — and it lasted — as will 
presently he seen, for what I then thought a lung time — she hab- 
itually reversed to that tone which expressed that our association 
was forced upon us. There were other times when she would come 
to a sudden cheek in this tone and in all her many tones, and 
would seem to pity me. 

" Pip, Pip." she said, one evening, coming io such a cheek, when 
we sat apart at a darkening window of the lioM.se in Richmond, 
"will you never take warnim:'?'' 

•!of whki 

"Of Ilic." 

Warning not to iie aiiracted by you, do you m-v 11a?" 

Ho I mean ! If you don't know what L mean you are blind." 
lould have reported that Love was commonly repined blind, 
hut for the reason thai 1 always was restrained — and this wa 
the least of my miseries — by a feeling that it was ungenerous to 
press myself upon her when she knew that she could no ohqo e 
but obey Miss Havisham. My dread always was that this knowl- 
edge on her' part laid me under a heavy disadvantage with her 
pride, and made me the subjec of a rebellious s; m her 

bosom. 

•• Ai aiu ..He." said 1, "] have no warning given mo just now, 
for you wrote to me in c line to you this time." 

•• That's true," said Kstella, with a cold, careless smile, thai 
ways chilled me. 

inter Io the twilight without for a little while, she went 

i n to say : 

" The time has come round when Miss Havisham wishes to have 
me for a day at Satis. Ymi are to take me there and brim 
back' if you will. She would rather I did not travel ajone, andob- 
lo receiving my maid, for she has a sensitive horror of being 
lalKag] of by such pee) le. Can you take me?" 

" (Jan I take you, i>stella !' 

" \ on caii, men 1 The day after to-morrow, if you please. You 
are to pay all charges out of my purse. You hear the condi- 
tion of your going?" 

" And must obey," said I. 

This was all the preparation I received for that visit, or for oth- 
ers like it ; Miss Havisham never wrote to me, nor had 1 ever so 
much as seen her handwriting. We went down on the next 
but one, and we found her in the room where 1 first beheld her, 
and it is needless to add that there was no change in Satis House. 

She was even more dreadfully fond of Kstella than she ha.! 
when I last saw them together ; 1 repeat the word advisedly, for 
there was something positively dreadful ha the energy of her looks 
K> 



M9 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. 

and embraces. She hung u$on Estella's beauty, hung upon her 
words, hung upon her gestures, and sat mumbling her own trem- 
bling lingers while she looked at her as though she were devour- 
ing the beautiful creature she had reared. 

From Estella she looked at me, with a searching glance that 
seemed to pry into my heart and probe its wounds. "How i 
she use you, Pip — how does she use you ? " lie asked me again, 
wilh her witch-like eagerness, even in Estella's hearing. But when 
at by her flickering fire at night she was most 'weird ; for then, 
keeping Estella's hand drawn through tier arm and clutched in her 
own hand, she extorted from her, by dint of referring back to what 
Estella had told her in her regular letters, the names and the con- 
ditions of the men whom she had fascinated; ami as Miss Havi- 
shain dwelt upon this roll with the intensity of a mind mortally 
hurt and diseased, she sat with her other hand on- her crutehed 
stick, and her chin on that, and her wan bright eyes glaring tit me, 
:■- very spectre. 

! saw in this, wretched though it made me, and bitter the sense 
of dependence and even of degradation that it awaken;".! — I saw 
in this, that Estella was set to wreak Miss Havisham's revenge on 
men, and that she was not to be given to me until she had grati- 
fied it for a term. ' 1 saw in this, a reason for her being beforehand 
assigned to me. Sending her out to attract ami torment and do 
mischief, Miss llavisham sent her with the malicious assurance 
that she was beyond 'he reach of all admirers, and that nil who 
staked upon that cast were secured to lose. 1 saw in this, thaf I, 
too, w;is tofmenteVl by a perversion of ingenuity, gven wbije the 
prize was reserved for me. 1 saw in this, .the reason of being slaved 
g, and the reason for my late gurdian's declining to corn- 
lie formal knowledge of such a scheme. In a won'., 
f in this, Miss llavisham as 1 had her then am 
my eyes, and always had Bad her before my eyes; and I saw in 
this the distinct shadow of the darkened and unhealthy house in 
which her life was hidden from the sun. 

The candles that lighted that room of hers were placed in sconce.-, 
or, the wall. They were high from the around, and they burned 
with. illness of artificial light in air 1 hat is seldom re- 

newed. As [ looked round at them, and the pale gloom they made, 
•1 clock, and at the withered articles of bridal 
dress upon the lablcand the ground, and at her own awful figure 
with its gho^th reflection thrown large by thefireupon the ceiling and 
wail. I saw in everything the construction that my mind had 
come to repealed and thrown back to me. My thoughts passed in- 
to the great room across the landing when 1 . the table was spread, 
and 1 saw it written, as it were, in the talis of the cobwebs from 
the centre-piece, in the crawlings of the spiders on the cloth, in the 
L/a.ck* «f the mice as they betook their little quickened hearts be- 



GREAT EXPECTATION. «43 

hind the panels, and in the gropings and pausing* of the beetles 
on the floor. 

It happened on the occasion of this visit that some sharp words 
arose between Estella and Miss Havisham. It was the first time 
I "had ever seen them opposed. 

We were scaled by the lire as just now described, and Miss 
Havisham sfilUhati EsteJIa's arm drawn through her own. and still 
elntehed EVella's hand in hers, when Estella gradually began to 
detach hergelf. She had shown a proud impatience more than 
once before, and had rather endured that tierce affection than ac- 
cepted or returned it. 

" Wliat ! " said Miss llavisham, flashing her eyes upon her, "are 
you tired of me .' " 

•• Only a little tired of myself," replied Estella, disengaging her 
arm, and moving to the great chimney-piece, where she Stood look- 
ing dnwn at the lire. 

-peak the truth, you ingrate !"' cried Miss Havisham, pas- 
sionately sh'iuirig',her stick upon the floor; "you are tired of me." 

Estelja locked at her with perfect composure, and again looked 
down tier graceful figure and her beautiful face ex- 

pressed a s'e f- possessed indifference to the wild heat of the other 
was almost cruel. 

'■ Vim stick and sttirie !" exclaimed Miss Havisham. "Yon 
] heart !" 

" What !" said Estella, preserving her attitude of indifference 
as she leaned against the great chimney-piece and only moving her 
eye:?; " do you reproach nle for being cold . ; Von V 
\re you not ?" was the tierce retorr. 

•' You should know." said Ksiella, " I am what you have made 
me. Take all the praise, take all the blame; take all the sue, 

,■■ ayftJie failure : in short, take me.'' 

""*■*■' ^tf^P°' { at ' 1(Jr ' ' 0,, ' ; ;U ner -" C1 '' ( '^ Miss Havisham. bitterly. 
LoolLat lier, so hard and I hankless. on the hearth wilere she was 
Where 1 took her into this wretched breast when it was 
lir^ n its stabs, and where I have lavished years of 

tciideru. -s uivon lujr !'" 

" vVleast 1 was no part to the compact," said Estella, "for if 
I could walk and speak when it was made it was as much as I 
con (1 do. But what would you have.' You have been very 
good to me. Aud I owe every thing to vou. What would you 
have ?" 

" Love," replied the other. 

" ion have it," 

" I have not," said Miss Havisham. 

"Mother by adoption," retorted Este la, never departing from 
the easy grace of her attitude, never raising her voice as the other 
did, never yielding either to anger or tenderness — " Mother by 



444 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

adoption, 1 have said that [ owe every thing to you. All I pos- 
sess is freely yours. All that you have given me is at your com- 
mand to have again. Beyond i hat I have nothing. And if you 
ask me to give you what you never gave me, my grati ude and 
duty can not do impossibilities." 

"Did 1 never give her love!" cried Miss Havisham, turning 
wildly to me. "'Did I never give her a burning love, inseparable 
from jealousy at all times, and fnmi sharp pain, while she speaks 
thus to me ! Let her call me mad, let her call me mad !" 

•" Why should I call you mad," returned Estella, " I, of all 
people? Does any one live who knows what set purposes.you 
have, half as well as I do? Does any one live who knows what 
a steady memory you have, half as well as I do? I, who have.sat 
on this same hearth on the little stool that is even now beside yi>u 
there, learning your lessons and looking up into your face, when 
your face was strange and frightened to me?" 

" Soon forgotten !" moaned Miss Havisham. " Times soon 
forgotten '!" 

"No, not forgotten," retorted Estella. "Nor forgotten, but 
treasured up in my memory. When have you found me false to 
your teaching ? When halve you found me unmindful of your 
lessons? When have you found me giving admission here" — she 
touched her bosom with her band — "to anything that you exclu- 
ded ? iJejust to me." 

" So proud, so proud !" moaned Miss Havisham, pushing away 
her gray hair with both her hands. ' 

"Who Taught me lo be proud.'" 'returned Estella. " Who 
praised me when I learned my lesson ?" 

" So hard, so hard !" moaned Miss Havisham, with her former 
action. 

"Who taught me to be hard |" returned Estella. i ;■' Who 
praised me when I learned my lesson !" "'.' ^|Jf '^ 

" But to be proud and hard to >//e/" Miss Havisham quite 
shrieked, as she stretched out her arms. " Estella, Estella, Es- 
tella, to lie proud and hard to we /" 

Estella looked at her for a moment with a kind of calm. wonder, 
but was not otherwise disturbed; when the moment was passed 
she looked down at the tire again. 

"I can not think," said Estella, raising her eyes ifter a silence, 



" why you should be so unreasonable when I come to. see you after 
a separation. J have never Forgotten your wrongs and their caus- 
es, i have never been unfaithful to you or your schooling. I 
have never shown any weakness that I can charge myself with." 

"Would it be weakness to return my love I" exclaimed Miss 
Havisham. " But yes, yes, she would cad it so!" 

" 1 begin to think," said Estella, in a musing way, after another 
momen* of eaJin wonder, "that I almost understand how thie 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 845 

corrtes about. If you had hrought up your adopied daughter 
wholly in the dark confinement oi these rooms, and had nevi r let 
her know that there was such a thing as ihc daylight by which 
she has never once seen your face — if you had done' that, and 
then, for a purpose had wanted her to understand the daylight, 
and know all about it, you would have been disappointed and 
angry (" 

Miss Ilavisham with her head in her hand:-;, sat making a low 
moaning, and swaying herself on her chair, but gave no answer. 

"Or," said Estella — "which is a nearer case — if you had 
taught her. from the dawn of her intelligence, with your utmost 
ene/gy and might, that there was spe.h a thing as daylight, but 
it was made to he her enemy and destroyer, and she must, 
always turn against it. for it had blighted you and would else 
blight her: if you had done this, and then, for a purpose, had 
wanted her to take nafuraly to the daylight, and she could not 
do it, you would have been disappointed and angry ?" 

Miss Ilavisham sat listening (or it seemed so, for I could not 
see her face), but still made no answer. 

'• So," said 1'stella. " I must be taken as I have been made. 
The success is not mine, the failure is not mine, but the two to- 
gether are me*'" 

Miss Ilavisham had settled down, I hardly knew how, upon 
the floor, among the faded bridal relics with which it was strewn. 
I took advantage of the moment — I had sought one from the first 
— to leave file room after beseeching Kstcl .a's attention to her, 
with a movement of my hand. When I left, Estella was yet 
standi) g by the great chimney-piece, just, as she had stood 
throughout. Miss Ilavisham's gray hair was all adrift upru the 
ground, among the other bridal wrecks, and was a miserable sight 
10 see. 

It was with a depressed heart that 1 walked in the starlight, for 
an hour or more, about the court-yard, and about the brewery, and 
about the ruined garden. When 1 at last took courage to return 
to the room, I found Estella sitting at Miss Havisham's knee, 
taking up some stitches in one of those old articles of dress that 
were dropping to pieces, and of which I have often been reminded 
since by the faded tatters of old banners that I have seen hanging 
up in cathedrals. Afterward, Kstella and I played cards, as of 
yore — only we were skillful now, and played French games — and 
so the evening wore away, and I went to bed. 

I lay in tl ate bui ding across the court-yard. It was 

the first lime 1 had ever lain down to rest in Satis House, and 
sleep refused to come near me. A million of Miss llavishams 
haunted me. She was mi this side of my pillow, on that, at the 
head of the bed, at the foot, behind the half-opened door of the 
dressing-room, in the dressing-room, in the room overhead, in the 



2if> GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

yoom beneath — every where. At last, when the night was slow 
to creep on toward two o'clock, I felt that I absolutely could no 
lofiger bear the place as a place to- lie down in, and that I must 
get up. 1 "therefore got up and put on rhy clothes, and went out 
aero** the yard into the long stone passage, designing to gain the 
outer court-yard and walk there for the relief of my mind. But I 
was no sooner in the passage than I extinguished my candle ; for 
I saw Miss Havisham going along it in a ghostly manner, making 
a low cr\ . 1 followed her at, a distance, and saw her go up the 
staircase. She carried a bare candle in her hand, which she had 
probably taken from oue of the sconces in her own room, and was 
a most unearthly object by its light. Standing at the bottom of 
the staircase, I felt :, the mildewed air of the feast-chamber, without 
seeing her open the door, and 1 heard her walking there, and so 
across into her own room, and so across again into that, never 
ceasing the low cry. After a time. I tried in the dark both to get 
out, and to go back, hut I could do neither until some streaks of 
day strayed in and showed- me whereto lay my hands. During 
the whole interval, whenever I went to the bottom of the stair- 
case, I heard her footstep, saw her light pass above, and head tier 
• ease'ess low cry. 

Before we left next day, there was no revival of Bhe difl'ereuce 
between her and Estella, nor was it ever revived on any similar oc- 
casion ; and there were four similar occasions, to the best of my re- 
memb'rance. Nor did Miss Ilavisham's mariner toward Estella in 
anywise change, except that I believed it to have something like 
fear infused among its former characteristics. 

It is impossible to turn this leaf of my life without putting Bent- 
ley Drummle.'s name upon it; or I would, very gladly. 

I'm a certain occasion when the Finches were assembled in force, 
and when good feeling was being promoted in the usual manner 
by nobody's agreeing with anybody else, the presiding Finch called 
the Grove to order, forasmuch as Mr. Drummle had not yet toasted 
a lady ; which, according to the solemn constitution of the society, 
it was the brute's turn to do that day. I thought I saw him lect- 
in an ugly way at me while the decanters were going round, but as 
there was no love lost between us, that might easily be. What 
was my indignant surprise when' he called upon the company to 
pledge him to "Estella! " 

y Estella who 1 " said I, 

" Never you mind," retorted Drummle. 

"Estella of where?" said 1. "You are bound to say where." 
Which lie was, as a Finch. 

"Of Richmond, gentlemen," said Drummle, putting me out of 
the question, "and a peerless beauty." 

Much he knew about peerless beauties, a mean, miserable idiot 1 
I whispered Herbert. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 247 

"I know that lady," said Herbert, across tlie table, wben the 
toast had been honored. 

" Do you I " said Drummle. 

" Ami so do I," I added, with a sfiarlet facffe. 

"Bo you { " said Drummle. >■()/,, Lord ! " 

This was the only retort — except glass or crockery — that the 
heavy creature was capahle of making ; but I became as highly 
incensed by it as if it had been barbed with wit. and I immedi- 
ately rose in my place and said that I could hot but regard it as 
being like the honorable Finche's impudence to come down to that 
Grove, as a neat parliamentary turn of expression — down to that 
Grove proposing a lady of whom he knew notbing. Mr. Drummle 
upon t his, starting up, demanded what I meant by that? Where- 
upon I made him the extreme reply that I believed he knew whore 
1 was to be found. 

Whether it was possible in a Christian country to get on with 
blood, after this, was a question on which the Finches were divid- 
ed. Thr debate upon it grew so lively indeed, that at least six- 
more honorable members told six more,' during the discussion, that 
iliey believed 'they infew where they were to &e found. However, 
it was deeided at last, (the (irove. being a Court of Honor), that if 
Mr. Drummle would bring never so slight a certificate from the la- 
dy, importing that he had the honor of her acquaintance, Mr. Pip 
must express his regret, as a gentleman and a Fincb, for " having 
been betrayed into a warmth which." Next day was appointed 
for the production (lest our honor Should lake cold from delay), 
and next day Drummle appeared with a polite little avowal in Es- 
tella's hand, that she had had the honor of dancing with him sev- 
eral times. '[ uis left me no course but to regret that I had 
" been betrayed into a warmth which," and on the whole to repu- 
diate, as untenable, the idea that I was to be found anywhere. — 
Drummle and I then sat snorting at one another for an hour, while 
(he (J rove engaged in indiscriminate contradiction, and finally the 
promotion of good feeding was declared to have gone ahead at an 
amazing rate. 

I tell this lightly, but it was no light thing to me. For I can- 
not adequately express what pain it gave me to think that Fstella 
should show any lavor to a contemptible, clumsy, sulky booby! so 
far below the average. To the present moment, i believe it 
to have been referable to some pure tire of generosity and disinter 
estednesa in my love for her that I could not endure the thought 
of her stooping to ill at hound. Xo doubt I should have been mis- 
erable whomsoever she had favored; but a worthier object would 
have caused me a different kind and degree of distress. 

It was easy for me to find out, and 1 did soon find out, that 
Drummle had begun to follow her closely, and that she allowed 
him to do it. A littlu while, and ha was always in pursuit of her, 



24S GKEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

and be and I crossed one another every day. He, held on, in a 
dull persistent way, and Estella held him on ; now with encour- 
agement, now with discouragement, now almost flattering him, now 
openly despising him, now knowing him very well, now scarcely 
remembering who he was. 

The Spider, as Mr. Jaggers had called him, was vised to lying 
in wait, however, and had the patience of his tribe. Added to 
that, he had a blockhead confidence in his money and in his family 
greatness, which sometimes did him good service — a 1 most taking 
the place of concentration and determined purpose. So the Spider, 
doggedly watching Estella, outwatehed many brighter insects, and 
would often uncoil himself and drop at the right nick of time. 

At a certain Assembly Ball at Eichmond (there used to be As- 
sembly Balls at some places then), where Estella had outshone all' 
other beauties, this blundering Drummle so hung about her, and 
with so much toleration on her part, that I resolved to speak to her 
concerning hiin. 1 took the next opportunity: which was when she 
was waiting for Mrs. Brandley to take her home, and was sitting 
apart among some flowers, ready to go. \ was with her, for I al- 
most always accompanied them to and from such places. 

"Are. you tired, Estella?" 

" Rather, Pip." ' % 

" You should be," 

" Say rather, I should not be ; for 1 have my fetter to Satis 
House to write before I go to sleep." 

"Recounting to-night's triumph I " said I. " Surely it's a very 
poor one, Estella." 

" What do you mean if I didn't know there bad been any." 

"Estella," said I, " do look at that fellow in the corner yonder, 
who is looking over here at us." 

" Why should I look at him ? " returned Estella, with her eyes 
on me instead. " What is there in that fellow in the corner yon- 
der — to use your words — that I need look at ?" 

"Indeed, that is the very question I want to ask you," said I. 
" For he has been hovering about you all night," 

" Moths, and all sorts of ugly creatures," replied Estella, with 
a glance toward him, " hover about a lighted candle. Can the can- 
dle help it ?" 

" No," 1 returned ; " but cannot the Estella help it I " 

" Well ! " said she, laughing, after a moment, " perhaps. Yes. 
Anything you like." 

"Bui, Estella, do hear me speak. It makes me wretched that 
you should encourage a man so generally despised. You know that 
he is despised." 

" Well'?" said she. 

" You know that he is as ungainly within as without. A defi- 
cient, ill-tempered, lowering, stupid fallow." 



GREAT EXPECTATION. 249 

"Well ?•' said she. 

"You know thai he has nothing to recommend him hut money, 
and a ridiculous roll of addld-headed predecessors ; now don't 

VOU :'• 

" WelJ V said slip again ; and each time she said it. she opened 
her lovely eyes the wider. 

To overcome the difficulty of getting past that monosyllable, I 
took it, from her, and said, repealing it, with emphasis, " Well! — 
Then, that is why it makes me wretched." 

N<iw if I could have believed that she favore 1 Pruinmle with 
any idea of making me — me — wretched, 1 should have been in 
better heart about it ; hut in that habitual way of hers, she put me 
so entirely out of the* question that 1 cuuld believe nothing of the 
kind. 

"l'ip,"said Estelja, casting her glance over the room, " don't 
be foolish about its effects on you. It may have its effect on oth- 
ers, and may be meant to have. It's not worth discussing." 

" Yes it is," said 1. " because I cannot bear that people should 
say, 'she throws away her graces and attractions on a mere boor, 
the lowest in Ihe crowd.' " 

" I can bear it." said Estell, 

" < )h ! don't be so proud, Estella,' and so inrl >xible." 

"Calls me proud and inflexible in this breath!" said Estella, 
opening her hands. "And in his last, breath reproached me for 
stooping to a boor !" 

" There is no doubt you do," said 1, something hurriedly. " for 
I have seen you give him looks and smiles this very night sue 
you never give to — me." 

" Do you want me. then,'' said Estella, turning sudden y with 
a fixed and serious, if not angry look, "to deceive and entrap 
you." 

" Do you deceive and entrap him, Estella?" 

"Yes, and many others — all of them but you. Here is 
Brandley. I'll say no more." 

And now that I have giver: the one chapter to ihe theme that so 
tilled my heart, and so often made it ache and ache again, 1 pass 
on unhindered, to the event that had impended over me longer 
yet ; the event that had begun to he prepared for. before 1 knew 
that the world held Estella, and in the days when her baby intelli- 
gence was receiving its first distortions from Miss Iiavisham's 
wasting hands. 

In the Eastern story, the heavy slab that was to fall on the bed 
of state in the Hush of eompiest was slowly wrought out of the 
quarry, the tunnel for the rope to hold il in its place was slowlj 
carried through the leagues of rock, the slab was slowly raised and 
tilted iu ihe roof, the rope was rova to it and slowly taken through 



250 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

the miles of hollow to the great iron ring. All being made ready 
-with nmeh labor, and the hour come, the sultan was aroused in the 
dead of the night, and the sharpened axe that was to sever the 
rope from the great iron ring 'was put into his hand, and he struck 
with it, and Ihe rope parted and rushed away, and the ceiling fell. 
So, in my case ; all the work, near and afar, that tended to the 
end, had been accomplished : and in an instant the blow was struck, 
and the roof of my stronghold dropped upon me. 



CHAPTER XXX IX. 

I was three-and-twenty years of age. Xot, another word had [ 
heard to enlighten me on the subject of my expectations, and ray 
twenty-third birthday was a week gone. We had left Barnard's 
Inn more than a year, and lived in the Temple. Our chambers 
were in Garden Court, down by the river. 

Mr. Pocket and I had for some time parted company as to pur 
original relations, though we continued on the besl of terms. Not- 
withstanding my inability to settle any thing — which I hope arose 
out of the restless and incomplete tenure on which I held my means 
— I had a taste for reading, and read regularly so many hours a 
day. That matter of Herbert's was si ill progressing, and every 
thing with me was as I have brought it down to the close of the 
last chapter. 

Business had taken Herbert on a journey to Marseilles. I was 
alone, and had a dull sense of being alone. Inspirited and anxious, 
long hoping that to-morrow : or next week would clear my way, und 
long disappointed, I sadly missed the cheerful face and ready re- 
sponse of my friend. 

It was wretched weather; stormy and wet, stormy and wet; 
and mud, mud, mud, deep in all the streets. Day after day a vast 
heavy vail had been driving over London from the East, and it 
drove still, as if in the East there were an Eternity of cloud and 
wind. So furious had been the gusts that high buildings in town 
had had the lead stripped off their roofs; and in the country, trees 
had been tmn up, and sails of wind-mills carried away ; and gloo- 
my accounts had come in from the coast of shipwreck and death. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 951 

Violent blasts of ruin had accompanied these rages of wind, and 
the day just elosVd as I sat down to read bad Wen the worst of 
all. 

Alterations have been made in thai nart*df th^Temple since 
that lime, and il has not now so lonely a character as il had Mien, 
nor is it SO exposed to the river. We lived at the top of the last 
house, and the wind rushing up the river Mmok the In use that 
night like discharg s of cannon or breaking of a sea. When the 
rain came with it and dashed against the windows, I thought, 
raising my eyes to them as they rocked, that I might have fancied 
myself in a siorm-heaten light-house. Occasionally the smoke 
came rolling down the chimney as though it could not heart' 
out into such a night ; and when I set the doors open and looked 
down the staircase ; the staircase lamps were blown out ; and 
when I shaded my face with my hands and looked through the 
black windows (opening them ever su little was out of the question 
in the teeth of such wind and rain), I saw that the lamps in the 
court were blown out,' and t hat the lamps on the bridges and the 
shore were shuddering, and that the coal fires in barges on the 
river were being canied away before the wind like red-hot splashes 
in the rain. 

1 read with my watch upon the table, purposing to close my 
book at' eleven o'clock. As I shut it. Saint Paul's, and all the 
j church-clocks in the City — some leading, some accompany- 
ing, seme following*— struck, that hour. The sound was curiously 
flawed by the wind ; and I was listening, and thin long how the 
wind assailed it, and tore it. when 1 heard a footstep on the stair. 

What nervous folly made me start, and awfully connect it with 
the footstep of my dead sisler, matters not. It was past in a mo- 
ment, and i listened again, and heard the footstep stumble in com- 
ing on. lumembering then that the staircase-lights were blown 
out. T took up my reading-lamp ami went out to the stair-bead. 
Whoever was below had sto* ped on seeing my lamp, for all was 
quiet. 

"There is some one down, there, is there not V I called out, 
looking down. 

" Yes," said a voice from the darkness beneath. 

" What floor do you want ?" 

■• The top. Mr. Pip," 

"That is my name. There is nothing the matter?" 

"Nothing the matter." returned the voice. And the. man came 
on. 

1 stood with my lamp held out over the stair-rail, and he slowly 
came within its light. It was a shaded lamp, to shine upon a 
book, and ils circle of light was very contracted ; so thai he was 
in it for a men* instant, and then out of ii. in the instant, 1 Lad 



•252 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

seen a face that was strange to me, looking up with an incompre- 
hensible air or nMhg touched and pleased rVy the sight of tile. 

Moving the famp as th man moved, I made out that he was 
substantially dressed, but roughly : like a voyager by sea. That 
he had burg, iron-gray hair. That his age was about sixty. That 
he was a muscular man, strong on his legs, and that he was brown- 
ed and hardened by exposure to weather. As he ascended the last 
stair or two, and the -light of my lamp included us both, f saw, 
with a stupid kind of amazement, that he was holding both his 
hands to me. 

" Pray what is your business?" I asked him. 

"My business?" he repeated, pausing. "Ah! Yes. I will 
explain my business by your leave." 

" Do you wish to come in ?" 
" " Yes," he replied ;. " I wish 'to come in, Master." 

I had asked him the question inhospitably enough, for T resent- 
ed the sort of bright and gratified recognition that still shone on 
his face. I resented il,4iecause it seemed to- imply that he ex- 
pected me to respond to it. But I took him into the room I had 
just left, and, having set the lamp on the table, asked him as civil- 
ly asT could to explain himself. 

He looked about him with the strangest air — an air of wonder- 
ing pleasure, as if he had some part in the things he admired — and 
he pulled off a rough outer coat, and his hat. Then I saw that his 
head was furrowed and bald, and that the rong,^rqn-gra^ hair grew 
only on its sides. But I saw nothing that in the least explained 
him. ( >n the contrary, I -saw him next moment once more holding 
out both his hands to me. 

" What do you mean ?" said I, half suspecting him to be mad. 

He stopped in his looking at me, and slowly rubbed his right 
hand over his head. " It's disapiniing to a man," he said, in a 
coarse, broken voice, " arter having looked forward so distant and 
"omesofur; but you're not to blame, for that — neither on us is 
to blame for that. I'll. speak in half a minute. . Give hie half a 
minute please." 

He sat down in a chair that stood 'before the fire, and covered 
ins forehead with his large brown veinous hands. I looked at him 
attentively then, and recoiled a little from him ; but I did not 
know him. 

"There's no one nigh," said he, looking over his shoulder; " is 
there ? " 

"Why do you, a stranger coming into my room at this time of 
the night, ask that question ? " said I. 

" You're a game one," he returned, shaking his head at me with 
a deliberate affection, at once most unintelligible and most exas- 
perating; " I'm glad you've grow'd up a game one ! But don't 
catch hold of me. You'd be sorry arterward to have done it." 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 25:? 

I relinquished the intention he had detected, for 1 knew him ! — 
Even yet, 1 could not recall a single fealure, bill I knew him ! If 
the wind and the rain had driven away the intervening years, had 
scattered all the intervening objects, had swept ns to the church- 
ward where we tirst stood face to face on such different levels, 1 
could noi have known my convict more distinctly than 1 knew him 
now, as he sal in the chair hefore the tire. No need to take a tile 
from his pocket and show it to me ; no need to take the handker- 
chief from his neck ami twist, it round his head; no need to hug 
himself with both his arms, and take a shivering turn across the 
room, looking hack at me. for recognition. 1 knew him hefore he 
gave nie one of those aids, though, a intmteiit before, 1 bad not 
been conscious of remotely suspecting his identity. 

He came back to where 1 stood, and again held out both his 
hands. 'Not knowing what to do — for in my astonishment 1 had 
lost my self-possession — I reluctantly pave him mv bands, lie 
grasped them heart ily, raised them to bis lips, kissfcd them, and still 
held them. 

-You acted noble, my boy," said be. "Noble, Tip! And I 
have never forgot it." 

At a change in bis manner as if be were even going to embrace 
me. 1 laid a hand upOD ids breast and -put bint away. 

" Stay !" said 1. "Keep.off'j 1 f \.<<i are grateful to me for 
1 did when I was a little child'. 1 bop* \ on Rave shown your 
gratitude by mending your way of life. If you have come here 
to thank me, it was nol necessary. Still, howev.er, you have found 
me out. there must be something good in the fe. ling that has 
brought you hew, and I will not repulse you; but surely you must 
understand that — 1 — " 

>iy attention was so attracted by the singularity of I 
at me, that the words died away on my tongue. 

" You was a, saying," he observed, when we bad confronted one 
another in silence, "that surely 1 must understand. What surely 
i tin 'T.siand '." 

i hat 1 cannot wish to renew that chance intercourse with you 
of long ago. under t ese different circumstances. I am glad' to 
\e \ou have repented and recovered yourself, i am glad to 
tell \ ou so. 1 am glad that, t binking I deserved to be thanked, 
\ ou have come to I bank me. But our ways are different ways, none 
the less. You are wet, and you look weary. Will you drink 
thing before you go 1 " 

lie had replaced his neckerchief loosely, and had stood, keenly 
observant of me, biting a bug emlof.it. " 1 tbink,'' he answi 
still with the end at his mouth and still observant of me, "that 1 
will drink (1 thank you) afore 1 go." 

There was a tray ready on a side-table. I brought it to the ta- 
hwiwm the tint, and auked him what lm would have I He touch- 



•j 54 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

ed one of the buttles without looking at it or speaking, and I made 
him some hot rum-aud-water. I tried to keep my hand steady 
while I did so, but his look at me as he leaned back in his chair 
with the long draggled end of his neckerchief between his teeth— 
evidently forgotten — made my hand very difficult to master. "When. 
at hist I put the glass to him, I saw with new amazement that his 
eyes were full of tears. 

lip to this time I had remained standing, not to disguise that I 
wished him gone. But.I was softened by the softened aspect of 
the man, and 'felt a touch of reproach. "I hope," said I,- hur- 
riedly 'putting something into a glass for myself, and drawing a 
chair to the table. " that you will not think I spoke harshly to you 
just now. I had no intention of doing it, and I am sorry for it 
if 1 did. I wish you well and happy !" 

• As ( put my glass to my lips he glanced with surprise at the 
cud of his neckerchief, dropping from his month when he opened 
:;. and stretched out his hand. I gave him mine, and then he drank, 
and drew his sleeve across his eyes and forehead. ■ 

" How are you living ( " I ased him. 

," I've been a sheep-farmer, stockbreeder, other trades besides, 
away in the new world," said he; ',' many a thousand miles of 
stormy water oil from this." 

" 1 hope you have done well .' " 

" I've done wonderful well. There's others went out alongerme 
as has done well too, but no mau has done nigh as well as me. — 
I'm famous for it.' 

'• I am glad, to hear it." 

" i hope to hear you say so, my dear boy." 

Without stopping to try to understand those words or the tone 
in which they were spoken. 1 turned tiff to a .'point that had just 
come into my mind. 

•' Have you eve- seen a messenger you once sent to me," I in- 
quired, since he undertook that trust V 

" Never set eyes upon him. I wasn't likely to it." 

" He came faithfully, and he brought me the two one-pound 
notes. 1 was a poor hoy then, as you know, and to a poor boy they 
were a little fortune. But, like you, I have done well since, and 
you must let me pay them hack. You can put them to some other 
poor boy's use." 1 took out my purse. 

He watched me as I laid my purse upon the table and opened 
it, and he watched me as I separated two one pound notes from 
its contents. They were clean and new, and I spread them out 
and handed them over to him. Still watching me, he laid them 
one upon the other, folded them long-wise, gave them a twist, set 
fire to them at the lamp, and dropped the ashes into the tray. 

" May 1 make so bold," he said then, with a smile that was like 
a irowa. and with a frown that was like a smile, "as ask you how 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 255 

you have dime well, since you and me were out on them lone shiv- 
ering marshes ]" 

»Howr 

" Ah !" 

lie emptied his glass, got up. and stood at the side ol the fire, 
with his heavy hrowu hand on the mantle-shelf, lie put a foot up 
To the bars to dry and warm it, and the v, el boot began to steam ; 
but he neither locked at it, nor at the lire', but steadily looked a, 
me. It was only now that 1 began to treii; 

When my lips had parted, and had shaped some words that 
were without sound. I forced myself to tell him (though I could 
not do it ■ distiiietly). that 1 had J teen chosen to succeed to some 
properly. 

•• flight a mere warmint ask what property i" said lie. 

I faltered, " 1 don't klmv." 

" Mighi a mere warmini ask whose property I" said he. 

J falteied. again, " 1 don't know." 

".Could 1 make a guess, 1 wonder," .said the convict, " at your 
income since \ or, oi I As to the lirsl tigure now. Five?" 

With my heart healing like a heavy hammer of discorded ac- 
tion, I n..- my chair, and shod with my hand upon the 
the- back of it, looking wildly at him. 

" VJohcernii g ;> guardian." he went on. " There ought io have 
been some guar, un, or such-like, while yon was a minor Some 
lawver, ma-' be. As to the first lctjer of that lawyer's name now. 
Wi.ti.ld it be J .'" 

All the truth of my position came Hashing on me; and iis dis- 
appointments, dangers, disgraces, consequences of all kinds, rushed 
in in such a multitude that 1 was borne down by them, and had 
niggle for every breaih I drew. 

'• Put it," he resumed, "as the employer of that lawyer whose 
name begun with a .1. and might be daggers — put it as he had 
come over the sea to Portsmouth, and had landed there, audi had 
wanted to come on to you. ' However, you have found me out,' you 
says just now. Well! However did I find you ouj .' Why, I 
wrote from Portsmouth to a person in London, for particulars <f 
your address. That person's name / Why, WemmiekJs." 

I ccidd not have spoken one word though il had been to save 
ur\ life. 1 stood, with a hand on therhair back and a hand on my 
breast, where I seemed to he suffocating — 1 stood so, looking wild- 
ly at him, until 1 grasped at the chair, when the loom began to 
surge and turn. He caught me. drew me to the sofa, put me up 
against, the cushions, and belli on one knee before me : bringing, 
the face that I now well remembered, and that 1 shujcUleiei 
ver\ neai' to mine. 

" Yes, Pip, dear hoy. I've made a gentleman on you ! It's me 
wwi has dotuj itl 1 iwore that time, sure as ever 1 earned a guru- 



256 ' GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

ea, Ihat guinea should go to you. I swore arterward, sure as ever 
I speculated and got rich, you should get rich. I lived rough that 
you should live smooth ; I worked hard that you should he above 
work. What odds, dear hoy ? Do I fell it fur you to feel a obli- 
gation ? Not a bit. I tell it fur you to know as that there hunted 
dunghill ddg.what 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 exeee<ied if he had been some terrible beast. 

