PIP

[Illustration: PIP AND MISS HAVISHAM.]

My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my

infant tongue could make of both names nothing more explicit than Pip. So

I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip.

My mother and father both being dead, I was brought up by my sister, Mrs.

Joe Gargery, who was more than twenty years older than I, and a veritable

shrew by nature. She had acquired a great reputation among the neighbours

because she had brought me up by hand. Not understanding this expression,

and knowing her to have a hard and heavy hand, and to be much in the habit

of laying it upon her husband as well as upon me, I supposed that Joe

Gargery and I were both brought up by hand.

Joe, her husband, was a mild, good-natured, sweet-tempered, easy-going,

foolish, dear fellow, with light curly hair and blue eyes, and he and I

were great chums, as well as fellow-sufferers under the rule of my

sharp-tongued sister.

One afternoon I was wandering in the church-yard where my mother and

father were buried, when I was accosted by a fearful man all in coarse

grey, with a great iron on his leg. He wore no hat and had broken shoes,

and an old rag tied round his head. He limped and shivered, and glared and

growled, his teeth chattering, as he seized me by the chin.

"O don't cut my throat, sir!" I pleaded in terror. "Pray don't do it,

sir!"

"Tell us your name," said the man, "quick!"

"Pip, sir,"

"Show us where you live," he said. "Point out the place!"

I pointed to where our village lay, and then the man, after looking at me

for a moment, turned me upside down and emptied my pockets, but there was

nothing in them except a piece of bread. When the church came to itself,

for he was so sudden and strong that he made it go head over heels before

me,--I was seated on a high tombstone trembling, while he ate the bread

ravenously. Then he came nearer to my tombstone, took me by both arms, and

tilted me back as far as he could hold me, looking into my eyes.

"Now lookee here," he said, "you get me a file and you get me wittles; you

bring both to me to-morrow morning early, that file and them wittles. You

bring the lot to me at that old Battery yonder. You do it, and you never

dare to say a word concerning your having seen such a person as me, and

you shall be let live. You fail in any partickler and your heart and your

liver shall be tore out, roasted and ate! Now I ain't alone, as you may

think. There is a young man hid with me who hears the words I speak. It is

in wain for a boy to attempt to hide himself from that young man. A boy

may lock his door, may be warm in bed, may draw the clothes over his head,

may think himself comfortable and safe, but that young man will soon creep

and creep his way to him and tear him open. I am a-keeping the young man

from harming of you at the present moment with great difficulty. Now what

do you say?"

I said I would get him the file and what food I could, and would come to

him early in the morning.

"Say, Lord strike me dead, if you don't!"

I said so and he took me down. I faltered a good night, and he turned to

go, walking as if he were numb and stiff. When I saw him turn to look once

more at me, I made the best use of my legs, having a terrible fear of him,

and of the young man, and I ran home without once stopping.

I found the forge shut up and Joe alone in the kitchen. The minute I

raised the latch, he said:

"Mrs. Joe has been out a dozen times looking for you, Pip, and she's out

now, and what's more, she's got Tickler with her."

At this dismal intelligence I looked with great depression at the fire.

Tickler was a wax-ended piece of cane, worn smooth by contact with my

tickled frame.

"She sot down," said Joe, "and she got up, and she made a grab at Tickler,

and she rampaged out. Now she's a-coming! Go behind the door, old chap!"

I took the advice, but my sister, throwing the door wide open, and finding

an obstruction behind it, guessed the cause, and applied Tickler to its

further investigation.

"Where have you been, you young monkey?" she asked, stamping her foot;

"Tell me directly what you've been doing to wear me away with fret and

fright and worrit?"

"I have only been in the church-yard," said I, crying and rubbing myself,

but my answer did not satisfy my sister, who kept on scolding and applying

Tickler to my person until she was obliged to see to the tea things.

Though I was very hungry, I dared not eat my bread and butter, for I felt

that I must have something in reserve to take my dreadful acquaintance in

case I could find nothing else. Therefore, at a moment when no one was

looking, I put a hunk of bread and butter down the leg of my trousers. Joe

thought I had eaten it in one gulp, which greatly distressed him, and I

was borne off and dosed with tar water.

Conscience is a dreadful thing when it accuses man or boy. The guilty

knowledge that I was going to rob Mrs. Joe, united to the necessity of

keeping one hand on my bread and butter as I sat or moved about, almost

drove me out of my mind, but as it was Christmas Eve, I was obliged to

stir the pudding for next day for one whole hour. I tried to do it with

the load on my leg, and found the tendency of exercise was to bring the

bread out at my ankle, so I managed to slip away and deposit it in my

garret room. Later there was a sound of firing in the distance. "Ah," said

Joe, "there's another convict off!"

"What does that mean, Joe," said I.

