Mr. Jaggers

had risen when Joe demonstrated, and had backed near the door.

Without evincing any inclination to come in again, he there

delivered his valedictory remarks. They were these:

"Well, Mr. Pip, I think the sooner you leave here - as you are to be

a gentleman - the better. Let it stand for this day week, and you

shall receive my printed address in the meantime. You can take a

hackney-coach at the stage-coach office in London, and come

straight to me. Understand, that I express no opinion, one way or

other, on the trust I undertake. I am paid for undertaking it, and

I do so. Now, understand that, finally. Understand that!"

He was throwing his finger at both of us, and I think would have

gone on, but for his seeming to think Joe dangerous, and going off.

Something came into my head which induced me to run after him, as

he was going down to the Jolly Bargemen where he had left a hired

carriage.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Jaggers."

"Halloa!" said he, facing round, "what's the matter?"

"I wish to be quite right, Mr. Jaggers, and to keep to your

directions; so I thought I had better ask. Would there be any

objection to my taking leave of any one I know, about here, before

I go away?"

"No," said he, looking as if he hardly understood me.

"I don't mean in the village only, but up-town?"

"No," said he. "No objection."

I thanked him and ran home again, and there I found that Joe had

already locked the front door and vacated the state parlour, and

was seated by the kitchen fire with a hand on each knee, gazing

intently at the burning coals. I too sat down before the fire and

gazed at the coals, and nothing was said for a long time.

My sister was in her cushioned chair in her corner, and Biddy sat

at her needlework before the fire, and Joe sat next Biddy, and I

sat next Joe in the corner opposite my sister. The more I looked

into the glowing coals, the more incapable I became of looking at

Joe; the longer the silence lasted, the more unable I felt to

speak.

At length I got out, "Joe, have you told Biddy?"

"No, Pip," returned Joe, still looking at the fire, and holding his

knees tight, as if he had private information that they intended to

make off somewhere, "which I left it to yourself, Pip."

"I would rather you told, Joe."

"Pip's a gentleman of fortun' then," said Joe, "and God bless him

in it!"

Biddy dropped her work, and looked at me. Joe held his knees and

looked at me. I looked at both of them. After a pause, they both

heartily congratulated me; but there was a certain touch of sadness

in their congratulations, that I rather resented.

I took it upon myself to impress Biddy (and through Biddy, Joe)

with the grave obligation I considered my friends under, to know

nothing and say nothing about the maker of my fortune. It would all

come out in good time, I observed, and in the meanwhile nothing was

to be said, save that I had come into great expectations from a

mysterious patron. Biddy nodded her head thoughtfully at the fire

as she took up her work again, and said she would be very

particular; and Joe, still detaining his knees, said, "Ay, ay, I'll

be ekervally partickler, Pip;" and then they congratulated me

again, and went on to express so much wonder at the notion of my

being a gentleman, that I didn't half like it.

Infinite pains were then taken by Biddy to convey to my sister some

idea of what had happened. To the best of my belief, those efforts

entirely failed. She laughed and nodded her head a great many

times, and even repeated after Biddy, the words "Pip" and

"Property." But I doubt if they had more meaning in them than an

election cry, and I cannot suggest a darker picture of her state of

mind.

I never could have believed it without experience, but as Joe and

Biddy became more at their cheerful ease again, I became quite

gloomy.