Great Expectations

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 parlor, 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

needle-work 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.