Great Expectations by Charles Dickens (speed reading book TXT) đź“•
"Now lookee here," he said, "the question being whether you're tobe let to live. You know what a file is?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you know what wittles is?"
"Yes, sir."
After each question he tilted me over a little more, so as to giveme a greater sense of helplessness and danger.
"You get me a file." He tilted me again. "And you get me wittles."He tilted me again. "You bring 'em both to me." He tilted me again."Or I'll have your heart and liver out." He tilted me again.
I was dreadfully frightened, and so giddy that I clung to him withboth hands, and said, "If you would kindly please to let me keepupright, sir, perhaps I shouldn't be sick, and perhaps I couldattend more."
He gave me a most tremendous dip and roll,
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- Author: Charles Dickens
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to be said, save that I had come into great expectations from a
mysterious patron. Biddy nodded her head thoughtfully at the fire
as she took up her work again, and said she would be very
particular; and Joe, still detaining his knees, said, “Ay, ay, I’ll
be ekervally partickler, Pip;” and then they congratulated me
again, and went on to express so much wonder at the notion of my
being a gentleman that I didn’t half like it.
Infinite pains were then taken by Biddy to convey to my sister some
idea of what had happened. To the best of my belief, those efforts
entirely failed. She laughed and nodded her head a great many
times, and even repeated after Biddy, the words “Pip” and
“Property.” But I doubt if they had more meaning in them than an
election cry, and I cannot suggest a darker picture of her state of
mind.
I never could have believed it without experience, but as Joe and
Biddy became more at their cheerful ease again, I became quite
gloomy. Dissatisfied with my fortune, of course I could not be; but
it is possible that I may have been, without quite knowing it,
dissatisfied with myself.
Any how, I sat with my elbow on my knee and my face upon my hand,
looking into the fire, as those two talked about my going away, and
about what they should do without me, and all that. And whenever I
caught one of them looking at me, though never so pleasantly (and
they often looked at me,—particularly Biddy), I felt offended: as
if they were expressing some mistrust of me. Though Heaven knows
they never did by word or sign.
At those times I would get up and look out at the door; for our
kitchen door opened at once upon the night, and stood open on
summer evenings to air the room. The very stars to which I then
raised my eyes, I am afraid I took to be but poor and humble stars
for glittering on the rustic objects among which I had passed my
life.
“Saturday night,” said I, when we sat at our supper of
bread and cheese and beer. “Five more days, and then the day before
the day! They’ll soon go.”
“Yes, Pip,” observed Joe, whose voice sounded hollow in his beer-mug. “They’ll soon go.”
“Soon, soon go,” said Biddy.
“I have been thinking, Joe, that when I go down town on Monday, and
order my new clothes, I shall tell the tailor that I’ll come and
put them on there, or that I’ll have them sent to Mr. Pumblechook’s.
It would be very disagreeable to be stared at by all the people
here.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Hubble might like to see you in your new genteel figure
too, Pip,” said Joe, industriously cutting his bread, with his
cheese on it, in the palm of his left hand, and glancing at my
untasted supper as if he thought of the time when we used to
compare slices. “So might Wopsle. And the Jolly Bargemen might take
it as a compliment.”
“That’s just what I don’t want, Joe. They would make such a
business of it,—such a coarse and common business,—that I
couldn’t bear myself.”
“Ah, that indeed, Pip!” said Joe. “If you couldn’t abear
yourself—”
Biddy asked me here, as she sat holding my sister’s plate, “Have
you thought about when you’ll show yourself to Mr. Gargery, and your
sister and me? You will show yourself to us; won’t you?”
“Biddy,” I returned with some resentment, “you are so exceedingly
quick that it’s difficult to keep up with you.”
(“She always were quick,” observed Joe.)
“If you had waited another moment, Biddy, you would have heard me
say that I shall bring my clothes here in a bundle one evening,—
most likely on the evening before I go away.”
Biddy said no more. Handsomely forgiving her, I soon exchanged an
affectionate good night with her and Joe, and went up to bed. When
I got into my little room, I sat down and took a long look at it,
as a mean little room that I should soon be parted from and raised
above, for ever. It was furnished with fresh young remembrances
too, and even at the same moment I fell into much the same confused
division of mind between it and the better rooms to which I was
going, as I had been in so often between the forge and Miss
Havisham’s, and Biddy and Estella.
The sun had been shining brightly all day on the roof of my attic,
and the room was warm. As I put the window open and stood looking
out, I saw Joe come slowly forth at the dark door, below, and take a
turn or two in the air; and then I saw Biddy come, and bring him a
pipe and light it for him. He never smoked so late, and it seemed
to hint to me that he wanted comforting, for some reason or other.
He presently stood at the door immediately beneath me, smoking his
pipe, and Biddy stood there too, quietly talking to him, and I knew
that they talked of me, for I heard my name mentioned in an
endearing tone by both of them more than once. I would not have
listened for more, if I could have heard more; so I drew away from
the window, and sat down in my one chair by the bedside, feeling it
very sorrowful and strange that this first night of my bright
fortunes should be the loneliest I had ever known.