•' Li ok'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 1 was a hired-out shepherd in a solitary hut, not 
seeing no faces but faces of sheep till 1 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 
says, ' Here's the boy again, a looking at me whiles I eats and 
drinks!' 1 see you there, a many limes, as plain as ever 1 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 — 
•bul wot, if I gets liberty and money, I'll make that boy a gentle- 
man!' And 1 dyne it. Why, look at you, dear boy! Look at 
these here lodgings o' yourn, fit for a lord ! A lord i Aij ! Ton 
shall show money with lords j#r wagers, and beat 'em !" 

in bis heat and triumph, arj| in his knowledge that i had been 
nearly fainting, lie did not rehifrk on my reception Of all this. It 
was the one grain of relief 1 had. 

•• Look'ee here!" he went oft. taking oui my watch, and turn- 
ing toward him a /ing on my linger, while 1 recoiled from his 
touch as if he had been a snake. " a gold ' ill and a beauty ; that?* 
a gentleman's! A diamond, all set round with rubies; that' a a 
gentleman's! Look, at your linen ; fine and beautiful! Look at 
your clothes: better ain't to be got! And your books, too,' 
turning bis eves round the room, ".moulding up, on" their shelves. 
by hundreds! And you read 'em ; don't you? I see you'd been 
a reading of 'em whin I come in. lia. ha, ha ! You shall read 
'em to me, dear boy ! And if they're in foreign languages wot I 
don't understand, I shall lie 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 bis eyes and forehead, as the (dick came in his throat 
*which 1 well remembered — and he was all the more horrible to 
me that he was so much in earnest f " you cau'l do better nof keep 
quiet, dear boy. You ain't looked slowly forward to this as I 
have ; you wosn't prepared fur this, as 1 wos. But didn't you 
never think it might be me ?" 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS 857 

, '.* Oh no, no, no," I returned " Ncnvr, never !" 

" Well; you see il wes me, and single-handed. Never a soul in 
it, but my own self and Mr. Jaggers." 

" Was there no one else V 1 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 somewherea — eh? Isn't there bright eyes 
somewheres, wot yon love the thoughts- on V 

Oh Estella, Est'el a! 

"They shall be yourn, dear boy, if money can buy 'era. 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, 1 got my liberty and went for myself. In every single 
thing 1 went for. 1 wen! for you. ' Lord strike a blight upon it,' 
I says, wotever it was I went for ' if it ain't for him !' It all pros- 
pered wonderful. As I giV you to understand just now, I'm fa- 
mous for it. It was the gains of the first few year wol I sent 
home to Mr. Jaggers — all for you — when he first come arteryou, 
agreeable to my letter." 

Oh that he had never come! That be bad left me at the forge 
— far from Contented, yet, by comparison, happy ! 

• "And then, dear hoy. 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 pay '. 1 say to myself, f I'm making a' better ■ 
gentleman nor ever you'll be !' When one of 'em says to another, 

• He was a convict, a few years ago, and is a ignorant, common 
fellow now, lor all he's lucky,' what do I say? I says to my- 
self, ' 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 of you 
owns a brought-up London gentleman V This way I kep 1 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 bis 'hand on my shoulder. I shuddered at. the thought. 
thai for any thing I knew it might be stained with blood. 

'• It warn i 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 1 done it. Dear hoy, I done it !" 9 

I tr.ed.to collect my thoughts, but I was stunned. Throughout, 
I had seemed to myself to attend more to the wind and rain than 
to him; even now, I could not separate his voice from those 
viiC'S, though ihose were loud and his were silent. 

" Where will you put me ?" he asked, presently. " I must be 
put somewberes, dear boy." 
17 



S58 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" To sleep 1" said T. 

" Yes. And to sleep long and sound," he answered ; "for I've 
been sea-tossed and sea washed, weeks 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. vou mean ? Caution V 

« By G— /it's Death !" 

"What's death?'' . 

" 1 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 Ibis; Ihe 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 1 had been attracted 
to him by the strongest admiration and affection, instead of shrink- 
ing 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 Herbeit's room, and had shut of!' 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 ol my 
" gentleman's linen " to put on in the morning. 1 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. 

1 got away from him, without knowing how 1 did it, and mend- 
ed the fire in the room where we had been together, and sat down 
by it, afraid to go to beef For an hour or more I remained too 
stunned to think, and it was not until I began to think that 1 be- 
gan fully to know how wrecked 1 was, and how the ship in which 
1 had sailed was gone to pieces. 

Miss Havisham's intentions toward me all a mere dream ; Es- 
teila not designed for me^ I ©nty suffertid in Satis House a* a c<in- 



GREAT EXPECT ATTO W9 

venience, a sting for the greedy relations, a model with a mechani- 
cal heart to practice on when no other practice was al hand ; those 
were the first, smarts I had. But, sharpest and deepest pain of all 
— it was for the convict, guilty of I know not what crimes, and 
liable to he taken out of those rooms where I sat thinking, and 
hanged at the Old Bailey door, that I had deserted doe. 

I would not have gone hack to Joe now, I would not have gone 
hack to Biddy now, for any consideiation : simply, I suppose, he- 
cause 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 1 should have derived from their simplicity 
and fidelity ; hut I could never, never, never undo what, I had 
done. 

In every rage of wind and rush of rain I heard pursuers. T 
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 ap- 
proach. Thar 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 lie. 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 bad heard that other convict reiterate that he had tried 
to murder him ; that. 1 had seen him down in the ditch tearing and 
lighting like a wild beast. Out of such remembrances I brought 
into the light of the tire a half-formed terror that it might not be 
safe to he stmt up there with him in the dead of the wild solitary 
night. This dilated until it tilled the room, and impelled m • to 
take a candle and go in and look at my dreadful burden. 

There was still much of the old marsh character upon him, for 
he had rolled a handkerchief round his head, and his race 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 1 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 witn the perception of my wretchedness, the 
clocks of the Eastern churches were striking five, the candles were 
wasted out. the fire was dead, and the wind and ram intensified the 
thick black darkness. , • ' 

This is the e\'D of the secund stage of PiP'.s expecta- 
tions. 



I 



909 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 



CHAPTER XL, 



It was fortunate for me that I had to take precautions to insure 
(so far as 1 could) the safety of my dreaded visitor, for this thought 
pressing on me when I awoke held other thoughts in a confused 
ourse 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 
ice now, but I was looked after by an inflammatory old female, 
assisted by an animated rag-hag whom she called her niece, and to 
keep a room secrel from them would he to invite curiosity and ex- 
aggeration. They both had weak eves, which I bad long attri- 
buted to their chronically looking in al keyholes, and they were 
always at hand when not wanted ; indeed that was their only relia- 
ble quality besides larceny. Not to get up a mystery with these 
people, 1 resolved to announce in the morning that my uncle had 
unexpectedly come from the country. 

This course 1 decided on while 1 was ye groping about in the 
darkness for the means of getting a light. Not stumbling on the 
means after all, 1 was fain to go out It) the Lodge and get the 
watchman there to come with his lantern. Now, in groping my 
way down the black staircase 1 fell over something, and that some- 
thing was a man crouching in a corner. 

As t lie man made no answer when T asked him what he did 
there, but eluded my touch in silence, I ran to the Lodge and 
urged the watchman to oome back quickly: telling him of the in- 
cident on the way back. The wind being as tierce as ever, we did 
nor care to endanger the light in the lantern by rekindling the ex- 
tinguished lamps on the staircase, but we examined the staircase 
from the bottom to rhe top and found rio one there. It then occur- 
red to me as possible that the man might have slipped into my 
rooms ; so. lighting my candle at the watchman's, and leaving him 
standi):-- at the door, I examined them carefully, including the 
mom in which my dreaded guest was asleep. All was quiet, aud 
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 nigh is in the year, and I asked the 
watchman as I handed him a dram at the door, on the chance of 
eliciting some hopeful explanation, whether he had admitted at 
his gate any gentlemen who had perceptibly been dining cut.' 
Yes, h« said j at different times of the night, three. One livtd in 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 261 

Fountain Court, and the other two lived in the Lane, and lie had 
seen them all go home. Again, the ■>nl v other man who dwell in 
the house of which my chambers formed a part had been in the 
country fur some weeks; and he certainly had not returned in 

the night, because we had seen his door with his seal on it as we 
came up stairs. 

" The night being so bad. Sir," said the watchman, as he gave 
me back my glass, " uncommon few have come in at my gate. 
Besides them three gentlemen that I have named, I don't call to 
mind another since about eleven o'clock, when a stranger asked 
for you." 

"My uncle," I muttered. "Yes." 

" You saw him, Sir?" 

" Yes. Oh yes." 

" Likewise the person with him?" 

" Person with him!" I repeated. 

" I judged the person to be with him," returned the watchman. 
" The persqn stopped when lie stopped to make inquiry of me, and 
the person took this way when he took this way." 

" What sort of person .'"' 

The watchman had not particularly noticed; he should say a 
working person ; to the best of his belief he had a dust-colored 
kind of clot lies on, under a dark coat. The watchman made more 
light of I he matter than I did. and naturally — not having my rea- 
son for attaching weight to it. 

When i had got rid of him, which T thought it well to do with- 
out prolonging explanations, my mind was much troubled by these 
two circumstances taken together. Whereas they were easy of 
innocent solution apart — as, for instance, some diner-out, or diner- 
at-home, who had not gone near this watchman's gate, might have 
strayed to my staircase and dropped asleep there — and my name- 
less visitor might have brought some one with him to show him 
the way — still, joined, they had an ugly look to one as prone to 
distrust and fear as the changes of a few hours had made me. 

I lighted my fire, which burned with a raw pale look at that 
dead lime of the morning, and fell into a doze before it, I seem- 
ed to Uave been dozing a who e night when the clocks struck six. 
As there was full an hour and a ha f between me and daylight, I 
dozed again; now, waking up uneasily, with prolix conversations 
about nothing still in my ears; now, making thunder of the wind 
in the chimney: at length falling off into a profound sleep from 
which the daylight woke me with a start, 

All this time I had never been able to consider my own situa- 
tion, nor could 1 do so yet, I had not the power to attend to it, 
I was greatly dejected and distressed, but in an incoherent whole- 
sale sort of way. As to forming any plan for the future, I could 
as soon have formed an elephant. When I opened the shutters 



I 



2(52 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. » 

and looked out at the wet wild morning, all of a leaden hue ; when 
I walked from room to room; when I sat down again shivering, 
before the rire, waiting for my laundress to appear; I thought 
how miserable I was, bu.t hardly knew why, or how long I had 
been so, or on what day e£the week I made the reflection, or even 
who I was that made it. 

At length the old woman -and the niece came in-^the latter with 
a head not easily distinguished from her broom — a*j«l testified sur- 
prise at t.he sight of me and the fire. To whom I imparted how 
my uncle had come in the night and was then asleep, and how the 
breakfast preparations were to be modified accordingly. Then I 
washed and dressed while they knocked the furniture about and 
made a dust, and so, in a sort of dream or sleep-waking, found 
myself sitting by the fire again waiting for — Him — to come to 
breakfast. 

By-and-by his door opened and lie came out. I could not bring 
myself to bear the sight of him, and I thought he had a villain- 
ous look by daylight. 

" I do not even know,'' said I, speaking low as he took his seat 
at the table, "by what name to call you. I have given out that 
you are my uncle." 

"That's it, dear boy ! Call me uncle." 

"You, assumed some name, 1 suppose, on board ship ?" 

"Yes, dear boy. I took the name of 1'rovis." 

" Do you mean to keep that name \ " 

" Why, yes, dear boy. it's as good as another — unless you'd like 
another." 

" What is your own name 1 "T asked him in a whisper. 

" Magwitch," he answered in the same tone; "chris'en'd Abe." 

" Whal were you brought up to be 1 " 
' " A warmint, dear hoy."' 

He answered quite seriously, and used the word as if it denoted 
some profession. 

" When you came into the Temple last night — " said 1, pausing to 
wonder whether that could really have been last night which seemed 
so long ago. 

"Yes, dear boy !" 

"When you came in at the gate and asked the watchman the 
way here, had you any one with you ] " 

" With me ? >,o, dear boy." 

" But there was some one there ? " 

" I didn't, take particular notice," he said, dubiously, " not know- 
ing the ways of the place. But I think there was a person, too, 
come in alonger me." 

" Are you known in London ? " 

" I hope not ! " said he, giving his neck a jerk with his forefin- 
ger that made me .turn hot and sick. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 233 

*' Were you known in London once ? " 

" Nol over and above, dear boy. I was in the provinces mostly." 

" Were you — tried — in London 

" Which lime J" said he with a sharp look. 

"The last time." 

He nodded. "First knowed Mr. daggers that way. 'Jaggera 
was for me." 

It was on my lips to -ask him what lie was tried for, but he took 
Up a knife, gave it a flourish, and with the words, " Ami whatever 
I done is worked out and paid for! " fell to at his breakfast. 

He ate in a ravenous way that was very disagreeable, and all 
his actions were uncouth, noisy and greedy. Some of his teeth 
had failed him since I saw him eat on the marshes, and as he 
turned his food in his mouth, and turned his head sideways to 
bring his stronger fangs to bear upon it, he looked terribly like a 
hungry old dog. If I had begun with any appetite lie would have 
taken it away, and I should have sat much as I did —repelled from 
him by an insurmountable aversion, and gloomily looking at the 
cloth/ 

" I'm a heavy grubber, dear boy," he said, as a polite kind of 
apology when he had made an end of his meal, "but I always wos. 
[f it had been in my constitution to be a lighter grubber, I might 
ha' got into lighter trouble. Similarly. I must have my smoke. — 
When I was first hired out as shepherd t'other side the world, it's 
my belief I should ha' turned into a molloncholly-mad sheep my- 
self, if I hadn t a had my smoke." 

As he said so, he got up from the table, and putting his hand 
into the breast of the pea-coat he wore, brought, out a short black 
pipe, and a handful of loose tohaot o of the kind that is called Ne- 
gro-head. Having filled his pipe, he put the surplus tobacco back 
again, as if his pocket were a drawer. Then he took a live coal 
from the lire with the tongs, and lighted his pipe at it, and then 
turned round on the hearth-rua - with his back to the fire, and went 
through his favorite action of holding out both his hands for mine. 

" And this," said he, dandling my hands up and down in his, 
as he pulled at is pipe — "and this is the gentleman wot I made! 
The real genuine One! It does me good fur to look at you, Pip. 
All I stip'late is to stand by and look at you, dear boy ! " 

I released my hands as soon as I could, and found that I was 
beginning slowly to settle down to the contemplation of my condi- 
tion. What 1 was chained to, and how heavily, became intelligi- 
ble to me, as I heard his hoarse voice, and sat looking up At his 
furrowed bald head with its iron-gray hair at the sides. 

"I musn't see my gentleman a tooling it in the mire of the 
streets: there musn't he no mud on Am boots. My gentleman must 
have horses, Pip ! Horses t > ride, and horses to drive, and horses 
for his servant to ride and drive as Well. Shall colonists havot.h«ir 



I 



•204 ' GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

horses (and blood 'uns, if you please, good Lord !) and not ray 
London gentleman ! No, no. We'll show "'em another pair of 
shoes than that, Pip; won't, us?" 

He took out of his pocket a great thick pocket- bodk, bursting 
with papers, and tossed it on the table. 

" There's something worth spending in that there book, dear . 
boy. It's yourn. All I've got ain't mine; it's yourn. Don't you 
be afraid on it. There's more where that come from. I've come 
to the old country fur to see my gentleman spend his money hk& a 
gentleman. That'll be my pleasure. My pleasure 'nil be fur to 
see him do it. And blast you all!" he wound up, looking round 
the cornice of the room and snapping his fingers once with a- loud 
crack, " blast you every one, from the judge in his wig to the col- 
onist a stirring up the dust, I'll show a better gentleman than the 
whole kit on you put together ! " 

"Stop ! " said I, almost in a frenzy of fear and dislike, "I want 
1o speak to you. I want to know what is to be done. I want to 
know how you are to be kept out of danger; how long you aire go- 
ing to stay, what projects you have." 

" Look'ee here, Lip," said lie, laying his hand on my arm in a 
suddenly altered and subdued manner; "first of all, look'ee here. 
I forgot myself half a 'minute ago. What I said was low ; that's 
wot it was; low. Look'ee here, Pip. Look over it. I ain't a 
going to be low." 

" First," I resumed, half groaning, "what precaution can be ta- 
ken against your being recognized and seized I" 

" No, dear boy," he said, in the same tone as before, "that don't 
go first. Lowness goes first. I ain't took so many year to make 
a getleman not without knowing wot's due to him. Look'ee here, 
Pip. I was low ; that's wot I was : low. Look over it, dear 
boy." 

Some sense of the grimly-ludicrous moved me to a fretful laugh, 
as I replied, " I have looked over it. In Heaven's name, don't 
harp upon it ! " 

" Yes, but look'ee here," he persisted. " Dear boy, I ain't come 
so fur to be low. Now, go on, dear boy. You was saying — " 

" How are you to be guarded from the danger you have in- 
curred ! " 

" Well, dear boy the danger ain't so great. Without I was in- 
formed against, the danger aint so much to signify. There's Jag- 
gers, and there's Wemmick, and there's you. Who else is there 
to inform 'I " 

, " Is there no chance person who might identify you in the street] ?" 
said I, bitterly. 

" Well," he returned, "there ain't many. Nor yet I don't in- 
tend to advertise myself in the papers by the name A. M., come 
back from Botany Bay ; and years have rolled away, and who's to 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS' aG5 

gain by it ? Still, look'ee here, Pip. If the danger had been fifty 
tinfes as great, I should ha' come to see you, mind you, just the 
same." 

" And how long do ymi remain ?" 

" How long !*' said he taking his black pipe from his mouth, 
and dropping his jaw as he stared at me. "I'm not a going back. 
I've come for gopd," 

" Where are you to live ( " said I. " What is to be done with 
you 1 Where" will you he sale ! " 

"Dear hoy," he returned, "there's disguising wigs can be 
bought for money, and there's hair powder, and spectacles, and 
black (dot hes— shorts, and wot not. Others has done it sale afore., 
and wot others has done afore others can do agen. As to the 
where and how of living, dear hoy, give me your own opinions on 
it- ' 

"You take it smoothly, now," said I. "but you were very Be 
rious last night when you swore it was Death." 

'• And so 1 swear it is Death," said he, putting his pipe back 
in his mouth, "and Death by the rope, in the open street not fur 
from this, and it's serious that you should fully understand it to 
he so. Wot then, when that's once done? Here I am. To go 
hack now 'ud he as had as to stand ground — worse. esides, Pip, 
I'm here, because I've meant it by you, years and years. As to 
wot I dare, Dm a old bird now. as lias dared all manner of traps 
since first he was fledged, and Dm not afraid to perch upon a 
scare-crow. If there's Death hid inside of it. there is, and let 
him come out, and I'll lace him, and then I'll believe in him and 
not afore. And now let me have a look at my gentleman agen." 

Once more he took me by both hands and surveyed me with an 
air of admiring proprietorship; smoking with great complacency 
all the while. 

It appeared to me that I could do no better than secure him 
some quiet lodging hard by, of which he might take possession 
when Herbert returned: whom I expected in I wo or three days. 
That the secret must he confided to Herbert as fi matter of una- 
voidable necessity, even if I could have put the immense relief I 
should derive from sharing it with him out of the question, w;i- 
plain tome, But il was by no means so plain to Mr. Provis (I 
resolve/3 to call him by that name), who reserved his consent to 
Herbert's participation until he should have seen him and formed 
a favorable judgment of his physiognomy " And even then, dear 
boy," said he, pulling a greasy little clasped black Testament out 
of his pocket, "we'll have him on his oath." 

To state that my terrible patron carried this little black book 
about the world solely to swear people on in cases of emergency, 
would he to state what 1 never quite established — hut this 1 can 
say. that 1 never knew him to put it to any other use. The hook 



I 



2 68 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

itself had the appearance of having heen stolen from some court 
of justice, and perhaps his knowledge of its antecedents combined 
with his own experience in il.at wise, gave him a reliance on its 
powers as a sort <i' legal spell or charm. On this first occasion of 
his producing it, I recalled how he had made me swear fidelity in 
the church-yard long ago, and how he had described himself last 
night as swearing to his resolution in his solitude. 

As he was at present dressed in a sea-faring slop suit, in which 
he looked as if. he had a parrot or two and a few 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 den- 
tist. 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 pow- 
der. Lastly, as he had not yet been seen by the laundress or her 
niece, he was to keep himself out o! their view until his change of 
dress was made. 

I-t would seem a simple matter to decide on these precautions ; 
but in my dazed, not to say distracted, state, it took so long tliat 
I did not get out to further them until two or three in the after- 
noon. 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 know edge 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 Mr. 
Provis. I then went from shop to shop, inakin/ such purchases 
as were necessary to the change in his appearance. This busi- 
ness transacted, I turned my face on my own account, to Little 
Britain. Mr. .Taggers was at his desk, but, seeing me enter, got 
up immediate. y and stood before his fire". 

" aow, Pip," said he, "be careful. 

"I will, Sir," «I returned. For I had thought well of what I 
was going to say coming along. 

" Don't commit yourself," said Mr., Jaggers, "and don't com- 
mit any one. You understand — any one. Don't tell me any 
thing: I don't want to know any tiling; I am not curious." 

Of course I saw that he knew the man was come. 

" I merely want, Mr. Jaggen," 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 ' to!d,' or ' informed V " 
he asked me, with his head on one side, and not looking at me, but 
looking in a iisteniug way to the liuor. " Told would seeui to im- 



I 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. OCT 

ply verbal communication. You can't, have verbal communica- 
tion with a man in New South Wales." 

" 1 will say informed, Mr. Jaggers." 

"Good." 

" I have been informed by a person named Abel Magwilch that 
he is the benefactor 80 long unknown to me." 

"That is the man," said Mr. Jaggers, " — inNew South Wales/ ' 

" And only he 1 ' said I. 

"And only he," said Mr. Jaggers. 

" 1 am not so unreasonable. Sir, as to think you at all responsi- 
ble for ray mistake and wrong conclusions ; But 1 always sup- 
posed it was Miss Havisham." 

"As you say, Pip," returned Mr. Jaggers, turning his eyes 
upon me coolly, and taking a bite at his forefinger. " 1 am not at 
all responsible for that." 

'•*And yet it looked so like it, Sir," I pleaded, with a miserable 
heart. 

"Not a particle of evidence, Pip," said Mr. Jaggers, shaking 
his head and gathering up his skirts. "Take .nothing on its 
looks; lake every thing on evidence. There's no better rule.' 

" i have no more to say," said 1, with a sigh, after standing 
downcast for a little while. ■" I have verified my information, and 
there an end." *. 

" And Magwiteh#-in New South Wales — having at last dis- 
closed himself," said Mr. Jaggers, "you will comprehend, Pip, 
how rigidly throughout my communication with yon I have al- 
ways adhered to the strict lineal fact. There has never been the 
least departure from the strict line of fact. You are quite aware 
of that ?" 

'.♦ Quite, Sir." 

"1 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 slriel line of fact. 
1 a. so communicated to him another caution, lie appeared to me 
to have obscurely hinted in his letter at some distant idea he had 
of seeing you in England here. 1 cautioned him that I must hear 
no more of that ; that he was not likely to obtain a pardon; that 
lie was expatriated for the term of his natural life; and that his 
presenting himself in this country won d he an act of felony, ren- 
dering him liable to the extreme penalty of i lie law. I gave Mag- 
witch that caution," said Mr. daggers, looking hard at me; " I 
wrote it to New South Wales. He guided himself by it, no 
doubt." 

•• No doubt," said T. 

" 1 have been informed by Wemmiek," pursued Mr. Jaggers, 
still looking hard at me, "thai he has received a letter, under 
date Portsmouth, from a colonist of the name of Purvis, or — " 



9-63 * GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" Or Provis," I suggested. 

" Or Provis — thank you, Pip. Perhaps it is Provis ? Perhaps 
you know it's Provis ?" 

" Yes,'" said I. 

" Jusr so. 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 un- 
derstand, 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. 
i " Good-day, Pip," said Mr. J aggers, ottering his hand ; "glad 
to ha-ve seen you. In writing by post jo 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 bal- 
ance ; tor there is still a balance remaining in my charge. Good- 
day, Pip!" 

"We shook hands, and he looked hard at me us long as he could 
see me. 1 turned at the door, and he was sfill looking hard at 
me, while ihe two vile casts on the shelf seemed to be trying to get 
their eyelids open, and to force out of their swollen throats, " Oh, 
what a man he is ! " 

Wemmick was ouf, and though he had been at his desk he could 
have done nothing for me. 1 went straight back to the Temple, 
wh. re I found ihe terrible Provis drinking rum-and-water and 
smoking negro-head in safely. 

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 1 dressed him, and the better I dressed him, the more 
he looked like ihe 'slouching fugitive on ihe marshes. This effect 
on my anxious fancy was partly referrable, no doubt, to bis old 
face and manner growing more familiar to me ; but I believe, toe 
be 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 
gram 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 bis great horn-handled jack-knife and wiping ii on 
bis legs and cutting his food — of lifting light glasses and cups to 
his lips as if they were great pannikins — of chopping a wedge off 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 269 

bis bread, and soaking up with if the last fragments of gravy round 
and round his plate, as if to make the most, of an allowance, and 
then drying liis 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 T 
had conceded the powder alter overcoming the shorts. But 1 can 
compare the effect of it, when on, to nothing but the probable ef- 
fect 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 pretense, and seemed to come blazing 
out at the crown oi his head. It was abandoned as soon as tried, 
and he wore his grizzled hair cut short. 

Wm-ds cannot tell what a sense I hail, 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 sines of the easy 
chair, and his bald head tattooed with deep wrinkles falling for- 
ward on his breast, I would sit and look at him, wondering what 
he had done, loading biro 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 
1 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, bill for the nowledge that Herbert must soon come hack. 
Once 1 actually did start nut of lied in the night, and begin to 
dress myself in my worst clothes, hurriedly intending to leave him 
therewith everything else 1 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 rot ins in the long evenings and long nights, with the 
wind and the rain always rushing by. A ghost could tint have 
been taken and hanged on my account, and the consideration that 
he could be, and the dread that he would he, were no small addi- 
tion to my horrorsi When he was asleep or playing a complicated 
kind of Patience with a ragged pack of cards of his own — a game 
thai I never saw before or since, and in which he recorded his 
winnings by sticking his jack-knife into the table — when he was 
nnt engaged in either of these pursuits he would ask me to 
read to him — " Some French, dear hoy ! " While I complied, he, 
not comprehending a single word, would stand before the tire sur- 
veying me with the air of an exhibitor, and I would see him, be- 
tween the fingers of the hand with which I shaded my face, ap- 
ng in dumb show to the furniture to take notice of my pro- 
icy. The imaginary student pursued by the misshapen crea- 
ture he had impiously made Was not more wretched than I. pursu- 
ed by thu creature who hud made me, and recoiling from lam with 



270 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

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 ahout five days. Expecting Herbert all the time, I dared 
not go out, except when 1 took Provis for an airing after dark. — 
At length, one evening when dinner was over and 1 had dropped 
into a slumber, quite worn out — tor my nights had been agitated 
and my rest broken by fearful dreams — I was roused by the wel- 
come footstep on the staircase. Provis, who had been asleep too, 
staggered up at the noise 1 made, and in an instant 1 saw his jack- 
knife shining in his hand. 

1 '• Steady ! 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 yon, 
and again how are you? I seem to have been gone a twelvemonth ! 
Why, so I must have been, for you have grown thin and pale ! — 
Handel, my — Halloa ! I beg your pardon.' 1 

He was stopped in bis rattling on and Ids shaking hands with 
me by seeing l'rovis. Provis, regarding him with a fixed atten- 
tion, was slowly putting up Ids jack knife, and groping in anoth- 
er 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. coining forward, with 
his little clasped black book, and then addressing himself to Her- 
bert. " Take it in your right Irand. Lord strike you dead on the 
spot if you ever split in any way sumever ! Kiss it ! " 

" Do so, as he wishes it,'' I said to Herbert, So Herbert, look- 
ing wiih a friendly uneasiness at me, complied, and l'rovis imme- 
diately shaking hands with him, said, " how, you're on your oath, 
you know. And never believe me on mine if Pip don't make a 
gentleman on you ! " 



CHAPTER XLI. 



In vain should I attempt to describe the astonishment and dis- 
quiet of Herbert when he and I and Provis sit down before the 
hre, and 1 recounted the whole of the secret. Enough that I saw 
tuy own feelings, rejected in Herbert's fac«, and, not. leasl among 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 271 

them, my repugnance toward the man who bad done so much for 
me. 

What would alone have set a division between that man and us, 
if there had been no other dividing circumstan e, was Ins triumph 
in my story. Saving his troublesome sense of having been "low" on 
one occasion since his return — on which point he liegan to hold forth 
to Herbert the moment my revelation wasfinished — he had no percep- 
tion of the possibility of my finding any fault with my good for- 
tune. His boast that lie bad made me a gentleman, and thai he 
bad come to see me support the character on his ample resources, 
was made for me quite as much as for himself; and that il was a 
highly agreeable boast to both of us, and that we must both he very 
proud of it. was a conclusion quite established in his own mind. 

"Though, look'ee here. Pip's comrade," he said to Herbert, af- 
ter having discoursed for some time, " I know very well that once 
since 1 come bad; — for half a minute — I've been low. I said to 
Tip, I knowed as I had been low. But don't you fret yourself 
on that score. I ain't made Tip a gentleman, and Tip ain't 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 geh-teel muzzle on. Muzzled I have been sine 
that half a minute when 1 was betrayed into lowness, muzzled I 
am at the present time, muzzled 1 ever will be." 

Herberl said. "Certainly," but 'ooked as if there were no spe- 
cific consolation in this, and remained perplexed and dismayed. 
We were anxious for the time when he would gcto his h dging 
and leave us together; but be 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 (dosed upon him 1 experienced the first moment of relief 
I had known since the night ot his arrival. • 

Never qliite free trom an uneasy remembrance of the man on 
the stairs. 1 had always looked about me in taking my guest put 
after dark', and in bringing him back ; and 1 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 re- 
OOt persuade myself that any of the people within 
bight cared about my movements. The few who were passing 
passed on their several ways, and the street was empty when I 
tinned back into the Temp e. Nobody had come out at the gate 
With us, nobody went in at the gate with me. As 1 crossed by 
the fountain, I saw his lighted back windows looking bright and 
quiet, and when 1 stood for a lew moments, in the doorway of the 
building where I lived, before going up stairs, Garden Court was 
as si ill and lifeless as the staircase was when I ascended it. 

Herbert received me with open arms, and I had never fell be- 
fore, m l>ki*suliy, what it L* to bav<* a iriccd. W1i«d h*> hiul 



♦272 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

spoken some sound words of sympathy and encouragement, we 
sat down to consider the question, What was to be done? 

The chair that Provfs hafd occupied still remaining where it had 
stood — for he had a barrack way with him of hanging about one 
spot, in one unsettled manner, and going through one round of 
observances with his pipe and his negro-head and his jack-knife 
and his pack of cards, and' what not, as if it were all put down 
for him on a slate — I say, his chair remaining where it had stood, 
Herbert unconsciously took it, but next moment started out of it, 
pushed it away, and took another. He had no occasion to say 
after thart that he had conceived an aversion for my patron, nei- 
ther had I occasion to confess my own. We interchanged that 
confidence without shaping a syllable. 

" What," said I to Herbert, when he was safe in another chair, 
"what is to be done ?" 

" My pi or dear Handel," he replied, holding his head, " I am 
too stunned to think." 

" So was J, Herbert, when the blow first fell. Still, something 
must be done. He is intent upon various new expenses — horses, 
and carriages, and lavish appearances of all kinds. lie must be 
slopped, somehow." 

" Von mean that you can't accept — ?" 

"How caul?" I interposed, as Herbert paused. "Think of 
him ! Look at him !" 

An involuntary shudder passed over both of us. 

"Yet I am, afraid the dreadful truth is, Herbert, that he is at- 
tached to me, sironglv attached to me. Was there ever such a 
fate! ' 

" My poor dear Handel," Herbertjrepeated. 

"Then," said I, "after all, stopping short here, never taking 
another penny from kirn, think what I owe him already ! Then 
again : I am heavily in debt — very heavily for me, who have now 
no expectations at all — and I have been bred to no ca ling, and I 
am tit for nothing." 

"Well, well, well!' Herbert remonstrated. "Don't say tit 
for nothing." 

" What am I fit for? I know only one thing that I am fit for, 
and that is, to go for a soldier. And I might, have gone, my dear 
Herbert, but for the prospect of taking counsel with your friend- 
ship and affectum." 

Of course I broke down there; and of course Herbert, beyond 
seizing a warm grip of my hand, pretended not 1o know it. 

"Any how. my .dear Handel," said he, presently, "soldiering 
woi't do. If you were to renounce this patronage and these 
favors, I suppose you would do so with some faint hope of one 
day repaying what you have already had. Not very strong that 
hope if you went soldiering ! Besides, it's absurd. You wou;d 



GREAT EXPECTATION*. J?^ 

be infinitely better- in Clan-fleer's house, small as it is. 1 ;rm work- 
ing up toward a partnership, you know." 

';• !'(\lo\v ! lie little, suspected with whose money. 

"Bui there is another question." said rlerberfe, " Tl is is an 
ignorant, determined man. who has long had one fixed id 
than thai, ho seems to me (I may misjudge him) to be a man of a 
desperate ami tierce cha 

'• I know lie is." I returned. " Let. me tell you what evidence 
1 have seen of it " And I t«>ld him what I had not mentioned in 
my narrative; of that encounter with the other emu 

"See. then!" said Ileihert; "think of this! lie comes here 
at the peril of his life for the realization of his fixed idea. Tn the 
moment of realization, after all hip toil and waiting; you cut the 
ground from under his feet, destroy his idea, and make his gains 
worthless to him. Uo you see nothing that he might dp, unfler 
the disappointment .'" 

" f have seen it. Herbert, -and dreamed of it ever since the 
night of his arrival. Nothing has been in my thoughts so 
tinctly as his putting himself in the way of being taken." 

'•'I Men you may rely upon it," said Herbert, " flu mid 

be great danger of his d »ing it. That is bis power over you as, 
long as he remains in England, and that would be bis reckless 
course if you fofrsooR him." 

I was so struck by the horror of this idea, which had weighed 
upon me from the first, and the working out of which w.ould make 
me regard m self, in spme sort, as his murderer, that I could not 
rest in my chair but began pacing to and fro. X said fo Herbert, 
meanwhile, that even if 1'rovis were recognized and taken in 
of himself, 1 should be wretched as the cause, however innocently. 
Yes ; even though 1 was so wretched in having him at large and 
near me. and even though 1 would far, far rather have worked at 
the forge all the da\s ol than I Would have ever come to 

this ! 

But there was no staving off the question, What was to be 
done i 

"The first and the main thing to be done," said Herbert, "is 
to gel him out of England. You will have to go with him, and 
then he may be induced logo." 

"But get him where I will, could T prevent bis coming back V 

" My good Handel, is it not obvious that, with Newgate in the 
next street, there must be far greater hazard in yutirbreaking 
your mind to him and making him reckless here than elsewhere ' 
If a pretext to get him away could be made out of that other con- 
vict, or out of any thing else in his life now." 

"There, again!" said I, stopping before Herbert, with my 
open hands.held out as if they contained the desperation of the 
casu. " 1 know nothing of his life. It has almost made me mad 
11 



274 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

to sir. here of a night and see him before me, so bound up with my 
fortunes and .misfortunes,' and yet so unknown to me, except as 
the miserable wretch who terrified me two days in my childhood !•" 

Herbert got up, and linked his arm in mine, and we sTwwly 
walked to and fn> together, studying jfcfoe carpet. 

