Great Expectations

"The time has not gone by. It is still Monday night."

"Thank God!"

"And you have all to-morrow, Tuesday, to rest in," said Herbert. "But

you can't help groaning, my dear Handel. What hurt have you got? Can you

stand?"

"Yes, yes," said I, "I can walk. I have no hurt but in this throbbing

arm."

They laid it bare, and did what they could. It was violently swollen and

inflamed, and I could scarcely endure to have it touched. But, they tore

up their handkerchiefs to make fresh bandages, and carefully replaced

it in the sling, until we could get to the town and obtain some cooling

lotion to put upon it. In a little while we had shut the door of the

dark and empty sluice-house, and were passing through the quarry on our

way back. Trabb's boy--Trabb's overgrown young man now--went before us

with a lantern, which was the light I had seen come in at the door. But,

the moon was a good two hours higher than when I had last seen the sky,

and the night, though rainy, was much lighter. The white vapor of the

kiln was passing from us as we went by, and as I had thought a prayer

before, I thought a thanksgiving now.

Entreating Herbert to tell me how he had come to my rescue,--which at

first he had flatly refused to do, but had insisted on my remaining

quiet,--I learnt that I had in my hurry dropped the letter, open, in our

chambers, where he, coming home to bring with him Startop whom he had

met in the street on his way to me, found it, very soon after I

was gone. Its tone made him uneasy, and the more so because of the

inconsistency between it and the hasty letter I had left for him. His

uneasiness increasing instead of subsiding, after a quarter of an

hour's consideration, he set off for the coach-office with Startop, who

volunteered his company, to make inquiry when the next coach went

down. Finding that the afternoon coach was gone, and finding that his

uneasiness grew into positive alarm, as obstacles came in his way, he

resolved to follow in a post-chaise. So he and Startop arrived at the

Blue Boar, fully expecting there to find me, or tidings of me; but,

finding neither, went on to Miss Havisham's, where they lost me.

Hereupon they went back to the hotel (doubtless at about the time when

I was hearing the popular local version of my own story) to refresh

themselves and to get some one to guide them out upon the marshes. Among

the loungers under the Boar's archway happened to be Trabb's Boy,--true

to his ancient habit of happening to be everywhere where he had no

business,--and Trabb's boy had seen me passing from Miss Havisham's in

the direction of my dining-place. Thus Trabb's boy became their guide,

and with him they went out to the sluice-house, though by the town way

to the marshes, which I had avoided. Now, as they went along, Herbert

reflected, that I might, after all, have been brought there on some

genuine and serviceable errand tending to Provis's safety, and,

bethinking himself that in that case interruption must be mischievous,

left his guide and Startop on the edge of the quarry, and went on by

himself, and stole round the house two or three times, endeavouring to

ascertain whether all was right within. As he could hear nothing but

indistinct sounds of one deep rough voice (this was while my mind was so

busy), he even at last began to doubt whether I was there, when suddenly

I cried out loudly, and he answered the cries, and rushed in, closely

followed by the other two.