Mrs. Joe answered, "Escaped, escaped," and Joe added,--"There was one off

last night, and they fired warning of him. And now it appears they're

firing warning of another."

"Who's firing?" said I.

"Drat that boy," said my sister, frowning. "What a questioner he is! Ask

no questions and you'll be told no lies!"

I waited a while, and then as a last resort, I said,--"Mrs. Joe, I should

like to know--if you wouldn't much mind--where the firing comes from?"

"Lord bless the boy!" she exclaimed, "from the Hulks!"

"Oh-h," said I, looking at Joe, "Hulks! And please what's Hulks?"

"That's the way with this boy," exclaimed my sister, "answer him one

question, and he'll ask you a dozen directly. Hulks are prison ships right

'cross the meshes." (We always used that name for marshes in our country.)

"I wonder who's put in prison ships, and why they're put there," said I.

This was too much for Mrs. Joe, who immediately rose. "I tell ye what,

young fellow," said she, "I didn't bring you up by hand to badger people's

lives out. People are put in the Hulks because they murder and rob and

forge and do all sorts of bad; and they always begin by asking questions.

Now you get along to bed!"

I was never allowed a candle and as I crept up in the dark I felt

fearfully sensible that the Hulks were handy for me. I was clearly on the

way there. I had begun by asking questions and I was going to rob Mrs.

Joe. I was also in mortal terror of the young man who wanted my heart and

liver, and of my acquaintance with the iron on his leg, and if I slept at

all that night it was only to imagine myself drifting down the river on a

strong spring tide to the Hulks, a ghostly pirate calling out to me

through a speaking trumpet that I had better come ashore and be hanged

there at once. I was afraid to sleep even if I could have, for I knew that

at the first dawn of morning I must rob the pantry and be off.

So as early as possible I crept downstairs to the pantry and secured some

bread, some rind of cheese, half a jar of mincemeat, some brandy from a

stone bottle which I poured into a bottle of my own and then filled the

stone one up with water. I also took a meat bone and a beautiful pork pie.

Then I got a file from among Joe's tools, and with this and my other

plunder made my way with all dispatch along the river-side. Presently I

came upon what I supposed was the man I was searching for, for he too was

dressed in coarse gray and had a great iron on his leg, but his face was

different.

"It's the young man," I thought, feeling my heart beat fast at the idea.

He swore at me as I passed, and tried in a weak way to hit me, but then he

ran away and I continued my trip to the Battery, and there was the right

man in a ravenous condition. He was gobbling mincemeat, meat-bone, bread,

cheese, and pork pie all at once, when he turned suddenly and said:

"You're not a deceiving imp? You brought no one with you?" I answered no,

and he resumed his meal, snapping at the food as a dog would do. While he

was eating, I ventured to remark that I had met the young man he spoke of,

at which the man showed the greatest surprise, and became so violently

excited that I was very much afraid of him. I was also afraid of remaining

away from home any longer. I told him I must go, but he took no notice, so

I thought the best thing I could do was to slip off, which I did.

"And where the deuce ha' you been?" was Mrs. Joe's Christmas salutation.

I said I had been down to hear the carols. "Ah well," observed Mrs. Joe,

"you might ha' done worse," and then went on with her work as we were to

have company for dinner, and the feast was to be one that occasioned

extensive arrangements. My sister had too much to do to go to church, but

Joe and I went, arrayed in our Sunday best. When we reached home we found

the table laid, Mrs. Joe dressed and the front door unlocked--(it never

was at any other time) and everything most splendid. And still not a word

about the robbery. The company arrived; Mr. Wopsle, Mr. and Mrs. Hubble,

and Uncle Pumblechook, Joe's uncle, who lived in the nearest town and

drove his own chaise cart.

Dinner was a brilliant success, but so rich that Uncle Pumblechook was

entirely overcome, and was obliged to call for brandy. Oh heavens! he

would say it was weak, and I should be lost! I held tight to the leg of

the table and awaited my fate. The brandy was poured out and Uncle

Pumblechook drank it off. Instantly he sprang to his feet, turned round

several times in an appalling, spasmodic whooping-cough dance, and rushed

out at the door to the great consternation of the company. Mrs. Joe and

Joe ran out and brought him back, and as he sank into his chair he gasped

the one word, "Tar!" I had filled up the bottle from the tar-water jug! Oh

misery! I knew he would be worse by and by!

"Tar?" cried my sister. "Why how ever could tar come there?" Fortunately

at that moment. Uncle Pumblechook called for hot gin and water, and my

sister had to employ herself actively in getting it. For the time at

least, I was saved. By degrees I became calmer and able to partake of

pudding, and was beginning to think I should get over the day, when my

sister said, "You must finish with such a delicious present of Uncle

Pumblechook's, a savoury pork pie!" She went out to the pantry to get it.

