As I stood opposite to Mr. Pocket, Junior, delivering
him the bags, One, Two, I saw the starting appearance
come into his own eyes that I knew to be in mine,
and he said, falling back:
“Lord bless me, you’re the prowling boy!”
“And you,” said I, “are the pale
young gentleman!”
The pale young gentleman and I stood contemplating
one another in Barnard’s Inn, until we both
burst out laughing. “The idea of its being
you!” said he. “The idea of its being
you!” said I. And then we contemplated one
another afresh, and laughed again. “Well!”
said the pale young gentleman, reaching out his hand
goodhumouredly, “it’s all over now, I
hope, and it will be magnanimous in you if you’ll
forgive me for having knocked you about so.”
I derived from this speech that Mr. Herbert Pocket
(for Herbert was the pale young gentleman’s
name) still rather confounded his intention with his
execution. But I made a modest reply, and we
shook hands warmly.
“You hadn’t come into your good fortune
at that time?” said Herbert Pocket.
“No,” said I.
“No,” he acquiesced: “I heard
it had happened very lately. I was rather on
the look-out for good-fortune then.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes. Miss Havisham had sent for me, to
see if she could take a fancy to me. But she
couldn’t — at all events, she didn’t.”
I thought it polite to remark that I was surprised
to hear that.
“Bad taste,” said Herbert, laughing, “but
a fact. Yes, she had sent for me on a trial
visit, and if I had come out of it successfully, I
suppose I should have been provided for; perhaps I
should have been what-you-may-called it to Estella.”
“What’s that?” I asked, with sudden
gravity.
He was arranging his fruit in plates while we talked,
which divided his attention, and was the cause of
his having made this lapse of a word. “Affianced,”
he explained, still busy with the fruit. “Betrothed.
Engaged. What’s-his-named. Any word
of that sort.”
“How did you bear your disappointment?”
I asked.
“Pooh!” said he, “I didn’t
care much for it. She’s a Tartar.”
“Miss Havisham?”
“I don’t say no to that, but I meant Estella.
That girl’s hard and haughty and capricious
to the last degree, and has been brought up by Miss
Havisham to wreak revenge on all the male sex.”
“What relation is she to Miss Havisham?”
“None,” said he. “Only adopted.”
“Why should she wreak revenge on all the male
sex? What revenge?”
“Lord, Mr. Pip!” said he. “Don’t
you know?”
“No,” said I.
“Dear me! It’s quite a story, and
shall be saved till dinner-time. And now let
me take the liberty of asking you a question.
How did you come there, that day?”
I told him, and he was attentive until I had finished,
and then burst out laughing again, and asked me if
I was sore afterwards? I didn’t ask him
if he was, for my conviction on that point was perfectly
established.
