Great Expectations. Charles Dickens

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Great Expectations - Charles Dickens

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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 grownup 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 tomorrow. 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’sa nother 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.”

      “Is he never robbed?”

      “That’s it!” returned Wemmick. “He says, and gives it out publicly, “I want to see the man who’ll rob me.” Lord bless you, I have heard him, a hundred times, if I have heard him once, say to regular cracksmen in our front office, “You know where I live; now, no bolt is ever drawn there; why don’t you do a stroke of business with me? Come; can’t I tempt you?” Not a man of them, sir, would be bold enough to try it on, for love or money.”

      “They dread him so much?” said I.

      “Dread him,” said Wemmick. “I believe you they dread him. Not but what he’s artful, even in his defiance of them. No silver, sir. Britannia metal, every spoon.”

      “So they wouldn’t have much,” I observed, “even if they — ”

      “Ah! But he would have much,” said Wemmick, cutting me short, “and they know it. He’d have their lives, and the lives of scores of ‘em. He’d have all he could get. And it’s impossible to say what he couldn’t get, if he gave his mind to it.”

      I was falling into meditation on my guardian’s greatness, when Wemmick remarked: —

      “As to the absence of plate, that’s only his natural depth, you know. A river’s its natural depth, and he’s his natural depth. Look at his watch-chain. That’s real enough.”

      “It’s very massive,” said I.

      “Massive?” repeated Wemmick. “I think so. And his watch is a gold repeater, and worth a hundred pound if it’s worth a penny. Mr. Pip, there are about seven hundred thieves in this town who know all about that watch; there’s not a man, a woman, or a child, among them, who wouldn’t identify the smallest link in that chain, and drop it as if it was red hot, if inveigled into touching it.”

      At first with such discourse, and afterwards with conversation of a more general nature, did Mr. Wemmick and I beguile the time and the road, until he gave me to understand that we had arrived in the district of Walworth.

      It appeared to be a collection of back lanes, ditches, and little gardens, and to present the aspect of a rather dull retirement. Wemmick’s house was a little wooden cottage in the midst of plots of garden, and the top of it was cut out and painted like a battery mounted with guns.

      “My own doing,” said Wemmick. “Looks pretty; don’t it?”

      I highly commended it, I think it was the smallest house I ever saw; with the queerest gothic windows (by far the greater part of them sham), and a gothic door almost too small to get in at.

      “That’s a real flagstaff, you see,” said Wemmick, “and on Sundays I run up a real flag. Then look here. After I have crossed this bridge, I hoist it up-so — and cut off the communication.”

      The bridge was a plank, and it crossed a chasm about four feet wide and two deep. But it was very pleasant to see the pride with which he hoisted it up and made it fast; smiling as he did so, with a relish and not merely mechanically.

      “At nine o’clock every night, Greenwich time,” said Wemmick, “the gun fires. There he is, you see! And when you hear him go, I think you’ll say he’s a Stinger.”

      The piece of ordnance referred to, was mounted in a separate fortress, constructed of latticework. It was protected from the weather by an ingenious little tarpaulin contrivance in the nature of an umbrella.

      “Then, at the back,” said Wemmick, “out of sight, so as not to impede the idea of fortifications, — for it’s a principle with me, if you have an idea, carry it out and keep it up, — I don’t know whether that’s your opinion — ”

      I said, decidedly.

      “ — At the back, there’s a pig, and there are fowls and rabbits; then, I knock together my own little frame, you see, and grow cucumbers; and you’ll judge at supper what sort of a salad I can raise. So, sir,” said Wemmick, smiling again, but seriously too, as he shook his head, “if you can suppose the little place besieged, it would hold out a devil of a time in point of provisions.”

      Then, he

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