I am not certain whether I uttered a shrill yell of terror merely in

spirit or in the hearing of the company. I felt that I must run away, so I

released the leg of the table and ran for my life. But at the door, I ran

head foremost into a party of soldiers ringing down the butt-ends of their

muskets on our doorstep. This apparition caused the dinner party to rise

hastily, while Mrs. Joe who was re-entering the kitchen, empty-handed,

stopped short in her lament of "Gracious goodness, gracious me, what's

gone--with the--pie!" and stared at the visitors.

Further acquaintance with the military gentlemen proved that they had not

come for me, as I fully expected, but merely to have a pair of hand-cuffs

mended, which Joe at once proceeded to do, and while the soldiers waited

they stood about the kitchen, and piled their arms in the corner, telling

us that they were on the search for the two convicts who had escaped from

the prison ships. When Joe's job was done, he proposed that some of us go

with them to see the hunt. Only Mr. Wopsle cared to go, and then Joe said

he would take me. To this Mrs. Joe merely remarked: "If you bring the boy

back, with his head blown to bits with a musket, don't look to me to put

it together again!"

The soldiers took a polite leave of the ladies and then we started off,

Joe whispering to me, "I'd give a shilling if they'd cut and run, Pip!"

There was no doubt in my mind that the man I had succoured and the other

one I had seen, were the convicts in question, and as we went on and on,

my heart thumped violently. The man had asked me if I was a deceiving imp.

Would he believe now that I had betrayed him?

On we went, and on and on, down banks and up banks, and over gates,

hearing the sound of shouting in the distance. As we came nearer to the

sound, the soldiers ran like deer. Water was splashing, mud was flying,

and oaths were being sworn, and then, "Here are both men!" panted the

sergeant, struggling in a ditch. "Surrender, you two! Come asunder!" Other

soldiers ran to help, and dragged up from the ditch my convict and the

other one. Both were bleeding and panting and struggling, but of course I

knew them both directly. While the manacles were being put on their hands,

my convict saw me for the first time. I looked at him eagerly, and

slightly moved my hands and shook my head, trying to assure him of my

innocence, but he did not in any way show me that he understood my

gestures. We soon set off, the convicts kept apart, and each surrounded by

a separate guard. Mr. Wopsle would have liked to turn back, but Joe was

resolved to see it out, so we went on with the party, carrying torches

which flared up and lighted our way. We could not go fast because of the

lameness of the prisoners, and they were so spent that we had to halt two

or three times while they rested. After an hour or two of this travelling,

we came to a hut where there was a guard. Here the sergeant made some sort

of a report, and an entry in a book, and then the other convict was

drafted to go on board the Hulks first. My convict only looked at me once.

While we stood in the hut, he looked thoughtfully into the fire. Suddenly

he turned to the sergeant and remarked that he wished to say something

about his escape, adding that it might prevent some persons being laid

under suspicions.

"You can say what you like," returned the sergeant, and the convict

continued:

"A man can't starve, at least I can't. I took some wittles up at the

village yonder--where the church stands a'most out on the marshes, and

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

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

"It was some broken wittles--and a dram of liquor--and a pie."

"Have you happened to miss such an article as a pie, blacksmith?" asked

the sergeant.

"My wife did, at the very moment when you came in. Don't you know, Pip?"

"So," said my convict, looking at Joe, "so you're the blacksmith, are you?

Then I'm sorry to say, I've eat your pie."

"God knows you're welcome to it, so far as it was ever mine," returned

Joe. "We don't know what you've done, but we wouldn't have you starve to

death for it, poor miserable fellow-creature, would we, Pip?"

Something that I had noticed before, clicked in the man's throat, and he

turned his back. The boat was ready for him, and we saw him rowed off by a

crew of convicts like himself.

We saw the boat go alongside of the Hulks, and we saw the prisoner taken

up the side and disappear, and then the excitement was all over. I was so

tired and sleepy by that time that Joe took me on his back and carried me

home, and when we arrived there I was fast asleep. When at last I was

roused by the heat and noise and lights, Joe was relating the story of our

expedition and of the convict's confession of his theft from our pantry.

This was all I heard that night, for my sister clutched me, as a slumbrous

offence to the company's eyesight, and assisted me very forcefully up to

bed, and after that the subject of the convict and the robbery was only

mentioned on a few occasions when something brought it to mind. In regard

to my part of it, I do not recall any tenderness of conscience in

reference to Mrs. Joe, when the fear of being found out was lifted off me.

But I dearly loved Joe, and it was on my mind that I ought to tell him the

whole truth. And yet I did not, fearing that I might lose his love and

confidence, and that he would think me worse than I really was. And so he

never heard the truth of the matter. At this time I was only odd-boy about

the forge, or errand boy for any neighbour who wanted a job done, and in

the evenings I went to a school kept by Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt, who used

to go to sleep from six to seven every evening, in the society of youth

who paid twopence per week each for the improving opportunity of seeing

her do it. With her assistance, and the help of her granddaughter, Biddy,

I struggled through the alphabet, as if it had been a bramble bush,

getting considerably worried and scratched by each letter. After that, the

nine figures began to add to my misery, but at last I began to read,

write, and cipher on the smallest scale.

