Great Expectations

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.