บทที่ บทที่ 37 · Deeming Sunday the best day for taking Mr. Wemmick’s Walworth

. Deeming Sunday the best day for taking Mr. Wemmick’s Walworth

sentiments, I devoted the next ensuing Sunday afternoon to a pilgrimage

to the Castle. On arriving before the battlements, I found the Union

Jack flying and the drawbridge up; but undeterred by this show of

defiance and resistance, I rang at the gate, and was admitted in a most

pacific manner by the Aged.

“My son, sir,” said the old man, after securing the drawbridge, “rather

had it in his mind that you might happen to drop in, and he left word

that he would soon be home from his afternoon’s walk. He is very

regular in his walks, is my son. Very regular in everything, is my

son.”

I nodded at the old gentleman as Wemmick himself might have nodded, and

we went in and sat down by the fireside.

“You made acquaintance with my son, sir,” said the old man, in his

chirping way, while he warmed his hands at the blaze, “at his office, I

expect?” I nodded. “Hah! I have heerd that my son is a wonderful hand

at his business, sir?” I nodded hard. “Yes; so they tell me. His

business is the Law?” I nodded harder. “Which makes it more surprising

in my son,” said the old man, “for he was not brought up to the Law,

but to the Wine-Coopering.”

Curious to know how the old gentleman stood informed concerning the

reputation of Mr. Jaggers, I roared that name at him. He threw me into

the greatest confusion by laughing heartily and replying in a very

sprightly manner, “No, to be sure; you’re right.” And to this hour I

have not the faintest notion what he meant, or what joke he thought I

had made.

As I could not sit there nodding at him perpetually, without making

some other attempt to interest him, I shouted at inquiry whether his

own calling in life had been “the Wine-Coopering.” By dint of straining

that term out of myself several times and tapping the old gentleman on

the chest to associate it with him, I at last succeeded in making my

meaning understood.

“No,” said the old gentleman; “the warehousing, the warehousing. First,

over yonder;” he appeared to mean up the chimney, but I believe he

intended to refer me to Liverpool; “and then in the City of London

here. However, having an infirmity—for I am hard of hearing, sir—”

I expressed in pantomime the greatest astonishment.

“—Yes, hard of hearing; having that infirmity coming upon me, my son he

went into the Law, and he took charge of me, and he by little and

little made out this elegant and beautiful property. But returning to

what you said, you know,” pursued the old man, again laughing heartily,

“what I say is, No to be sure; you’re right.”

I was modestly wondering whether my utmost ingenuity would have enabled

me to say anything that would have amused him half as much as this

imaginary pleasantry, when I was startled by a sudden click in the wall

on one side of the chimney, and the ghostly tumbling open of a little

wooden flap with “JOHN” upon it. The old man, following my eyes, cried

with great triumph, “My son’s come home!” and we both went out to the

drawbridge.

It was worth any money to see Wemmick waving a salute to me from the

other side of the moat, when we might have shaken hands across it with

the greatest ease. The Aged was so delighted to work the drawbridge,

that I made no offer to assist him, but stood quiet until Wemmick had

come across, and had presented me to Miss Skiffins; a lady by whom he

was accompanied.

Miss Skiffins was of a wooden appearance, and was, like her escort, in

the post-office branch of the service. She might have been some two or

three years younger than Wemmick, and I judged her to stand possessed

of portable property. The cut of her dress from the waist upward, both

before and behind, made her figure very like a boy’s kite; and I might

have pronounced her gown a little too decidedly orange, and her gloves

a little too intensely green. But she seemed to be a good sort of

fellow, and showed a high regard for the Aged. I was not long in

discovering that she was a frequent visitor at the Castle; for, on our

going in, and my complimenting Wemmick on his ingenious contrivance for

announcing himself to the Aged, he begged me to give my attention for a

moment to the other side of the chimney, and disappeared. Presently

another click came, and another little door tumbled open with “Miss

Skiffins” on it; then Miss Skiffins shut up and John tumbled open; then

Miss Skiffins and John both tumbled open together, and finally shut up

together. On Wemmick’s return from working these mechanical appliances,

I expressed the great admiration with which I regarded them, and he

said, “Well, you know, they’re both pleasant and useful to the Aged.

And by George, sir, it’s a thing worth mentioning, that of all the

people who come to this gate, the secret of those pulls is only known

to the Aged, Miss Skiffins, and me!”

“And Mr. Wemmick made them,” added Miss Skiffins, “with his own hands

out of his own head.”

While Miss Skiffins was taking off her bonnet (she retained her green

gloves during the evening as an outward and visible sign that there was

company), Wemmick invited me to take a walk with him round the

property, and see how the island looked in wintertime. Thinking that he

did this to give me an opportunity of taking his Walworth sentiments, I

seized the opportunity as soon as we were out of the Castle.