One night, about a year after our hunt for the convicts, Joe and I sat

together in the chimney corner while I struggled with a letter which I was

writing on my slate to Joe, for practice. As we sat there, Joe made the

fire and swept the hearth, for we were momentarily expecting Mrs. Joe. It

was market day, and she had gone to market with Uncle Pumblechook to

assist him in buying such household stuffs and goods as required a woman's

judgment. Just as we had completed our preparations, she and Uncle

Pumblechook drove up, and came in wrapped up to the eyes, for it was a

bitter night.

"Now," said Mrs. Joe, unwrapping herself in haste and excitement, "if this

boy ain't grateful to-night, he never will be!"

I looked as grateful as any boy could who had no idea what he was to be

grateful about, and after many side remarks addressed to the others, Mrs.

Joe informed me that Miss Havisham wished me to go and play at her house

for her amusement. "And of course, he's going," added my sister severely,

"And he had better play there, or I'll work him!"

I had heard of Miss Havisham, everybody for miles round had heard of her,

as an immensely rich and grim old lady, who lived a life of seclusion in a

large and dismal house, barricaded against robbers.

"Well, to be sure," said Joe, astounded, "I wonder how she comes to know

Pip!"

"Noodle," said my sister, "who said she knew him? Couldn't she ask Uncle

Pumblechook if he knew of a boy to go and play there? And couldn't Uncle

Pumblechook, being always thoughtful for us, then mention this boy, that I

have forever been a willing slave to?" After this she added, "For anything

we can tell, the boy's fortune is made by this. Uncle Pumblechook has

offered to take him into town to-night and keep him over night, and to

take him with his own hands to Miss Havisham's to-morrow morning, and

Lor-a-mussy me!" cried my sister. "Here I stand talking, with Uncle

Pumblechook waiting, and the mare catching cold at the door, and the boy

grimed with dirt from the hair of his head to the sole of his foot!" With

that she pounced on me and I was scraped and kneaded, and towelled and

thumped, and harrowed and reaped, until I was really quite beside myself.

When at last my ablutions were completed, I was put into clean linen of

the stiffest character, and in my tightest and fearfullest suit, I was

then delivered over to Mr. Pumblechook, who said dramatically: "Boy, be

forever grateful to all friends, but especially unto them which brought

you up by hand!"

"Good-bye, Joe."

"God bless you, Pip, old chap!"

I had never parted from him before, and what with my feelings, and what

with soap-suds, I could at first see no stars from the chaise cart. But

they twinkled out one by one without throwing any light on the question

why on earth I was going to play at Miss Havisham's, and what on earth I

was expected to play at.

I spent the night with Uncle Pumblechook, and the next morning we started

off for Miss Havisham's, and within a quarter hour had reached the house,

which looked dismal, and had a great many iron bars to it. Some of the

windows had been walled up, and the others were rustily barred. There was

a court-yard in front which was also barred, so after ringing the bell we

had to wait until some one should open it. Presently a window was raised

and a voice asked "What name?" to which my conductor replied,

"Pumblechook." Then the window was shut, and a very pretty,

proud-appearing young lady came down with keys in her hand. She opened the

gate to let me in, and Uncle Pumblechook was about to follow, when the

young lady remarked that Miss Havisham did not wish to see him. She said

it in such an undiscussible way that Uncle Pumblechook dared not protest,

and so I followed my young guide in alone and crossed the court-yard. We

entered the house by a side door--the great front entrance had chains

across it--and we went through many passages, and up a staircase, in the

dark except for a single candle. At last we came to the door of a room,

and she said, "Go in."

I answered, more in shyness than politeness, "After you, miss." But she

answered, "Don't be ridiculous, boy; I am not going in," and scornfully

walked away, and what was worse, took the candle with her.

This was most uncomfortable, and I was half afraid. However, there was

only one thing to be done, so I knocked at the door, and was told from

within to enter. I entered and found myself in a pretty, large room, well

lighted with wax candles. No glimpse of daylight was to be seen in it. It

was a dressing-room, as I supposed from the furniture, though much of it

was of forms and uses quite unknown to me then. But prominent in it was a

draped table with a gilded looking-glass, and that I made out to be a fine

lady's dressing-table.

In an arm chair sat the strangest lady I have ever seen or shall ever see.

She was dressed in rich white--in satin and lace and silks--all of white.

Even her shoes were white, and she had a long white veil dependent from

her hair, and bridal flowers in her hair,--and the hair, too, was white.

