Mr. Pumblechook helped me to the liver wing,and to the best slice of tongue (none of those out-of-the-way No Thoroughfares of Pork now), and took, comparatively speaking, no care of himself at all. “Ah!poultry, poultry!You little thought,” said Mr. Pumblechook,apostrophising the fowl in the dish,“when you was a young fledgling,what was in store for you.You little thought you was to be refreshment beneath this humble roof for one as—Call it a weakness, if you will,” said Mr. Pumblechook, getting up again, “but may I?_may_ I—?”
It began to be unnecessary to repeat the form of saying he might,so he did it at once.How he ever did it so often without wounding himself with my knife, I don’t know.
“And your sister,” he resumed,after a little steady eating,“which had the honour of bringing you up by hand!It’s a sad picter, to reflect that she’s no longer equal to fully understanding the honour. May—”
I saw he was about to come at me again, and I stopped him.
“We’ll drink her health,” said I.
“Ah!” cried Mr. Pumblechook, leaning back in his chair,quite flaccid with admiration,“that’s the way you know ’em, sir!” (I don’t know who Sir was, but he certainly was not I,and there was no third person present);“that’s the way you know the noble-minded, sir!Ever forgiving and ever affable. It might,” said the servile Pumblechook,putting down his untasted glass in a hurry and getting up again,“to a common person,have the appearance of repeating—but _may_ I—?”
When he had done it,he resumed his seat and drank to my sister.“Let us never be blind,” said Mr. Pumblechook,“to her faults of temper,but it is to be hoped she meant well.”
At about this time, I began to observe that he was getting flushed in the face;as to myself, I felt all face,steeped in wine and smarting.
I mentioned to Mr. Pumblechook that I wished to have my new clothes sent to his house, and he was ecstatic on my so distinguishing him. I mentioned my reason for desiring to avoid observation in the village, and he lauded it to the skies. There was nobody but himself, he intimated, worthy of my confidence, and—in short, might he?Then he asked me tenderly if I remembered our boyish games at sums,and how we had gone together to have me bound apprentice,and, in effect, how he had ever been my favourite fancy and my chosen friend?If I had taken ten times as many glasses of wine as I had,I should have known that he never had stood in that relation towards me,and should in my heart of hearts have repudiated the idea.Yet for all that, I remember feeling convinced that I had been much mistaken in him, and that he was a sensible, practical, good-hearted prime fellow.
By degrees he fell to reposing such great confidence in me,as to ask my advice in reference to his own affairs.He mentioned that there was an opportunity for a great amalgamation and monopoly of the corn and seed trade on those premises, if enlarged, such as had never occurred before in that or any other neighbourhood. What alone was wanting to the realisation of a vast fortune, he considered to be More Capital. Those were the two little words, more capital. Now it appeared to him (Pumblechook) that if that capital were got into the business, through a sleeping partner, sir,—which sleeping partner would have nothing to do but walk in, by self or deputy, whenever he pleased, and examine the books,—and walk in twice a year and take his profits away in his pocket, to the tune of fifty per cent,—it appeared to him that that might be an opening for a young gentleman of spirit combined with property, which would be worthy of his attention. But what did I think?He had great confidence in my opinion,and what did I think?I gave it as my opinion. “Wait a bit!” The united vastness and distinctness of this view so struck him,that he no longer asked if he might shake hands with me,but said he really must,—and did.
We drank all the wine, and Mr.Pumblechook pledged himself over and over again to keep Joseph up to the mark (I don’t know what mark), and to render me efficient and constant service (I don’t know what service). He also made known to me for the first time in my life, and certainly after having kept his secret wonderfully well, that he had always said of me, “That boy is no common boy, and mark me, his fortun’ will be no common fortun’.” He said with a tearful smile that it was a singular thing to think of now, and I said so too. Finally, I went out into the air, with a dim perception that there was something unwonted in the conduct of the sunshine, and found that I had slumberously got to the turnpike without having taken any account of the road.
There, I was roused by Mr. Pumblechook’s hailing me.He was a long way down the sunny street,and was making expressive gestures for me to stop.I stopped, and he came up breathless.
“No, my dear friend,” said he,when he had recovered wind for speech.“Not if I can help it.This occasion shall not entirely pass without that affability on your part.—May I, as an old friend and well-wisher?_May_ I?”
We shook hands for the hundredth time at least,and he ordered a young carter out of my way with the greatest indignation.Then, he blessed me and stood waving his hand to me until I had passed the crook in the road; and then I turned into a field and had a long nap under a hedge before I pursued my way home.
I had scant luggage to take with me to London,for little of the little I possessed was adapted to my new station.But I began packing that same afternoon,and wildly packed up things that I knew I should want next morning,in a fiction that there was not a moment to be lost.
So, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, passed;and on Friday morning I went to Mr. Pumblechook’s,to put on my new clothes and pay my visit to Miss Havisham.Mr. Pumblechook’s own room was given up to me to dress in,and was decorated with clean towels expressly for the event.My clothes were rather a disappointment, of course.Probably every new and eagerly expected garment ever put on since clothes came in, fell a trifle short of the wearer’s expectation. But after I had had my new suit on some half an hour, and had gone through an immensity of posturing with Mr. Pumblechook’s very limited dressing-glass, in the futile endeavour to see my legs, it seemed to fit me better. It being market morning at a neighbouring town some ten miles off, Mr. Pumblechook was not at home. I had not told him exactly when I meant to leave, and was not likely to shake hands with him again before departing. This was all as it should be, and I went out in my new array, fearfully ashamed of having to pass the shopman, and suspicious after all that I was at a personal disadvantage, something like Joe’s in his Sunday suit.
I went circuitously to Miss Havisham’s by all the back ways,and rang at the bell constrainedly,on account of the stiff long fingers of my gloves.Sarah Pocket came to the gate,and positively reeled back when she saw me so changed;her walnut-shell countenance likewise turned from brown to green and yellow.
“You?” said she. “You?Good gracious!What do you want?”
“I am going to London, Miss Pocket,” said I,“and want to say good-bye to Miss Havisham.”
I was not expected, for she left me locked in the yard,while she went to ask if I were to be admitted.After a very short delay, she returned and took me up,staring at me all the way.
Miss Havisham was taking exercise in the room with the long spread table,leaning on her crutch stick.The room was lighted as of yore,and at the sound of our entrance,she stopped and turned.She was then just abreast of the rotted bride-cake.
“Don’t go, Sarah,” she said. “Well, Pip?”
“I start for London, Miss Havisham, to-morrow,” I was exceedingly careful what I said,“and I thought you would kindly not mind my taking leave of you. ”