Looking towards the open window, I saw light wreaths from Joe’s
pipe floating there, and I fancied it was like a blessing from Joe,
—not obtruded on me or paraded before me, but pervading the air we
shared together. I put my light out, and crept into bed; and it was
an uneasy bed now, and I never slept the old sound sleep in it any
more.
Morning made a considerable difference in my general prospect of
Life, and brightened it so much that it scarcely seemed the same.
What lay heaviest on my mind was, the consideration that six days
intervened between me and the day of departure; for I could not
divest myself of a misgiving that something might happen to London
in the meanwhile, and that, when I got there, it would be either
greatly deteriorated or clean gone.
Joe and Biddy were very sympathetic and pleasant when I spoke of
our approaching separation; but they only referred to it when I
did. After breakfast, Joe brought out my indentures from the press
in the best parlor, and we put them in the fire, and I felt that I
was free. With all the novelty of my emancipation on me, I went to
church with Joe, and thought perhaps the clergyman wouldn’t have
read that about the rich man and the kingdom of Heaven, if he had
known all.
After our early dinner, I strolled out alone, purposing to finish
off the marshes at once, and get them done with. As I passed the
church, I felt (as I had felt during service in the morning) a
sublime compassion for the poor creatures who were destined to go
there, Sunday after Sunday, all their lives through, and to lie
obscurely at last among the low green mounds. I promised myself
that I would do something for them one of these days, and formed a
plan in outline for bestowing a dinner of roast-beef and
plum-pudding, a pint of ale, and a gallon of condescension, upon
everybody in the village.
If I had often thought before, with something allied to shame, of
my companionship with the fugitive whom I had once seen limping
among those graves, what were my thoughts on this Sunday, when the
place recalled the wretch, ragged and shivering, with his felon
iron and badge! My comfort was, that it happened a long time ago,
and that he had doubtless been transported a long way off, and that
he was dead to me, and might be veritably dead into the bargain.
No more low, wet grounds, no more dikes and sluices, no more of
these grazing cattle,—though they seemed, in their dull manner, to
wear a more respectful air now, and to face round, in order that
they might stare as long as possible at the possessor of such great
expectations,—farewell, monotonous acquaintances of my childhood,
henceforth I was for London and greatness; not for smith’s work in
general, and for you! I made my exultant way to the old Battery,
and, lying down there to consider the question whether Miss
Havisham intended me for Estella, fell asleep.
When I awoke, I was much surprised to find Joe sitting beside me,
smoking his pipe. He greeted me with a cheerful smile on my opening
my eyes, and said,—
“As being the last time, Pip, I thought I’d foller.”
“And Joe, I am very glad you did so.”
“Thankee, Pip.”
“You may be sure, dear Joe,” I went on, after we had shaken hands,
“that I shall never forget you.”
“No, no, Pip!” said Joe, in a comfortable tone, “I’m sure of that.
Ay, ay, old chap! Bless you, it were only necessary to get it well
round in a man’s mind, to be certain on it. But it took a bit of
time to get it well round, the change come so oncommon plump;
didn’t it?”
Somehow, I was not best pleased with Joe’s being so mightily secure
of me. I should have liked him to have betrayed emotion, or to have
said, “It does you credit, Pip,” or something of that sort.
Therefore, I made no remark on Joe’s first head; merely saying as
to his second, that the tidings had indeed come suddenly, but that
I had always wanted to be a gentleman, and had often and often
speculated on what I would do, if I were one.
“Have you though?” said Joe. “Astonishing!”
“It’s a pity now, Joe,” said I, “that you did not get on a little
more, when we had our lessons here; isn’t it?”
“Well, I don’t know,” returned Joe. “I’m so awful dull. I’m only
master of my own trade. It were always a pity as I was so awful
dull; but it’s no more of a pity now, than it was—this day
twelvemonth—don’t you see?”
What I had meant was, that when I came into my property and was
able to do something for Joe, it would have been much more
agreeable if he had been better qualified for a rise in station. He
was so perfectly innocent of my meaning, however, that I thought I
would mention it to Biddy in preference.
So, when we had walked home and had had tea, I took Biddy into our
little garden by the side of the lane, and, after throwing out in a
general way for the elevation of her spirits, that I should never
forget her, said I had a favor to ask of her.
“And it is, Biddy,” said I, “that you will not omit any opportunity
of helping Joe on, a little.”
“How helping him on?” asked Biddy, with a steady sort of glance.
“Well! Joe is a dear good fellow,—in fact, I think he is the
dearest fellow that ever lived,—but he is rather backward in some
things. For instance, Biddy, in his learning and his manners.”
Although I was looking at Biddy as I spoke, and although she opened
her eyes very wide when I had spoken, she did not look at me.
“O, his manners! won’t his manners do then?” asked Biddy,
plucking a black-currant leaf.
“My dear Biddy, they do very well here—”
“O! they do very well here?” interrupted Biddy, looking closely at
the leaf in her hand.
“Hear me
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