For several reasons,and not least because I didn’t clearly know what Mr.Jaggers would be found to be “at,” I replied in the affirmative. We dived into the City,and came up in a crowded police-court,where a blood-relation (in the murderous sense) of the deceased,with the fanciful taste in brooches,was standing at the bar,uncomfortably chewing something;while my guardian had a woman under examination or cross-examination,—I don’t know which,—and was striking her,and the bench, and everybody present, with awe.If anybody, of whatsoever degree,said a word that he didn’t approve of,he instantly required to have it “taken down.” If anybody wouldn’t make an admission, he said,“I’ll have it out of you!” and if anybody made an admission, he said,“Now I have got you!” The magistrates shivered under a single bite of his finger.Thieves and thief-takers hung in dread rapture on his words,and shrank when a hair of his eyebrows turned in their direction.Which side he was on I couldn’t make out,for he seemed to me to be grinding the whole place in a mill;I only know that when I stole out on tiptoe,he was not on the side of the bench; for,he was making the legs of the old gentleman who presided,quite convulsive under the table,by his denunciations of his conduct as the representative of British law and justice in that chair that day.
Chapter XXV.
Bentley Drummle, who was so sulky a fellow that he even took up a book as if its writer had done him an injury, did not take up an acquaintance in a more agreeable spirit. Heavy in figure, movement, and comprehension,—in the sluggish complexion of his face, and in the large, awkward tongue that seemed to loll about in his mouth as he himself lolled about in a room,—he was idle, proud, niggardly, reserved, and suspicious. He came of rich people down in Somersetshire, who had nursed this combination of qualities until they made the discovery that it was just of age and a blockhead. Thus, Bentley Drummle had come to Mr. Pocket when he was a head taller than that gentleman, and half a dozen heads thicker than most gentlemen.
Startop had been spoilt by a weak mother and kept at home when he ought to have been at school, but he was devotedly attached to her, and admired her beyond measure. He had a woman’s delicacy of feature, and was—“as you may see, though you never saw her,” said Herbert to me—“exactly like his mother.” It was but natural that I should take to him much more kindly than to Drummle, and that, even in the earliest evenings of our boating, he and I should pull homeward abreast of one another, conversing from boat to boat, while Bentley Drummle came up in our wake alone, under the overhanging banks and among the rushes. He would always creep in-shore like some uncomfortable amphibious creature, even when the tide would have sent him fast upon his way; and I always think of him as coming after us in the dark or by the back-water, when our own two boats were breaking the sunset or the moonlight in mid-stream.
Herbert was my intimate companion and friend.I presented him with a half-share in my boat,which was the occasion of his often coming down to Hammersmith;and my possession of a half-share in his chambers often took me up to London.We used to walk between the two places at all hours.I have an affection for the road yet (though it is not so pleasant a road as it was then), formed in the impressibility of untried youth and hope.
When I had been in Mr. Pocket’s family a month or two,Mr. and Mrs. Camilla turned up. Camilla was Mr.Pocket’s sister. Georgiana,whom I had seen at Miss Havisham’s on the same occasion,also turned up. She was a cousin,—an indigestive single woman,who called her rigidity religion, and her liver love.These people hated me with the hatred of cupidity and disappointment.As a matter of course,they fawned upon me in my prosperity with the basest meanness.Towards Mr. Pocket,as a grown-up infant with no notion of his own interests,they showed the complacent forbearance I had heard them express.Mrs. Pocket they held in contempt;but they allowed the poor soul to have been heavily disappointed in life,because that shed a feeble reflected light upon themselves.
These were the surroundings among which I settled down,and applied myself to my education.I soon contracted expensive habits,and began to spend an amount of money that within a few short months I should have thought almost fabulous; but through good and evil I stuck to my books. There was no other merit in this, than my having sense enough to feel my deficiencies. Between Mr. Pocket and Herbert I got on fast; and, with one or the other always at my elbow to give me the start I wanted, and clear obstructions out of my road, I must have been as great a dolt as Drummle if I had done less.
I had not seen Mr. Wemmick for some weeks,when I thought I would write him a note and propose to go home with him on a certain evening. He replied that it would give him much pleasure, and that he would expect me at the office at six o’clock. Thither I went, and there I found him, putting the key of his safe down his back as the clock struck.
“Did you think of walking down to Walworth?” said he.
“Certainly,” said I, “if you approve.”
“Very much,” was Wemmick’s reply,“for I have had my legs under the desk all day,and shall be glad to stretch them. Now,I’ll tell you what I have got for supper, Mr. Pip.I have got a stewed steak,—which is of home preparation,—and a cold roast fowl,—which is from the cook’s-shop. I think it’s tender,because the master of the shop was a Juryman in some cases of ours the other day, and we let him down easy. I reminded him of it when I bought the fowl, and I said, “Pick us out a good one, old Briton, because if we had chosen to keep you in the box another day or two, we could easily have done it.” He said to that, “Let me make you a present of the best fowl in the shop.” I let him, of course. As far as it goes, it’s property and portable. You don’t object to an aged parent, I hope?”
I really thought he was still speaking of the fowl,until he added, “Because I have got an aged parent at my place.” I then said what politeness required.
“So, you haven’t dined with Mr. Jaggers yet?” he pursued, as we walked along.
“Not yet.”
“He told me so this afternoon when he heard you were coming.I expect you’ll have an invitation to-morrow.He’s going to ask your pals, too. Three of ’em; ain’t there?”
Although I was not in the habit of counting Drummle as one of my intimate associates, I answered, “Yes.”
“Well, he’s going to ask the whole gang,”—I hardly felt complimented by the word,—“and whatever he gives you, he’ll give you good.Don’t look forward to variety,but you’ll have excellence.And there’s another rum thing in his house,” proceeded Wemmick, after a moment’s pause,as if the remark followed on the housekeeper understood;“he never lets a door or window be fastened at night.”