" Handei," said 'Herbert, stop-ping,' •■you feel convinced that 
you can take no further benefits front him ; do yon ?" 

"Fully. Surely you would, too, if you were in my place V 

"And you feel convinced that you must break with him V 

" Herbert, can you ask me ?" 

"And you have, and arc bound to have, that tenderness for the 
life he has risked on your account, that you must save him, if pos- 
sible, from throwing it away. Then you must get him out of 
England before you stir a finger to extricate yourself. That, 
done, extricate yourself, in Heaven's name,' and we' 1 see. if out 
together, dear old boy. ' 

It was a comfort to shake hands upon it,-and walk up arid down 
again, with only that done. 

"Now, Herbert," said I, "with reference to ,gaini 
knowledge of his history. There is but one way that I know of. 
I must ask him point-blank." 

• "Yes. Ask i.imT said Herbert, "when we sit at breakfasf in 
the morning." For Ire. had safe, on taking leave of Herbert, that 
he would come to breakfast with us. 

With ti'is project -formed, we went to bed. I bad the wildest 
dreams concerning him, and woke un refreshed ; I woke, too, to 
recover the fear wh'n-h I had lost in the night, of his being found 
o.t as a returned transport. Wa fing, I. never lost, thai h 

He came round at the appointed time, took out hi-- jack-knife, 
and sat down to his meal. He was full of plans "for his gentle- 
man's coming out strong, and like a gentleman." and urged me to 
begin speedily upon the pocket-book, which he had left in my pos- 
session. He considered the chambers and his own lodging as tem- 
porary residences, and advised me to look out at once for " a fash- 
ionable crib" in which he could have a "shake down,' near Hyde 
Park. When lie had made an end of his breakfast, and was wip- 
ing his knife on his leg, I said to him, without a wor ; of preface : 

"After you were gone last night I told my friend of the strug- 
gle that the soldiers found you engaged in on the marshes when 
we came up. You remember '. " 

" Remember ! " said he. " I think so. ! " 

"We want to know something about that man — and about you. 
It is strange to know no more about either, and particularly you, 
th it I was able to tell la-t night. Is not this as good a time as 
another for our knowing more ? " 

" Well !" he said, after consideration. "You're on your oath, 
you know, Pip's comrade?" 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. *76 

" Assurer iy," repljeid Herbert. 

•'As to anything I say. yon know," lie insisted. "The oath 
applies in i 

" I understand if" to do no'" 

"Ami fook'ea.fwrei Whatever 1 done, is worked out and paid 
for."' hi insi,icil again. 

" s ( , he ii." 

lie took out his blaok pipe and was going to (ill ii with negro- 
betfd, when, looking at the tangle of tohacco in his hand, hose 
to think it might perplex the thread of his narrative. He put it 
back again, stuok his pipe in a huttomhole of his coat, spread a 
hand on Cacb knee, an<!, aftar Riming an angry eye on the tire for 
a few silent moments, looked round at us and said what follows. 



CHAPTER XLII. 



" Dkak h »y, and Pir/s Comrade. I am not a going fur to telt 
you my life, like a song or a story-hook. Bui to give \\ you short 
and handy, I'll put it at mice 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've got it. That's my life pretty much, down to stieh 
times as I gol stripped off, arte* Tip stood my friend. 

"I've beeq done every thing to, pretty well — except hanged. — 
I've been looked up, as much as a silver tea-kettle. I've heen cart- 
ed here and carted there, and put out of this town and put out of 
that town, am! stuck'in Ihe stocks, and whipped and worried and 
drove. I've no more notion where I was horn than you have — if 
so much. 1 iirsl became aware of myself, down in Essex, a thiev- 
ing turnips for my living. Summun had run away from me — a 
man — n. tinker — and he'd took the fire with him, and left me very 
. 

" I know'd my name to he Magwitch, christen'd Abel. How 
did I know it I Much as 1 know'd the hirds"names in the hedg- 
es to he chaffinch, sparret, thrush. I might have thought it was 
all lies together, only as the lords' names come out true, I supposed 
mine did. 

■• So fur as I could find, there wam't a soul that see young Abel 
Magwiteh, with as little on him as iir him, hut what caught fright 
ai htm, and either drove him off or Mok .him up. I was took up, 
took up, took up, to that extent that I reg'larly grow'd up took 
up. 



me great expectations. 

" This is the way it was, that when T was a ragged little cree- 
tur as much to he pitied as ever I see (not that 1 looked in the 
glass, for there warn't many insides of houses known to me), 1 got 
the name of heing hardened. ' This is a terrible hardened one,' 
they mys to prison wisitors, picking out. inc. ' May bo said to live 
in jails, this boy.' Then they looked at me, and I looked at thorn, 
and they measured my head, some on 'em— 1 hey had better a meas- 
ured my stomach — and others on 'em giv me Tracts what 1 couldn't 
read, and made me speeches what I couldn't unnerstand. They 
always went on agen me about the Devi], But what the Devil was 
I to" do? I must put something into my stomaeh. mustn't J ?-— 
Howsomever, I'm a getting low, and 1 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 1 been over ready to give me work 
yourselves — a hit of a poacher, a bit of a laborer, a bit of a wag- 
oner, 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 desert- 
ing soldier in a Traveler's Rest, what lay hid up to the chin under 
a lot of Tatars, learnt me to read; and a traveling Dwarf 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 share of 
key metal still. 

, ".At Epsom races, a matter of twenty years ago, I got ac- 
quainted wi' a man whose skull I'd crack wi' This poker like the 
claw of a lobster, if I'd go1 it on this hob. His right name was 
Compey ; and 1 hat's the man, dear biy, what you see me pound- 
ing in the ditch, according to wot'you truly told your comrade ar- 
ter I was gone last night. 

" He set up fur a genlleman, this Compey, 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 <_ r enTleiblks. He was good- t 
looking too. It was the night afore the great race when I found 
him on the heath, in a booth that 1 know'd on. Him and some 
more were sitting among the tables when I went in, and the land- 
lord (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. 

" " Compey, 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 hand- 
some suit, of clothes. 

" ' To judge from appearances, you're out of luck,' says Compey 
to me. 

'"Yes, master, and I've neVer been in il much.' (I come out of 
Kingston Jail last, on a vagrancy committal. Not but what it 
might have been for something else; but it warn't.) 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 277 

"'Luck changes,' says Compey ; 'perhaps yours is going- to 
change.' 

" I says, ' I hope it may be so. there's room/ 

" ' What can yon Jo?' 

'•"'Eat and drink,' I Bays ; 'if you'll find I ;;ds.' 

"Compey laughed, looked ad me again very noticing, givmetive 
sfiirring.s, and appointed me for next night. Same place, 

I went to Compey next night, same place, and ( 'ompey took me 
on to he his man- and panhier. And what was ( 'ompey 's business in 
which wo was to go pardnors '. Compey's business was the swind- 
ling, handwriting forging, stolen bank-not^ passing, and suoh like. 
All sorts of traps as (.'ompey could set with his head, and keep his 
own legs oni of and get the prolits from and lei another man in 
for, was Compey's business. He'd no more heart than a iron tile, 
he w is as cold as death, and had the head of the Devil .ai'ore men- 
tioned. 

" There was another in with .('ompey as was ended Arthur — not. 
as being so christ -n'd, but as a surname. He was in a decline, and 
was a shadow to look at. Him and Compey had been in a bad 
thing with a rich lady some years afore, and they'd made a pot of 
mimey by it; but, Compey betted and gamed, and he'd have run 
through the king's taxes. So Yrihur was a dying, and a dying 
poor and with the horrors on him, and Compey 's wife (which Com- 
pey kicked mostly) was a having pity on him when she could, and 
>oy was a having pity on nothing and nobody. 

" I might a took warning by Arthur, but I didn't; and I won't 
pretend 1 whs partioler — for where hid be the good on it. dear 
boy and comrade? So I begun wi' ('ompey, and a poor tool 1 
was in his hands. Arthur lived at the top of Compey's house 
(over nigh Brentford it was), and Compey kepi a careful account 
him for board and lodging, in case he should ever get belter 
io work it out. But Arthur soon settled the account. The sec- 
ond or third time as ever I see him, he come a tearing down into 
Compey's parlor late at night, in only a Manuel gown, with his hair 
all in a sweat, ami he says to Comp"y's wife, ' Sally, she really is 
up stairs alonger me now, and I can'! ge! rid of her. She's all in 
white,' he says. ' wi' white Mowers in her hair, and she's awful mad, 
and she's got a white shroud hanging over her arm, and she says 
she'll put it on me at live in the morning. 

- tys Compey ! ' Why. you fool, don't you know she's got a 
living body I And how should she be up there, without coming 
through the door, or in at the window, and up the. stairs?' 

" ' 1 don't know how she's there,' -ays Arthur, shivering dread- 
ful with the horrors,, 'but sl^j's standing in the corner at the toot, 
of the bed. awful mad. And over where her heart's broke — you 
broke it — there's drops of blood.' 

" Compey spoke hardy, but he was always a coward. ' Co up 



278 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

alonger tin's driveling sick man,' he says to his wife, 'and Mag- 
witch, lend her a hand, will you V But he never come nigh him- 
self. 

" Compey's wife and me took him up to bed agen, and he raved 
most dreadful. 'Why look at her!' he cries out. 'She's t 
shaking the shroud at me ! Don't you see lier ? Look at her 
eyes ! Ain't it awful to see her so mad V Next he cries, ' She'll 
put if on me, and then I'm dor.e for ! Take it away from her, 
take it away !' And then he eatched hold of us, and kep on a 
lalkjng to her, and answering of her, till I half believed I see her 
myself,,,. 

" Compey's wife, being used to hjm. giv him some liquor to g' j t 
the horrors off, and by-and-by he quieted. ' Oh, she's gone ! Bias 
tier keeper been for her?' 'he say. 'Yes,' says Compey's wife. 
' Did you tell him to lock her and bar her in V ' Yes.' ' And to 
■hat ugly thing away from her V ' Yes, yes, all rig'it.' 'You're 
a good creetur,' he says; ' don't leave me, whatever you do, and 
thank you !' 

"He rested pretty quiet till it might want a few minutes of' 
five, and then he starts up with a scream, and screams out, ' Here 
she is! file's got the shroud again. She's unfolding it. She's 
ing out of the corner. She's coming to the bed. Hold me 
both on you — one of each side — don't Jet her touch me with it. 
Hah ! she missed me that time. Don't let her throw it over my 
shoulders. Don't let her bit me uptogei it round me. She's 
6 up. Keep me down!' Then he lifted hiiii.-elf up hard, 
and was dead. 

" Compey took it easy enough as a good riddance for both sides. 
Him and .me was soon busy, and first he swore me (heing ever 
artful) on tny. own book — this here little black, book, dear boy, 
what I swore your comrade on. 

"Not to go into the things that Compey planned and 1 none — 
which 'ud take a week — I'll simply say to you, dear boy. and Pip's 
comrade, that that man got me inlo such nets as made me ids 
black slave. 1 was always in debt to bim, always under his thumb, 
always a working, always a getting into danger. He was younger 
than me, but he'd got craft, and he'd got learning, and he over- 
matched me five hundred times told and n-o mercy. My Missis as 
I had the hard time wi' — Stop though! I ain't brought her in — " 

He looked about him in a confused way, as if he jhad lost his 
place in the boot of his remembrance; and he turned his face to 
the fire, and spread his 'hands broader on his knees, and lifted them 
off and put them on again. 

" There ain't no need to go into j£," he said, when he looked 
round once more. . " Th.- time wi' Compey was a' most as hard a 
time as ever I had ; that said, all's said. Did I tell you as 1 was 
tried, alone, for misdemeanor, while with Compey ?" 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 279 

T answered, No. 

" Well !" he said, " T was, and got convicted. As to took op 
on suspicion, that was twice or three times in the four or five 
thai ii lasted; hut evidence was walftirig. At last me and Com- 
]»ey was both committed for felony — o e of putting stolen 

no'ics in circulation — and there was oilier feharg** behind. Cortl- 
•ivstonn', ' Separate defences, no communication/ and that 
all. And I was so miserable poor that 1 sold all the clothes 
I had, except what- hung on my ' " 1 could.ajet Jaggers. 

" When w>' \v.,s ioit in the dock, 1 noticed firsl of all what a 
gentleman Co*ftpey -looked, wi' his curly hair and his black clothes 
and his white poVk?t-hari ikerchief, and what a common sort of 
wretch I looked. When t he prosecution opened and the evid 
was put short, aforehand, I noticed how heavy it all bore on me, 
and how light on him. . When the evideice wis giv' in the box, I 
lioriced Imw it was always me that had come for'ard. and could be 
swore to. how it- was always me that the money had beef) paid to, 
how it was always me that had seemed to work the tliinir and gel 
the profit. Knt, when the fl*fen«ce come on. then I see the plan 
plainer; '■' -lor' tor Compey, ' My lord and gentle- 

here you hav- bu, side by side, two persons as your 

ate wide ;■ one, the younger, well brought up, who 
,vill b i« lite elder, fll brought up, who wud 

lie spoke !;> as a hardened offender; one, the younger, seldom if 

only suspected ; f other, 
lie elder, always seen in 'em and always wi' his guilt brought 
home, i 'an you doubt, if there is but one in it, which is the one. 
and, if there is two in it, which is much the worst oneV And 
such like. Ami wlcn il character, warn't it Compey as 

and warfPt. it his school-fellows as was in this 
position and in that, and warn't it him as had been know'd by wit- 

rlulis and Societies, ami nowt to ids disadvam 
And warn'i il me as had and as had been know'd 

up hill and down dale in Bridewells and Lock-Ups j And 9 

Hi-making. warn't it Compey as could speak to 'em 
to face dropping every now and then into his white pocket - 
handkercher — ah ! and wi' verses in 1, . too — and warn 

S could only say. ' < Jentlemen, this man at my side is a most 
precious rascal V And when the verdict come, warn't it. Compo.y 
as was recommended to mercy on account of good character and 
bad company, and giving up all tlie information lie could agen me. 
and warn't it me as got never ft word but Guilty? And when I 
to Compey, 'Once out of this court, I'll smash that face of 
yourn V ain't It Compey as prays the . fudge to be protected, and 
two turnkeys stood betwixt us I And when we're sentenced, 
ain't it him as u years and me fourteen, and ain't it liim 

as the Judge is sorry for. because he might a done so well, amd 



260 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

ain't it me as the Judge perceives to be a man of wiolent passions, 
likely to come to worse I" 

He had worked himself into a state of great excitement, hut he 
checked it, took two or three- short breaths, swallowed as often, 
and stretching out his hand toward me said, in a reassuring man- 
ner, " I ( ain't a going to be low, dear boy V 

He i sated himself that he took out his handkerchief and 

wiped his ''ace and head and neck and hands, before he could 

go Oil. 

"'i had sjjftil to Compey that I'd smash that face ot his, and I 
swoii uishmiiie! to do it. We was in the same prison- 

ship, bin I couldn't get at him, for long, though 1 tried. At 
: come behind him and' hit him on the cheek ro turn him round 
and get a smashing one at him, when I was seen and seized. The 
that ship warn't a strong one, to a judge of black- 
holes that could swim and dive. I escaped to jhe shore, and I 
: hiding among the graves there, envying them as was in 'em 
and all over, when first I see my buy !"' 

lie regarded me, with a look of affection that made him almost 
abhorrent lo me again, though I had felt great pity for him. 

" By my i*>y I was giv to understand as Comply was out. on 
them marshes too. Upon my soul, I half believe n, escaped in 
his terror to get tpiit of me, not knowing it was me, as had got 
ashore. J hunted him down. 1 smashed his face. ' And now,' 
says I. 'as the worst thing I can do, caring nothing lor m 
I'll drag you back.' And I'd have swum ofi', iowi); : u him by 
hair, if it had come to that, and I'd a got him aboard without the 
soldiers. 

" Of course he'd much the best of it to the last — bis character 
was so good. He had escaped when he was made hair wild by me 
and my murderous intentions ; and his punishment was light. I , 
was [iut in irons, brought to trial again, and sent for life, i didn't 
slop for life, (icar boy and Pip's comrade, being here." 

He wiped himself again, as he had done before, and then slowly 
took his tangle of tobacco from his pocket, and plucked his pipe 
from his button-hole, and slowly tilled it, and began to smoke. 

" Is he dead ?" I asked, after a silence. 

" Is who dead, dear boy '.'" 

.••Compey." 

"He hopes 1 am, if he's alive, you may be sure," with a tierce 
look. A I never heerd no, more of him. v 

Herbert had been writing with his pencil in the cover of a book. 
He softly pushed the book over to me, as Provis stood smoking 
with his eyes on the fire, and I read in it: 

"Young Havisham's name was Arthur. Compey is the man 
who professed to be Miss Havisham's lover." 



GJJEAT EXPECTATIONS. 2*1 

I shut ijic hafrk and nodded slightly to Herbert, and pur the 
book by; kill we neither of us said anything, and both looked at 
1'rovis as lie stood suiokin ■ tire. 



CHATTER XETII. 

houkl i pause lo ask how inocfa *f my shrinking from 
1'rovis might Ire traced to Estella '. Why should I loiter on my 
road, v the state of mind in which I had tried to rid 

my sen &he prison before meeting her al thecoaeh- 

olliee, with the state of mind in 'which i now retU'cted on the abyss 
between Esiclla, in her pride and beauty, and the Retained trans- 
port whom 1 harbored I The road would, be none the smoother 
lor it ; the end would be none the better- tor it : lie would nut be 
helped, nor 1 extenuated. 

pew fear had been engendered in my mind by this Narrative ; 
or, rather, his narrative had given form and purpose to the fear 
thai was already there. If Compey were alive and should disoov- 

is return, I could hardly doubt the "consequence. That I 

pej stood in morial fear of him, neither of the two could know 

much better than I ; and that any such man as that man had been 

.ihed to be would hesitate to release himself for good from a 

nemy, by the sale means of heeoming an informer, was 

scarce!;, to he imagined. 

.cr had i breathed, and never would 1 breathe — or so 1 re- 
solved — a word of Estella to 1'rovis. But 1 said to Herbert thai, 
before I could, go abroad, I must see both Estella and Miss : 
isham. This was when we were left alone on the night of tin 
when Pravijj told us his story. 1 resolved to go out to Richmond 
next day. and 1 went. 

On my presenting myself at Mrs. Brandley's, Estclla's maid was 
called to tell me that Estella bad gpone into the country. Where? 
To Satis House, as usual. Not as usual, I said, for she had never 
yet, gone there without me ; when coining back? There 

, mi air of reservation in the answer which increased my per- 
plexity, and the answer was that her maid believed she was only 
coming back at all for a little while. 1 could make not ii; 
this, except that it. was meant that 1 should make nothing of it, 
and 1 went home again in complete diseomliture. 



283 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. 

Another night consultation with Herbert after Provis- had gone 
home (I always took him honie, and always looked well "about rae), 
led us to the conclusion that nothing should fee said about going 
abroad until I came back from Miss Havisham's. In the mean 
rime, Herbert and I were to consider separately what it would be 
best to say — whether we should devise 'any pretense of being afraid 
that he was u\uWr suspicious observation ; or whether I, wdio had 
never yet been abroad, should propose an expedition. We both 
knew. that I had but to propose anything, and he would consent. 
We agreed that his remaining many days in his present hazard was 
not to be thought of. - 

Next day 1 had the meanness to feign that, I was under a binding 
promise to go down to Joe ; but I was capable of almost any mean- 
ness toward Joe or his name. Provis was to be strictly careful 
while 1 was gone, and Herbert was to take the charge, of him that 
I had taken. 1 was U> he absent only one night, and, on my re- 
turn, the gratihVati m of his impatience for my starting as a gentle- 
man on a greater scale was to be begum. It occurred to me then — 
and as i afterward 'found to He.be'it also — that he might be best 
got away across the water on that" pretense — as, to make purchas- 
es, or the uke. 

Having thus cleared the way for my expedition to -Miss Havi- 
sham's, 1 set off by the early morning coach before it was yet light. 
and was out on the open country-road when the day came creeping 
on, halting and whimpering ami shivering, and, \vrapped in patches 
of cloud and rags of mist, like a beggar. When we drove up to 
the Blue Boar after a drizzly ride, whom should I see come out un- 
der 'he gateway, oothpick in 'hand, to look at -the coach, but Bent- 
ley Drtunmle ! 

As he pretended not to see me, I pretended not to see him. It 
was u very lame prelcn: I h sides; the lamer, because we 

both went inti --room, where he, had just finished his break- 

fast ami where I ordered mine. It was poisonous to me to see him 
in the town, for I very well knew why he, had come tin-re. 

Pretending to read a smeary newspaper long out of date, which 
had nothing half so legible in its local news as the foreign matter 
of coffee, pickles, tish, sauces, gravy, melted 'butter, and wine, with 
which it was sprinkled all over, as if it had taken the measles in a 
highly irregular form, 1 sat at my table while he stood before t .e 
fire. By degrees it became an enormous injury to me that he stood. 
before the tire, and I got up, determined to have my share of it. 
I had to put my hand behind his legs for the poker when I went 
up to the hre-place to stir the tire, but still pretended not to know 
him. . * 

" Is this a cut ? " said Mr. Drummle. 

" Ob !" said i, poker in hand, "it's you, is it? How do 
do ? I was wondering who it, was who kept the fire off." 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 2!» 

With Wmt, T poked tremendously, and having jk|fc|fi, planted 
myself side by side with Mr. Drummle, my shotiNvffMfefrdd and 
k to the life. **S • 

" You have just comedown j " said Mr. Drummle, edging me a 
little away with his shoulder. 

" Yes," said 1, fjdging him a little away with my shoulder. 

'■ Beastly place," said Drummle. ? Your part or the country, 1 
think ?" » 

" i , -sented. " I am told it's very like Shropshire." 

" Not in the least like it." said Drummle. 

Here Mr." Drumnde looked at his boots, and 1 looked at ffrine ; 
andit.hen Mr. Drummle looked a! my hoots, and 1 looked at his. 

" llave you been here long .'" 1 asked determined not to yield an 
inch 01 the fire. 



Lonii' eiiouji'h to he tired of it," returned Drummle, pretending 
liialiy determined. 
. here long ?" 
"( 'an't .say." answered Mr. Drummle. " Do you V 
" Quil'l say.' said I. 

I felt here, through a tingling in try blood, that if Mr. Drum- 

mle's shoulder liad claimed aiioiher hair'sdtreadlh of room, 1 should 

have jerked him into the window; equally, that if my own shoiil- 

,d ufged a similar claim, Mr. Drummle would have jerked 

me into the nearest hox. lie whistled a little. So did I. 

"Large tract of marshes about here, 1 helieve ! ' said Drum- 
mle. 

"les. Whal " said I. 

Mr. Drummle looked at me. ami then at my hoots, and then said, 

Lnt] laughed. 
" Are you an u el, Mr. Drummle ?" 

" \..," said he, " not particularly. I am gomg out for a 
in the .-addle. I mean to explore those marsln i- iscnieiit. — 

Out-of-the-way villages there, they tell me. Curious little public 
ses — and smithies — and that. Waiter ! " 

■ s, Sir." 
" Is that horse of ine ready '." 

ht round to the door. Sir." 
'• 1 say. took here, you, so-. Tin- lady won't ride to-day ; the 
weather won't do." 

ry good, sir." 
• "And 1 don't dine, because I'm going to dine at the lady's." 
" Very l 

Then Drummle glance with an insolent triumph on his 

gre&t-jowled face ihat cut me to the heart, dull as he was, and 80 
exasperated m felt inclined to take him in my arms as the 

robber in the story-hook is .said to have taken the old lady, and 
seat him .on the fire. 



'> 34 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

One thing, was manifest to both of us, and that was, that until 
relief came neither of us could relinquish ihefire. There we stood, 
well squared up b- fore it, shoulder to shoulder, and loot to foot, 
with our hands behind us, not budging an inch. The horse was 
visible outside i . the drizzle at the door, my breakfast was put on 
the table, Druinmle's was cleared away, the waiter invited me to 
begin, I nodded, we both stood our ground. 

" Have you been to thj Grove sine!?" said Drummle. 

" No," said 1, " I had quite enough of the Finches the last time 
I was there." 

" Was i hat wheti we had a difference of opin/ioh ?" 

"Yes," 1 replied, very shortly. 

"Come, come! They k-vf you off easily enough," sneered 
Drummle. "You shouldn't .'nave lost your temper." 

"Mr. Drummle," said I, ""you are not competent, to give ad- 
vice on that subject. When I lose my temper (not that I admit 
having done so on that occasion) 1 don't throw glasses.'' 

" I do," said Drummle. 

After glancing at him once 'qV twice in an increased state of 
smouldering ferocity, I said : 

"Mr. Drummle, I did not seek this conversation, and I don't 
think it ;m ajgreeab e one." 

" 1 am sure it's not, ' said he, superciliously, over his shoulder ; 
" I don't, think any thing about it," 

"And therefore," 1 went on, "with your leave, I will suggest 
that we hold no kind of conversation in future." 

"Quite my opinion," said Drivmmle, "and what I should have 
suggested myself, or done — more likely — without suggesting. 
But, don't lose your temper. Haven't you lost enough without, 
that ?" 

■' What do you mean. Sir ?" 

" Wai-ler!" said Drummle, by way of answering me. 

The waiter reappeared. 

"Look here, you Sir. You quite understand that the young 
lady don't ride to-day, and that 1 dine at the young lady's?" 

"Quite so, Sir." 

When the waiter had felt m\ fast-cooling tea-pot with the palm 
of his hand, and had looked imploringly at me, and had gone out, 
Drummle, careful not to move the shoulder next me. took a cigar 
from his pocket and bit the end off, but showed no sign of stirring. 
Choking and boiling as I was, I felt that we could not go a word 
further without introducing Estella's name, which I could not en- 
dure to hear him utter; and therefore 1 looked stonily at the op- 
posite wall, as it there were no one present, and forced myself to 
silence. H«w long we might have remained in this ridiculous 
position it is impossible to say, but for the iucursion of three 
thriving, farmers — laid on by the waiter, I am inclined to think— 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. W5 

who .came into the coffee-room awbottoning their great coats and 
rubbing their hands, and before whom, as they charged at the 
tire, we were obliged to give way. 

I saw him through the window, seizing his horse's mane, and 
mounting in his hlundoring hrutal foamier, and sidling and hack 
Wig away. I thought he was gone when he came hack, < ailing for 
a light for the cigar in his mouth, which he had forgotten. A 
man in a dust-colored dress appeared. with what was wanted — i 
could not have said from wl ere: whether trom the inn yard, or 
ihe street, or where not — and as l»rumn le leaned down from the 
saddle and lighted his cigar and laughed, with a jerk of his head 
toward the coffee-roona windows, the slouching shoulders and rag- 
ged' Ifair of this man. whose hack was tow aid inc. reminded me of 
( )rlick. 

Too heavily out of sorts to care much at The time whether it 
Were lie or not. or after al! to touch the breakfast. I washed the 
weatheraud the jminie\ from ny face and hands, and Weill out to 
the 11 1 e in or aide <jld house that it would have heen so much the 
better for me never to have entered, never to have seen. 



CHAPTER XLIV. 



In the room where the dressing-tal^e stood and where the wax- 
lies hurtied on the wall. 1 found Miss Havisham ami Ksiella ; 
Miss Havisham sealed on a settee near the tire, and Eslela on a 
cushion at her fret. Estella was kninii g. atld Miss Havisham 
was lookit g on. Tl v\ belli raised their" eyes as 1 went in, and 
both saw an alteration in me. I derived that from the look hey 
interchanged! 

' nd what wind." said Miss Havisham. " blows vou here. 
Pip V 

Though she looked steaPdity at me I saw- she was rather con- 
fused. Estella pausing for a moment in her knitting with her c\ es 
Upon me. and then going on, I fancied that 1 read in the action of 
her fit gers as phai)i!\ a- it si e 1 ad iold me in the dumb alphabet, 
that she perceived 1 had dirfcovere^j nfy real benefactor. 

".Miss IJa\b-hain." said I, " 1 went to Richmond yesterday to 
speak to Estella, and finding thai some wind had blown her here. 
1 followed." 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

avishara motioning to me for Ihe third or fourth time to 
sit down:, 1 look the chair by the dressing-table which I had often 
seen her i With all that ruin at my fee* and about me, it 

seemed a natural place for me t hat day. 

" What 1 had to say to Kstella, Miss Havisham, T will say be- 
;nly — in a lew moments. It will not surprise you, 
ii will not displease you. 1 am as unhappy as you can ever have 
meant me to be."' 

Miss lla\isliam continued to look steadily at me. I could see 
in the action of Eslella's lingers as they worked that she attended 
lo what I saiil, but ...she did not look lip, 

" 1 have found out, who my patron is. It is not a fortunate 
very, and is riot likely ever, to enrich me in reputation, station, 
fortune,, any thing. There are reasons why 1 must say no more or 
lhat.- It is not my secret, but another's." 

'As 1 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 ideally come here as any other chance 
boy .might have come — as a kind of servant, to* gratify a want oyfc- 
whim, and to be paid'ibr it?" u ^' 

"Ay, Pip," replied Miss Havisham, steadily nodding*her head ; 
" you did." 

'• And that Mr. Jaggers — " 

"Mr. daggers," said Miss Havisham, faking me up in a firm 
tone, " bad 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 toward numbers of peo- 
ple, and it might easily arise. Be tliat as it may, it did arise, and 
was not brought about by any one." i 

Any one might have seen in her haggard face that there was no 
suppression or evasion so far. 

"But when 1 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 yoo go on." 

"Was that, kind?" 

" Who am I," cried Miss Havisham, striking her stick upon the 
floor and Hashing into wrath so suddenly that Kstella glanced up 
at her in surprise, " whom am 1, 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. 1 told her so, as she sat brooding after this outburst. 

" Well, well, well ! ; ' she said. " What else ?" i 

" I was liberally paid for my old attendance here." said I, to 
soothe her, " in being apprenticed, and I have asked, these ujies- 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 287 

tions only for my o\sn information. Wbal follows lias another 
(and 1 no e iimrr disinterested) purpose. In ■umoring my mis- 
. Miss Ilavisham, you punished — practiced on — perhaps you 
will supply whatever t«jm expresses yift n. without of- 

fence — your self-seeking relations ?" 

•• ! .:: ; ." :: : <i she. •• Why, they would I : So would 

What has been my history, that 1 should he al the pains of 
entreating cither them or voir not fa have ii so .' Yo, t made your 
snares. I never made, them.' 
ItJBjC until she was <| - ii< t again — for this, too, flashed out of 
ml sud*den way — 1 we; 
• 1 have been thrown among one family of your relations, B 
pavi I have he a'ntly among them since 1 went to 

I know . been as honestly under my delu- 

sion as! myself. Apd I should !.o false and base if J did no 

whether it is acceptable to you or no, and whether you are 

inclined to give credence to it o'r no, that you deeply wrong both 

Mr. Matthew Pocket a "d his son Herbert if you suppose them to 

iherwise ihan generous, upright, open, and incapable of any 

tiling designing or mean." 

" They ate your friends,'' Sat ' avishani. 

'•They made themselves my frj id I, "when they sup- 

posed me to have superseded them; and when Sarah Pocket, Miss 
,s. Camilla w< .ds, I think." 

Tins contrasting of them with I seemed, 1 was glad to* 

see, to do them good with her. She I me keenly foe a lit- 

_,tle while, and then said, qujetjy, 
" What do you wanl for them T 

'{ Only," said I,'" that vj»h would not confound them with the 
Pliey may he of the same blood, but, believe me. thej 
!' the same nature." 

ill looking at me ki avisham n 

'• Wliat do you want- for them ?" 

"1 am lWit so cunning, yon sec," I said, in answer, conscious that 
da little, " as that I could hide i if I de- 

sired, that 1 do want somcii, ham if you would 

fieri a lasting service in life, 
nature of t*e witfaoul 

knowledge, 1 could show you how." 

" Why must it ! .,.,], 

iig her hands upon her n, U p n them, that 

•<■ atti n!i' 

•W I. " I tice myself more than two 

. without his I I don'l want '" be betrayed. 

Wh\ I fail in m_\ ability to fini*h k I cannot explaki. It 

■•r person s and m>i mine." 
She gradually withdrew her e^es from ujc, and turned them on 



283 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

the 'fire. After \jafching it for what appeared in the silence and 
by the light of the slowly wasting candles to he a hmg rime, she 
was roused by the collapse of some of the red coals, and looked 
toward me again — at first vacantly, and then with ,a gradually con- 
centrating attention. All this time Estella knitted on. When 
Aiiss llavishain had fixed her attention on me, she said, speaking 
as if there had been no lapse in our dialogue : 

" What else I " 

"Estella,"' said I, turning to her now, and trying to command 
■my ttemblhlg voice* " you know how 1 love you. Yon know that 
I have loved you long and dearly." 

She raised her eyes to my face on being thus addressed, and her 
finders plied their work", and she looked at me with an unmoved 
countenanca I saw that Miss Havisham glanced from me to her, 
and from her to me. 

" 1 should have said this sooner, hut for my long- mistake. ' Yb 
induced me to jjjope that Miss Haviskam meant us for one another. 
While I thought you could not help yourself,, as it were, 1 re- 
frained from saying it, But I must say it now." 

Preserving her unmoved countenance, and with her fingers still 
going, Estella shoOk her head. 

"1 know." said l,in answer to that action; "I know. J have 

no hope that I shall ever call you mine, Estella. 1 am ignorant 

e what may become of me very soon, how poor- I may he, or where 

I may go. Still, I love yon ; L have loved you ever since I first 

saw yon in this house." 

Looking at me perfectly unmoved and with her fingers busy, she 
shook her head again. 

"It would have l>een cruel in Miss Havisham, very cruel, to prac- 
tice on the affections of a poor hoy, and to torture me through all 
these years with a vain hope and an idle pursuit, if she had reflect- 
ed on the gravity of what she did. iJut I think she did not. I 
think that in the endurance of her own snflerring she forgot mine, 
Estella." 

I saw Miss Ilavisbam put her hand to her heart and hold it there, 
as she sat looking l-y turns at Estella and at me. 

"It seems." said Est< Ua, very calmly. '• that there are senti- 
ments, fancies — I don't know how to call them — which I am not 
able to comprehend. When you say that you love me,. I know 
what you mean, as a form of words; but nothing more. You ad- 
dress nothing in my breast, you touch nothing there. 1 don't care 
for what you say at all. I have tried to warn \ou of this ; now, 
have I not ? " 

1 said ip a miserable manner, "Yes." 

"Yes. But vou wouldn't he warned, for you thought I didn't 
mean & Now did you not 1 " 



WHEAT EXPECTATIONS. 389 

" I thought and hoped you could not mean it. Von, so young, 
untried, and beautiful, Estella ! Surely it is not in Nature." 

" It is in my nature," she relumed, And then she added, with 
a stress upon the words, " It is in the nature formed within me. 1 
make a greaj; difference between you and all other people when I 
say so inueli. I can do no more." 

" is it not true," said I, "that Bentley Drummle is in town here, 
aud pursuing' you ?" 

" It is (jui.e true," she replied, referring to him with the indiffer- 
ence of utte.- contempt. 

" That you encourage him. and ride out with him, and that he 
dines with you this very day ?" 

She seemed a lit tie; surprised that I ' should know it, hut again, 
replied, " Quite true." , 

••Von cannot love him, Estella ! " 

Her fingers stopped for the first time, as she retorted rather an- 
grily, •• VW>al have I told you I Do you still think, in spite of it, 
that I do not mean what I say '. " 

" Vou would never many him, Estella ?" 

She looked toward Miss ilavisham. and considered for a moment 
with her work in her hands. Then she said, " Why not tell you 
the truth I I am going to be married to him." 