Some bright jewels sparkled on her neck and hands and others lay sparkling

on the table. Dresses, less splendid than the one she wore, and

half-packed trunks, were scattered about. She had but one shoe on and the

other was on the table near by--her veil was but half arranged; her watch

and chain were not put on; and there were lace, trinkets, handkerchief,

gloves, some flowers, and a Prayer-book in a heap before the

looking-glass. Then she spoke, "Who is it?"

"Pip, ma'am."

"Pip?"

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

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

When I stood before her, avoiding her eyes, I took in all the details of

the room and saw that her watch and clock had both stopped.

"Look at me," said Miss Havisham. "You are not afraid of a woman who has

not seen the sun since you were born?"

I regret to say that I was not afraid of telling the enormous lie

comprehended in the answer, "No."

"Do you know what I touch here?" she said, laying her hands on her left

side.

"Yes, ma'am."

"What do I touch?"

"Your heart."

"Broken."

She said the word eagerly, and with a weird smile that had a kind of boast

in it.

"I am tired," said Miss Havisham. "I have a sick fancy that I want to see

some play. I want diversion, and I have done with men and women. 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 "working me" before my eyes, I

had a desperate idea of starting round the room in the assumed character

of Mr. Pumblechook's chaise cart. But I felt so unequal to the performance

that I gave it up, and stood looking at Miss Havisham in what I suppose

she took for a dogged manner, and presently she said:

"Are you sullen and obstinate?"

"No, ma'am," I said. "I am very sorry for you and very sorry I can't play

just now. If you complain of me, I shall get into trouble with my sister,

so I would do it, if I could, but it's new here, and so strange and so

fine, and--melancholy." I stopped, fearing I might have said too much, and

we took another look at each other. Before she spoke again, she looked at

herself in the glass, then she turned, and flashing a look at me, said,

"Call Estella. You can do that. Call Estella. At the door."

To stand in the dark in the mysterious passage of an unknown house,

bawling "Estella" to a scornful young lady neither visible nor responsive,

and feeling it a dreadful liberty to roar out her name, was almost as bad

as playing to order. But she answered at last, and her light came

trembling along the dark passage, like a star. Miss Havisham beckoned her

to come close to her, took up a jewel, and tried its effect against the

pretty brown hair. "Your own, one day, my dear," she said, "and you will

use it well. Let me see you play cards with this boy."

"With this boy! Why, he is a common labouring boy!" then she asked, with

greatest disdain, "What do you play, boy?"

"Nothing but 'beggar my neighbour,' miss."

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

Miss Havisham sat, corpse-like, watching as we played.

"He calls the knaves Jacks, this boy," said Estella, with disdain, before

the first game was out. "And what coarse hands he has, and what thick

boots!"

I had never thought of being ashamed of my hands before, but now I began

to notice them. Her contempt for me was so strong that I caught it.

She won the game, and I dealt. I misdealt, as was only natural, when I

knew she was lying in wait for me to do wrong, and she denounced me for a

clumsy, stupid, labouring boy.

"You say nothing of her," remarked Miss Havisham to me. "She says many

hard things of you, yet you say nothing of her. What do you think of her?"

"I don't like to say," I stammered.

"Tell me in my ear," said Miss Havisham, bending down.

"I think she is very proud," I replied in a whisper--"and very pretty--and

very insulting."

"Anything else?"

"I think I should like to go home."

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

played the game to an end, and Estella beggared me.

"When shall I have you here again?" said Miss Havisham. "I know nothing of

the days of the week or of the weeks of the year. Come again after six

days. You hear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Estella, take him down. Let him have something to eat, and let him roam

about and look about him while he eats. Go, Pip."

I followed Estella down as I had followed her up, and at last I stood

again in the glare of daylight which quite confounded me, for I felt as if

I had been in the candle-light of the strange room many hours.

"You are to wait here, you boy, you," said Estella, and disappeared in the

house. While she was gone I looked at my coarse hands and my common boots,

and they troubled me greatly.

I determined to ask Joe why he had taught me to call the picture-cards

Jacks. I wished Joe had been rather more genteelly brought up, and then I

should have been so too. Estella came back with some bread and meat and a

little mug of beer which she set down as insolently as if I were a dog in

disgrace. I was so humiliated and hurt that tears sprang to my eyes. When

she saw them she looked at me with a quick delight. This gave me the power

to keep them back and to look at her; then she gave a contemptuous toss of

her head, and left me to my meal. At first, so bitter were my feelings

that, after she was gone, I hid behind one of the gates to the brewery and

cried. As I cried I kicked the wall and took a hard twist at my hair.

However, I came out from behind the gate, the bread and meat were

acceptable and the beer was warm and tingling, and I was soon in spirits

to look about me. I had surveyed the rank old garden when Estella came

back with the keys to let me out. She gave me a triumphant look as she

opened the gate. I was passing out without looking at her, when she

touched me with a taunting cry,----

"Why don't you cry?"