I dropped my face into my hands, but was able to control my- 
self better than I could have expected, considering what, agony it 
gave me to hear her say those words. When I raised my face 
a-aiii there was such a ghastly look upon Miss Havisham's* that it 
impressed me, even in my passionate hurry and grief 

".Estella, dearest, dearest Estella, do not let Miss Havisham 
lead you into i his fatal .$|p. Put me aside forever — yon I 
done so, i well know — but nesiow yourself on some worthier ob- 
ject than Drummle. Miss Havisham* gives you to him, as the 
greatest, slight and injury that could be done to the many far bet- 
ter men who admire you, find to the few who truly love you. — 
Among those few there may be one who loves you even as dearly, 
though he has not loved you as long, as I. Take him, ami I can 
bear it better, for your sake ! " 

My earnestness awoke a wonder in her that seemed as if it would 
have been touched with compassion, if she could have rendered me 
at all intelligible to her mind. 

•• 1 am going," she said again, in a gentler voice, "to be mar- 
ried to him. The preparations for my marriage are making, and I 
shall be married soon. Why do you injuriously introduce the . 
name of my mother by adoption \ It is my own act." 

" Your own act, Estella, to fling yourself away upon a brute 1 " 

"On whom should I fling myself away ?" she retorted with a 

smile. "Should I fling myself away upon the man who would 

the soonest feel (if people do feel such things) that I took nothing 

10 



290 ^ GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

to him 1 There ! It is done. I shall do well enough, and so will 
he. As to leading me into what you call this fatal step, Miss II av- 
isham would have had me wait, and not marry yet ; hut I am 
tired of the life I have led, which has very few charms for me, and 
I am willing enough to change it. Say. no more. We shall nev- 
er understand each olher. 

" Such a mean brute, such a stupid brute! " I urged in despair. 

"Don't be afraid of my being a blessing to him," said Estella ; 
" I shall not be that. Come ! Here is my band. Do we part on 
this, you visionary boy — or man ? " 

"Oh, Estella ! " I answered, as my hitter tears fell fast on her 
hand, do what I would to restrain them ; "even if I remained in 
England, and could hold my head up with the rest, how could I 
see you Drummle's wife ! " 

"Nonsense," she returned; "nonsense. This will pass in no 
time." 

"Never, Estella!" 

" You will get me out of your thoughts in a week." 

"Out of my thoughts! You are part of my existence, part of 
myself. You have been in every line I have ever read since I first 
came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart yoti wounded 
even then. You have been in eveiy prospect I have ever seen since — 
on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, 
in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, 
in the streets. You have been the embodiment of every grace! ul 
fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The 
stones of which thestrongest London buildings are made are not 
more real, or more impossible to be displaced by your hands, 
than your presence and influence have been to me, there and 
everywhere, and will be. Estella, to trie last hour of my life you 
can not choose but remaimpart of my character, part of the little 
good in me, part of the evil. ul it) this separation 1 associate 
you only with the good, and I will faithfully hold you to that 
always, for you must haye done me far more good than harm, lei 
me feel noW what distress I may. God bless you, God forgive 
you!" 

In what ecstacy of unhappiness I got these broken words out of 
myself I don't know. The rhapsody welled up within me, like 
blood from an inward wound, and gushed out. I held her hand to 
my lips some lingering moments, and so left her. But ever after- 
ward I remembered — and soon afterward with stronger reason — 
. that while Estella looked at me merely with incredulous wonder, 
the spectral figure of Miss Havisham, her hand still covering her 
heart, seemed all resolved into a ghastly stare of.pity and remorse. 

All done, all gone! So much was done and gone that when I 
went out at the gate the light of the day seemed of a darker color 
than wheal I went. in. For a while I hid myself among some lanes 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

and by-paths, and then struck <>IF To walk all the w.-.y to London. 
For I had by that time c*ome to myself so far as to consider that 1 
could not go back to the inn and see Drumrate there; that I could 
not* bear [o sit upon the coach and he spoken to,; that 1 could 00 
nothing halllso good for myself as to tire myself out. 

It was past midnight when I crossed London Bridge. Pursuing 
the narrow intricacies of the streets, which at that time tended 
westward near (he Middlesex shore of the river, my readiest access 
to the Temple was close by the river-side through Whitefriars. 1 
was not expei ied till to-morrow, but I had my keys, and if Her- 
bert were \ ed 1 cmihi ge/1 Id bed myself without disturb- 
ing him. m 

As it seld.un happened that I came in at that AVhitefriars 
after the Temple was closed, and as 1 was very muddy and weary, 
1 did not take it ill that the night -porter examined me with much 
attention as he held the gate a little way open for me to pass in. 
To hefp his memory 1 m ntioned m\ name. 

" I was nor <|ujte sure* Sir, but 1 thought so. Here's a note, 
Sir. The messenger thai brought it said would you be so good 
as read it by my lantern." 

Much surprised by the request, • I tdtrk the note.' It was di- 
rected toPhiMo Pip. Esquire, and on the top.df the superscription 
were the words. " PLEASE READ this, hkrk." I opened it, the 
watchman holding up his light,, and read inside, in Wemmick's 
writing : 

" Doft T GO HOIVTE." 



CHAPTER XLV 



Turning from the Temple gate as soon as I had read the 
warning, 1 made the best of my way to Fleet Street, and there 
gut a late hackney chariot and drove to the Hummums in Govent 
Garden In those times a bed was always to he got there at any 
hour of the night, and the chamberlain, letting me in at his 
ready wicKet. lighted the candle next in order on his shelf, and 
showed me straight into the bedroom next in order on his list, tt 
*was a sort of vault on the ground-floor at the back, with a despot- 
io old monster of a four-pust. btdstead in it, straddling over the 



292 GKEAT EXPECTATIONS, 

whole place, putting one of his arbitrary legs into the fire-place 
and another into the door-way, and squeezing the wretched' little 
washing-stand in quite a Divinely Righteous manner. 

As I had asked for anight-light, the chamberlain had" brought 
me in, before he left me, the good old constitutional rush-light of 
those virtuous days — an object like the ghost of a walking-pane, 
which instantly broke its back 'if it were touched, which nothing 
could ever be lighted at, and which was placed in solitary confine- 
ment at the bottom of a high tin tower, perforated with round 
holes that made a staringly wide-awake pattern oh the walls. 
Wnen I had got into bed, and lay there footsore, weary, and 
wretched, I found ^hat I could no more close my own eyes than 
I could close the eyes of this foolish Argus. . And thus, in the 
gloom and death ot the night, we stared at -jne another. 

What a doleful night! HoW anxious, how dismal, how long! 
There was an inhospitable smell in the room of cold soot and hot 
dust, and as I looked up into the corners of the tester over my 
head, 1 thought what a number of blue-bottle flies from the hutch^ 
ers, and ear-wigs from the market, and grubs from the country, 
must be holding on up there, lying .by for next summer. This 
led me to speculate whether any (if them ever tumbled down, and 
then I fancied that I felt light falls on my face — a disagreeable 
turn of thought, suggesting other and more objectionab e ap- 
proaches up my hack. When I .had lain awake a little while, 
those extraordinary voices with which, silence teems began to 
make themselves audible. The closet whispered, the lire-place 
sighed, the little washing-stand ticked, and one guitar-string 
played occasionally in the chest of drawers. At about the same 
time the eyes on the wall acquired a new expression, and in every 
one of those staring rounds 1 saw written, Don't go home. 

Whatever night-fancies and night-noises crowded on me, they 
never warded off this Don't (jo home. It plaited itself into 
whatever I thought of. as a bodily pain would have done. Not 
long before I had read in the newspapers how a gentleman un- 
known had come to the Hummums in the night, and had gone to 
bed. and -had destroyed himself, and had been found in the morn- 
ing weltering in blood. It came into my head that he must have 
occupied this very vault of mine, and I got out of bed to assure 
myself that there were no red marks about ; then opened the door 
to look'put into the passages, and cheer myself with the compan- 
ionship of a distant light, near which I knew the chamberlain to 
be dozing. But ail this time, why I was not to go home, and 
what, had happened at home, and when I should go home, and 
whether Provis was safe at home, were questions occupying my 
mind so busily .that one might have supposed there could be no 
room in it for any other theme. Even when I thought of Estella, ' 
and how we had parted that day forever, and, recalled all the cir- 



GREAT EXPECTATION?. 293 

cumstances of our patting, arid all her looks and tones, and .the 
action of her fingers whbe she knitted — even then I was. pursuing, 
here, and there and every where, tin- caution. Don't go home. 
When at last 1 dozed, in sheer e haust-ion of mind and body, it 
',10 a vast shadowy verb which 1 had to conjugate. Imper- 
ative mood, present tense : Do not thou go home, let him not go 
home, let us not go home, do not \ e or yon go home. let. not them 
go home; then. potentially : I may not and ! can not go home; 
and I might not. could not, would not, and should not go home; 
until 1 felt t hat I was going distracted, -and roiled over on the pil- 
low, and looked at the stariiig rounds upon the wall again. 

1 had left directions that I was to be called at seven ; fo/ it 
was p'ain that 1 must see Wemmick before seeing any one else, 
and equally plain that this was a case in which his Walworth 
sentiments only could be taken. It was a relief to get out of the 
room where the night had been so miserable, and I needed rio 
second knocking at the door to startle me from my uneasy bed. 

The Castle battleinents arose upon my view at eight • o'clock 
The little servant happening to be entering the fortress with two 
hot. rolls. I passed through the postern and crossed the. draw- • 
bridge in her company, and so came without, announcement into 
the presence of Wemmick as he was making tea for himself and 
the Aged. An open door afforded a perspective view of the Aged 
in bed. 

" Halloa, Mr. Pip !" said Wemmick. "You did come borne, 
then .'" 

" Yes." 1 returned; " bu,t I didn't go home." 

"That's all right,'' said he, rubbing his hands. "Heft a note 
for you at. each of the Temple gates, on the chance. Which gate 
did you come to !" 

I r.o I d him. 

" I'll go round to the others in the course of the day and de- 
stroy the notes," said Wemmick ; " it's a good rule never to leave 
documentary evidence if you can help it, because you don't know 
when it may be put in. I'm going to take a liberty with you. — 
Would you mind toasting this sausage for the Aged P. 1" 

I said I should be delighted to do it. 

" Then you can go about your work, Mary Anne," said Wemmick 
to the* lit tie servant ; " which leaves us to ourselves, don't you see, 
Mr. Dip ?" he added, winking, as she disappeared. 

I thanked him for his friendship and caution, and our discourse, 
proceeded in a low bone, while I toasted the Aged's suasage and 
he lnmtered the crumb of the Aged's roll. 

'• Now, Mr. Pip, you know." said Wemmick, "you and I under- 
stand one another. We are in our private and personal capacities, 
and we have been engaged in a confidential transaction before to- 
day. Official sentiments arc one thing. We are extra ollicial." 



S94 GREAT EXPECTATIONS 

I cordially assented. I was so very nervous that I had already 
lighted the Aged's sausage like a torch, and been obliged to blow 
it out. 

"I accidentally heard- yesterday morning," said Wemmick', "be- 
ing in a certain place where I once took you — even between you 
and me, it's as well' not to mention names when avoidable — " 

" Much better not," said I. " I understand y'on." 

'• I heard there, by chance, yesterday morning," said Wemmick. 
•' that a certain person not altogether of uncolonia! pursuits, and 
not unpossessed of portable property — T don't "know who it, may 
ready be — we won't name this person — " 

'i Not necessary, "said I. 

'• — had made some little stir in a certain part of the world where 
a good many people go, not always in gratification of their own in- 
clination, and not quite. irrespective of the. govern men expense — " 

In wat clung his face I made quite a fire-work of the Aged's sau- 
sage, and greatly discomposed' both my own attention and Wem- 
.mick's ; for which I apologized. 

" — by disappearing from such place, and being no more heard of 
therea.houfs. From which," said Wemmick, " conjectures had been, 
raised and theories formed. I also heard that you at your cham- 
bers in Garden Court, Temple, had been watched, and might be 
watched again." 

"By whom?" said I. 

" I wouldn't go into that." said Wemmick'. evasively, 'fit might 
clash with official responsibilities. 1 beard it, as i have. in my 
time heard other curious things in the same placet 1 don't tell it 
to you on information received. I heard it." 

He took the toasting-fork and sausage from me as he spoke, and 
set forth the Aged s breakfast neatly on a little tray. Previous to 
placing it before him he went into the Aged's room will; a clean 
white cloth, and tied the same under the old gentleman's chin, and 
propped, him up, and put his night-cap on one side, afld gave him 
quite a rakish air Then he placed his breakfast before him with 
great care, and said, ''All right, ain't you, Aged P.I" To which 
the cheerful Aged replied. "All right, John, my boy, all right.' — 
As there seemed to be a tacit understanding that the Aged was not 
in a presentable state, and was therefore to be considered invisible, 
I made a pretense of being in complete ignorance of these pro- 
ceedings. 

"This w r atching of me at my chambers (which I have once had 
reason to suspect)," I sand to Wemmick when he came back, " is 
inseparable from the person to .whom you have adverted ; B it ? " 

We-nmiick looked very grave. " I couldn't undertake to say that, 
of my own knowledge, f mean, I couldn't undertake to *say it 
was at first, But it either is, or it will be, or it's in great danger 
•f b*hig." 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS S95 

As I saw that he was restrained by fealty to Little Britain from 
saying as much as he could, and as L knew with thankfulness to 
him how far out of his way he went to say what he did, I could 
not press him. lint I told him, after a little meditation over the 
lire, that I would like to ask him a question subject to his answer- 
ing or not answering, as he deemed right, and sure that his course 
would be Bight., lie paused in his breakfast, and crossing his 
arms, a <1 pinching his shirt-sleeves (his notion of in-door comfort 
was to sit without any coat), he nodded to me once to put my ques- 
tion. 

" You have heard of a man of bad character, whose true name 
is Cbropey '? " 

He answered with one other nod. 

•• Is he living 1 " 

One oilier nod. 

" Is he in London 1 " 

He gave me one other nod. compressed the post-office exceeding- 
ly, gave me one last ncfll, and went Oil with his breakfast. 

" Now," said Weuimick. •• questioning being over" — which he 
emphasized and repeated for my guidance — " I come to what I did 
after hearing what I heard. 1 went to (larden Court to find you; 
not finding you, I went to C'.arriker's to find Mr. Herbert." 

"And him .you found ?" said I, with great anxiety. 

"And him l found. Without mentioning any names or going 
into any details, I gave him to understand ill at if he was aware 
of any body — Tom, Jack, or Richard — being about the chambers, 
or about the immediate neighborhood, he had better get Tom, Jack, 
or Richard out, of the way while you was out of the way." 

" lie would be greatly puzzled what to do ] " 

" He tflqs puzzled what to do ; not the less that I gave him my 
opinion that it was not safe to try to get Tom, Jack, or Richard 
too far out of the way at present. Mr. Pip, 1*11 tell you some- 
thing. Under existing circumstances there is no place like, a great 
city when you are once in it. Don't, break cover too soon. Lie 
close. Wait till things slacken before you try the open, even for 
foreign air." 

I thanked him for his valuable advice, and asked him what Her- 
bert had done. 

" .Mr. Herbert," said Wemmick, "after being all of a heap for 
half an hour, struck out a plan. Ho mentioned to me as a secret, 
thai he is courting a youn^ lady who has, as no doubt you are 
aware, a bedridden Pa. Which Pa having been in the Purser line 
of life, lies abed in a bow-window where he can see the ships --ail 
up and down the river. You are acquainted with the young lady, 
most, probably .'" 

" Not personally,'' said I. 

The truth was, that she had objected to me as an expensive com- 



296 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

panion who did Herbert no good, and that when Herbert had first 
proposed to present me to her she had received the proposal with 
such very moderate warmth that Herbert had felt himself obliged 
to confide the slate of the case to me, with a view to the passage 
of a little time before I made heracquintanee. When I had begun 
to advance Herbert's prospects by stealth, I had been able to bear 
this with cheerful philosophy ; he and his affianced, for their part, 
had naturally not been very anxious to introduce a third person in- 
to their interviews ; and thus, although I waS assured that I had 
risen in Clara's esteem, and although the young lady and I had long- 
regularly interchanged messages and remembrances by Herbert, 1 
had never seen -her. However, I did not trouble Wemmick with 
these particulars. . 

"The house with the bow-window," said Wemmick, " being by 
the river-side, down the Pool there between Limehouse and Green- 
wich, and being kept, it seems, by a very hospitable wjdow who 
has a furnished upper floor to let, Mr. Herbert put it to me, what did 
I think of that as a temporary tenement for Tom, Jack, or Hie-h- 
ard? Now, I thought very well of it, for three reasons Til give 
you. That is to say : Firstly, It's altogether out of ail your beats, 
and is well away from the usual heap of streets £reat and small. 
Secondly, "Without goiDg near it yourself, you could always hear 
of the safety of Tom, Jack, or Richard, through Mr. Herbert. — 
Thirdly, After a while, and when it might be prudent, if you should 
want to slip Tom, Jack, or Kichard on board a foreign packet-boat, 
there he is — ready." 

Much comforted by these considerations, I thanked Wemmick 
again and again, and begged him to proceed. 

" Well, Sir ! Mr. Herbert threw himself into the business with 
a will, and by nine o'clock last night he housed Tom, Jack, or 
Richard — whichever it may be — you and I don't want to know — 
fpiife successfully. At the old lodgings it was understood 
that he was summoned to Dover, and, in fact, he was taken 
down the Dover road and cornered out of it. Now, another 
great advantage of all this is, that it was done without you, 
and when, if any one was concerning himself about your 
movements, you must be known to be ever so many miles off and 
quite otherwise 'engaged. This diverts suspicion and confuses it; 
and for the same reason I recommended that even if you came'back 
last night you should not go home. It brings in more confusion, 
and you want confusion." 

Wemmick, having finished his breakfast, here looked at his 
watch, and began to get his coat on. 

" And now, Mr. Pip," said be, with his hands still in the sleeves, 
" I have p'robably done the most I can do ; but if I can ever do 
more— -from a Walworth point of view, and in a strictly piivate 
and personal capacity — I shall be glad ro do it. Here's the ad- 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Wt 

.dress. Tlhere can lie no harm in your going here to-night and 
seeing for yourself that. all is well with Tom. Jack, or Uichard, 
before you go home — which is another' reason for your not going 
home last night. But after you nave goneibome, don't go»fbaek 
here. You are very welcome, lam sure, Mr. Pjp ;" his hands 
were now out of his sleeves, and I was shaking them ; '-and let 
me finally impress one important point upon you." He laid his 
hands upon my shoulders, and added in a solemn whisper : " Avail 
yourself of this evening to lay hold of his portable property. You 
don't know what may happen to him. Don't lei any thing hap- 
pen to the .portable property." 

Quite despairing of makfng my mind clear to Wemmick on this 
point. I forbore to try. 

•• Time's up," said Wemmick, "and I must be off. If you 
had nothing more pressing to do than to keep here till dark, that's 
what I should advise. You look very much worried, and it would 
do you good lo have a perfectly quiet day with the Aged— lre'11 
be up presently— and a little bit of — you remember the pig ?" . 

•• ( )f course,'' said I. 

" Well; arwJ a little bit him. That sausage yon tasted was his. 
and he was in all respects a first-rater. Do try him, if it is only 
for old acquaintance sake. Goocf-by, Aged Parent !" in a cheery 
shout. 

•• All right, John ; all right, my boy !" piped the old man from 
wiihin. 

1 soon fell asleep before Wemmiek's tire, and the Aged and I 
enjoyed one another's society by falling asleep before it more or 
less all day. We had loin of pork for dinner, and greens grown 
on the estate, and 1 nodded at the Aged with a good intention 
whenever I failed to do it accidentally. When it was quite dark, 
I left the AiS'-i] preparing the fire for toast ; and 1 inferred from 
the number of fea-cups, as well as from his glances at the two 
little doors in the wall, that Miss Skiffins was expected. 



CHAPTER XLVI. 

Eight o'clock had struck before 1 got into the air that was 
scented, not disagreeably, by the chips and shavings of the long- 
shore boat-builders, and mast. oar. and block makers. All that 
water-side region of the upper and lower Pool below bridge was 



298 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

unknown ground to me, and when I struck down by the river, I. 
found that the spot I wanted was not where 1 had supposed it' to 
he, and was any'thing but easy to find. It was called Mill Pond 
Bank, Chinks's Basin; and I had no other guide to Chinks's Basin 
than the Old Green Copper Rope- Walk. 

It matters not what stranded ships repairing in dry docks I 
lost myself among, what old hulls of ships in course of being 
knocked to pieces, what nnzi- and slime and other dregs of tide, 
what yards of ship-builders and ship-breakers, what rusty anchors 
blindly biting into the ground though for years off duty, what 
mountainous country of accumulated casks and timbei , and how 
many rope-walks that were not the Old Green Copper. After 
several times falling short of my destination and as often over- 
shooting it, I came unexpectedly round a corner uppn Mill Pond 
Bank. It was a fresh kind o' place, all circumstances consider- 
ed, where the wind from the river had room to turn itself round ; 
and there were two or three trees in it, and there Was the stump 
of a ruined wind-mill, and there was the Old G7ee*n Copper Rope- 
Walk — whose long and narrow vista I could trace in the moon- 
light, through a series of wooden frames set in the ground, that 
looked like infirm hay-making rakes which had grown old and 
lost 'most of their teei h 

Selecting from the few queer houses upon Mi 1 Pond Bank a 
house with a wooden front and three stories of bow-windows (not 
bay-windows, which is another thing). I looked at the plate hpon 
the door, and read there. Mrs. Whim pie. That heing the name 1 
wanted, 1 knocked, and an e derly woman of a pleasant and thriv- 
ing appearance responded. She was immediately deposed, how- 
ever, by Herbert, with his finger on his lip, who led me into the 
parlor and shut the door. It was an odd Sensation to sec his very 
familiar face established quite at home in that very unfamiliar 
room and region; and I found myself looking at him, much as I 
looked at the corner clipboard with the glass and china, the shells 
upon the chimney-piece, and the colored engravings on the wall, 
representing the death of. Captain Cook, a ship launch, and his 
Majesty King George Third in a coachman's wig, leather-breech- 
es, top-boots, and profile, on U)e terrace at Windsor. 

" All is well, Handel," said Herbert, "and he is quite satisfied, 
though eager to see you. My dear girl is with her father ; if you'll 
wait till she comes down I'll make you known to her, and then 
we'll go up stairs. That's her father!" 

I had become aware of an alarming growling overhead, and had 
probably expressed the fact in my countenance. 

"I am afraid he is a sad old rascal," said Herbert, smiling, 
"but I have never seen him. Don't you smell rum? He is ai- 
ways at, it." 

" At rum ?" said I. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 399 

"Yes." returned Herbert-, ''and you may suppose how mild it, 
makes his gout. He persists, too, in keeping a 1 Hie provisions up 
stairs in his room, and serving them out. He keeps then) on 
shelves over his head, and will weigh them all. His room must, 
be like a chandler's shop." 

While he thus spoke, the growling noise became a prolonged 
roar, and thru died away. 

" What else can h" the consequence." said Herbert, in explan- 
ation, "if he trill but the cheese.' A man with the gout in his 
right hand — and every where e se — can't expect to gel through a 
Doub e (llouet-sier without hurting himself." 

He seemed to have hurt himself very much, for he gaTO another 
furious roar. 

* "To have I 'n .vis for an upper lodger is quite a godsend to 
Mrs. Whiinple," said Herbert, "for of course people in general 
won't stand that noise. A curious place. Handel ; isn't it f' 

It was a curious place, indeed ; but remarkably well kept and 
c can. 

" Mrs. Whimple." said Herbert, when I told him so. "is the 
best of 'Housewives, and I really do not know what my Clara 
would do without her motherly help. For Clara has no m itli 
ber'own,. Handel, and no relation in the world but old Oruffand- 
grim." 

" Surely that's not his name, Herbert I" 

',' No. no," said Herbert, " that's my name for him. His name 
is Mr. Barley. But what a b essing it is for the son of my father 
and mother to love a gin who has no relations, and who can never 
bother herself, or an\ body else, about her family !" 

Herbert had told mc on former occasions, and now reminded 
me, that he first knew Miss Clara Barley when she was comple- 
ting her education at an establishment at Hammersmith, and that 
on her being recalled home to nurse her lather, he and she had 
confided their affection to the motherly Mrs. Whiinple, by whom' 
it had been fostered and regulated with equal kindness a,ud dis- 
cretion, ew since. It. was understood that nothing of a lender 
nature couid possibly be confided to Old Barley, by reason of 
his being irhequal to the consideration of any subject more psycho- 
logical than Gout) Rum, and Purser's stores. 

As we were thus conversing in a low tone while Old Barley's 
sustained growl vibrated in the beam that crossed the ceiling, the 
room door opened, and a very pretty slight dark-eyed girl of twen- 
ty or so came in with a basket in her hand : whom Herbert ten- 
derly relieved of the basket, and presented blushing, as "Clara." 
8 he really was a most charming girl, and might have passed lor a 
captive fairy whom that truculent Ogre. Old Barley, had pressed 
into his survica. 



300 



great expectations. 



" Look here," said Herbert, showing me the basket with a 
smile after we had talked a bit tie; "'here's poor Clara's supper, 
served out. every night. Here's ber allowance of bread, and here's 
her slice of cheese, and here's her rum — which I drink. This is 
Mr. Barley's breakfast for to-morrow,- served out to he cooked. 
Two mutton-chops, .three potatoes, some split peas, a little flour, 
two ounces of butter, a pinch of salt, and all this hlack pepper. It's 
stewed up together an.d taken hot, and it's a nice thing for the 
gout, I should think!" 

. There, was something so natural and winning in Clara's resign- 
ed way of looking at these stores in detail, as Herbert pointed 
them o'ufc, and something so confiding, loving, and innocent, in her 
modest manner of yielding herself to Herbert's embracing arm — 
and something so gentle- in her, so much needing protection oif 
Mill Pond Bank] by Chin'ks's Basin and the Old Creen Copper 
•Hope-Walk, with Old Barley growling in the beam — that I would 
not have undone the engagement bet ween her and Herbert for all 
the money in the pocket-book I had never Opened. 

I was looking at her with pleasure and admiration when sud- 
denly the growl swelled into a roar again, and a frightful bump- 
ing noise was heard above, as if. a giant with a wooden leg were 
trying to bore it through the ceiling to coine at us. Upon -Ibis 
Clara said to Herbert, " Papa wants me darling!" and ran away. 

"There's an unconscionable old shark for you!" said Herbert. 
" What do you suppose he wants now, Handel?" 

" I don't know," said 1. " Something to drink ?" 

"That's it!" cried Herbeit. as if I had made a guess of extra- 
ordinary merit. " lie keeps his grog ready-mixed in a little tub 
on the table. Wait a moment, and you'll hear Clara lift him up 
to take some. There he goes !" Another roar, with a prolonged 
shake at the end.' "Now," said Herbert, as it was succeeded by 
silence, " he's drinking. Now," said Herbert, as the. growl re- 
sounded in the beam once more, " he's down again on his back |" 

Clara returning soon afterward, Herbert accompanied me up 
stairs to see our charge. As we passed Mr. Barley's door, he was 
heard hoarsely muttering within, in. a strain that rose and fell like 
wind, the following Refrain ; in which I substitute good wishes 
for something quite the reverse. 

" Ahoy ! Bless your eyes, here's old Bill Barley ! Here's old 

• Bill Barley, bless your eyes ! Here's old. Bill Barley on the flat 

of his back, by the Lord ! Lying on the flat of his back, like a 

drifting old dead flounder, here's your old Bill Barley, bless 'your 

eyes ! Ahoy ! Bless you !" 

In this strain of consolation Herbert informed me tbe'invisible 
Barley would commune with himself by the day and night to- 
gether ; often, while it was light, having at the same time one eye 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 301 

at a telescope which was fitted on his bed for the convenience of 
sweeping the river. 

In his two cabin rooms at the top of the house, which were fresh 
and airy, ami in which Mr. Barley was less audible than below, 1 
1'ouiid I'rovis comfortably settled. He expressed no alarm, and 
seemed fo feel none thai was worth mentioning; but it, struck me 
that he was softened — indefinably, for I could not have said how. 
and could never afterward recall how, when I tried ; but cer- 
tainly. 

The opportunity that the day's rest bad given me for reflection 
bad resulted in my fully- deterniiniiiir to say nothing to hira re- 
specting Oonipey. For any thjng I knew, his animosity toward 
the man might otherwise lead to his seeking him out and rushing 
on his own destruction. Therefore, when Herbert and 1 sat down 
with him by his lire, basked him first of all whether he relied on 
Wemmick's judgment and sources of information .' 

" Ay. ay. dear boy !'' he answered, with a grave nod, "Jag- 
ger.S'8 knows.'' 

"Then I have talked with Wemmick," said I, "and have come 
to tell you what caution he gave me. and what advice." 

This 1 did accurately, with the reservation just, mentioned; and 
1 told him how Weinmiuk had heard, in Newgate prison (whether 
from ollicers or prisoners I could not say), that he was under some 
suspicion, and that my chambers had been watched; how Wem- 
mick had recommended his keeping close for a time, and :ny keep- 
ing away from him: and what Wemmick had said about getting * 
him abroad I added, thai of course, when the time came. 1 
should go with him. or should follow close upon him, as might he 
safest in Wemmick's judgment. What was to follow that- 1 did 
not touch upon; neither indeed was 1 at all clear or comfortable 
about it in my own mind, now that I saw him in that softer con- 
dition, and in declared peril for my sake. As to altering my way 
of living, by enlarging'my expenses. 1 put it to him whether, in 
our present Unsettled and difficult circumstances it would not be 
simply ridiculous, if ii were no worse/ 

He could noi-deny this, and indeed was very reasonable through- 
out. His coming back was a venture, he said, and he had always 
known it to be a venture!! He would do nothing to make it a 
desperate venture, and he had very little fear ol' his safety with 
such good help. 

Herbert, who had been looking at the tire ami pondering, here 
said that something hail come into his thoughts arising out of. 
Wemmick's suggestion, which it might be worth while to pursue. 
" We are both good Watermen. Handel, and could take him down 
the river ourselves when the right tittle* comes. No boat would 
then be hired for tin- purpose, ami no boatmen; that would save 
at least, a chance uf suspicion, and any change us worth saving* 



m-i GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

Never mind the season ; don't van think it might he a good thing 
"if you began at- once to keep a boat at the Temple slairs, and were 
in the habit of rowing up and down the river? You fall into that 
habit, and then who notices or minds'? Do it twenty times or fifty 
times, and there is .nothing special in your doing it the twenty -first 
or lifty-tirst." 

I liked this seherae, and Provis was quite elated by it, We 
agreed that it should be carried into execution, and that Provis 
should never recognizue us if we came below bridge and rowed 
lii'st Mill Pond Bank. But we further agreed that he should pull 
down the blind in that part of his window which gave upon the 
east, whenever be saw us and all was right, 

Our conference being now ended, and every tiling arranged, I 
rose to go ; remarking to. Herbert that he and I had better not go 
home together* and that I would take half an hour's start of him. 
" I don't like to leave you here," 1 said to Provis, " though I can 
not doubt your being safer here than near me. Gooddjy !" 

" Dear boy," he answered, clasping my hands, " I donlt know 
when we may meet again, and 1 don't like Good-by. Say Good- 
night !" 

" Good-night ! Herbert will go regularly between us, and when 
the lime comes you may be certain 1 shall be ready. ( iood-night, 
Good-night !" 

We thought it best that he should stay in his own rooms, and 
deleft him on the landing outside of his door, holding a light over 
*the stair-rail to light us down stairs. Looking back at him, I 
thought of that first night of his return when our positions were 
reversed, and when I little supposed my heart could ever be as 
heavy and anxious at parting from him as it was now. 

Old Barley was growling and swearing when we repassed his 
door, with no appearance of having ceased, or of meaning to cease. 
When we got to the foot of the stairs, I asked Herbert whether he 
had preserved the name of Provis ? He replied, certainly not, and 
that the lodger was Mr. Campbell. He also explained that the 
utmost known of Mr: Campbell there was, that he (Herbert) had 
Mr. Campbell consigned to him, and felt a strong personal interest 
h« bis being well cared for and living a secluded life. So when we 
went into the parlor, where Mrs. Whimple and Clara were seated 
at work", I said nothing of my owm interest in Mr. Campbell, but 
kept it to myself. 

"Vyhen I' had taken leave of the pretty, gentle, dark-eyed girl, 
and the motherly woman who had not outlived her honest sympa- 
thy with a little affair of true love, I felt as if the Old Green Cop- 
per Rope-Walk had growa quite a different place. Old Barley 
might be as old as the hills, and might swear like a whole field of 
troopers, but there were redeeming youth and trust- and hope 
enough in Cbiuks's Basin to fill it to overflowing. And then I 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. SO? 

thought of Estella, and of our parting, and went home very sadly. 

All things were as quiet in tin- Temple as ever I had seen them. 
The windows of the rooms on that side lately Ibocupied by Prov- 
iso were dark and still, and there was no lounger in Garden Court. 
I walked past the Com lain twice or thrice before I descended the 
steps that were between me and my rooms, but 1 was- quite alone. 
Herbert coining to my i edsidc when he came in — for 1 went straight 
to hed, dispirited and fatigued — made the same report. Opening 
one of the windows after that, he looked out into the moonlight, 
and told me that the pavement was as solemnly empty as the pave- 
ment of any Cathedral at that same hour. 

Next day 1 sel myself to get the boat. It was soon done, and 
the ho-t was brought round to thy Temple stairs, and lay where 
J could reach her within a minute or two. Then I began' to go 
out, as for training and practice; sometimes alone, sometimes with 
Herbert. 1 was often out in cold, rain, and sleet, but nobody took 
much note of me after 1 had been out a few times. At first I 
kept above Blaokfriars Bridge; but as the hours ofth*e tides chang- 
ed 1 took toward London Bridge, it was Old London Bridge in 
those days,, and at certain states of the tide there was » race and 
fall of 'the water there which gave it a bad reputation. But 1 
knew well enough how to "shoot" the bridge after seeing it done, 
and so began to row about among the shipping in the l'ool, and 
down to Erith. The first time 1 passed Mill Bond Bank, Herbert 
and I were pulling a pair of oars : and, both in going and return- 
ing, we saw the blind toward the east come down. Herbert was 
randy there less frequently than three limes in a week, and believ- 
er brought, me a single word of intelligence that was at all alarm- 
ing. Still J knew that there was-oause for alarm, and 1 could not 
get ri3 of the notion of being watched. Once received, h is a 
haunting idea ; and how many undesigning persons I suspected 
of watching me it woufcd be hard to calculates. 

In short, 1 was always full of fears for the rash man who was 
in hiding. Herbert- had sometimes said to me that he found it 
pleasant to stand at one of our windows after dark, when the tide 
was running down, and to think that it was flowing, with every- 
thing it bore, toward Clara. But 1 thought with dread that it was 
flowing toward Magwitch; and that any black mark on its surface 
might be his pursuers, going swiftly, silently, and surely to take 
him. 



304 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 



CHAPTER XLVIL 



Some weeks passed without bringing any change. We waited 
for Wemmick, and he made no sign. If I had never known him 
out of Little Britain, and had never enjoyed the privilege of being 
on a familiar footing at the Castle, I might have doubted him ; not 
so for a moment, knowing him as I did. 

My worldly atfairs began to.wear a gloomy appearance, and I 
was pressed for money by more than one creditor. Even I my- 
self began to know the want of money (I mean oi ready money in 
my own pOcket), and to relieve it by converting some easily spared 
articles of jewelry into cash. But I had quite determined that it ■ 
would be a heartless fraud to take more money from my patron in 
the existing stale of my uncertain thoughts and plans. Therefore, 
1 had sent him the unopened pocket bonk by Herbert, .to hold in 
Ins own keeping, and I felt a kind of satisfaction — whether it was 
a false kind* or a Irue, I hardly know — in not having profited by 
his generosity since his revelation of himself. 

As the time wore on, an Impression settled heavily upon me that 
Estella was married. Fearful of having it confirmed, though it 
was all but a conviction. I avoided the newspapers, and begged 
Herbert (to whom I had confided the circumstances of our last- 
interview) never to speak of her to me. Why I hoarded up this 
last wretched little rag of the robe of hope that was rent and giv- 
en to the winds, how do 1 know ? Why did yOu who read this, 
commit that not dissimilar inconsistency of your owu last year, 
last month, last week I 

it was an unhappy life that I lived, and its one dominant anXi*- 
ety, towering over all its other anxieties like a high mountain above 
a range of mountains, never disappeared from my view. Still.no 
new cause for fear arose. Let me start from my bed as 1 would, 
with the terror fresh upon me that he was discovered; let me sit 
listening as I would, with dread, for Herbert's returning step at 
night, lest it should be fleeter than ordinary, and winged with evil 
news; for all that, and much more to like purpose, the round of 
things went on. Condemned to inaction and a state of constant 
restlessness and suspense, 1 rowed about in my boat, and waited, 
waited, waited as I best could. 

There were states of the tide when, having been down the riv- 
er, I could not get back through the eddy-chafed arches and siar- 
'ings of old London Bridge; then, I left my boat at a wharf near 
\u Custom-house, to be brought up afterward to the Temple stairs. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 905 

I was not averse to doing' this, as ir served to make me and my 
boat a commoner incident among the water-side people there. — 
From this slight occasion sprang two meetings that 1 have. now to 
tell of. 

One afternoon, late in the month of February, I- came ashore ai 
the wharf a1 dusk. I had polled down as far as Greenwich will) 
the ebb tide, and had turned with the tide. I: had been a fine 
bright day, hot had become foggy as the .sun dropped, and I had 
to feel My way hack among the shipping pretty carefully. — 
Both in going and re 1 turning I had seen the signal in his window. 
All well. *»• 

As it was a raw evening and 1 was cold, I thought 1 would 
comfort myself with dinner at once; and as 1 had hours of de- 
jection and solitude before rife if I went home to the Temple, I 
thought 1 would afterward go to the play*. The theatre where 
Mr. Wopsle had achieved his questionable triumph was in that 
waterside neighborhood (it is nowhere now), and to that theatre I 
resolved to go. I was aware that Mr. Wopsle had not succeeded 
in reviving the Drama, but, on the contrary, had rather partaken 
s decline, lie had been ominously heard of as a faithful 
Black, in Connection with a little girl of noble birth, and a mon- 
key. And Herbert had seen him as a predatory Tartar, of comic 
propensities with a. face like a red brick, and an outrageous hat all 
over bells. 

i dined at what Herbert and 1 used to call a Geographical chop- 
bouse — where there were maps of the world in porter-pot rims on 
every half-yard of the table-cloths, and charts of gravy on every 
one of the knives — to this day there is scarcely a single chop-house 
in the Lord .Mayor's dominions which is not Geographical— and 
wore out the time in dozing over crumbs, staring at gas, and 
baking in a hot blast of dinners. By-and-by I roused myself and 
went to the play. 

There 1 found a virtuous boatswain in his Majesty's service — a 
most excellent man, though I could have wished his trowsers not 
quite so tight in some places and not quite so loose in others — who 
knocked all the little men's hats over their eyes, though he wag 
very generous and brave, and who wouldn't hear of any*body's 
paying taxes on any account, though he was very patriotic. He 
had a. bag ot money in his pocket, like a pudding in the cloth, and 
on that property married a young person in bed-furniture with 
great rejoicings; the whole population of Portsmouth (nine in num- 
ber at the last Census) turning out on the beach to rub their own 
hands and shake everybody else's, and sing "Fill, fill ! " A cer- 
tain dark-complexioned Swab, however, who wouldn't fill, or do 
any thing else that was proposed to him, and whose heart was 
openly stated (by the boatswain) to be as black as his figure-head 
proposed to two other Swabs to get all mankind into difficulties 

n 



30S GREAT EXPECTATIOTS- 

which was so effectually done (the Swab family having ponsidera- 
ble political influence) that it took half the evening to set. things 
right, and then it was only brought about through an honest little 
giocer with a white hat, black gaiters, and red nose, getting into 
a clock with a gridiron, and listening, and coining out, and knock- 
ing every body down- from behind with 'the gridiron whom he 
couldn't confute with what he had overheard. This led to 
Wopsle's (who had never been heard of before) coining in with a 
star and garter on, as a plenipotentiary of great power direcl 
the Admiralty, to say that the Swabs were all to go to prison on 
the spot, and that he had brought the boatswain down the Union 
Jack, as a slight, acknowledgment of his public services. The 
boatswain, unmanned for the first time, respectfully dried his eyes 
on the Jack, and then cheering up. and addressing Mr. Wopsle as 
Your Honor, solicited permission to take him by the tin. Mr. Wop- 
sle conceding his tin with a gracious dignity; was immediately 
shoved into a dusty corner while everybody danced a horn ipe ; 
and, from that corner, surveying the public with a disconti 
became aware of me. 

The second piece was the last new grand comic Christmas pan- 
tomime, in the first scene of winch it pained me to suspect that I 
detected Mr. Wopsle, with red worsted legs under a highly magni- 
fied phosphoric countenance and a shock »f red fringe for his hair, 
engaged in the manufacture of thunderbolts in a mine, and display- 
ing great cowardice when his gigantic master came home, very 
hoarse, to dinner. But he 'presently •presented himself under 
thier circumstances; for, the (renins of Youthful Love being in 
want of assistance — on account Of the parental brutality of an ig- 
norant failner who opposed the choice of his daughter's heart, by 
purposely falling upon the object in a flour sack, out of the first 
floor window — summoned a sententious Enchanter ; and he, coming 
up from the antipodes rather unsteadily, after an apparently vio- 
lent journey, proved -to he Mr. Wopsle in a high-crowned h it, with 
a necromantic work in onevolnme under his arm. The business of 
this enchanter on earth being principally to be talked at, sung at, 
butted at, danced at, and flashed at with fires of various colors, 'he 
had a good deal of time on his hands. And I observed with great 
surprise that he devoted it to staring in my direction as if he were 
lost in amazement. 

There was some thing so remarkable in the increasing glare of 
Mr. Wopsle's eye, and h» seemed to be turning so many things 
over in his mind and to grow so confused, that 1 could not make it 
out. I sat thinking of it long after he had ascended to the clouds 
in a large watch-case, and still I could not make it out. i was 
still thinking of it when I came out of the theatre ah hour -after- 
ward, and found aim waiting for me near to the door.' 



GREAT' EXPECTATIONS. 207 

" How do you do f, shaking hands with him as we.turn- 

ed down tin street together; ", I saw that you saw me." 

" Saw you, Mr. Pip ! " be returned. " Yes, of course 1 saw 
l'u! Who rise was there I " * ' 

"Who else ?" 

" It is the strangest thing,'' said Mr. Wopsle, drifting into his 
lost look-again ; "and 1 swear to him." 

r.eoinitig alarmed, 1 entreated Mr. Wopsle to explain his mean- 
ing. / 

" Whether 1 should have noticed him at first hut for your being 
there, ' said Mr. Wopsle, going on in the same lost way, " 1 can't 
he positive; vet I think I should:" 

Involuntarily I looked round me, as I was accustomed to look 
round me when 1 wem home; for these mysterious words gave me 
a chill. , 

;' * >h ! he can't he in sight;" said Mr. Wopsle. "He went out- 
re I weir, oil'. 1 saw him go.'' 

Having the reason that 1 had for being suspicions, I even sus- 
peVed this poor actor, i mistrusted a design to entrap me into some 
admission,. Therefore 1 glanced at him as we walked on together, 
but said nothing. 

" I had a ridiculous fancy that he must be with you, Mr. Pip, 
till I saw that you Were quite unconscious of him sitting behind 
you. there, like a gh i 

My former chill crept over me again, but I was resolved not to 
speak yet. for it was quite consistent with his words that he might 
lie set on to induce me to connect these references With Provis. — 
Of course I ,vas perfectly sure and safe that Provis had not been 
there. 

"I dare say you wonder at me, Mr. Pip; indeed I see you do. 
Put it is so \ery strange ! You'll hardly believe what 1 am going 
to tell you. 1 could hardly believe it myself if you told me.'' 

" Indeed ? " said I. 

" No, indeed. ' Mr. Pip, you remember in old times a certain 
Christmas-day, when you were quite a child, and I dined at Gar- 
gery's, and some soldiers came, to the door to get a pair of hand- 
cuffs mended ? " 

" I remember it very well." 

" And you remember that there was a chase after two convicts, 
and that we -joined in it, and that Gargery took you on his back, 
and that I took the lead, and you kept up with mo as well as 
you could 1 " 

9 "I remember it all very well.** Better than he thought— except 
the last clause. 

"And you remember that we came up with the two in a ditch, 
and that there was a scuffle between them, aad that one of them 



308 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

had been severely handled and much mauled about the face by the 
other ?." 

" I see it all before me." 

" And that the soldiers lighted torches, and put the two in tfo% 
centre, and that we went on to see the last of them, over the black 
marshes, with thetorch-light shining on their faces — 1 am particu- 
lar about that; with the torch-light shining on their faces, when 
there was an outer ring of dark night all about us ?'" 

"Yes," said I. " 1 remember all that. ' % 

"Then, Mr. Pip, one of those two prisoners sat behind you. to- 
night, I saw him over your shoulder." 

. "Steady.!" I thought. I asked him then, "Which of the two 
do you suppose you saw 1 " 

"The one who had been mauled," he answered readily, " and 
I'll swear I saw him ! The more I think of him the more certain 
I am of him 1 " 

" This is very curious ! " said I, with the best assumption I could 
put on of its being nothing more to me. "Very onri >us indeed !" 

I cannot exaggerate the enhanced disquiet info which this con- 
versation threw me, or the special and peculiar terror I felt at 
Compey's having been b hind me "like a ghost." For, if he had 
ever been out of my thoughts for a few moments together since the 
hiding had begun, it was in those very moments when lie was 
closest to me ; and to think that I should be so unconscious and 
off rny guard after all my care, was as if I had shut an avenue of 
a hundred doors to keep him out, and then, had found him at my 
elbow. I could not doubt either that he was there, because 1 was 
there, and that however slight an appearance of danger there might 
be about ;us, danger was always near and active. 

I put such questions to Mr. Wopsle as, When did the man come 
in ? lie could not tell me that; he saw me ; and over my shoul- 
der he saw the man. It was not until lie had seen him for some time 
that he began to identify him ; but he had from .1 he first vague- 
ly associated him with me, and known him as somehow belonging 
to me in the old village time. How was he dressed ? Prosper- 
ously, but not noticeably otherwise ; he thought in- black. Was 
his face at all disfigured 1 No, he believed not. I believed not, 
too, for, although in my brooding state I had taken no especial no- 
tice of the. peopje behind me, I thought it likely that a face at all 
disfigured would have attrated my attention. 

When Mr. Wopsle had imparted to me all that he could recall 
or I extract, and when I had treated him to a little appropriate 
refreshment after the fatigues of the evening, we parted. It was 
between twelve and one o'clock when I reached the Temple, and* 
the gales Were shut. No one was near me when I went in and 
went home. 

Herbert had come in. and we held a very serious council by the 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. ' 309 

fire. But there was nothing to be done, saving to communicate to 
Wie'mmick what T had that night found out, and to remind him 
that we waited for his hint. As 1 thought I might compromise 
him if I went too often to the Castle. I made this communication 

by* letter. ' I wrote, it before 1 went to hed, and went out and post- 
ed it ; and again no one was near me. Herbert and 1 agreed that. 
We could do nothing else but he very cautious. And we were very 
cautious indeed — more cautious than before, if that were .possible — 
and 1, for my part, never went near Chink's Basin, except, when I 
rowed by, and then I only-looked at j\I i 1 L Pond Bank as I looked 
at any thing else. 



( 11 AFTER XLVIII. 

The second of the two meetings referred to in the last chapter 
occurred about a week after the first. I had again left my koat 
at the wharf below "bridge ; the time was an hour earlier in the af- 
ternoon ; and. undecided where to dine, I had strolled up into 
Cheapside, and was strolling along it, surely the most unsettled 
person in a 1 the busy concourse, when a large hand was laid upon 
my shoulder by some one overtaking me. It was Mr. Jaggers's 
band, and he passed it through my arm. 

" As we are going in the same direction, Pip, we may walk to- 
gether. Where are you hound for?" 

"For the Temple, I think," said L 

" Don't you know?" said Mr. Jaggers. 

" Well," I returned, glad for once to get the better of him in 
cross-examination, "I do not know, for I have not made up my 
mind." 

" You are going to dine ?" said Mr. Jaggers. " You dor>'t mind 
admitting that, I suppose*?" 

" No," I returned. " I don't mind admitting that." 

" And are not engaged ?" 
. " I don't mind admitting, also, that I am not engaged." 

" Then," said Mr. daggers, "come and dine with me." 

I was going to excuse myself, when be added, "Wemmick's 
coming." So I changed my excuse into an acceptance — the few 
words I had uttered serving for the beginning of either — and we 
went along Cheapside aud slauted off to Little Britain, while the 



310 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

lights were springing up brilliantly in the shop-windows, and the 
street lamp-lighters, scarcely rinding ground enough to plant their 
ladders ofi in the midst of the afternoon's hustle, were skipping up 
and down and running in and out, opening more red eyes in the 
gathering fog than' my rush-light tower at the Hum mums had 
opened white eyes in the ghastly wall. 

A.t the office in Little Britain there was the usual letter-writing, 
hand-washing, candle-snuffing, and safe-locking, that closed the 
business of the day. As I stood idle by Mr. Jaggersjs fire, its 
rising and falling flame made the two casts on the shelf look as if 
they were playing a diabolical g.mie at bo-peep with me; while 
the pair of coarse fat office-candles that dimly lighted Mr. Jaggers 
as lie wrote in a comer.,' were decorated with dirty winding-sheets, 
as if in remembrance of a host of hanged clients. 

We went to Gerrard Street, all three together, in a hackney- 
coach : and as soon as we got there dinner was served. Although 
I should not have thought of making, in that place, the most dis- 
tant, reference by so much as a look to Wemmick's Walworth sen- 
timents, yet I should have had no objection 1o catel wig his eye 
now and then in a friendly way. But it was not lo be done.' He 
turned his eyes on Mr. Jaggers whenever he raised them from the 
table, and was as dry and distant to me as if there were twin 
Wcmmicks, and this was the wrong one. 

" Did you send that note of Miss Havishanrs to Mr. Pip, Wem- 
mick V Mr. Jaggers asked, soon after we began dinner. 

"T?o, Sir," returned Wemmick .; "it was going by post when 
you brought Mr. Pip into the office. Here it is. He handed it to 
his principal instead of me. 

"It's a note of two lines, Pip," said Mr. Jaggers, handing it 
on, " sent up to me by Miss Havisham on' account of her not being 
sure oi' your address. She tells me that she wants' to see you 
on a little matter of business you mentioned to her. You'll go 
down ?" 

"Yes," said I, casting my eyes over the note, which was ex- 
actly in those terms. 

" When do you think of going down 

"I have an impending engagement," said I, glancing at Wem- 
nvlek, who was puttingfish into the post-offiee, "that renders me 
rather uncertain of my time. At once,*I think." 

" If Mr. Pip has the intention of going at once," said Wemmick 
to Mr. Jaggers, " he needn't write an answer, you know." 

Receiving this as an intimation that it was best nor to delay,! 
settled that I would go to-morrow, and said so. Wemmick drank 
a glass of wine and looked with ,a grimly satisfied aii at Mr. Jag- 
gers, but not at me. 

"So, Pip! our friend the Spider," said Mr. Jaggers, "has 
dayed his cards. He has won the pool." 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 311 

It was as much as I could do to assent; 

" ft. i!i ! fie is a promising fellow — in his way — but be may not 
have ii all Ins own way. The. stronger will witHn the 6hd»birt 
! he stronger has to 'be found out first. If he sho:ild turn to, and 
beat her — 

"Surely 1 ," I interrupted, with a burning face and heart, "you 
do not seriously think that even he is scoundrel enough for that, 
Mr. Jag$ty ?" 

" I did not say so, Pip. I am putting a ease. If he should 
turn to and heat her, he may possibly get the strength on his side; 
if it should he a question of rnteflcct, lie certainly will not. It 
would be chance work to give an opinion how a fe.low of that sort 
wili turn out in such circumstances, because it's a toss-up between 
two results." 

"May I ask what they are?" 

"A fellow like our friend the Spider," answered Mr. Jaggers, 
"either beats or cringes, lie may cringe and growl, or cringe 
and not grow! ; but he either heats or cringes. Ask WeYnmick 
7iis opinion." 

" Hither beats or cringes,'' said Wemmick, not at ail address- 
ing himself to me*. 

" So here's to Mrs. IVntley Drummle," said Mr. J,aggers, taking 
a decanter of choicer wine from his dumb-waiter, and filling for 
each of us and for himself, "and may the question of supr niacy 
be settled to the lad y.'s satisfaction ! To the satisfaction of the 
lady ami the gentleman it never will be. Now, Molly, Molly, 
y, Molly, bow slow you are to-day !" 

She was at his elbow when he addressed her, putting a .dish 
upon the table. As she withdrew her hands from it she fell back 
a step or two, nervously muttering some excuse, and a certion ac- 
tion of her fingers as she spoke arrested my attention. 

" What's the matter V said Mr. Jaggers. 

"Nothing. Only the subject we were speaking of," said I, 
" was rather painful to me." 

The action of her fingers was like the action of knitting. She 
stood looking at her master, not understanding whether she was 
free to go, or whether he had more to say to her and would call 
her back if she did go. Her look was very intent. Surely, I had 
seen exactly such eyes and such hands on a memorable occasion 
very lately ! 

lie dismissed her, and she glided out of the room. But she re- 
mained before met, as plainly as if she were still there. I looked 
at those bauds, I looked at those eyes, I looked at that flowing 
hair; and I compared them with other hands, other eyes, other 
hair, that 1 knew of. and with what those might he after twenty 
years of a brutal husband and a stormy life. I looked again at 
those bauds and eyes of th« housekeeper, and thought of thy inex- 



312 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

plicable feeling that had come over me when I last walked — not 
alone — in the ruined garden and through the deserted brewery. I 
thought how the same feeling had come back when I saw" a face. 
looking at me, and a band waving to me, from a stage-coach, win- 
dow ; and how it had come back again, and had flashed about me 
like Lightning, when 1 had passed in a carriage — not alone — 
through a sudden glare of light in a dark street. I thought how 
one link of association had helped'tbat identification in the theatre, 
and how such a link, .wanting before, had been riveted for me now, 
when I had passed, by a chance, swift, from Estella's name to the 
fingers with their knitting action, and the attentive eyes. I felt 
absolutely certain that this woman was Estella's mother. 

Mr. J aggers had seen me with Estella, and was not likely to 
have missed the sentiment 1 had been at no pains U> conceal. He 
nodded when 1 said the subject was painful to me, clapped me on 
the back, put round the wine again, and went on. with his dinner. 

Only twice more did the housekeeper reappear, and then 
stay in the room was very short, and Mr. Jaggers was sharp with 
her. But her hands were Estella's hands, and her eyes were Es- 
tella's; eyes, and if she had reappeared a hujidred times 1 could 
have been neither more sure nor less sure that my conviction was 
the truth. 

It was a dull evening, for Wemrnick drew his wine when it came 
round quite as a matter of business— ►just as he might have drawn 
his salary when that came round— and with his eyes on his chief, 
sat in a state of perpetual readiness for cross-examination. As to . 
the quantity of wine, his post-office was as indifferent and ready as 
other post-office for its quantity of letters. From my point of 
view he was the wrong twin all the time, and only externally like 
the Wemmuk of "Walworth. 

We took our leave early, and left Together. Even when we were 
groping among Mr. Jaggers's stock of boots for our hats, ] felt 
that the right twin was on his way back; and we had not gone 
half a dozen yards down Gerrard Street in the Walworth direction 
betoie I found that I was walking arm in arm with the right twin, 
and that the wrong twin had evaporated into the evening air. 

" Well !" said Wemrnick, " that's over. He's a wonderful man, 
without ltis living likeness; but I feel that I have to screw myself 
up when I dine with :him — and I dine more comfortably un- 
screwed." 

1 felt thaMhis was a good statement of the case, and told him 
so. 

" Wouldn't say it to any body but yourself," he answered. " I 
mow that what is said between you and me goes no further." 

" I asked him if he had ever seen Miss Havisham's adopted 

'ghter, Mrs. Bentley Brummie ? He said no. To avoid being 
\brupt, I th«D spoke of the Aged, and of Miss Skiffins. H« 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 313 

looked rather sly when 1 mentioned Miss Skiffins, and stopped in 
the street to blow his nose with a roll of the head and a flourish, 
not quite free" Trovp latent hoasifulness. 

" Weniniick," said I, "do y<m remember telling me before I 
first went to Mr. Jaggers's private house, to notice that honse- 
»(fr?" 

"Did If" lie replied. "Ah. I, dare say I did. Deuce take 
me," Wp added, suddenly] " 1 know 1 did. 1 find I am not quite 
unscrewed yet.*' 

*■ A wild beast tamed, you called her," said T. 
' ml what do you call her.'" said he. 

"The same. How did Mr. .Taggers tame her, Wemmick ?" 

"That's his secret. She has been with him maiiy a long year." 

•• 1 wish you would tell me her story. I feel a particulaninter- 
e.-t in being acquainted with it. You know that what is said be- 
tween you and me goes no further." 

" Well !" Wemmick replied, " 1 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 bur private and personal capacities, of course.' 1 ' 

" * )f course." 

\ score of years ago that woman wa^s 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. Anyhtfw, it 
was hot enough when it was up, as you may suppose." 

" Bui she was acquitted," 
• "Mr. .Taggers 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 fad, it may 
almost he said to have made hum He worked it himself at the 
police-office, day after day for many .days, contending against even 
a commitlal ; 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 ease of jealousy. They both led tramping lives, and this 
woman in Gerrard Street here had been married very young, over 
the broomstick (as we *ay). to a tramping man, and was a periled 
fury in point of jealousy. The murdered woman — more a malch 
for the man, certainly, in point of years — was found dead in a barn 
near Hounslow Heath. There had been a violent struggle, per- 
haps a tight. She was bruised and scratched and torn all over, 
and had been held by the throat at last and choked. Now there 
was no reasonable evidence to implicate any person but this wo- 
man, and on the improbabilities of her Inning been able to do it, 
Mr. Jaegers principally* rested his case. You may be sure," 



314 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

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 YVemmiek of his showing us her wrists ' that day of 
the dinner-party. 

"Well, Sir!" Weminick went on; "it happened — happened, 
don't you see ? — thatjfhis woman was so very artfully dressed from 
the time of her apprehension, that she looked much slighter than 
she really was ; ■ in parlioular, her sleeves are always remembered 
to have been so skillfully Contrived that her arms had quite a deli- 
ea'e look. .She had only a hruise or two about her — nothing for a 
tr'aittp — but the backs of her hands were lacerated, and the ques- 
tion was, was it with finger-nails 1 Now, Sir. daggers 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 ac- 
tually 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 other dress and lit- 
tle 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 jealoirsy, that she was under strong suspicion' of having, at- 
about the time of the nrlirder, frantically destroyed her child by 
this man — some three years old — to revenge herself upon him. iMr. 
daggers worked that in this way. ' We say these are not marks of 
foiger-nails but marks of brambles, vt\\(\ we show you the brambles. 
You say they are marks of .finger-nails, and you set up the hypo- 
thesis that she destroyed her child. You must accept all consequences 
of that hypothesis. For any thing we know she may have destroy- 
ed her child, and the child in clinging to her may have scratched 
her hand's. 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 any thing we know, you may have ac- 
counted 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 other 
duties, but she was tamed from the beginning.* 
" Do you remember the sex of the child-?" 
" Said to have been a girl* 

" Y'ou have nothing more to say to me to-night?" 
" Nothing. 1 got your letter, and destroyed it. Nothing." 
We exchanged a cordial Good-night, ano I went home, with new 
atter for my thoughts, yet with no relief from the old. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 315 



PTER. XLIX. 



Pj!tt!\<; Miss Havisham's note in my pockVt, thai it mfflthl 
serve as my en dentia's for so soon ^appearing at Satis House; in 
case her waywardness should lead her £o express any surprise at 
seeing me. I vent down again by tie coach next day. But I 
alighted at ilie Ila I'way House, and breakfasted there, and walk- 
ed the re.--i of the diManee; for 1 sought to'gel intc the town 
Quietly-, by the unfrequented ways, and to leave it. in the same 
manner. 

The best light of trie day was gone when I passed along the 
quiet echawrg courts beliind the High Street?. The nooks of rum 
where the old monks had once had their refectories' and gardens, 
and where the si roug walls were now pressed into I lie service of 
humble sheds and stables, were almost, as silent as the o!«l monks 
in their graves. The cathedral chimes had at once a sadifrr and 
a more lemote sound to me, as 1 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 ihcy hov- 
ered about Lite gray tower and swung in the 1>are high tiers of rhe 
prior* -gulden, seemed to ca.l lb niclhal 1 he place was changed, 
and liia! Kstella was gone out of it for ever. 

An elderly woman whom 1 had seen be/ore as one of the ser- 
vants who lived in the, supplementary house across the hack conn 
yard opened the gale. The Lighted eandle stood in the dark pas- 
sage within, as o! old, and L look it up and ascended the slaircase 
alone. Miss Havisham was not- in her own room, but was in the 
larger room across the lauding. Looking in at the door, after 
knocking in vain, 1 saw her sitting on the hearth in a ragged chair, 
close before, and lost in the coiiteinplaiion of, the ashy tire. 

Doing as I had often done, 1 went, in, and stood, touching the 
old chimney-piece, where she could see me when she raised her 
eyes. There was an air Of ut er loneliness upon her thai would 
moved me to pity though she had willfully done me a deeper 
injury than I couM charge l.erwifh. As J stood compassion 
her, and thinking how in the progress of time 1 too had come to 
he;: pari of the wrecked fortune-; of that house, her eyes 
me. She stared, and said in a low voice, " Is it. real ! " 

" It is I, Pip. Bfh". .!;. ur note i.) , a' 

I bavw loat no timv." 



316 ' GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

"Thank you. Thank you." 

As 1 brought another of the ragged chairs to. the hearth air 1 sat 
down I remarked a new expression on her face, as if she were afraid 
me. 

"I want," she said, " to pursue that subject you mentioned to 
me when you were last here, and to show you that I am not all 
stone. But perhaps you can never believe, now, that there i^ any 
tiling human in my heart 1 " 

When I said some reassuring words, she stretched out her trem- 
ulous right, hand, as though she we/e going to touch me; but she 
recalled it again before I understood the action, or knew how to 
receive it. 

" You said, speaking for your friend, that you could tell me how 
to do something useful and good. .Something that you would like 
done, is it not?" 

"Something that I would like done, verv, verv much." 

« What is it ? " 

i began explaining to her that secret history of the partnership. 
I had not got far into it when I judged from her look that she was 
Ihinking in a discursive way df me rather than of what I said. — 
It seemed to be so, for when 1 slopped speaking many moments 
passed before she showed that site. was conscious of the fact. 

" Do yon break off," she asked then, with her former air of be- 
ing afraid of me, " because you hate me too much to bear to speak 
to me %" 

" No, no,'" 1 answered, "how can you think so, ^liss Havisham ! 
I stopped because I thought you were not following what I said." 

" I'erhaps I was not," she answered, putting a hand to her head. 
" Begin again, and let hh.' look at something else. Stay! Now 
tell me." 

She set Inr bands upon her stick in the resolute way that some- 
times was habitual to her, and looked at the lire with a strong ex- 
pressinn of forcing herself to attend. I went on with my expla- 
nation, and told her how I had hoped to complete the transaction 
out of my means, but how in this I was disappointed. That part 
of the subject (I reminded her) involved matters which could form 
no parr of my explanation, for they were the weighty secrets of 
another. 

" So ! " said she, assenting with her head, but not looking at me. 
"And how much money is wanting to complete the purchase V 

I was rather afraid of stating it, for it sounded a large sum. — 
Nine hundred pounds." 

" If I give you the money for this purpose, will you keep my 
•et as- vou have kept your own ? " 
>ite*as faithfully." 
nd your mind will be more at rest I " 
ich more at rest." 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Ul 

" Are you very unhappy now ? " 

ie asked this question, still without looking- at me, hut in an 
unwonted tone of sympathy! I could not reply at the moment, for 
my voice failed me. She put her left arm across the crnlc edhead 
of her -stick, ami softly laid her forehead on it. 

" I am far from happy, Miss Ilavisham ; hut I have other caus- 
es of disquiet than any you know of. They are the secrets 1 have 
mentioned." 

After a little while she raised her head and looked at the fire 
again. 

" It is noble in you to tell me that you have ether causes of un- 
happiness. Is it true .' " 

" Too true." 

" Can 1 only serve you, Pip, hy serVjng yVur friend ? Regard- 
ing that as done, is there nothing 1 can do for you yourself]" 

".Nothing. I thank you for the question. I thank you even 
more for the tone of the question. Bui there is nothing." 

She presently rose from her seat, and looked about the blighted 
room lov the means of writing. There were none there, and she 
took from her pocket a yellow set of ivory tablets, mounted in tar-' 
rushed gold, and wrote upon them with a pencil in a case of tar- 
nish d gold that bimg from her neck. 

'• You are still on friendly terms with Mr. Jaggers ?" « 

".Quite. I dined with him yesterday." 

" This is an authority lo him to pay yon that money to lay out 
at your irresponsible discretion for your friend. I' keep no money 
hcre, hut if you would rather Mr. Jaegers knew nothing of the mat- 
ter, I will send it to you." 

''Thank you, Miss Ilavisham; I -have not the least objection to 
receiving it from him." 

She read me what she had written, and it was direct and clear, 
and evidently intended to absolve me from any suspicion of profil- 
ing by the receipt of the money'. I look the tablets from her hand, 
and it trembled again, and it trembled more as she took off the 
chain to which the pencil was attached and put it in mine. Aii 
this slie did without looking at me. 

" My name is on the first leaf. If you can ever write under my 
name, ' I forgive her,' though ever so long after my broken heart 
is dust — pray do it !" 

"Oh, Miss Ilavisham;" said I. " I can do it now. There have 
been sore mistakes, and my life has been a blind, and thankless one. 
and I want forgiveness and direction far too much to be hitter with 
you. 

She turned her face to me for the first time since she had avert- 
ed it, and, to my amazement, I may even add to my terror, dropped 
on her knees at my feet, with her folded hands raised to me in the 
manner iu which, when her poor heart was young aud Ireah an 



318 GRE.VT EXPECTATIONS. 

whole, they must often have been raised to Heaven from her moth- 
er's side. 

'I 1 ! i see her with her white hair and her worn face kneeling 'at 
my feet, gave me a shock through all my frame. I' entreated her 
to rise, and got my arms ahout her to help her up ; hut she only 
pressed thai hand of mine which was nearest to her grasp, and 
hung her head over it and wept. I had never seen her shed a tear 
before, and, in the hope that the relief might do her g'eod, I bent- 
over her without speaking, fthe was not kneeling now, but was 
down upon the ground. 

" Oh !" she cried, dsspairingly. " What have I clone ! What 
have I done ! ' ! 

"If you* mean, Miss Havisham, what have you done to injure 
me, let me answer. Very little. I should have loved her under 
any circumstances. — Is she married?" 

It was a needless question, for a new desolation in the desolate 
house had told me si;. 

"What have I done! What have I done !" she wrung her 
hands, and crushed her white hair, and returned to this cry, over 
and over again. "What have I done! What have 1 clone! " 

I knew not how to answer, or how to cmnf >rt her. That she 
had doue a grievous thing to take an impressionable child to mould 
into the form that herVild resentment, spurned affection, and wound- 
ed pride found vengeance in, i knew full well. But that, in shut- 
ting cuit the light of day, she had shut out infinitely more than 
that; that, in seclusion, she had secluded herself 'from a thousand • 
natural and healing influences; that her mind, brooding solitary, 
had grown diseased, as all minds do "and must and will that re- 
verse the appointed order if their Maker, I knew equally well. — 
And could 1 look upon her without compassion, seeing her pun- 
ishment in the ruin she was, in her profound unfitness for this earth . 
on which she was placed, in the vanity of sorrow which ha i be- 
coiiK' a master mania, like the vanity of penitence, the vanity of 
remorse, the vanity of nnworthiness, and other monstrous vanities 
that have been curses in this world ? 

"Until you spoke to her the other day, and until I saw in you 
a looking-glass that showed me what 1 once felt myself, I did not 
know what 1 had done. What have I done ! What have i done !"• 
And so again, twenty, fifty times over. What had she done ! 
• " Miss Havisham," I said, when her cry died away, " you may 
dismiss me from your mind and conscience. But Estella is a differ- 
ent case, and it von can ever undo any scrap ot what you fcavv 
iniie amiss in keeping a part of her right nature away from her, it 
ill he belter to do that than to bemoan the past through a bull- 
ed years." 
• Xes, yes, I know it. But. Pip— mj dear I" There was an 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 319 



earnest womanly/compassion for me in her new affectbn. "My 
dear! Believe this: when she first eame to me. I meant to save 
her from miserv like niv own. Al first I meant no more." 

'•'Well, well!" said I . ".I hope so." 

•' lint as she grew, and promised to he Airy heanlifnl. T gradu- 
al!} did Worse, and with my praise's, and with my jewels, and with 
teachings, and With this" .figure of myself always before Iter a 
Warning to hack and point joy lessons, I sidle her heart away and 
put ice in its ; lace." 

" Better," 1 eotild not help saying, "to have left her a natural 
heart, even to be' bruised or broken." 

With, that. Miss ilavisham ioo ed distractedly at me for a while 
and then hurst out again. What had she done! 

"If you knew all my story,' 1 she pleaded, "you would have 
some cbtupassion for me and a heller understanding of me." 

" Miss Ilavisham," 1 answered, as delicat.-ly as 1 could, " I be 
lieve 1 may say that I do know your st ry. and have known it 
ever since I first left this neighborlwod. It has inspired .me with 
great cynmiissefation, and 1 hope. 1 understand it and its influ- 
ences. J h»es what has passed between us give me any excuse for 
asking you a question relative to Est el U .' Not as she is, but as 
she was when she lirst came lira-?" 

She was seated on the ground, with her arms on the ragged 
chair, and her head leaning on them. She looked full at me when 
I said this, and replied, " Go mi." 

" JfVuo.se child was Estella.'" 

She shook her head. 

" You don't knoW .'" 

She shook her head again. 

'.' But Mr. daggers brought her here, or sent her here ?" 

'• Broyght her here." 

•• Will you tell me how that eame about 1" 

She answered in a low whimper and with great caution : " I had 
been shut up in these rooms'a Imjig lime (1 don't know how long; 
you know what time the clocks keep here), when 1 told him that 1 
wanted a little girl to rear and save from my fate. I had first 
seen him when 1 sent for him to lay t lis place waste for me ; 
having read of him in the newspapers, before I and the world part- 
ed. He told me that he would look about him for such an orphan 
child. One night he brought her here asleep, and I called her 
Esteda." . * 

•• Might 1 ask her age then ?" 

"Abdul three'. She herself Knows nothing, but that she was 

. an orphan and 1 adopted her," 

So convinced I was of that woman's being her mother, that I 
wanted no e\idence to establish the fact in my own mind. But to 
au>- luiud. 1 though U the connection b«rw wa& clear aud btraigjit. 



3 20 , GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

What mire could I hope to do by prolonging the interview? I 
had succeeded on liehalf of Herbert, Miss Havisham had told me 
all siie knew of Estella, I had said and done what I could to ease 
her mind. No matter with what other words we parted,; we 
parted 

Twilight was closing in when 1 went down stairs into the na- 
tural air. I ca'lcd to the woman who had opened the gate when I 
entered that I would not trouble her just yet; hut would walk 
round tiie place before 'caving For [ had a presentiment that I 
should never he there again, and I ielt that the dying light was 
suited to my last view of it. 

By the wilderness of casks that I had walked on long ago, and 
on which the rain of year's had fallen since, rotting'thein in many 
places, and leaving miniature swamps and pools of waler upon • 
those that stood on end, I made my way to the ruined garden. ■ I 
went all around it; round by the comer where Herbert and 1 had 
fought our battle; round by the paths where Estella and 1 had 
walked. So cold, so lonely, so dreary all ! 