"Because I don't want to."

"You do," she said; "you have been crying and you are near crying now!" As

she spoke she laughed, pushed me out, and locked the gate upon me, and I

set off on the four-mile walk home, pondering as I went along, on what I

had seen and heard.

Of course, when I reached home they were very curious to know all about

Miss Havisham's, and asked many questions that I was not in a mood to

answer. The worst of it was that Uncle Pumblechook, devoured by curiosity,

came gaping over too at tea-time to have the details divulged to him. I

was not in a good humour anyway that night, so the sight of my tormentors

made me vicious in my reticence.

After asking a number of questions with no satisfaction, Uncle Pumblechook

began again.

"Now, boy," he said, "what was Miss Havisham a-doing of when you went in

to-day?"

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

My hearers stared at one another--as they well might--and repeated, "In a

black velvet coach?"

"Yes," said I, "and Miss Estella, that's her niece, I think, handed her in

cake and wine at the coach window on a gold plate. And we all had cake and

wine on gold plates. And I got up behind the coach to eat mine because she

told me to."

"Was anybody else there?" asked Mr. Pumblechook.

"Four dogs," said I.

"Large or small?"

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

basket."

My hearers stared at one another again in utter amazement. I was perfectly

frantic and would have told them anything.

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

"In Miss Havisham's room." They stared again. "But there weren't any

horses to it." I added this saving clause in the moment of rejecting four

richly caparisoned coursers, which I had had wild thoughts of harnessing.

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

"I'll tell you, mum," said Mr. Pumblechook. "My opinion is it is a

sedan-chair. Well, boy, and what did you play at?"

"We played with flags," I said.

"Flags!" echoed my sister.

"Yes," said I. "Estella waved a blue flag, and I waved a red one, and Miss

Havisham waved one sprinkled all over with little gold stars, out at the

coach window. And then we all waved our swords and hurrahed."

"Swords!" repeated my sister. "Where did you get swords from?"

"Out of the cupboard," said I. "And I saw pistols in it--and jam--and

pills. And there was only candlelight in the room."

If they had asked me any more questions I should undoubtedly have betrayed

myself for I was just on the point of mentioning that there was a balloon

in the yard and should have hazarded the statement, but that my invention

was divided between that phenomenon and a bear in the brewery.

My hearers were so much occupied, however, in discussing the marvels I had

already presented to them, that I escaped. The subject still held them

when Joe came in, and my experiences were at once related to him. Now,

when I saw his big blue eyes open in helpless amazement, I became

penitent, but only in regard to him. And so, after Mr. Pumblechook had

driven off, and my sister was busy, I stole into the forge and confessed

my guilt.

"You remember all that about Miss Havisham's?" I said.

"Remember!" said Joe. "I believe you! Wonderful!"

"It's a terrible thing, Joe. It ain't true."

"What are you a-telling of, Pip?" cried Joe. "You don't mean to say it!"

"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 welvet co-ch?" For I stood there shaking my head. "But at least

there was dogs, Pip? Come, Pip, if there warn't no weal cutlets, at least

there was dogs? A puppy, come."

"No, Joe," I said. "There was nothing of the kind."

As I fixed my eyes hopelessly on him, he looked at me in dismay. "Pip, old

chap," he said, "this won't do, I say. Where do you expect to go to? What

possessed you?"

"I don't know what possessed me," I replied, hanging my head, "but I wish

you hadn't taught me to call knaves at cards Jacks, and I wish my boots

weren't so thick, nor my hands so coarse."

Then I told Joe that I felt very miserable, but I hadn't liked to tell

Mrs. Joe and Uncle Pumblechook about the beautiful young lady at Miss

Havisham's who was so proud, and that she had said I was common, and that

I wished I was not common, and that the lies had come out of it somehow,

though I didn't know how.

"Well," said Joe after a good deal of thought, "there's one thing you may

be sure of, Pip, namely, that lies is lies. Howsoever 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. They ain't the way to get

out of being common, old chap. And as to being common, I don't make it out

at all clear. You're sure an uncommon scholar."

This I denied in the face of Joe's most forcible arguments, and at the end

of our talk, I said, "You are not angry with me, Joe?"

"No, old chap, but if you can't get to being uncommon through going

straight, you'll never get to do it through going crooked. So don't tell

no more on 'em, Pip. Don't never do it no more."

When I got up to my little room and said my prayers, I thought over Joe's

advice and knew that it was right, and yet my mind was in such a disturbed

and unthankful state, that for a long time I lay awake, not thinking over

my sins, but still mourning that Joe and Mrs. Joe and I were all common.

That was a memorable day for me, and it wrought great changes in me. I

began to see things and people from a new point of view, and from that day

dates the beginning of my great expectations.

One night, a little later, I was at the village Public House with Joe, who

was smoking his pipe with friends. In the room there was a stranger, who,

when he heard me addressed as Pip, turned and looked at me. He kept

looking hard at me, and nodding at me, and I returned his nods as politely

as possible. Presently, after seeing that Joe was not looking, he nodded

again and then rubbed his leg--in a very odd way, it struck me--and later,

he stirred his rum and water pointedly at me, and he tasted it pointedly

at me. And he did both, not with the spoon but with a file. He did this so

that nobody but I saw the file, and then he wiped it and put it in his

pocket I knew it to be Joe's file, and I knew that he was my convict the

minute I saw the instrument. I sat gazing at him, spell-bound, but he took

very little more notice of me; only when Joe and I started to go, he

stopped us.

"Stop half a minute, Mr. Gargery," he said; "I think I've got a bright

shilling somewhere in my pocket; if I have, the boy shall have it." He

took it out, folded it in some crumpled paper and gave it to me. "Yours,"

said he. "Mind--your own!" I thanked him, staring at him beyond the bounds

of good manners, and holding tight to Joe, and then we went towards home,

I in a manner stupefied, and thinking only of this turning up of my old

misdeed and old acquaintance.

We found my sister was not in a very bad temper, and Joe was encouraged to

tell her about the shilling. I took it out of the paper to show her. "But

what's this?" she said, catching up the paper. It was nothing less than

two one-pound notes! Joe caught up his hat and ran with them to the Public

House to restore them to their owner, only to find that he had gone. Then

my sister sealed them up in a piece of paper, and put them on the top of a

press in the state parlour, and there they remained.

On the appointed day I returned to Miss Havisham, and as before, was

admitted by Estella. As we went up stairs we met a gentleman groping his

way down. He was bald, with a large head and bushy black eyebrows. His

eyes were deep set and disagreeably keen. He was nothing to me, but I

observed him well as he passed.

Estella led me this time into another part of the house, and into a gloomy

room where there were some other people, saying,----

"You are to go and stand there, boy, till you are wanted."

"There" being the window, I crossed to it and stood looking out, at a

deserted house and old garden, in a very uncomfortable state of mind.

There were three ladies and one gentleman in the room, who all stopped

talking and looked at me. Later I found out that they were particular

friends of Miss Havisham. The ringing of a distant bell caused Estella to

say, "Now, boy!" and to conduct me to Miss Havisham's room, leaving me

near the door, where I stood until Miss Havisham cast her eyes upon me.

"Are you ready to play?" she asked.

I answered, in some confusion, "I don't think I am, ma'am, except at

cards; I could do that if I was wanted."

She looked searchingly at me and then asked, "If you are unwilling to

play, boy, are you willing to work?"

As I answered this in the affirmative, she presently laid a hand on my

shoulder. In the other she had a stick on which she leaned, and she looked

like the witch of the place. She looked all round the room in a glaring

manner, and then said, "Come, come, come! walk me, walk me!"

From this I made out that my work was to walk Miss Havisham round and

round the room. Accordingly I started at once and she leaned on my

shoulder. She was not strong, and soon she said, "Slower!" Still she went

at a fitful, impatient speed, and the hand on my shoulder twitched. After

a while she bade me call Estella, and on we started again round the room.

If she had been alone I should have been sufficiently embarrassed, but as

she brought with her the visitors, I didn't know what to do. I would have

stopped, but Miss Havisham twitched my shoulder, and we posted on,--I

feeling shamefaced embarrassment. The visitors remained for some time, and

after they left Miss Havisham directed us to play cards as before, and as

before, Estella treated me with cold scorn. After half a dozen games, a

day was set for my return, and I was taken into the yard to be fed in the

former dog-like manner. Prowling about, I scrambled over the wall into the

deserted garden that I had seen from the window. I supposed the house

belonging to it was empty, and to my surprise I was confronted by the

vision of a pale young gentleman with red eyelids and light hair, in a

window, who speedily came down and stood beside me.

"Halloa!" said he; "young fellow, who let you in?"

"Miss Estella."

"Who gave you leave to prowl about? Come and fight," said the pale young

gentleman.

What could I do but follow him? His manner was so final and I was so

astonished that I followed where he led, as if under a spell. "Stop a

minute, though," he said, "I ought to give you a reason for fighting too.

There it is!" In a most irritating manner he slapped his hands against one

another, flung one of his legs up behind him, pulled my hair, dipped his

head and butted it into my stomach. This bull-like proceeding, besides

that it was unquestionably to be regarded in the light of a liberty, was

particularly disagreeable just after bread and meat. I therefore hit out

at him and was going to hit out again, when he said, "Aha! Would you?" and

began dancing backwards and forwards in a manner quite unparalleled within

my limited experience.