Taking the brewery oh my way back, I raised the rusty latch 
of a little door at the garden end of it, and walked through. I 
was going out at the opposite door. — not easy to open now, for the 
damp wood had started and swelled, and the hinges were yield- 
ing, 'aid the threshold was encumbered with a growth of fungus — 
when I turned my head to look back. A childish associa ion re- 
vived with wonderful force in the moment of the slight action, 
and I fancied that I saw Miss Havisham hanging to the beam. 
8o strong was the impression that I stood under the beam shud- 
dering from head to fool before I Knew it was a fancy — though to 
To be sure 1 was there but an instant. 

The mournfnluess of the place and lime, and the great terror of 
this illusion, though it was but momentary, caused hie to feel an 
indescribable awe as 1 came out between the open wooden gates 
where I had once wrung my hair after Est lla had wunng my heart. 
Passing on into the front court-yard, I hesitated whether to call 
the woman to let me out at the locked gate of which she had the 
key. or first to go up stairs and assure myself that Miss Havisham 
was as safe and well as 1 had leffher. L look the'latter course 
and went up. 

I looked in the room where I had left her, and I saw her 
seated in the ragged chair upon the hearth close to the fire, with 
her back toward me. In the moment when I was withdrawing 
my head to go quietly away I saw a great flaming light spring up. 
ID the same moment I saw her running at me, shrieking, with a 
whirl of fire blazing all about her, and soaring at least. as many 
feet above her head as she was high. 

1 had a double-caped great-coat on, and over my arm another 
liick coat That I got tliem uiL closed with. Iter, threw her down* 






GREAT EXPECTATIONS. - 321 

amrgol them over 1 her; that I dragged the great cloth from the 
table for the same purpose, and with it dragged down th,e heap of 
rottenness in the midst, and all the ugly things that sheltered 
there; thai we were on the ground! struggling adlv like desperate 
enemies, and thai the closer 1 covered her, the more wildly she 
shrieked and tried to free herself; that this occurred [ knew through 
the results; but not through any thing I felt, or thought, or kirew I 
did. 1 knew nothing until I knew that we were on the ll rt)r by 
the great table, and that patches of tinder yet alight were tl iatii?g 
in the smoky air, which, a moment ago, had been her faded bridal 
dress. 

Then 1 looked round and saw the disturbed beetles and spiders 
running away over the floor, and the servants coming in with 
breathless cries at the door. I still' held her forcibly flown with 
all my strength, like a prisoner who bright escape; and 1 doubt if 
I even knew who she was. or way we had struggled, or that she 
harl been in flames, or tfiat the" flames were out, until [saw the 
patches of tinder that had been her garments no longer alight but 
falling in a Mack shower around us. 

She was insensible, and I was afraid to have her moved, or e 
lied, A ustanoe was sent for, and I held her until it cam 
if 1 unreasonably fancied (1 think I did) that if I let her go the 
fire would break out again and consume her. When I got up, on 
the surgeon's ooniing to her with other aid, 1 was astonished to sec 
that both my hands were burned ; for I had no knowledge of it 
through the sense of feeling. ' 

( >a examii ation it was' pronounced that she had received serious' 
hurts, but that they of themselves were far from hopeless; the 
danger lay, However, mainly in the nervous shock. By the sur- 
geon's directi ms her bed was carried into that room and laid upon 
the great babble, which happened to be well suited to the dressing of 
her injuries. When I saw her again, an hour afterward, she lay 
indeed where I had seen her strike her stick, and heard her say 
that she would lie one day. 

Though every vestige of her dress was burned, as they told me< 
she still had something of her old ghastly bridal appearance ; for 
they had covered her to the throat with white cotton-wool, and as 
she. lay with a white sheet loosely overlying that, the phantom air 
of something that had been and was changed was still upon her. 

1 found, on questioning the servants, that Estella was in Paris, 
and I got, a promise from the surgeon that he would write to her 
by the next vest. Miss Havisham's family I took upon myself; 
intending to communicate with Mr. Matthew Pocket only, 
leave him to do as lie liked about informing the rest. This 1 did 
next day. through Herbert, as soon as I returned to town. 

There was a stage that evening when she spoke collectedly of 
what had happened, though with 4 certain terrible vivacity. To- 
£1 



322 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

ward midnight she began to wander in her speech, and after that 
it gradually set in that she saMirinnmerable limes in alow, solemn 
voice, " What have I done ! What 'nave I done!" And then, 
" When she first came, I meant to save her from misery like mine."' 
And 1 en. "Take the pencil a d write muter my name. ' 1 foi 
her ! ' " .She never changed the order of these three sentences, but 
she sometimes left out a word in one or other of them ; never put- 
'ling in another word, but always paving a blank, and going on to 
the next word. 

As 1 oould do no service there, and as 1 had, nearer home, that 
pressing reason for anxiety find fear which even her wanderings 
could not drive out of my mind, I decided in the course of the 
night that I would return by the early morning coabh; walkingon 
a mile or so, and being taken up clear of the town. At about six 
o'clock in the morning, therefore, I leaned over her and tow 
her lips with mine, just as they said, not stopping for being touched, 
"Take the pencil and write under my name, ' 1 forgive her.'" 

It was the first time. and the last time I ever touched her in 
that way. And I never saw her more. 



CHAPTER L 



My hands had h> d twice or thrice in the night, and 

in the morning. My lel't arm was a good -deal burned to 
elbow, and less severely as high as the shoulder ; it was very pain- 
ful, but the flames had set in thai direction*, and I felt thankful it 
no worse! 3iy rigttf hand was not so badly burned but that 
i could move the fingers. It was bandaged, of course, bul much 
less inconveniently .than my left hand and arm : those 1 carried in a 
; and I Could only wear my coat like a cloak, loose over my 
shoulders and fastened at the neck. My hair had been caught by 
the fire, hul not my head or I 

When Berebertiad been down to Hammersmith and seen his 

father, In me at our chambers, and devoted the 

to attending on me. He was the kindest of nurses, and at stated 

times took j, and steeped them in the cooling liquid 

was kepi ready, and put them, on again with a patient tender- 

ss that i was deeply grateful for. 

\t first, as I lay quier on the sofa I tound it painfully difficult, 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS 323 

1 might say impossible, to gel rid of the impression of the gla^e of 
the flames, their hurry and noise, and the fierce Burning smell. If 
1 dozed for a -- minute, i was awakened by Miss Havisham's cries, 
ami by her running al me with all thai height of lire above ber 
head. This pain of the mind was much harder to strive against 
than any ho'dily pain I suffered ; and Herbert, seeing thai, did his 
utmost to bold my attention engaj 

Xcither of ns spoke of the "boat, but we both thought of it. — 
That was made apparent by our avoidance of the subject, and by 
oiir agreeing — wiihout agreeue.n1 — to make my recovery ol 

of my hands a question of so many hours, not oi' so many 

Weeks. 

My first question, when 1 saw Herbert had been, of course, 

wheiher all was well down the river I As lie replied in the affirm- 
ative, with perfect confidence and cheerfulneess, we did not resume 
the subject until the day was wearing away. But then, as Herbert 
changed the bandages", more by the light of the tire than by the 
outer light, he. went back to it. spontaneously. 

"1 sat witli Provis last night; Handel, two good hours." 

" Where was Clara V" 

••Dear little thing!" said ^Herbert. "She was up and down 
with Gruffandgrim all the evening. He was perpetually pegging 
at the floor tin' moment she left his sight. I doubt if he can hold 
out long though. What with rum and pepper — and pepper 
rum — ! should think his pegging must lie nearly over." 

"And then yon will be married, Herbert !" 

"How can I take care of the dear child otherwise? Lay \our 
arm out upon the back of the sofa, my dear boy, and I'll sit down 
her. and gel tic bandage oil' so gradually that you shall not know 
When it conies. 1 was speaking of Provis. Do you know, Han- 
del, he improves ? " 

•• 1 said to you I thought he was softened, when 1 last saw h 

" So yoi so he is. He was very communicative last 

night, and bold me more of his life. You remember his breaking 
off here about some woman that ho had had great trouble with. — 
Did I hurt you?" 

I had started, but not under his touch. His words had given 
me a start, 

"I had forgotten that, Herbert, but I remember it now \ on 
speak of it." 

" Well! He went into that part of his life, and a dark, wild 
part it is. Shall 1 tell you. Or would it worry you just now?" 

" Tell me by all means. Every word ! " 

Herbert bent forward to look at me more nearly, as if my r< 
had been rather more hurried or more eager than be could > 
account for. " Your head is cool ?" ho said, touching it. 



324 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

i 

" Quite," said I. " Tell me what Provis said, my dear Her- 
bert." 

" It seems," said Herbert, " — there's a bandage off most charm- 
ingly, and now conies the cool one — makes you shrink at first, my 
poor dear fellow, don't it 1 but it will be comfortable presently — it 
seems that the woman was a young woman, and a jealous wi - 
man, and a revengeful woman ; revengeful, Handel, to the last- 
degree." 

" To what last degree ?" 

'• Murder. Does it strike too cold on that sensitive place ? " 

" I don't feel it. How did she murder ? Wiiom did she mur- 
der 1 " 

" Why, the deed may not have merited quite so terrible a name,'^ 
said Herbert, "but she was tried fur it, and Jaggers defended lier, 
and the reputation of that defense first made his name known to 
Provis. It was another and a stronger woman who was the vic- 
tim, and there had been a struggle — in a bam. Who beiran.it, or 
how fair it was, or how unfair, may be doubtful ; but how i! ended 
is certainly not doubtful, for the victim was found throttled." 

" Was the woman brought in guilty '.<" 

" No ; she was acquired. My poor Handel, I hurt you ! '•' 

" It is impossible to be gentler, Herbert. Yes ] What else? ' 

" This acquitted young woman and Provis,'' said Herbert, " had 
a. Rttle child : a little child of whom Provis was exceedingly fond. 
On the evening of the very night when the object of her jealousy 
was strangled, as I tell you, the yonng'woinan presented herself 
Before Provis for one moment, and swore that she would destroy 
the chi d (which was in her possession) and he should never see 
it again | then she vanished. There's the worst arm comfortably 
in the sling once more, and now there remains but the right band, 
which is a far easier job. I can do it better by this light than 
by a stronger, for my hand is steadiest when I don't see the poor 
blistered patches too distinctly. You don't think* your breathing 
is afftxted. my dear boy? You seem to breathe quickly." 

" Ptthaps I do, Herbert, Hid the woman keep l.er oath?'* 

"There comes the darkest part of Pruvis's life. 8be d\i\.'' 

" That is he says she did." 

"Why, of course, my dear hoy," returned Herbert, in a tone 
of surprise, and again bending forward to get a nearer look at 
me. " lie says it all. I have no other information." 

"No, to be sure." , 

'.'Now, whether." pursued Herbert, "lie bad used the child's 

-nother ill, or whether he had used the child's mother well, Pro\is 

•n't s.'v ; but, she had shared some four or ii.e years (if the 

-tched life he described to us at this fireside, and he seems 

•ave felt pity for her, and forbearance toward her. Therc- 

fc&jring he should be called upon to depose about this da- 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. c25 

Strnyed child, and so he the cause of her* death, he hid himself 
(much ;is lie grieved for tlie child), kept himself dark, as he says, 
our of the way and on* of the trial, and was only vaguely talked 
of as a certain man called Abel, out of whom the jealousy arose. 
After the acquittal she disappeared, and thus he lost the child 
and the child's mother." 

" I want to ask — " 

"A moment, my dear hoy," said Herbert, "and I have done. 
That evil Compey, the worst of scoundrels among? many scoun- 
drels, i • im\ving<if his keeping out of the way at that time, and of 
his reasons for doing so, of course afterward held the knowledge 
over his head as a means of keeping him poorer, and working him 
harder. It was clear last night that ibis barbed the point of 
Provis's hatred." 

"1 want to know," said I, " and particularly, Herbert, whe- 
ther lie 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'nmst 
directly after I took up wi' Compey.' How old were you when 
you come upon him in the little church-yard?" 

"1 think in my seventh year." 

"Ay. It had happened about tour years, then, he said, and 
you brought into his mind the little girl so tragically lost, who 
Won d have been 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 

" By the fire-light," 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 exam- 
ine me. '• You are rather excited, but you are quite yourself." 

",1 know I am quite myself. And the man we have in hiding 
down the river is Estella's Father." 



326 GREAT EXPECTATIONS 



CHAPTER LI. 



What purpose I bad in view when I was hot on tracing out and 
proving EstellaJs parentage I can not say. It will presently be 
seen that i in* question was not before me in a distinct shape until 
it was pi,t before rue by a wiser head than my nwn. 

But when Herbert and I had held our momentous < onversation, 
1 was seized with a feverish conviction that 1 ought nol to hunt 
she matter down — that 1 ought not to let ii rest, but 'hut'l oi 

i.e Mr. Jaggers, and come at the hare truth. I really d >i 

know whether I felt'that 1 did this for Estella's sake, or whether i 
glad to transfer to the man in whose preservation 1 was so 
much concerned some rays 'of the, romantic Interest that had so 
long surrounded her. Perhaps the latter possibility may be the 
neater to the truth. 

y way, I could searcely he withheld from going our to Ger- 
et that night. Herbert's representations that, if I did, 1 
should probably be laid up and stricken useless when our fugi- 
■ould depend upon me, aione restrained my i 
>■. On the understanding, again and again reiteratedt#tha1 
■ wi:at would, 1 was to go to Mr J aggers to-morrow, 1 at 
length submitted to keep quiet , and to have my hurts looked after, 
and to stay at home. Early next morning we went out together, 
and at the corner of Giltspur Street by Smithfield* I left Herbert 
j into the City, and took my way to Little Britain. 
periodical occasions when Mr. Jaggers and Wem- 
mick went over the office accounts, and checked off the vouchers, 
and put all tilings straight. On those occasions Wemmick took* 
his books and papers into Mr. jaggprs's room, and one of tin- 
staii's clerks came down into the outer office. Finding such clerk 
on Wemmick's post that morning, 1 knew what was going on ; 
but 1 was not sorry to have Mr. Jaggers and Wemmick together, 
as V, would then hear for himself that I said nothing to 

compromise him.' 

My appearance with tuy arm bandaged and my coat loose 
my shoulder favored my object, Although I had sent Mr. Jag- 
gers a brie:' account of the accident as soon as I had arrived in 
town, yet 1 had to give him all the details now; and the special- 
ly of the occasion caused our talk to dry and bard, and 
strictly regulated by the rules of evidence, than it had been 
ei'ore. While I described the disaster Mr. Jaggers stood, ac- 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 357 

cording to his worft, before the fire. Wemmick leaned back in his 
chair staring at me, with his bands in the pockets of his trowsera, 
and his pen put horizontally into the post. The two brutal casts, 
always inseparable in my mind from the official prooeedi 
seemed to be congestively considering whether they didn't smell 
fire at the present moment. 

My narrative finished, and their questions exhausted, I then 
produced Miss Havisham's authority to receive the nine hundred 
rfounds for Herbert. Mr. Jaggers's eyes retired. a little deeper 
into his head when 1 .handed him the tablets-, but he presently 
handed them over to Wemmick, with instructions to draw the 
cheek for his signature. White that was in course of being done 
I looked on at Wemmick as he wrote, and Mr. Jaggers, poising 
and swaying himself on his well-polished hoots, looked on at me. 
"I am sorry, Pip," said he, as 1 put the check in my pocket, 
when he had signed it, " that we do nothing for you." 

"Miss Havisham was food enough to ask me," T returned, 
" whether she could do any thing for me, and I told her No." 

'• Every body should know his own business," said Mr. .Tag- 
gers. And I«*aw Wemmick's lips form the words "portable 
property/' 

" 1 should not have told her No, if I had been you," said Mr. 
Jaggers ; " but every man ought to know his own business best." 

•• Every man's busings,' 1 said Wemmick, rather reproachfully 
toward me, " is portable property." 

As I thought the time was now come for pursuing the theme I 
had at heart. I said, fuming on Mr. Jaggers: 

" I did ask something of Miss Havisham, however, Sir. I ask- 
ed her to give me some information relative to her adopted daugh- 
ter, and she gave me all she possessed." 

"Did she?" said Mr. daggers, bending forward to look at, his 
boots and then straightening himself. "Hah! I don't think I 
should have done so, if 1 had been Miss Havisham. Bui 
ought to know her own business best." 

" I know more of the history of Miss Havisham's adopted child 
than Miss Havisham herself does. Sir. I know her mother." 

Mr. Jaggers looked at me inquiringly, and repeated "Mother?" 

" 1 have seen her mother within these three days." 

"Yes?" said Mr. Jaggers. 

" And so' have you, Sir. And you have seen her still more re- 
cently " / 

•• Yes .'" said Mr. Jaggers. 

•• Perhaps I kuow more of Estella's history than even you do." 
said I. "I know her father, too." 

A certain stop that Mr. Jaggers came to in his manner— he 
was too self-possessed to change his manner, but he could no 
help its being brought, to an indefinably attentive stop — ussur 



328 ' • GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

me tliat he did not know who her father was. »This T had strnng- 
]y snspeeUd from Provis's account (as Herbert had delivered ii) 
of bis having kept himself dark ; which I pieced on to' the fact 
that he himself was not Mr. Jaggers's c ient until some four years 
la'er. and when he could have no reason for claiming his idemity. 
But I could not he sure of this unconsciousness on Mr. Jaggers's 
pari Ik fore. 1 hough I was quite sure of it now. 

"So! You know the young lady's father, Pip? said Mr. 
Jaggers. , . • 

" Yes,'' I replied. "And his name is Frovis — from New South 
Wales." 

Even Mr. .Taggers started when I said those words. It was 
the slightest start that could escape a man. the most carefully re- 
pressed and the soonest checked, hut he (lid start, though he made 
ii a part of the action of taking out his pocket-ha'nd kerchief. I!n\v 
Wemmiek received the announcement 1 am unable to say. for 1 
was afraid to look ar him just then, lest Mr. Jaggers s sharpness 
fchonld delect lhat there had been some communication unknown 
to him between us. 

" Aid on what evidence, Pip," asked Mr. Jaggers, very coolly, 
as be paused with his handkerchief half-way to nis nose, "dues 
Provis make this claim ?" 

"He does not make it," said I, "and has never made it, and 
has no knowledge or belief that his daughjer is in existence." 

Fur once the powerful pocket-handkerchief failed My .reply 

so unexpecied that Mr. .Taggers put the handkerchief back 

into his pocket, without completing the usual pel lorn, ante, folded 

his arms, and looked with stern attention at me, though with an 

immovable faj e. 

Then 1 told him all I knew, and how I knew it ; with the one 
reservation lhat I left himto inier that I knew from Miss llavi- 
sham what J in fact knew fidm Wemniie<. J was very careful 
indeed as to that Nor did I look toward Wemmiek until 1 had 
finished all I had to tell, and had been for some time si enily meet- 
i' g Mr..laggers's look. When I did at last turn my eyes in 
Wemii iek's direction, I found that lie had unposted his pen, and 
wa- intent upon the table before h'im. 

"Hah!" said Mr. Jaggers at last, as he moved toward the pa- 
person the table. •' — What item was it you were at, Wemmiek, 
when Pip came in ?" 

But I eou d not submit to be thrown off in that way. and I 
made a passionate, a most an indignant, appeal to him to be more 
frank and manly with me. 1 reminded him of the false hopes into 
which 1 had lapsed, the length of time tl.cy lad lasted, and the 

scuvery 1 had made; and I hinted at the danger that weigl ed 

ya my spirits. 1 represented myself as being surely worthy of 
■i little confidence trom him, in return for the confidence 1 had 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. . 329 

j n^t now imparted. I said that I -did not blame him, or snippet 
him. or mistrust him, luit 1 wanted assyranctf of the trulh from 
hlin. And ii" lie asked me why I wauled ii.aiid why I thought I 
had any right to it, I W,ou d 1 1 -1 1 him. Iinh- as he cared for such 
poor -dreams, that I had loved Estella dearly and long, and tlat, 
although 1 had lost her and must live a bereaved life, whatever 
concerned Iter was slill nearer and dearer to me than any thing 
else in the world. And seeing that Mr.'Jnggers stood quite still 
and silent, and apparently quite obdurate, under this appeal. I 
tinned to Wemmick, and said. "Wemmiok, I know you In he a 
man with a gNitle heart. 1 have seen your pleas, int home, and 
your old lather, and all the innocent, cheerfii , play fit ways will) 
which you refresh your business life. And I entreat you to say 
a word for me to Mr. Jaggers, and to represent 'to him that, all 
ciicumslanees considered, he ought to he more tipen with me! - ' 

1 ha\e never seen two men look more oddly at one another 
than Mr daggers and Wemmick did after this apostrophe. At 
first, a misgiving crossed me that. VVemmuk would be instantly 
dismissed from hisemp pymenfc; but it melted as I saw Mr. dag- 
gers relax into some, thing like a smile, and Wemmick become 
holder. 

•• VC.liat's all this?" said Mr. Jaggews. "You with an old fa- 
ther, and y<m with pleasant and playful ways?" 

"Well!" returned Wemmick. "If 1 don't bring 'cm here, 
what does it matter '. ' 
* " Pip." said Mr. Jaggers, aying his hind upon my arm, and 
smiling openly, "this man must be the most cunning impostor in 
all Loudon." 

"Not a bit of it," returned Wemmiok, growing bidder and bold- 
er. " 1 think \ ou're another." 

Again they exchanged their former odd looks, each apparently 
still tlistfUstful that the other was taking him in. 

" You with a pleasant home.'" said Mr. Jaggers. 

" bince it don't interfere with business, ' returned Wetivuick, 
"let it be so. Now I look at you, Sir. I shouldn't wonder if j/oti 
might be planning and contriving to have a pleasant home of your 
own one of these days, when you're tired <d" this work." 

Mr Jiggers nodded his lead retrospectively two or three times, 
and actually drew a sigh. " Pip," said he, '«> won't ta k about 
• poor dreams;' you know more about such things than I, having 
much fresher experience id' that kind. But about this other mat- 
ter. I'll put a case to yon. Mind ! I admit nothing." 

lie waited for me to declare that 1 quite understood that he ex- 
ly said that he admitted nothing. 

'Now, Pip," said Mr. Jaggers, "put this case. Put the case 
that a woman, under such circumstances as you have mentioned, 
held her child concealed, and was obliged to communicate Lbv 



330 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

fact to her legal adviser, on his representing to her that he must 
know, with an eye to the latitude of his defense, how the fact 
stood about that child. Put the case that ,at, the same time he 
held a trust to find a child for an eccentric rich lady to adopt and 
bring up." 

" I follow you, Sir." 

" Put the case that he lived in an atmosphere of evil, and that 
all he saw of children was their being generated in great numbers 
for certain destruction. Put the case that he often saw children 
solemnly tried at a criminal bar, where they were held up to be 
seen ; put i he case that lie habitually knew of their being impris- 
oned, whipped, transported, neglected, casl out, qualified in all 
ways for the hangman, and growing up to be hanged. Put the 
case thai pretty nigh all the children he saw in his daily business 
life be had reason to look upon as so much spawn, to develop into 
the. fish that were to come to his net — to be prosecuted, defended, 
forsaken, made'orpHans, be-deviled somehow." 

" 1 follow you, Sir." 

" Put the case Pip, that here was one pretty little child out of 
the heap who could be saved; whom the father believed dead, and 
dare make no stirabout; as to whom, over the mother, the legal 
adviser had this power: ' I know what you did, and how you did 
it. You came so and so, this was your manner of attack and this 
the manner of resistance, yon went so and so, you did such and 
such things to divert suspicion. I have tracked you through it 
all, and I tell it you all. Part with the child, unless it should be 
ssary to produce it to clear you, and then it shall be produced. 
Give the child into my hands, and 1 will do my best to bring you 
Off. If yon are saved, your child is saved too ; if you are lost, 
your child is still saved.' Put the case that this was done, and 
that the woman was cleared." « 

" 1 understand you perfectly . ft 

"But that I make no admissions?" 

"That you make no admissions." And Wemmick replied, 
" • o admissions." 

"Put the case, Pip, that passion and the terror of death had a 
little shaken the woman's intellects, and that when she was set at 
liberty she was scared out of the ways of the world, and went to 
him to be sheltered. Put the case that he took her in, and that 
be kept down the old wild violent nature whenever he saw an 
inkling of it breaking out. by asserting his power over her in the 
old way. Do you comprehend the imaginary ca.^e V 

" Quite." 

" Put the case that the child grew up, and was married for 

uey. Thar the mother was still living. That the father was 

living. That the mother and father were known to one ano- 

were dwelling within so many miles, furlongs, yards if you 



GREAT EXPECTATION.-. 331 

like, of one another. That the secret was still a, seoret, except 

that you had got wind of it. Put that las! rase to yourself very 
carefully." 

" I do." 

"I ask Wetntnick to put it 10 himself very careful, y." 

And Wem mick said, " 1 do." 

".For whose sake would you reveal the secret, Pip? For the 
father's? I think lie would not be much t.Q£ better for the mot 
For the mother's ? I think if she bad done such a deed she would 
be safer where she was. For the daughter's? 1 think it would 
hardly serve her, to estahlisb her parentage for the information of 
ber busband, and to drag- ber back to disgrace after an escape of 
twenty years, pretty secure to last for life. But add the case that, 
you had loved her. Pip, and had made he'r the subject of those 
' poor dreams ' which have, at onetime ov another, heeil in the 
headset more men than you think likely, then I tell you that you 
had better — and would much sooner when you had thought well of 
it — chop ofT that baudaged left hand of yours with your bandaged 
right hand, and then pass the chopper on to Wemmiek there, and 
cut that off, too." ' 

I looked at Wemmiek, whose lace was very grave, and who 
gravely touched his lips with his forefinger. 1 did the same, and 
Mr. daggers did the same. " Now. Wemmiek," said the latter 
then; resuming his usual manner, "what item was it you were at 
when Mr. Pip came in .'" 

(Standing by for a little, while they were at work, I observed 
that the odd looks they had cast al one another were repeated 
several times : with this difference now, thai each of them seem- 
ed suspicious, not to say conscious! ol having shown himself in a 
weak and unprofessional light to the other. Fortius reason, 1 
suppose, rhey were now inflexible with one another; Mr. daggers 
being highly dictatorial, and Wemmiek obstinately justifying 
himself whenever there was the smallest point in abeyance fur 
a moment. 1 had«never seen them on such ill terms; for gener- 
ally they got on very well indeed together. 

But they were both happily relieved by the opportune app 
ance of Mike, the client with the fur cap and the halm of wiping 
his nose on his sleev.e, whom 1 had seen on the very first da 
my appearance within those walls. This individual, who, eh her 
in his own person or in that of some member of his family, see 

■ alwax s in trouble (which in that place meanl Newgate), called 
to announce that his eldest daughter was taken up on suspicion of 
shop-lifting. As he imparted this melancholy cireumstanc 
Wemmiek, Mr. daggers standing magisterially befoi 
taking no share in the procei i.e's eye happened totwi 

with a tear. 



332 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" What areynn about ? " demanded Wemmiek, with the utmost 
indignation. '-What do yon come snivelling here fur?" 

" I didn't go in do if. Mr. Wemmiek.'* 

•• You Old," said Wemmiek. " How dare you? You're not in 
a fit stale 'o conn' here, if you ean't come here without spluttering 
like a bad pen. What do you mean by it ?" 

"A man can't help hi* feelings, Mr. Weiumick," pleaded Mike. 

'• His what t" demanded Wemmiek, quite savagely. " Say that 
again ! " 

" Now, look here my man," sail Mr. .Taggers, advaneing a step, 
and pointing to the door. "Get-out of this office. I'll have no 
feelings here. Get out. ' 

" It serves yon right," said Wemmiek. "Get out." 

So the unfortunate Mike very humbly withdrew, and Mr. Jag- 
gers ami Wemmiek appeared to have re-established their good un- 
derstanding, and went to work again with a visible refreshment up- 
on them, as if they had just had lunch. 



CHAPTER LIL 



From Little Britain I wenj, with my cheek in my pocket, to 
Miss Skifh'ns s brother, the accountant ; and Miss Skiffins's brother, 
the accountant, going straight to Clarriker's, and bringing dan- 
ker to me, 1 had the great satisfaction of completing that arrange- 
ment. It was tire only good thing I had done, and the only com- 
pleted thing I had done, since 1 was first apprised of my great ex- 
pectations. 

Clarriker informing me on that occasion that the. affairs of the 
house were steadily progressing, that he would now be able to es- 
tablish a small branch-house in the East, which was much wanted 
for the extension of the business, and that Herbert in his new 
partnership capacity would go out and take charge of it, I found 
that 1 must have prepared for a separation from my friend, even 
though my own affairs had been more settled: And now indeed I 
f elt as if my last anchor were loosening its hold, and 1 should soon 
\ driving with the winds and waves. 

"Hut there was recompense in the joy with which Herbert came 
e of a night and told me of these changes, little imagining 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. • 333 

that he told me no news, and sketched airy pictures of himself 
Conducting Clara Barley to the land of the Arabian Knights, and 
of me going out to join tlirin (with a caravan of camels, I be- 
lieve), and of our going up the Nile aud a seeing wonders. With- 
out being sanguine as to my own part in these A>right plans, 1 fell 
that Herbert's way was clearing fast, and thai old Mill Barley had 
bin to stick to his pepper and rum, -and his daughter Would soon 
be happily provided for. 

We had dow got into the month of Marc!!; My left arm. though 
it presented No bad symptoms, took in the natural course so long 
to heal that I was slill unable to gel a coat on. My rig hi hand 
was tolerably restored — lishgured. but fairly serviceable. 

( )n a Monday morning, when Herbert and 1 wen- at breakfast, 
1 received the following letter from We nl i nick by the posl : 

■• Walworth. Burn mis as soon as read. Early in the week, flr 
say Wednesday, you might ilo what you kn >w of, if you fell dis- 
posed to try it. Now burn." 

When 1 had shown this to Herbert, and had pu1 it in the fire 
— but not before we had both go1 it by heart — we considered what 
to do. For, uf course, my being disabled could no lunger be kept 
out of view. 

" I have thought if over, again and again," said Herbert, "and 
] think 1 know a better course than taking a Thumbs waterman. 
Take Start op. A good fellow, a skilled hand, fond of iis, and en- 
thusiastic and honorable. 
• 1 had thought c\' him more than once. 

" Bu1 how much would you tell him, 'Herbert ? " 

" It'is necessary to tell him very little. Let him suppose it a 
mere freak, lm; a ' ecret one, unlit the morning comes ; then let 
him know thai there is urgent reasons tor. your getting Pruvis 
board and away. You gu with him > " , 

" No duihr.'.' 

" Where .'" 

It bad seemed to me in Hie many anxious considerations I 1 al 
given to the point, almost hftlift'ereiii what port we made fm — 
Hamburg, Rotterdam, or Antwerp. The place signified litth 
that he was got mil of Bfcgland. Any foreign steamer that fell lit 
our way. and would take us up, would do. 1 had always proposed 
to myself to get him well down the river in the boat, certainly well 
beyond Gfravesend, which was a critical place for search or inquiry 
if suspicion were af ot. As foreign steamers would leave London 
al about the time of high-water, our plan would be to gel down 
Hie river by a previous ebb-tide, and lie by in some quiet spot un- 
til we could pull off to one. The line when one would he dug 
ere we lay. \vhere\er thai might be, could be calculated put y 
nearly, if we made inquiries beforehand. 

Herbert availed to ail tiiisi, and we went out immediately after 



334 . GREAT .EXPECTATIONS. 

breakfast to pursue our investigations. We found that a steamer 
for Flam burg was likely to suit our purpose best, and we directed 
our thoughts chiefly to that vessel. But we noted down what other 
foreign steamers. would leave London with the same tide, and we 
satisfied ourselves tjmt we knew the build and color of each. We 
then separated for a few hours ; I to get at once such passports as 
were necessary, Herbert to see fStartdp at his lodgings. We both 
did what we had to do without any hindrance, and when we met 
in at one o'clock reported it done. I, for my part, was prepar- 
ed with passports'; Herbert .had seen Startop, and he was more 
than ready to join. 

Those two should pull a pair of oars, we settled, and I could 
steer; our charge would be sitter and keep quiet; as speed was 
no! our object, -we should make way enough. We arranged that Her- 
bert should not come home to dinner before goir.g to Mill Pond 
Bank that evening; t Fiat we should not go there at all to-morrow 
evening: Tuesday ; that he should prepare Provis to come down 
to some stairs hard by the house, on Wednesday, when lie saw us 
approach, and not sooner; .and ihat all the arrangements with him 
iid be concluded that Monday night ; and that he should be 
communicated with no more in any way until we took him on 
board. 

These precautions well understood by both of us, I went home. 

On opening the outer door of our chambers with my key,Iiound 
a letter in the box. directed to me — a very dirty letter, although 
not ill-written. It had been delivered by hand (of course since I 
left home), and its contents were these: 

"If you are not afraid to come to the old marshes to-night or 
to-morrow night at nine, and to come to the little sluice-house, by 
ihe lime-kiln, yen had better come. If you want information re- 
garding your uncle Provis.you had much better come and tell no 
one and lose no time. You must come alone. Bring this with 
you." 

I had had load enough upon my mind before the receipt of this 
strange letter. What to do now I could not tell. Ami the worst 
was. that I must decide quickly, or I should miss the afternoon 
coach, which would take me down in time for to-night. To-mor- 
row night I could not think of going, for it would be too close Upon 
the time of the flight. And again, for anything I knew, the prof- 
fered information might have some important bearing on the flight 
itself. 

If I had had ample time for consideration I believe I should 

still have gone. Having hardly any time for consideration — my 

vatch showing me that the coach started within half an hour — 

v esolved to go. I should certainly not have '/one but for the 

rence to my Uncle Provis ; that, coming on Wemmick's letter- 

'-.he morning's busy preparation, turned the scale. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 333 

It is so difficult, to become clearly possessed of the contents of 
almost any letter, in a violent hurry, that 1 had to' read this mys- 
terious episile again, twice, before its injunction to me to be aecrel 
gpl mechanically into my mind. Yielding to it in tire same me-, 
chanical kind of way. 1 led a note in pencil for Berbert, telling 
him that as I should he so soon going away, I knew uol for how 
long, 1 had decided to hurry down and hack, to ascertain for my- 
self how Miss Havisham was faring. I had then barely time to 
get my great-coat, loch" up the chambers, and make for the 
coach-office by the short by-ways. If I had taken a hacknej 
chariot and gone by the streets, 1 should have missed my aim; 
going as I did, 1 caught the coach just as it came out of the yard. 
1 was the only inside passenger; jolting away knee-deep in straw, 
when ! came lo myself. 

I really had not been myself since ihe receipt of the letter: 
ad so bewildered me, ensuing on the hurry of the morning, 
morning hurry ami Butter had been great, for. long and anx- 
iously as I had waited for YVemmick. his hint had CQme like a 
surprise ai last. And now 1 began to wonder at myself for being 
in the coach, arid to doubt whetner I had sufficient, reason for 
being there, and to consider whether I should gel out* presently 
and go hack, and to argue against ever heeding an anonymous 
communication, and, in short, to pass through all those phase's of 
contradiction and indecision td which 1 suppose very few hurried 
people are strangers. Still, the reference to Provis byname mas- 
tered every thing. 1 reasoned as I had reasoned, already without 
knowing it — if that be reasoning — in case any harm should befall 
him through my not going, how could 1 ever forgive myself! 

Ji was dark before we got down, and the journey seemed long 
and dreary to me who could see»little of ir inside, and who could 
go outside in my disabled stale. Avoiding the Blue Boar, L 
up, ai an inn of 'minor reputation down the town, and ordered 
e dinner. While it was preparing. 1 weul lo Satis Ho 
and inquired for Miss Havisham ; she was still ver\ ill 
considered something better. 

My inn had once been a part of an ancient ecclesiastical house. 

ami 1 djned in a lit tie octagonal common-room, like a font. As 

i was not aide to cut my dinner, the old landlord with a shining 

ba d head did it for me. This bringing us into conversation, he 

- in entertain me with my own story — of course with 

;!,i popular feature that Pumhlechook was my ealiest benefactor 

ounder of my fortunes. 

o you know the young man," said I. 