"Laws of the game!" said he. Here he skipped from his left leg on to his

right. "Regular rules!" Here he skipped from his right leg on to his left.

"Come to the ground and go through the preliminaries!" Here he dodged

backwards and forwards, and did all sorts of things, while I looked

helplessly at him. I was secretly afraid of him, but I felt convinced that

his light head of hair could have had no business in the pit of my

stomach. Therefore I followed him without a word, to a retired nook of the

garden. On his asking me if I was satisfied with the ground, and on my

replying "Yes," he fetched a bottle of water and a sponge dipped in

vinegar, and then fell to pulling off, not only his jacket and waistcoat,

but his shirt too, in a manner at once light-hearted, business-like, and

bloodthirsty.

My heart failed me when I saw him squaring at me with every demonstration

of mechanical nicety, and eyeing my anatomy as if he were minutely

choosing his bone. I never have been so surprised in my life as I was when

I let out the first blow and saw him lying on his back, with a bloody nose

and his face exceedingly foreshortened. But he was on his feet directly,

and after sponging himself began squaring again. The second greatest

surprise I have ever had in my life was seeing him on his back again,

looking up at me out of a black eye. His spirit inspired me with great

respect. He was always knocked down, but he would be up again in a moment,

sponging himself or drinking out of the water bottle, 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 he got up and turned round and round confusedly

a few times, not knowing where I was, but finally went on his knees to his

sponge and threw it up, panting out, "That means you have won!"

He seemed so brave and innocent, that although I had not proposed the

contest, I felt but a gloomy satisfaction in my victory. Indeed, I go so

far as to hope that I regarded myself as a species of savage young wolf or

other wild beast. However, I got dressed, and I said, "Can I help you?"

and he said, "No, thankee," and I said, "Good afternoon," and he said,

"Same to you!"

When I got into the courtyard I found Estella waiting with the keys to let

me out. What with the visitors, and what with the cards, and what with the

fight, my stay had lasted so long that when I neared home the light on the

spit of sand off the point on the marshes was gleaming against a black

night-sky, and Joe's furnace was flinging a path of fire across the road.

When the day came for my return to the scene of my fight with the pale

young gentleman, I became very much afraid as I recalled him on his back

in various stages of misery, and the more I thought about it, the more

certain I felt that his blood would be on my head and that the law would

avenge it, and I felt that I never could go back. However, go to Miss

Havisham's I must, and go I did. And behold, nothing came of the late

struggle! The pale young gentleman was nowhere to be seen, and only in the

corner where the combat had taken place could I detect any evidences of

his existence. There were traces of his gore in that spot, and I covered

them with garden-mould from the eye of men, and breathed more quietly

again.

That same day I began on a regular occupation of pushing Miss Havisham in

a light garden chair (when she was tired of walking with her hand on my

shoulder) round through the rooms. Over and over and over again we made

these journeys, sometimes lasting for three hours at a stretch, and from

that time I returned to her every alternate day at noon for that purpose,

and kept returning through a period of eight or ten months. As we began to

be more used to one another, Miss Havisham talked more to me, and asked me

many questions about myself. I told her I believed I was to be apprenticed

to Joe, and enlarged on knowing nothing, and wanting to know everything,

hoping that she might offer me some help. But she did not, on the contrary

she seemed to prefer my being ignorant. Nor did she give me any money, nor

anything but my daily dinner. Estella always let me in and out. Sometimes

she would coldly tolerate me, sometimes condescend to me, sometimes be

quite familiar with me, and at other times she would tell me that she

hated me; and all the time my admiration for her grew apace.

There was a song Joe used to hum at the forge, of which the burden was

"Old Clem." The song imitated the beating upon iron. Thus you were to

hammer;--Boys round--Old Clem! With a thump and a sound--Old Clem! Beat it

out, beat it out--Old Clem! With a clink for the stout--Old Clem! Blow the

fire, blow the fire--Old Clem! Roaring dryer, soaring higher--Old Clem!

One day I was crooning this ditty as I pushed Miss Havisham about. It

happened to catch her fancy and she took it up in a low brooding voice.

After that it became customary with us to sing it as we moved about, and

often Estella joined in, though the whole strain was so subdued that it

made less noise in the grim old house than the lightest breath of wind.

How could my character fail to be influenced by such surroundings? Is it

to be wondered at if my thoughts were dazed, as my eyes were, when I came

out into the natural light from the misty yellow rooms?

We went on this way for a long time, but one day Miss Havisham stopped

short as she and I were walking and said, with displeasure: "You are

growing tall, Pip!"

In answer I suggested that this might be a thing over which I had no

control, and she said no more at that time, but on the following day she

said:

"Tell me the name again of the blacksmith of yours to whom you were to be

apprenticed?"

"Joe Gargery, ma'am,"

"You had better be apprenticed at once. Would Gargery come here with you,

and bring your indentures, do you think?"