" Know him !" repealed ihe landlord. " Ever since he was no 

; al all." 
" Does he ever come hack to this neighborhood V 
•• Ay, he comes hack," said the landlord, " to bi« great friends 



336 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

now and again,. and gives the co d shoulder to the man that made 

hiiii." 

" What man is that ?" 

"linn lli'at 1 speak of," said the land ord. "Mr. Pumble- 

ehook." 

•• 1* In- ungrateful tit no one else '?" 

"Nd difulrt he would he if he could." relurned the landlord : 
"hut he can't. And why? Because Pumblechook done every 
thing for him." ' 

'• Dues l'nmlilechook say so?" 

" Say so ! " replied the landlord. " He han't no call to say so." 

'• liiii (loes lie say so \" 

" It would linn a man's liloi d to white wine winrgar to hear 
him lell uf il. Sir." said the landlord. 

I thought. '• Yet Joe, dear J«ie, yo$ never tell of it ! Loi'g- 
snfierii 'fi and h>vii g Joe, ynu never complain ! Nor you, sweet- 
tempi u d Biddy !" 

•• Vt n r ai'j elite's lieerj t< uch< d like by your accident,'' said I he 
hftidl'itd glancing al the bandaged aim under my coat. "Try a 
lei (Icier hit." 

"No. thVnk yon," 1 replied, turning from the talc to breed 
over lie fire. " I can eai no more. Pleaae take it away." 

1 had never been struck at so keel ly for my iliank cssee^s to 
dot- as i hrmigli 1 1 e bra/en impostor Punihlechuolc. '1 he falser he, 
I uer .li e : the m aner he. the nobler doe. 

II) heart was deeply aid most deserved y humbled a* I mused 

i\er ilie fire for an hour or more. The striking of the clock 

sed me. bnl not. from ny d'jiction or remorse, aid 1 go) rip 

and had my coat fastened around my neck, and weni out I had 

previous!) sought \ Vi n i y pockets (or the letter that I might refer 

to it again, hut con d not find it. and was uneasy to think that if 

have been dropped in the straw of the coach. I knew very 

however, thai I he appointed place was the little sluice-house 

hy lie line k.ln on the marshes, and the hour nine. Toward the 

urarshes 1 now went straight, having no time to spare. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS 



CHAPTER LI IT. 

It was a dark night, though the full moon rose as I left the in- 
closed lands, and passed out upon the marshes. Beyond their dark 
line there w; 8 a ribbon of clear sky. hardly broad enough to hold 
the red large moon. In a few minutes she had ascended out of 
that clear field, in among the piled mountains, of cloud. 

There was a melancholy wind, and the marshes were very dis- 
mal. A stranger would have found them insupportable, and even 
to me they were so oppressive that I hesitated, half inclined to%o 
hack. But 1 knew them well, and could have found my way on a 
far darker night, and had no excuse for returning, being 
having come there against ray inclination, I went on againsl it. 

The direction thai 1 took was not that in which my old h 
lay, nor that in which we had pursued the convicts. M\ 
was turned toward the distant Hulks as I walked on, and though I 
could see the old lights away on the spits of sand, I saw them 
my shoulder. 1 knew the lime-kiln as well as I knew the old Bat- 
tery, but they were miles apart : so that if a light had been burn- 
ing at each |i .>int that night there would have been a long strip of 
the blank horizon between the two bright speck's. 

At first 1 had to shut some gates after me, and now and then to 
stand still while the cattle that were lying in the banked- up path- 
way arose and blundered down among the grass and reeds. But 
after a little while I seemed to have the whole flats to myself. 

It was another half hour before I drew near the kiln. The 
was burning with a sluggish, stifling smell, but the fires were made 
up and left, and no workmen were visible. Hard by was a 
stone quarry. It lay directly in my way, and had been worked 
that day, as I saw by the tools and barrows that were lying about. 

Coming up again to the marsh level out of this excavation — for 
the nulo path lay through it — I saw a light in the old sluice-house. 
I quickened my pace, and knocked at the door with ray hand. 
Waiting for some reply, I lo'oked'about me, noticing how the sluice 
was abandoned and broken, and how the house — of wood with a 
tiled roof — would not be proof against the weather much longer, if 
it were so even now;, and how the mud and ooze were coated with 
lime, ami ho%v the choking vapor of the kiln crept in a ghostly way 
toward me. .Still there was no answer, and I knocked again. >Jo 
answer still, and I tried the latch. 

It rose under my hand, and the door yielded. Looking in, I saw 
alighted candle oo a table, a bench, and a mattress ;okip 

22 



33* GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

bedstead. As there was a loft above, I called. "Is there any one 
here?" but no voice answered. Then I looked at my warch, and 
finding that it was .past nine, called again,- " Is there any one 
here ?" There being still no answ r, I went out at the door, irre- 
solute what to do. 

It was beginning to rain fast. Seeing nothing save what I had 
seen already, I turned hack into the house and stood just, within 
the shelter of the door, looking out into the night. While I was 
considering that some one must have be,en there lately and must 
soon be coming back, or the' candle would not be burning, it came 
into my head to look if the wick were long. I turned round to do 
so, and had taken up the candle in my hand, when it was extin- 
guished by some violent shock, and the -next thing I comprehended 
was, that I had been caught in. a strong running noose, thrown 
over ray head from behind. 

" Now," said a suppressed voice with an oath, " I've got you !" 

" What is this V I cried, struggling. " Who is it ? Help, help, 
help!" 

Xot only were my arms pulled close to my sides, but the press- 
ure on my had arm caused meexquisite pain. Sometimes a strong 
man's ham', sometimes a strong man's breast was set against my 
mouth to deaden my cries, -and with a hot breath always close 'to 
me, I struggled ineffectually in the dark, while I was fastened 
tight to the wall. "And now," said the suppressed voire, with 
another oath, "call out again, and 111 make short work of finish- 
on !" 

Faint and sick with the pain of my injured arm, bewildered by 

the surprise, and yet consoioua how easily* this threat could be 

piK in execution, I desisted, and tried to ease my arm were it ever 

so little. But it was hound too tight for that. I felt as if, having 

■ burned before, it were now being boiled; 

The sudden exclusion of the, night and the substitution of black 
darkness in Us place, warned me that the man had closed a shut- 
ter. After groping about for a little, he found the flint and steel 
h wanted, and began to strike a light. I strained my sight 
upm the sparks that fell among the tinder, audupon which he breathed 
and breathed, match in hand, but I could only see his lips, and the 
blue point of th< j match; even those hut fitfully. The tinder was 
damp — no wonder there — and one after another the sparks died 
out. 

The man was in no hurry, and struck again with the flint and 

steel. As the sparks fell thick and bright about him I could see 

amis, and touches of his face, and could make out that he was 

seated and bending over the table; but nothing more. Presently 

saw bis blue lips again breathing on the tinder, and then a flare 

light flashed up and showed ma Orlick. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Ml 

Whom I had looked for I don't know. I had not looked for 
him. Seeing him I felt that I was in a dangerous strait ind 
and I kept my eyes upon him. 

lie lighted the candle from the flaring match with.great delib- 
eration, and dropped the match and trod it (tut. Then he put the 
caudle away from-him on the table, so that he could see me, and 
sal with Ins arms folded on the table and looked at inc. 1 made 
out that I was fastened to a stout perpendicular ladder a few inches 
from the wall — a fixture there — the means of ascent to the loft 
above. 

"Now," said he, when we had surveyed one another for some 
time, *' I've got you." 
" " Unbind me. ' Let me go ! " 

" Ah !" he returned. "i'll let you go. I'll let you go to the 
moon, I'll lei you go to tin* stars. All in good time." 

" Why have you lured me here ?" 

" Don't you know," said he with a deadly look. 

" Why have you set upon me in the dark?" 

" liecauVe 1 mean to do it all myself. One keeps a secret bet- 
ter than two. Oh, you enemy, you enemy !" 

His enjoyment of the spectacle I furnished, as he sat with his 
arms folded 1 on the table, shaking his head at me and hugging him- 
self, had a malignity in it that made me tremble. As 1 watched 
him in silence he put his hand into the corner at his side and took 
up a gun with a brass-bound stock. 

" Do you know this V said he, making as if he would take aim 
at m •. " Do you know where you saw it afore? Speak, wolf!'' 

'• Yes," I answered. 

"You cost me that place. You did. Speak!" 

" What else could 1 do?" 

"You did that, and that would be enough without more. How 
dared you come betwixt me and a young woman I liked I " 
. "When did I?" 

" When didn't you ? It was you as always gave Old ( )rlick a 
bad name to her." 

" You gave it to yourself: you gained it for yourself. I could 
have done you no harm if you had done yourself none." 

" You're a liar. And you'll take any pains, and spend any mon- 
ey, to drive me out of tins country, will you?" said he, repeating 
my words to Biddy in the last interview I had with her. " No*, 
I'll tell you a piece of information. It was never so well worth 
your while to get me out of this country as it is o-night. Ah ! — 
If it was all your money twenty times told, to the last brass far- 
den ! " As he shook his heavy hand at me, with his mouth snarl- 
ing like a tiger's, 1 felt that it was true. 

" What are you going to do to me ? " 

" I'm a going," said he, bringing bis fist down oa the table with 






MO GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

a heavy blow, and rising as the blow fell, to give it greater force, 
" I'm a going to have your life ! " He leaned forward staring at 
me, slowly unclenched his hand and drew it across his mouth as if 
his mouth watered for me, and sat down again. 

" You was always in Old Of lick's way since ever you was a 
child. You goes out of his way this present night. He'll have 
no more on yon. You're as good as dead." # 

I felt that I had come to the brink of my grave. For a mo- 
ment I looked wildly round my trap for any chance of escape ; but. 
there was none. . 

"More than that," said he, folding his arn^ on the table again, 
" 1 won't have a' rag of you, I won't, have a bone of yon left on 
earth. I'll put your body in the kiln — I'd carry two such to it, 
on my shoulders — and, let people suppose what they may of you, 
they shall never know nothing." 

My mind with inconceivable rapidity, followed ont all the conse- 
quences'of such a death. Patella's father would believe I- had 
deserted him, would be taken, would die accusing me; even Her- 
bert would doubt Die, when lie compared the letter I haTl left for 
him, with the fact that I had called at Miss Kavisham's gate for 
only a moment ; Joe and Biddy would never know how sorry I 
had been that night ; none would* ever know what I bad suffered, 
how true 1 had meant to be, what an agony 1 had, passed rhtdugh. 
The death close before me was terrible, but far more terrible than 
death was the dread of being misremembered after death. And 
so quick were my thoughts, that I saw myself despised by unborn 
generations — Estelht's children and their children — while the 
wretch's words were yet on his lips. 

" Now wolf," said he, " afore I kill you like any other beast — 
which is Wot 1 mean to do and wot 1 have tied you up for — I'll 
have a good look at you and a good goad at you. Oh, you en- 
emy !" 

It had passed through my thoughts to cry out for help again - 
though few oculd know better than I the solitary nature of the 
spot and the hopelessness of aid. But as he sat gloating over me, 
I was supported by a scornful detestation of him that sealed my 
lips. Above all things, I resolved that I would not entreat him, 
and that 1 would die making some last poor resistance to him. — 
Softened as my thoughts of all the rest of men were in that dire 
extremity; humbly beseeching pardon, as I did, of Heaven ; melt- 
ed at heart as 1 was, by the thought that I had taken no farewell, 
and never never now could take farewell of those who were dear 
to me, or could explain myself to them, or ask for their compassion 
on my miserable errors ; still, if I could have killed him, even in 
lying, I would have done it. 

He had been drinking, and his eyes were red and bloodshot. — 
md his neck was slung a tin bottle, a* I had often seen his 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 341 

meat and drink sinner about him in other days. He brought the 
bottle to his lips, and took a fiery drinfr from it; and I smelled 
the strong spirits that 1 saw flare into his face. 

"Wolf! " said he, folding his anus again, " Old Orliok's a go- 
ing to tell you soinethink. * It was you as did for your shrew 
sifter." 

Again my mind, with its former inconceivable rapidity, had ex- 
hausted the whole suhjeot of the attack upon njy sister, her illness, 
and her death before his slow and hesitating speech had formed 
these words. 

" It was you villain," said I. 

"I tell you it was your doing — I tell you it was done through 
you," he retorted, catching up the gun, and making a blow with 
the stock at the vacant air between us. I come upon her from be- 
hind, as 1 come upon you tonight. I giv' it her! 1 left her for 
dead, and if there bad been a lime-kiln as nigh her as there is now 
nigh you, she shouldn't have come to life again. But it. wasn't 
Old Orliok as did it; ir was you. You was favored, and he was 
bullied and beat. Old Orlick bullied and beat, eh? Now you 
pays for it. You done it; now you pays for it." 

He drank again and became more ferocious. I saw by his tilt- 
ing; of the bottle that there was no great quantity left in it. I dis- 
tinctly understood that he was working himself up with its con- 
tents to make an end -of me. 1 knew that every drop it held was 
a drop of my life. I knew that when 1 was changed into a part 
of the vapor that had crept toward me but a little while before, like 
my own warning ghost, he would do as be had done, in my sister's 
case — make all haste to the town, and be seen slouching about 
there, drinking at the ale-houses. My rapid mind pursued him 
to the town, made a picture of the street with him in it, and con- 
trasted its lights and life with the lonely marsh and the white va- 
por creeping over it, into which I should have dissolved. 

It was not only that I could have summed up years and years 
and years' while he said a dozen words, but that what he did say 
presented pictures to me, and not mere words, In the excited and 
exalted state of my brain I could not think of a place without see- 
ing it, or of persons without seeing them. It is impossible to over- 
state the vividness of these images, and yet I was so intent all the 
time, upon him himself — who would not be intent on the tiger 
'dug to spring! — that I knew of the slightest action of his 
fingers. 

When he had drunk this second time he rose from the bench on 
which he sat, and pushed the table aside. Then he took up the 
candle, and shading it with his murderous hand so as to throw its 
light on me, stood before me, looking at me and enjoying the 
sight. 



342 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" Wolf, I'll tell you something more. It was Old Orlick as you 
tumbled over on your stairs that, night." 

I saw the staircase with its extinguished lamps. I saw the 
shadows of" the heavy stair-rails, thrown by the watchman's lan- 
tern on the wall. I saw the rooms that I was never to see again ; 
here, a door half open ; there, a door closed ; all the articles of 
furniture around. 

" And why was Old Orlick 'there ? I'll tell you something more, 
wolf. You and her have pretty well hunted me out or this coun- 
try, so far as getting a easy living in it goes, and I've took up 
with new companions.. Some of 'em writes my letters when I 
wants 'em wrote — do you mind? — writes my letters, wolf! They 
writes fifty bands; they're not like sneaking you,, as writes hut 
one. I've had a firm mind and a firm will to have your life since 
you was down here at your sister's burying. I han't seen a way 
to get you safe, and I've looked arter you to know your ins and 
outs. For, says Old Orlick to himself, ' Somehow or another I'll 
have him !' What! When I looks for you, 1 finds your uncle 
Provis, eh /" 

~\\\\\ Pond Bank, and Chinks's Basin, and the Old Green Cop- 
per Hope Walk, all so clear and plain ! Provis in-his rooms, and 
the signal whose use was over, pretty Clara, the good motherly 
woman, old Bill Barley on his back, all drifting by, as on the 
swift stream of my life fast running out to sea ! 

" You with a uncle, too ! Why, I know d you at Gargery's when 
you was so small a wolf that I could have took your weazen be- 
twixt this finger and thumb and chucked you away (lead (as I'd 
thoughts o' doing, odd times, when I see you loitering among the 
pollards on a Sunday), and you hadn't found no uncles then. No, 
not you ! But when Old Orlick come for to hear that your uncle 
Piovis had most like wore the leg-iron what Old Orlick had picked 
up, tiled asunder on these meshes ever so many years ago, and wot 
he kept by him till he dropped your sister will) it like a bullock, 
as lie means to drop vou — hey 1 — when he come for to hear that — 
hey ? " 

In his savage taunting he flared the candle so close at me that 
I turned my face aside to save it from the flame. 

"Ah ! " he cried, laughing, after doing it again, "the burmt child 
dreads the fire ! Old Orlick knowed you was burnt, Old Orlick 
knowed you was smuggling your uncle Provis away, Old Oiiick's 
a match for you, and knowed you'd come to-night! Now I'll tell 
you something more, wolf, and this ends it. There's them that's 
as good a match for your uncle Provis as Old Orlick has been for 
you. Let him 'ware them, when he's lost his Bevvy ! Let him 
'ware them when no man can't find a rag of his dear relation's 
lothes, cor yet a bone of his body '.' There's them that can't and 
4 won't have Magwitch — yes, I know the name ! — alive in the 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. S43 

same land with them, ami that's had such sure information of him 
when he was alive in another land, as that he couldn't and shouldn't 
leave it unbeknown, and pul them in danger. P'raps it's them that 
writes fifty hands, and that's not like sneaking you as writes hut 
one. 'Ware Compey, Magwitch, and the gallows! " 

He flare' 1 the candle at me again, smoking my face and hair, and 
for an instant blinding me, and turned his powerful hack as he re- 
placed the light on the table. 1 bad thought a prayer, and had 
been with Joe and Biddy and Uerhert, before he turned toward 
me again. 

There was a clear space'of a> few feet between the table and the 
opposite wall. Within tins space he now slouched backward and 
forward. His great strength seemed to sit stronger upon him than 
ever before, as he did this with his hands hanging loose and heavy 
at his sides, and with his eyes scowling at me. \ had no grain of 
hope left. Wild as my inward hurry was, and wonderful the force, 
of the pictures that rushed by me instead of thoughts, I could 
clearly understand that unless he had resolved that 1 was within 
a few moments of surely .perishing out of all human knowledge, 
he would never have told me what he hadtold. • 

Of a sudden he stopped, took the cork out of his bottle, and 
tossed it away, Tight as it was, I heard it fall like a plummet. 
lie swallowed slowly, lilting up the bottle by little and little, and 
now he looked at me no more. The last few drops of liquoif he 
poured into the palm of his left hand, and licked up. Then with 
a sudden hurry of violence and swearing horribly, he threw the 
battle from him, and stooped, and 1 saw in his hand a stone ham- 
mer with a long heavy handle. 

The resolution 1 had made did not desert me, for, without utter- 
ing cue vain word of appeal to him, .1 shouted out with all my 
might, and struggled with all my might. It was only my head aud 
my legs that 1 could move, but to that extent I struggled with all 
the force, until then unknown, that was within me. In the same 
instant 1 heard responsive shouts, saw figures and a gleam of lighr 
dash in al the door, heard voices and tumult, aud saw Orlick emerge 
from a Struggle of men as if it were tumbling water, clear the ta- 
ble al a leap, and tiy out into the night- 
After a blank 1 found that I was lying unbound on the floor, in 
the same place, with my head on some one's knee. My eyes were 
fixed on the ladder against the wall when I came to myself — had 
Opened on them long before my mind saw it — and thus as T re-- 
covered consciousness. 1 knew that I was in the place where 1 had 
lost it. 

Too indifferent at first even to look round and ascertain who sup- 
ported me, 1 was lying looking at the ladder, when there came 
between me and it a face. The face of Trabb's boy ! 



344 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" I think he's all right !" said Trabb's boy, in a sober voice; 
" but ain't, he just pale though ! " 

At these words the face of him who supported me looked over 
into mine, and I saw my supporter to be — 

" Herbert ! Good Heaven ! " 

" Softly," said Herbert. " Gently, Handel. Don't be too eager." 

"And our old comrade, Start op," I cried, as he, too bent over 
me. • ' 

" Remember what he is going to assist us in," said Herbert, 
" and be calm." 

The allusion made me spring up, though I 'dropped again from 

the pain in my arm. "The time has not gone by, Herbert, lias it ? 

What night is to-night? How long have I been here?". For 1 

had a strange and strong misgiving that I had been lying there a 

lime — a day and night — two days and nights — more. 

" The time has not gone by. It is still Monday night." 

" Thank God." 

"And you have all to-morrow, Tuesday, to rest in,' said Her- 
bert. " But you can't help groaning, my dear Handel. "What hurt 
have you got? Can you .stand ? " 

"Yes, yes,' said J. " I can. walk. 1 have no hurt but in this 
throbbing arm." 

They laid it bare and did what they could. Jt w«S violently 
swollen and inflamed, and I. could scarcely endure to have it. 
touched. But they tore up their handkerchiefs to make fresh band- 
ages, and carefully replaced it in the sling, until we could get to 
the town and obtain some cooling lotion to put upon ft. In a lit- 
tle while we had shut the door of the dark and empty sluice-house, 
and were passing through the quary on our way back. Trabb's 
boy — Trabb's overgrown young man now — went before us with a 
laiiii m, which was the light 1 had seen come in at the door. But 
the moon was a good two hours higher than when I had last seen 
tiii j sky, and the night, though rainy, was much lighter. The white 
vapor of the kiln was passing from us as we went by, and, as 1 had 
thought a prayer before, I thought a thanksgiving now. 

fn treating Herbert to tell me how lie had come to my rescue — 
which at first he had flatly refused to do, but had insisted on my 
remaining quiet — I learned that I had in my burr) dropped the 
letter, open, in our chambers, where he, coming home to bring with 
him Startup, whom he had met in the street on his way to me, found 
n after 1 was gone. Its tone made him uneasy ; and the 
more so because of the inconsistency between it and the hasty let- 
ter I had left for him. His uneasiness increasing instead of sub- 
siding alter a quarter of an hour's consideration, be set off for the 
loach-office with Startop, who volunteered his company, to make 
quiry S'hen the next coach went down. Finding that the afler- 

u's coach was gone, and finding that his uneasiness grew into 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 345 

positive alarm as obstacles came in his way, he resolved to follow 
in a post-chaise. So he and Startup arrived at the Blue Boar, ful- 
ly expecting thereto find me, on tidings of me; hut finding neither, 
went on to Miss tiavisham's, where they losl me. Hereupon they 
wenl hack to the hotel (doubtless at. about the time wheii I was 
heating the popular local version of my own stqry) to refresh them- 
selves, and to gel some one to guide them oul upon the marshes. 
Among the loungers under the Boar's archway happened to be 
Trabb's boy — true to his aneienl babii of happening to be every 
where where he had no business — and Trabb's boy had seen me 
passing from Miss liavisham's in the direction of my dining-plaee. 
Thus TrabbB boy became their guide, and with him they went our. 
to the sluice-nouse: though by the town way to the marshes, which 
1 had avoided. Now as they went along Herbert reflected that I 
might, after all. have been brought there on some genuine ami ser- 
viceable errand tending to Provis's safety) and bethinking himsel| 
thai in that ease interruption might be mischievous, left his guide 
ami Startup on the edge of the quarry, and wenl on In himself, and 
stoic round the house two or three times, endeavoring H> ascertain 
Whether all was right within. As he could hear nothing hut indis- 
tinct sounds of one deep rough voice (this was while my mind was 
so busy), be even at last began to doubt whether 1 was there. 
when suddenly 1 cried out loudly, and he answered the cries, and 
rushed in, closely followed by the other two. 

When I had told Herbert what had passed within the bouse, ho 
was for our immediately going befor a magistrate in the iown, 
late al night as it was. and getting out a warrant. But 1 had al- 
ready considered that such a course, by detaining us there or bind- 
ing us to come back, might be fatal to Provis. There was no gain- 
saying this difficulty, and we relinquished all thoughts of pursuing 
Orlick at that time. For the present, under the circumstance 
deemed it prudent to make rather Hgbl of the matter to Trabb's 
boy ; who I am convinced would have been much affected b\ dis- 
appointment if he had known thai his intervention saved me from 
the lime-kiln. Not 'that' Trabb's boy was of a malignant nature, 
but that lie had too much vivacity to spare, and that it was in his 
constitution to* want variety and excitement, at any body's expi 
When we parted 1 presented him with' two guineas (wiiich seemed 
to meet his views), and told him that I was sorry ever to have had 
as ill opinion of him (which made no impression on him at all). 

Wednesday being so close upon us. we determined to go back to 
London that night, three in the post-chaise ; the rather as we s 
then be clear away before the night's adventure began to be talk- 
ed of. Herbert got a huge bo! lie of slufffor my arm, am! b\ 
of. having this stuff dropped over it all the night through, 1 was 
just able to bear its paiu on the journey. It was daylight when 



346 GREAT EXPECTATIOTS. 

we reached the Temple, and I went at once to bed, and lay in bed 
all day. 

My terror, as ! lay there, of falling ill and being unfitted for to- 
morrow was so besetting, that I wonder it (lid not disable the of 
itself. It would have done so, pretty surely, in conjunction with 
the mental wear and tear I had suffered, but for the unnatural 
strain upon me that to-morrow was. So anxiously looked forward 
to, charged with such consequences, its results so impenetrably 
hidden though so near. 

No precaution could have been more obvious than our refraining 
from communication with him that day ; yet this again increased 
my restlessness. I stalled at every footstep and evu/y sound, be- 
lieving that he was discovered and taken, and this was the mes- 
senger to tell me so. I persuaded myself that I knew be was 
taken; that there was something more upon my mind than- a fear 
or a presentiment; that the fact had occurred, and I had a mys- 
terious knowledge of it. As the day wore on ami no ill news came, 
as the day dosed in and darkness fell, my overshadowing dread of 
being disabled by illness before to-morrow morning altogether 
mastered me. My burning arm throbbed, and my burning head 
throbbed, and I fancied 1 was heginning to wander. 1 counted up 
to high numbers, to make sure that I was steady, and repeated 
passages that I knew, in prose and verse, it happened sometimes 
ii.at, in the mere escape of a fatigued mind, I dozed for some mo- 
ments, or forgot ; then 1 would say to myself with a start, "Now 
s come, ami 1 am turning delirious !" 

They kept mi- very quiet all day, and kept my arm constantly 
dressed, and gave me cooling drinks. Whenever I fell asleep I 
awoke with the notion 1 had had in the sluice-house, that a long 
lime had elapsed and the opportunity, to savtehim was gone. About 
nVjdnight 1 got out of bed ami went to Herbert with the conviction 
that 1 had been asleep for four-ami twenty hours, and' that Wed- 
nesday was past. It was the last self-exhausting effort of my fret- 
iuhiess, lor after that I slept soundly. 

id the Wednesday morning was dawning when I looked out 
of the window. The winking lights upon the bridges were already 
pale; the coming sun was like u marsh ot fire in the horizon. The 
river, si ill dark and mysterious, was spanned by bridges that were 
turning coldly gray, with here and there, at lop, a warm touch 
from the hurning in 'the sky. As I looked along the clustered 
confus.i(.n of roofs, with church towers and spires shooting into the 
unusually clear air, the sun rose up, and avail seemed to be drawn 
from the river, and millions of sparkles burst upon its waters. 
Froth me, too, a vail seemed to be drawn, and I felt strong and 

Well. 

Herbert lay asleep in his bed, and our old fellow-student lay 
<jp on the sofa. I could not dress myself without help, but I 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS 347 

made up the fire, which ww.s still burning-, and got some coffee 
ready for them. In good time they too started up strong and well, 
and we admitted trie sharp morning air al the windows, and looked 
at the tide that was still flowing toward 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 LIV. 



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 our pea-coats with us, and I .took a Bag. 
Of all my worldly possessions I look no more than the few neces- 
saries that filled the bag: Where 1 might go, what 1 might! do, 
or when i might return, were questions utterly unknown to me ; 
nor did 1 vex ray mind with them, for it was wholly set on Pro- 
vis's safety.. 1 only wondered for the passing moment, as I stop- 
ped at the door and looked back - , under what altered circum- 
stances I should next see those rooms, if ever. 

We loitered down to the Temple stairs, and stood loitering there 
as if we were not .quit* decided to go upon the water at all. Of 
course 1 had taken care that the boat should be ready and every 
thing 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 me 
bow, 1 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 bug reaches below Gravesend, between Kent and 
Essex, where the river is broad and solitary, where the Water-side 
inhabitants are very few, and where lone pub ic houses are scat- 
tered here and there, of which we could choose one for a resiing- 
place. There we meant to lay by all night. The steamer for 
Hamburg and the steamer for Rotterdam would start from Lon- 
don al about nine on Thursday morning, and would be in our part 
of the river at ab nit noon. We slum d know at what time to ex- 
pect them according to where we were, and would hail the first ; 






343 GREAT EXPECTATOINS. 

so that if by any accident we were not taken aboard, we should 
have another chance We had a pocket glass with us, and knew 
the distinguishing marks of each vessel". 

The relief of being at last engaged in the execution of the pur- 
pose was so great to me that I fell it difficult ro realize the condi- 
tion in which I had been a few hours before. The crisp air, 
the sunlight, the movement on the river, and the moving-river it- 
self — the road that ran with us, seeming to sympathize with us, ani- 
mate us, and encourage us on — freshened me with new hope. I 
felt mortified to he 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 steamships, 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. *aud 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 

lis and wherries briskly. 

Old London Bridge was soon passed, and old Billingsgate Mar- 
1 et. with its oyster-boats and Dutchmen, and the "White Tower 
and Traiii rs' Gate, and we were in among the tiers of shipping. 
Here were the Leil h, Aberdeen, and Glasgow steamers loading 
and unloading goods, and looking immensely high out of the 
water as we passed along-side ; here were colliers by tie score 
and score, with the coal-w nippers, plunging off stages on deck, as 
counter-weights to measures of ooaj swinging up, whicb were then 
rattled over the side ipto barges; 1 ere. at her moorings, was to- 
morrow's steamer for Rotterdam, of which we tuck good notice; 
and here to-morrow's for Hamburg, under whose bowsprit we 
sed. Aid oow I. sitting in the stem, could see with a faster 
beating heart. Mill Pond Hank and Mill Fond stairs. 

" Is he there .'" said Herbert. 

" Not yet." 

•• Right ! lie was not to cone 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 baa\ and be looked as like a river pilot as my 
heart could ha\e wished. 

" Dear buy !" he said, putting his arm on my shoulder, as he 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 349 

took his seat. "-Faithful dear bdy, well done.' Thankye, thank- 
ye!" 

Again among (lie tiers of shipping, in and out, avoiding rusty 
chain-cables, frayed hempen hawsers, and bobbing buoys, sink- 
ing for the moment floating baskets, scattering floating chips of 
wood and shaving, cleaving floating scum of coal, in and out, un- 
der the figure-head of the John of Sunderland making a speech 
to Hie winds (as is done by many Johns) and the Betsy of Yar- 
mouth with a rirm formality of bosom and her knobby eyes start- 
ing two inches out of her head, in and out, hammers going in ship- 
builders' yards, saws going al timber, clashing engines going at 
things unknown, pumps going in leaky ships, capstans going, shins 
going out to sea, and unintelligible sea-monsters roaring curses 
over the bulwarks at respondent lightermen, in an out — out at 
last upon the clearer river, where the shins' 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 whe'e we had taken him aboard, and ever since, 
I had looked warily for any ("ken of our being suspected I had 
sei n none. We certainly had not been, and at that time as cer- 
tain y we were not. either attended or followed by any boat. If 
we had been waited on by any boat. 1 should have run into shore, 
and have obliged her to go on, or to make her purpose evident, 
liui we held our owm without any appearance of molestation. 

lie had his boat-c oak on him, and looked, as I have said, a na- 
tural part (if the scene. It was remarkable (but perhaps the 
wretched life Ire had led accounted for It), that he was the least 
anxious of any of us. lie was not indifferent, for he to d me 

oped to sec his gentleman one of the best of gentlemen i> ; a 
foreign country; he was not disposed to be passive or resigned, as 
1 understood it; but he had no notion of 'meeting danger hall 

When it came upon him be confronted it, but it must i 
before he troubled himse f. 

• If you knowed, dear boy.'' he said to me, "what it is to sit 
here alonger my dear hoy and have my smnfte. arter having heel 
clay by day betwixt four walls, you'd envy me. But you don'r 
know what it is." 

'• I think 1 know 'the delights of freedom," 1 answered. 

" Ah,' • said he, shaking his head gravely. " But you don't 
know it equal to me. You must have been under lock and key. 
dear boy, to know it .equal to me — but I ain't a going n be low." 

It occurred to me as* inconsistent thai lor any mastering idea he 

Id haVe endangered his freedom and even his life. lint 1 re- 

■ dom without danger was too much i 

from all the habit of his existence to be to him what it won d he to 

another man. I was not far out, since he said, after smokiDg a 

Itttlai 






3 50 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" You see, dear bny, when T was over yonder, t'other side of the 
world, I was always a looking to this side; and it come flat to be 
there, for all I was a growing rich. Every body knowed Mag- 
witch, and Magwitch could come, and Magwitch could go. and no- 
body's head won d be troubled about him. They ain't so easy 
Concerning me here, dear boy — wouldn't be, leastwise, if they 
knowed where I was." 

" If all goes well, ' said 1, " you will be perfectly free and safe 
again within a few hours." 

" Well." he returned, drawing a long breath, "I hope so." 

" And think so .'" 

He dipped his hand into the water over the boat's emnwale. and 
said, smiling with that softened air upon him which was not new 
to me: 

•• Ay, 1 s'pose 1 think so. dear boy. We'd be puzzled to be 
piore quiet and eas^y-going than we are at present. But — it's a 
flowing so soil and pleasant through the water, p'raps, as makes 
roe think it — 1 was a thinking through my srtioke just tben, that 
Wt can no more see lo the bottom of the next few hours than we 
ran see to the bottom of this river what I catches hold of. Nor 
yet we can'1 no more hold their tide than I can hold this. And 
it's run through my lingers and gone you see!" holding up his 
drippii ig hand. 

" Bui for your lace, I should think you were a little despond- 
ent.'' said 1. 

" Not a bit oi ir, dear boy ! It comes of flowing on so quiet, 
and of that there rippling at the boat's head making a sort of a 
Sunday tune. .May he I'm a growing a trifle old besides." 

lie put his pipe hack in his mouth with an undisturbed expres- 
sion of face, and sal as composed and contented as if we were 
already our of England. Vet he was as submissive to a word of 
Mv.ce as if he had been in constant terror, for when we ran ashore 
to gel some bottles ot beer into the boat, and he was stepping out, 
I hilled that 1 thought he would he safest where he was, and he 
said. '• Do you, dear hoy, : and quietly sat down again. 

Tlie air felt cold upon the river, but it was a bright day, and the 
sun was very cheering. The tide ran strong, I took care not to 
lose none of it, and our steady stroke carried us on thoroughly 
well. By imperceptible degrees, as the tide ran out, we lost more 
and more of the nearer woods and hills, and dropped lower and 
lower between the muddy banks, but the tide was yet with us 
when we were ell' Gravesend. As our charge was wrapped in his 
cloaki 1 purposely passed Within a boat or two's lengih of the float 
iiigCustniu House, and so out to catch the stream, along side of 
two emu rant ships, and under the bows of a large transport with 
^oldiers on the forecastle looking down at us. And soon the tide 
T an Lo slacken, and the craft lying at anchor to swing, and pre-, 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 351 

gently they had all swung round, and the ships that were taking 
advantage of the new tide to get up to the Pool, began to crowd 
upon us in a fleet, and we kept under the shore, as much nut of 
tic strength of the tide now as we could, standing carefully off 
from low shallows and mud-hanks. 

Our oarsmeti were so fresh, by dint of having occasionally let 
her drive with the tide for a minute or two. that a quarter of an 
hour's rest proved full as much as they wanted. We got ashore 
among, some slippery stones while we ate and drank what we had 
with us, and looked about. It was like my own marsh country, 
flat and monotonous, and with a dim horizon; whi'e the winding 
river turned and turned, and the great floating buoys upon it 
turned and turned, and every thing else seemed stranded and 
still. For now the last of the fleet of ships was round the last 
low point we had headed ; and the last green barge, si raw laden, 
with a brown sail, bad followed; and some ballast-lighters, shaped 
like a child's first rude imitation oT a boat, lay low in the mud; 
and a little squat shoal light house on open piles, stood crippled 
in the mod on stilts and crutches; and slimy stakes stuck out of 
the mud. and slimy stones stuck out of the mud. and red land- 
marks and tidemarks stuck out of the mud. and an old landing- 
stage and an old roofless building slipped into the mud, and all 
about us was stagnation and mud. 

We pushed off again, and made what way we could. It was 
much harder w rk now. but Herbert and Startop persevered, and 
rowed, and rowed, and rowed, until the sun went down. By that, 
lime the river had lilted us a little, so that we could see above the 
bank. There was the red sun, on the low level of the shore, in a 
purple haze, fast deepening into black; and there was the solitary 
flat marsh; and far away there were the rising grounds, between 
which and us there seemed to be no life, save here and there in 
the fore-ground, a melancholy gull. 

As the night was fast falling, and as the moon being past the 
full, would not rise early, we held a little council: a short one, 
for clearly our course was to lie by at the first lonely' tavern we 
could tind. So they plied their oars once more, and 1 looked our 
for any thing like a house. Thus we held on, speaking little, for 
four or five dull miles. It was very cold, and a collier coming by 
us with her galley -fire smoking and flaring looked quite a comfort- 
able borne. The night was as dark by this time as it would be 
until morning, and what light we had seemed to come more from 
the river than the sky, as the oars in their dipping slrttttk at a few 
reflected stars. 

Al this dismal time we were evidently all possessed by the idea 
that we were followed. As the tide made, ii flapped heavily at 
irregular interva s against the shore ; and whenever such a sound 
tume, one or other of us was sure to start and look in that diretv- 



352 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

tion. Here and there the set of the current had worn down the 
bank into a little creek, and we were all suspicious of such p'aces, 
and eyed them nervously. Sometimes, "What was that ripple?" 
one of us would say in a low voice. Or another, " Is that a boat 
yonder I' 1 And afterward we would fall into a dead silence, and 
I would sit impatiently thinking with what an unusual amount of 
noise the oars worked in the thowels. ' 

At length we descried a light and a roof, and presently after- 
ward ran alongside a little causeway made of stones that had been 
picked up hard by. Leaving the rest in the boat, I stepped 
ashore, and found the light to be in the window of a public-house. 
Jt was a dirty place enough, and I dare say not unknown to smug- 
gling adventures; but there was a good (ire in the kitchen, and 
there were eggs and bacon to eat, and various liquors to drink. 
Also, there were two double-bedded rooms — " such as they were, ' 
the landlord said. No other company was in the house than the 
land ord, his wife, and a grizzled male creature, the " Jacn" of 
the little causeway, who was as .slimy and smeary as if he had 
been low-water mark too. 

With this assistant I went down to the boat again, and we all 
came ashore, and brought out the oars, and rudder, and boat-hook, 
and all else, and hauled her up for the night. We made a very 
good meal by the kitchen lire, and then apportioned the bedrooms. 
Herbert and Startop were to occupy one; I and our charge the 
other. We found the air as carefully excluded from both as if air 
Were fatal to ife; and there were more dirty clothes in bandboxes 
i- i he beds than I shou d have thought the family possessed. 
Bui we considered ourselves well off, notwithstanding. -for a more 
Solitary place we could not have found. 

While we were comforting ourselves by the (ire after our meal, 
il u . j ac | { — w ho was silting in a corner, and who had a bloated 
pair or shoes on, which he had exhibited while we Were eating our 
and bacon, as interesting relics that he had taken a lew days 
ago from the I Irowned seaman washed ashon — a-ked me 

if" I had seen a four-oared galley going up with the tide? When 
I, told him No, he said she must have gone down, then, andyei she 
"took up too," when she led there. 

" They must ha' thought better on't, for some reason or an- 
other," said the .lack, "and gone down." 

"A fom-, ired galley, eh?" said I. 

-A fmir." said ihe Jack, "and two sitters'' 

" Did they come ashore here ?" 

"They put in with a stone two-gallon jar for'some Ireer. I'd 
V been' glad to pi*on the beer inyself,'' said the Jack, " or put 

me ratt ing physic in it at least." 
•Wbjr 



, ;:at expectations. as j 

" J kuo the Jack. He spoke in a slushy voice, 

as if much mud had washed into his throe . 

"lie thinks,", said the landlord-i— a weakly meditative man 
with a pale eyey. who seemed to. rely greatly on his Jack — '-lie 
tbinlis they was what they waW 

" I knows what I thinks.'' observed the Jack. 

" You thinks Custum 'Us, Jack?" said the landlord. 

•• I do," said the Jack. 

•' Then you' . Jack'." 

" Am I 

It the Infinite meaning of his reply, and his boundless con- 
fidence in his views, the Jack took one of his bloated shoes 
off, looked into it, knocked a few s ones out of it on the kitchen 
floor, and put ii on again. lie did this with the air of a Jack" who 
was so right thai he could afford to do any thing. 

" Why, win 1 do you make out that they done with their but- 
tons, then, .1 •■■', .'" asked the, landlord, vacillating weakly. 

"Dene with their buttons?" returned the Jack. ••Chucked 
'cm overboard. Swallered 'em. Sowed 'em to come up small 
salad. Done with their buttons!" 

. "Don't be cheek;; Jack," remonstrated the landlord, in a 
melancholy- and pathetic way. 

f A Custum 'Us officer knows what to do with his Buttons," 
said the Jack, repeating the obnoxious word with the greatest 
contempt, " when they eomesbetwixt him and Ids own light. A 
Four and two sitters don't go, hanging and hovering, up with one 
tide and down with another, and both with and against another, 
without their being Custom TJs at the bottom of it." 
which, he went out disgusted ; and the landlord having uo one to 
rely upon, found it impracticable to pursue the subject 

This dialogue made us all uneasy, and me very i The 

dismal wind was .muttering r mud the house, the tide was flapping 
at the shore, and I had a feeling that we were eaged and threat- 
ened. A four-oared galley hovering about in so unusual a way as 
to attract this notice, was an ugly circumstance that I could not 
get rid of. When I had induced Provis to go up to bed, I went 
outside with my two companions (Startop by this time knew the 
state of the case), and held another council. Whether we should 
remain at the house until near the steamer's time, which would be 
about one in the afternoon ; or whether we should put off early in 
the morning, Was the. question we discussed. On the whole we 
deemed it the better course to lie where we were until within an 
hour or so of the steamer's time, and then to get out in her : 
and drift easily with the tide. Having settled to do this, we re- 
turned into the house and went to bed. 

I lay down with the greater part of my clothes on, and slept for 
a few hours well. When I awoke, the wind had risen, and the 



854 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

sign of the house (the Ship) was creaking and banging about, with 
noises thai startled me. Easing softly, for my charge lay fast 
asleep, I looked out of the window. It commanded the causeway 
where we had hauled up our boat, and, as my eyes adapted them- 
selves to the light of the clouded moon, I saw two- men lookin 
to her. They passed by under the window, looking at nothing else, 
and did not go down to the landing-place, which I could discern to 
be empty, but struck acrossthe marsh in the direction of the 

My first impulse was to call up Herbert, and show him the two 
men going away. But reflecting before I got into his room, which 
was at the back of the house, and adjoined mine, that he and .Star- 
top had had a harder day than I, and were fatigued, I forbore: — 
Going back to my window, I could still see the two men moving 
over the marsh. In that light, however, I soon lost them, and 
feeling very cold, lay down to think of the matter, and fell a 

We were up early. As we walked to and fro, all four together, 
before breakfast, 1 deemed it right to recount what L had seen. — 
in, our charge was the least- anxious of the party. It was 
very likely that the men belonged t > 'the Custom-house, he 
tly, and that they had no thought of us. I tried to per.* 
If thai it was so: as, indeed, it might easily he. However, I 
sed that he and 1 should walk away together to a di 
point we coul I see. and thai the boat should take us aboard there,- 
or as near there as might prove feasible, at about noon. 

lered a good precaution, soon after breakfast he a 

Forth, without saying anythi, tavern. 

He smoked his pipe as he went along, and sometimes stopped to 

me on the shoulder, or take me by the hand. One would have 

- sed that it was i who was in danger, not be, and that be was 

leas.-;,- '<:-. : s me. W spoke very little. As we approached the point, 

irged him to remain id a sheltered place while 1 went on to 

re; for it was toward it that the men had passed in the 

. He complied, and I went on alone. There was no boat 

he point, nor drawn up any where near it, nor were there any 

of the men having embarked there.- But to be sure The tide 

was high, and there might have been some footprints under. water. 

When he looked out from his shelter in the distance and saw 

that 1 waved m\ hat to him to come up, be rejoined me, and there 

tj^e waited — sometimes lying on the bank wrapped in our coats, 

and scuieu.; >\- moving about to warm ourselves — until we saw the 

boat coming round. We got aboard easily, and rowed out into the 

track of the steamer. By that time it wanted but ten minutes of 

one o'clock, and we began to look out for her smoke. 

But it was half past one before we saw her smoke, and soon 

fterward we saw behind it the smoke of the other steamer. As 

a v were coming on at full speed,' we got the two bags ready, ami 



,i:at expectations. 356 

took that opportunity. of saving gqod-by to Herbert and Startop. 
We had all shaken hands cordially, and neither Herbert's eyes nor 

mine were quite dry when 1 saw a four-oared galley shool out from 
under the bank but a little way ahead of us, and raw oat- into (he 
same track. 

A st reteh of shore had been as yel between us and the steam- 
er's smoke, by reason of the bend and wind of the river; but now 
she was visible, coming- head on. I- called to Herbert and Startop 
to keep before the tide, that she might see us lying by for her, and 
1 adjured 1 'rovis to sit still, wrapped in his cloak, lie am v. 
cheerily, " Trust to me, dear boy," and sat like, a statue. "Mean- 
time, the galley, which was very skillfully handled, had borne down 
upon us; crossed us, and come alongside. Leaving just enough 
room for the play of the oars, she kept alongside, drifting when We 
drifted, and- pulling a stroke or two when we pulled. Of the two 
sitters, one held the rudder lines, and looked- at us attentively — as 
did all the rowers; the other sitter was wrapped up, much as Provis 
was, and. seemed to shrink, and whisper some instruction to the 
stranger as he looked at us. Not a word was spoken in either 
boat. 

Startop could make out, after a few minutes, which steamer was 
first, and gave me the word " Hamburg," in a low voice as we sat. 
face to face. She was Hearing us very fast, and the beating of her 
paddles grew louder artjl 1 fit as if her shadow were ab- 

solutely upon us when the galley hailed us. I answered. 

"You have a Beturnod transport there, said the man who held 
the lines. «' That's the nuwi wrapped in the cloak. His name is 
Abel Magwbh, otherwise Provis. I apprehend that man, and call 
upon him to surrender, and you to assist." 

At the same moment, without giving any audible direction to his 
crew lie ran the galley aboard of us. They had pulled one sudden stroke 
ahead, had got their o^irsiu, had run athwart us, and were ho 
on to our gunwale before we knew what they were doing. This 
caused great confusion on board the steamer, and I heard them 
calling to us, and heard ihe order given to stop the paddles, and 
heard them stop, but felt her driving down upon us irresistibly. — 
In the same moment, I saw the steersman of the galley lay uis 
band on his prisoner's shoulder, and saw that both boats were 
swinging round with the force of the tide, and saw that all hands 
on hoard the steamer were running forward quite frantically. — 
Still in the same moment, I saw the prisoner start up, lean across 
his captor, and ptdl the cloak from the neck of the shrinking sitter 
in the galley. Still in the same moment, 1 saw that the face dis- 
closed was the face of the other convict of long ago. Still in the 
same moment, I saw the face lilt backward with a white terror on 
it that 1 shall never forget, and beard a great ory on board Uk 



355 . GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

steamer and a loud splash in the water, and felt the boat sink from 
under me. 

It was but for an instant that X seemed to struggle with a thou- 
sand mill-weirS and a thousand flashes of light; that instant past, 
I was taken on board the galley. Herbert was there, and Startop 
there;, but our boat was gone, and the two convicts were 
gone. 

bat with the cries aboard the steamer, and the furious bl 
hag off of her steam, and her driving on, and our driving on, I 
could not at first distinguish sky from water, or shore from shore; 
but the crew of the galley righted her with great speed, and pull- 
certain ssvift strong strokes ahead, lay upon their oars, every 
man looking silently and eagerly at the water astern. Presently a 
dark object was seen in it, bearing toward us on the tide. No man 
spoke, hut the steersman held up his hand, and all softly hacked 
water, and kept the boat straight and true before it. As it came 
■r, ! saw it. to he Magwitch, swimming. lie was taken on 
!. and instantly manacled at the wrists and ankles. 
The galley was kept steady, and the silent, eager look-out at the 
water was resumed. But the Rotterdam steamer now came up, 
and apparent!) not understanding what had happened, came on 
By the time she had been hailed and stopped hoth 
tiers were drifting away from us, and we were rising and falling 
in a troubled wake of water.- The look-out was kept long alter al! 
was still again and the two steamers were gone; but every body 
knew thai i, was hopeless now. 

At length we gave it up, and pulled under the shore toward the 
tavern we had lately left, where we were received with no little 
surprise. Here 1 was aide to get some comforts fyr Magwitch — 
Provis? no longer — who had received son,'. rere injury in 

■best, and a deep cut in the head. 
lie told me that he believed himself to have gone under 
keel of the steamer, and to have been struck on the iiead in ris- 
The injury to his chest, (which rendered -his breathing ex- 
i.e oely painful) he thought he had received agaist the side of the 
galley. He added that he did not pretend to say what he might, 
or might not have done to Compey, but that in the moment of his 
laying ivis hand on his cloak to identify him that villain had stag- 
gered up and staggered back, and they had both gone overboard to- 
gether; v. ulden wrenching of him (Magwitch) out of our 
boat, and the endeavor of his captor to keep him in it,' had, capsiz- 
. ed us. He told me in a whisper that they had gone down fiercely 
locked in each Other's arms, and that there had been a struggle un- 
let* water, and t,hat he bad disengaged himself, struck out, and 
•um away. 

->ever had any reason to doubt the exact truth of what be thus 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 357 

told me. The officer who steered the galley gave the same ac- 
count of their going overhoard. 

When I asked tin's officer's permission to change the prisoner's 
wet clothes by purchasing any spare garments I could get at the 
public house, he gftve it readily, merely observing that he must 
take charge of every thing his prisoner had about him. So the 
pocket-book which bad once been in my hands passed into the 
officer's, lie further gave me leave to accompany the prisoner to 
London; but declined to accord thai grace to my two friends. 

The Jack at the Ship was instructed where the drowned man 
had gone down, and undertook to search fur the body in the places 
where it was likeliest to come ashore. His interest in its recov- 
ery seemed to me to be much heightened when he heard that it had 
stockings on. Probably, it took about -a dozen drowned men to 
fit him out. completely ; and that may have been the reason why 
the different articles of bis dress were in various stages of decay. 

We remained at the public house until the tide turned, and then 
Magwitch was carried down to the galley and put on board. Her- 
bert and Startop were to get to London by land, as soon as they 
could. We had a doleful. parting, and when I took my place by 
Magwitch's side, 1 felt that that, was my place henceforth while 
he lived. 

For now my repugnance to him had all melted away, and in 
the hunted, wounded, ironed creature who held my hand in his, I 
only saw a man who had meant to be my benefactor, and who had 
felt affection atery, gratefully, and generously toward me with 
great constancy through a series of years. I only saw in him a 
much better man than I had been to Joe. 

His breathing became more difficult and painful as (he night 
drew on, and often he could not repress a groan. I tried to rest 
him on the arm I could use, in an easy position ; but it was dread- 
ful to think that I could not be. sorry at heart for his being badly 
hurt, since it was unquestionably best that he should die. That 
there were, still living, people enough who were able and wbling 
to identify him, I could not doubt. That he would be mercifully 
treated, I could not hope. He who had been presented in the 
worst light at his trial, who had since broken prison and been 
tried again, who had returned from transportation under a life 
sentence, and who had occasioned the death of the man who was 
the cause of his arrest 

As we returned toward the setting sun we had yesterday left 
behind us, and as the stream of our hopes seemed all running back, 
I told him how grieved I was to think that he had come home for 
m\ sake. 

"Dear boy," he answered, "I'm quite content to take my 
chance. I've seen my boy, and he'll be a gentlemau without 
me." »*~ 



358 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

I had thought about that, while we had been there side by side. 
No. Apart from any inclinations of my own I understood Wem- 
mick'a hinUnow. I foresaw that, being convicted, his posses! 
would be forfeited to the Crown. 

" Lookee here, dear boy," said he. " It's best as a gentleman 
should not be knowed to belong to me now. Only come to see me 
as if you come by chance alonger Wemmick. Sit where I can 
see you when I am swore to, for the last o' many times, and I 
don't ask no more." 

" I will never stir from your side," said I, " when I am suffer- 
ed to be near you. Please God, I will be as true to you as you 
have been to me!'' 

1 felt his band shake as it held mine, and be turned bis face 
away as be lay in the bottom of the boat, and I beard that old 
sound in his throat — softened now. like all t lie resl of him. It 
was a good thing that he had touched this point, for it pui into 
ray mind what 1 might not otherwise have thought of until too 
laic : That be need never know how his hopes of enriching me 
had perished- 



CHAPTER LV. 



• He was taken to the Police Court next day, and would have 
been inn ediately committed for trial, but that it was necessary 
to send doun for an old ofhVer of the prison-ship from which he 
had ome escaped to speak to bis identity. Nobody doubted it; 
but Compey, who had meant to depose to it, was tumbling on the 
tides, dead, and it happened that there was not at that time any 
prison officer in London who could give the required evidence. I 
had gone direct to Mr. Jaggers at bis privale house, on my arrival 
over-night, to retain his assistance,' and Mr. Jaggers on the pris- 
oner's behalf would admit nothing. It was the sole resource, for 
be told rue that the case must be over in five minutes when the 
witness was there, and that no power on earth could prevent its 
going against us. 

I imparted to Mr. Jaggers my design of keeping him in ignor- 
°. of the fate of his wealth. Mr. Jaggers was querulous and 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 359 

angry with me for having " let if slip through my fingers," and 
said we must memorialize by-and-by, and try at all events for 
some of it. But he did not conceal from me that although there 
might be many eases in which the forfeiture would not be exacted; 
there were no circumstances in this case to make it one of them. T 
understood that very well. I was not related to the outlaw, or 
connected with him by any recognizable tie ; he had put his hand 
to no writing or settlement in my favor before his apprehension. 
and to do so now would he idle. I had no claim, and I finally re- 
solved, and ever afterward abided by the resolution, that my 
heart should never be sickened with the hopeless task of attempt- 
ing to establish one. 

There appeared to be reason for supposing that the drowned 
informer had hoped for a reward out of this forfeiture, and had 
obtained some accurate knowledge of Magwitch's affairs. When 
his body was found, many miles from the scene of his death, and 
so horribly disfigured that he was only recognizable by the con- 
tents of his pockets, notes were still legible, folded in the outer 
case of the watch he wore. Among these, were the name of a 
banking-house in New South Wales where a sum of money was, 
and the designation of certain lands of considerable value. Both 
these heads of information were in a list that Magwitch, while in 
prison, gave to Mr. daggers, of the possessions he supposed I 
should inherit, His ignorance. --poor feliow, at last served him; 
he never mistrusted hut that my inheritance was quite safe, with 
Mr. Jaggers's aid. 

Alter three day's delay, during which the crown prosecution 
stood over for the production of the witness from the prison-ship, 
the witness completed the easy case. He was committed to take 
his trial at the next Sessions, which would come on in a month. 

It was at this dark time of my life that Herbert returned home 
one evening, a good deal cast down, and said : 

" My dear Handel, I fear I shall soon have to leave you." 

His partner having prepared me for that, I wife less surprised 
than he thought, 

" We shall lose a fine opportunity if I put off going to Cairo, 
and 1 am very muoh afraid I must go, Handel, when you most 
need me." 

" Herbert, I shall always need you, because I shall always love 
you ; but my need is no greater now than at another time." 

"You will be so'lonelv*" 

" 1 have not leisure to think of that," said I. " You know that I 
am always with him to the full extent of the time allowed, and that I 
should be with him all day long, if I could. And when I come 
away from him, you know that my thoughts are with him." 

The dreadful condition to which lie was brought was so appal- 
ling to both of us that we could not refer to it in plainer words. 



360 GEEAT EXPECTATIONS. 

" My dear fellow," said Herbert, " let the near prospect of our 
separation — for it is very near — be my justification for troubling 
yon about yourself. Have you thought of your future '.'' 

"No, for I have been afraid to think of any future." 

" But yours cannot be dismissed ; indeed, my dear, dear Han- 
del, it must not be dismissed. 1 wish you would enter on it now, 
as far as a few friendly words go, with me." 

" I will," said I. 

" In this branch house of ours, Handel, we mast have a — " 

I saw that his delicacy was avoiding the right word, so I said, 
'•A clerk." 

A clerk. And I hope it is not at all unlikely that he may ex- 
pand (as a certain clerk of your acquaintance has expanded) into 
a partner. Now, Handel — in short, my dear boy, will you come 
to me." 

There was something charmingly cordial and engaging in the 
manner in which, after saying " Now, Handel,'' as if it were the 
grave beginning of a portenlious business exordium, he had sud- 
denly given up that tone, stretched out his lunost hand, and spo- 
ken like a school boy. 

"Clara and I have talked about it again and again," Herbert 
pursued, " and the dear little tiling b< ■ only this evening, 

with tears in her eyes, to say to you thai if you will live with us 
when we *•( i> e together, she will do her best to make you happy, 
and to convince her husband's friend that lie is her friend too. — 
'We should get on so well, Handel! " 

1 thanked her heartily, and 1 thanked him heartily, but said 1 

yet make sure of joining him as he so kindly offered. — 

Firs! iid was too preoccupied to be aide to take in the 

subject clearly. Secondly Yes ! Secondly, there was a vague 

something lii gering in my thoughts that will come out very near 
the end of this slight narrative. 

"But if you thought, Herbert, that you could, without doing 
any injury to your business, leave the question open for a little 
While— " 
' " For any while," cried Herbert. " Six months, a year ! " 

-Nor so long as that," said I. "Two or three months at 
most. ' 

Herbert was highly delighted when we shook hands on this ar- 
rangement, and said he could now take rourage to tell me that he 
believed be must go away at the end of the week. 

" And Clara ? " said I. 

" The clear little thing," returned Herbert, " holds dutifully to 
her father as long as he lasts ; but he won't last long. Mrs. Whim- 
> confides to me that he is certainly going." 

"Not to sav an unfeeling thing," said 1, "he cannot do better 
o." 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 361 

" I am afraid that must be admitted," said Herbert : " and then 
T shall come back for the dear little thing, and the dear little thing 
and I will walk quietly into the nearest church. Rcmembet !— 
The blessed darling conies of no family, my dear Handel, and nev- 
er looked into the red book? and hasn't a notion about her grand- 
papa. 'What a fortune for the son of my mother! " 

Oh the Saturday in thai same week- I look my leave of Her- 
bert — full of bright hope, but sail and sorry to leave me — as he 
sat on one of the sea-port mail coaches. 1 went into a coffee-house 
to write a little note to (Mara, telling her he had gone off sending 
his love to her over and over again, and then went to my lonely 
home — if it deserved the name, tor it was now no home to me, and 
I had no home anywhere. 

On the stairs I encountered Wemmick, who was coming down, 
after an unsuccessful application of his knuckles to my door. I 
had not m^n him alone since the disastrous issue of the attempted 
flight; and he had come, in his private and personal capacity, to 
say a few words of explanation in reference to that failure. 

••The late Compev." said Wemmick, " had by little and little 
got at the bottom of half of the regular business now transacted, 
and it was from the talk of some of his people in trouble (some of 
his people being always in trouble) that I heard what 1 did. i 
kept my ears open, seeming to have them shut, until I heard that 
he was absent, and I thought that would he the liesl time for mak- 
ing the attempt, 1 can only suppose now that it was part of his 
policy, as a very clever man, habitually to deceive his own instru- 
ments. You don t blame me, I hope, Mr. Pip ? 1 am sure 1 tried 
to serve you with all my heart." 

" I am as sure of that, Wemmiuk, as you can he, and 1 thank 
you most earnestly for all your interest and friendship." 

" Thank you, thank you very much. It's a bad job," said \\ 
mick, scratching his head, "and I assure you I haven't been so 
cut up for a long time. What 1 look at is the sacriticeof so much 
portable property. Dear me ! " 

" What / think of. Wemmick, is the poor owner of the prop- 
erty." 

"Yes, to be sure," said Wemmick. " < >f course there can be no 
objection to your being sorry for him, and I'd put down a uve- 
pound note myself to get him out of it. But what 1 look at is 
tliis. The late Compev having been beforehand with him in in- 
telligence of his return, and being so determined to bring him to 
book, 1 don't think he could have been saved. Whereas the port- 
able property certainly could have been saved. That's the differ- 
ence between the property and the owner, don'l you see I" 

I invited Wemmick to come tip stairs and refresh himself with 
a*glass of grog before walking to Walworth, lie accepted the in 
vitation, and while be was drinking his moderate allowance sai'' 



i 



362 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

with nothing to lead up to it, and after having appeared rather 
fidgety: 

" What do you think of my meaning to take a holiday on Mon- 
day, Mr. Pip?" 

" Why, I suppose you have not done such a -thing these twelve 
months." 

"These twelve years, more likely," said WemmicR. "Yes. — 
I'm going Id take a holiday. Mure than that ; I'm going to take 
a walk. More than that ; I'm going to ask you to take a walk with 
me." 

I was about to excuse myself, as being but a had companion 
just then, when Wemmick anticipated me. 

" 1 know your engagements, V said he. "and I know you are out 
of sorts, .Mr. }'ii>. Hut if you eoidd oblige me. 1 should take it 
as a kindness. Hain't a long walk, and it's an early one. Say it 
might occupy you (including breakfast on the walk) from eight to 
twelve. Couldn't you stretch a point and manage it .' " 

He had done so much for me at various times that this was very 
little to do for him. I said I could manage it — would manage 
it — and he was so very much pleased by my acquiescence thai 1 
pleased too. At ids particular request, 1 appointed to call for 
him at the Castle at half-past eighl on Monday morning, and so we 
parted for the time. 

Punctual to my appointment, I rang at tin- Castle irate on the 
Monday morning, and was received by Wemmick himself; who 
struck me. as looking tighter than usu;d. and having a sleeker hat 
on. Within, there were two glasses of rumand-milk prepared, and 
two biscuits. . \ ed must have heel) stirring with the lark, 
ito the perspective of his bedroom, 1 observed that 
his bed was empty. 

When w# fortified ourselves with the rum-aud-milk and 

,-ere going out for the walk with that training prep- 
aration on us. 1 was considerably surprised to see Wemmick take 
up a fishing-rod, and put it over his shoulder. " Why, we are not 
goiiii: tishing !" said 1. "No," returned Wemmick, "hut I like to 
Walk with oi 

1 thought this odd ; however. I said nothing, and we set otf. — 
We went toward Camberwell Green, and when we were therea 
bouts Wemmick said, suddenly. 

" Halloa ! Here's a church !" 

There was nothing very surprising in that; but again, I was 
raiher surprised, when ; - if he were animated by a brill- 

ant ii 

" Let's go in !" 

We went in. Wemmick leaving his fishing-rod jn the parch, and 
•ed all round. In the meantime Wemmick was diving into his 
ockets, and getting something out of paper there. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 363 

" Halloa !" said he. " Here's a couple of pair of gloves ! Let's 
put 'era on ! " 

As the gloves were white kid gloves, and as the post-office was 
widened to its utmost extern, I now began to have my strong sus- 
picions. They were strengthened into certainty when I beheld 
the Aged enter at a side Amir, escorting a lady. 

" Halloa ! " said Wemmick. " Here'siffiss Skiffins ! Let's have 
a wedding." 

That discreet damsel was attired as usual, except that she was 
engaged in substituting for her green kid gloves a pair of 
white. The Aged was likewise occupied in preparing a similar sac- 
rifice for the altar of Hymen. The old gentleman, however, ex- 
perienced so much difficulty in getting his gloves on, that Wem- 
mick found it necessary to pul him with his hack against a pillar, 
and then to get behind the pillar bimse f and pull away at them, 
while I for my part held the old gentleman round the waist, that 
be might present an equal and safe resistance. By dint of this 
ingenious scheme his gloves were got on to perfection. 

The clerk and clergyman then appearing, we were rarged in 
order at those fatal rails. True to his notion of seeming to do 
it all without preparation, I heard Wemmick say to himself as he 
took something out of his waistcoat pocket before the service be- 
gan, "Halloa! Here's a ring !" 

I acted in the capacity of backer, or best-man, to the bride- 
groom ; while a little limp pew opener, in a soft bonnet like a ba- 
by's, made a feint of being the bosom friend of Miss Skiffins. The 
responsibility of giving the lady away devolved upon the Aged, 
which led to the clergyman's being unintentionally scandalized, 
and it happened thus: When he said, " Who giveth this woman 
to be married to this man.'" the old gentleman, not in the least 
knowing what point ol the service we.had arrived at, sjood most 
amiably beaming at the ten commandments. Upon which the 
clergyman said again, " Who giveth this woman to be marri< 
this man?" The old gentleman being still in a state of most es- 
timable unconsciousness, the bridegroom cried out in his a< 
tomed voice, "Now Aged P. yon know; whogiveth ?" To which 
the Aged replied with great briskness, before saying that //eg;wv, 
"All right, John, all right, my boy!' And the clergyman came 
tii so gloomy a pause upon it, that I had doubts for a moment 
whether we should get completely married that day. 

It was completely done, however, and when we were going out 
of church Wemmick took the cover ofi' the font and put his white 
gloves in it, and put the cover on again. Mrs. Wemmick, more 
heedful of the future, put her white gloves in her pocket and as- 
sumed her green. " No->0, Mr. Pip,"" said Wemmick, triumphant- 
ly shouldering the fishing-rod as we came out, "let me ask you 
whether any body would suppose this to be a wedding party V 



364 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

Breakfast had been ordered) at a pleasant little tavern a mile or 
so away upon the rising ground beyond llie Green ; and there was 
a bagatelle board in the room in case we should desire to unbend 
our minds after the solemnity. It was pleasant to observe that 
]\Irs. Wemmick no longer unwound Wennnick's arm when ii 
adapted itself to her figure, but sal in a high-backed chair against 
the wall, like a violoncello in its case, and submitted to be em- 
braced as that melodious instrument might have done. 

JVe had an excellent breakfast, and when any one declined any 
thing on the table, Wemmick said, "Provided by contract, 
you know; don't be afraid of it !" I drank to the new couple* 
drank to the Aged, drank to the Castle, saluted the bride at part- 
ing, and made myself as agreeable as I co^ld. 

Wemmick came down to the door with me, and I again shook 
hands with him, and wished him joy. 

"Thankee !" said Wemmick, rubbing his hands. " She's such 
a manager of fowls you have no idea. You shall have some eggs, 
and judge for yourself. I sa . v - Mr. Pip!" calling me back, and 
speaking low. "This is altogether a Walworth sentiment, 
please."* 

" I understand. Not lobe mentioned in Little Britain," said I. 

Wemmick nodded. " .After what you let out the other day, Mr. 
Jaggers may as well not know of it. He might think my brain 
was softening, or something of the kind." 



CHAPTER LVI. 



He lay in prison very ill, during the whole interval between bis 
connubial for trial and the coming round of the Sessions/ He had 
broken two ribs, they bad wounded one of his lungs, and he breath- 
ed, with meat pain and difficulty, which increased daily. It was a 
conseyuence of his hurt that he spoke so low as to be scarcely au- 
dible; therefore be spoke very little. But be was ever ready to 
isten to me, and it became the first duty of my life to say to him, 
ml read to him what I knew he ought to hear. 

Being far too ill to remain in the common prison he was remov- 
-i'ter the first day or so, into the Infirmary. This gave me 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 365 

opportunities of being with him that I could not otherwise have 
had. And but for his illness he would have been put in irons, for 
he was regarded as ,a determined prison breaker, and 1 know not 
What else. 

Although I saw him every day, it was for only a short time; 
hence the regularly recurring spaces of our separation were long 
enough to record on his face any slight changes that occurred in 
his physical state. I do not recollect that. I once saw any change 
in it for the better; he wasted, and became slowly weaker and 
worse, day by day, from the day when the prison door closed upon 
him. 

This kind of submission or resignation thai he showed was that 
of a -nan who was tired out. 1 sometimes derived an impression, 
from his manner, or from a whispered word or two which escaped 
him, that he pondered over the question whether he Inight have been 
a better man under better circumstances. Bui he never justified 
himself by a hint tending that way, or tried to bend the past out of 
its eternal shape. 

' It happened on two or three occasions in my presence that his 
desperate reputation was alluded to by one or other of the people 
in attendance on him. A smile crossed his face then, and he turn- 
ed his eyes on me with a trustful look, as if he were confident that 
1 had seen some small redeeming touch in him. even so long 
BLS when I was a little child. As to all the rest, he was humble 
contrite, and I never knew him complain. 

When the Sessions came round, Mr. Jaggers caused an applica 
lion to be made for the postponement of his trial until the follow- 
ing Sessions, it was obviously made with the assurance that, he 
could not live 80 long, and was refused. The trial came on at 
once, and when he was put, to the bar he was seated in a chair. 
No objection was made to my getting close to the dock, on the 
outside of it, and holding the hand that he stretched forth to me. 

The trial was very short and very clear. Such 1 lungs as could 
be said for him were said — how h had taken to industrious habits, 
and had thriven lawfully and reputably. But nothing could unsay 
the fact thai he had returned, and was there in presence of Hie 
Judge and Jury. It was impossible to try him for that, and do 
otherwise, than find bin; Guilty. 

At that time it was the custom (as I learned from my terrible 
experience of that Sessions) to devote a concluding day to the 
tag of Sentences, and to make a finishing effect with the Sen- 
tence of Death. But for the indelible picture that, my remem- 
brance now holds before me, I could scarcely believe, even as I 
Wiite these words', that I saw two-and- liirty men and women nut 
before the -Judge to receive thai senteix icr. Foremost 

among the two-and-thirty was he; sealed, that he might get breath 
enough to keep life in him. 



ECTATIONS: 

• L>ear noy, tie i "own by his bed :" I thought you 

But I knotfed you couldn't "be that." 
•• h is jost the time," said I. rt 1 wailed for it at the gate-." 
h; always waits at the gare; don't you, dear boy 1 "' 
N'ot to lose a moment of the time." 
"'; . thankee. G»d ble^s > never 

deserted n 

1 pressed his hand In smmce, for. \ could hoi hat I had 

once meant to desert him. 

\;id what's best of ail," he said. "you'\e been more comfort- 
able alonger me since I was under a dark cloud, than 
shone. That's best of all." 

on his back breathing with great difficulty. Do what 
( .uld. and love me though he did, the light left his 

a film came i lacid lo*bk at the while 

i.. 
on in much pain to-day '.' " 
'■ ! don't complain of none, dear boy.*' 
" You never do complah [agwitch." 

s h^d spoken his last words. He smiled, and 1 understood 
lo mean thai he wished to lift my hand and lay it on his 
'. I laid it there, and he smiled again, and put both his 
: it. 

lime ran out while we were thus; but looking round, 

the governor oi the prison standing by me, and he whis- 

\c:." I thanked him gratefully, and a*k- 

iui if he can heai me '." 

ivemor stepped aside, and beckoned the officer away. — 

• without noise, divv Be film 

plftcid look at the white ceiling, and he looked mo 

i. I must tell you m . You understand 

pressure on my hand. 
: had a child once whom you loved and lost." 
A stronger pressure on my hand. 

•■ she lived and found powerful friends. She is living now. — 
Sine is a lady and very beautiful. And I love her ! " 

With a last. faint effort, which would have been | but 

for my yielding to it and assisting it, he raised my hand to his lips. 
Thenlie -cutis let it sink upon his breast again, with his own hands 
lying placid look at the white cfeiling came back, and 

Ir.opped quietly on his? breast 
Mindful, then, we hud -tier, J thought" of the 

two men who weiH tip into the Temple to pray, and knew that 
there were no better words that 1 could ray beside his bed than 
^ Lord, be merciful to him, a aiiiner ! "