Having thought of the matter with care, I approached my subject as if I

had never hinted at it before. I informed Wemmick that I was anxious in

behalf of Herbert Pocket, and I told him how we had first met, and how

we had fought. I glanced at Herbert’s home, and at his character, and

at his having no means but such as he was dependent on his father for;

those, uncertain and unpunctual. I alluded to the advantages I had

derived in my first rawness and ignorance from his society, and I

confessed that I feared I had but ill repaid them, and that he might

have done better without me and my expectations. Keeping Miss Havisham

in the background at a great distance, I still hinted at the

possibility of my having competed with him in his prospects, and at the

certainty of his possessing a generous soul, and being far above any

mean distrusts, retaliations, or designs. For all these reasons (I told

Wemmick), and because he was my young companion and friend, and I had a

great affection for him, I wished my own good fortune to reflect some

rays upon him, and therefore I sought advice from Wemmick’s experience

and knowledge of men and affairs, how I could best try with my

resources to help Herbert to some present income,—say of a hundred a

year, to keep him in good hope and heart,—and gradually to buy him on

to some small partnership. I begged Wemmick, in conclusion, to

understand that my help must always be rendered without Herbert’s

knowledge or suspicion, and that there was no one else in the world

with whom I could advise. I wound up by laying my hand upon his

shoulder, and saying, “I can’t help confiding in you, though I know it

must be troublesome to you; but that is your fault, in having ever

brought me here.”

Wemmick was silent for a little while, and then said with a kind of

start, “Well you know, Mr. Pip, I must tell you one thing. This is

devilish good of you.”

“Say you’ll help me to be good then,” said I.

“Ecod,” replied Wemmick, shaking his head, “that’s not my trade.”

“Nor is this your trading-place,” said I.

“You are right,” he returned. “You hit the nail on the head. Mr. Pip,

I’ll put on my considering-cap, and I think all you want to do may be

done by degrees. Skiffins (that’s her brother) is an accountant and

agent. I’ll look him up and go to work for you.”

“I thank you ten thousand times.”

“On the contrary,” said he, “I thank you, for though we are strictly in

our private and personal capacity, still it may be mentioned that there

_are_ Newgate cobwebs about, and it brushes them away.”

After a little further conversation to the same effect, we returned

into the Castle where we found Miss Skiffins preparing tea. The

responsible duty of making the toast was delegated to the Aged, and

that excellent old gentleman was so intent upon it that he seemed to me

in some danger of melting his eyes. It was no nominal meal that we were

going to make, but a vigorous reality. The Aged prepared such a

hay-stack of buttered toast, that I could scarcely see him over it as

it simmered on an iron stand hooked on to the top-bar; while Miss

Skiffins brewed such a jorum of tea, that the pig in the back premises

became strongly excited, and repeatedly expressed his desire to

participate in the entertainment.

The flag had been struck, and the gun had been fired, at the right

moment of time, and I felt as snugly cut off from the rest of Walworth

as if the moat were thirty feet wide by as many deep. Nothing disturbed

the tranquillity of the Castle, but the occasional tumbling open of

John and Miss Skiffins: which little doors were a prey to some

spasmodic infirmity that made me sympathetically uncomfortable until I

got used to it. I inferred from the methodical nature of Miss

Skiffins’s arrangements that she made tea there every Sunday night; and

I rather suspected that a classic brooch she wore, representing the

profile of an undesirable female with a very straight nose and a very

new moon, was a piece of portable property that had been given her by

Wemmick.

We ate the whole of the toast, and drank tea in proportion, and it was

delightful to see how warm and greasy we all got after it. The Aged

especially, might have passed for some clean old chief of a savage

tribe, just oiled. After a short pause of repose, Miss Skiffins—in the

absence of the little servant who, it seemed, retired to the bosom of

her family on Sunday afternoons—washed up the tea-things, in a trifling

lady-like amateur manner that compromised none of us. Then, she put on

her gloves again, and we drew round the fire, and Wemmick said, “Now,

Aged Parent, tip us the paper.”

Wemmick explained to me while the Aged got his spectacles out, that

this was according to custom, and that it gave the old gentleman

infinite satisfaction to read the news aloud. “I won’t offer an

apology,” said Wemmick, “for he isn’t capable of many pleasures—are

you, Aged P.?”

“All right, John, all right,” returned the old man, seeing himself

spoken to.

“Only tip him a nod every now and then when he looks off his paper,”

said Wemmick, “and he’ll be as happy as a king. We are all attention,

Aged One.”

“All right, John, all right!” returned the cheerful old man, so busy

and so pleased, that it really was quite charming.

The Aged’s reading reminded me of the classes at Mr. Wopsle’s

great-aunt’s, with the pleasanter peculiarity that it seemed to come

through a keyhole. As he wanted the candles close to him, and as he was

always on the verge of putting either his head or the newspaper into

them, he required as much watching as a powder-mill. But Wemmick was

equally untiring and gentle in his vigilance, and the Aged read on,

quite unconscious of his many rescues. Whenever he looked at us, we all

expressed the greatest interest and amazement, and nodded until he

resumed again.

As Wemmick and Miss Skiffins sat side by side, and as I sat in a

shadowy corner, I observed a slow and gradual elongation of Mr.

Wemmick’s mouth, powerfully suggestive of his slowly and gradually

stealing his arm round Miss Skiffins’s waist. In course of time I saw

his hand appear on the other side of Miss Skiffins; but at that moment

Miss Skiffins neatly stopped him with the green glove, unwound his arm

again as if it were an article of dress, and with the greatest

deliberation laid it on the table before her. Miss Skiffins’s composure

while she did this was one of the most remarkable sights I have ever

seen, and if I could have thought the act consistent with abstraction

of mind, I should have deemed that Miss Skiffins performed it

mechanically.

By and by, I noticed Wemmick’s arm beginning to disappear again, and

gradually fading out of view. Shortly afterwards, his mouth began to

widen again. After an interval of suspense on my part that was quite

enthralling and almost painful, I saw his hand appear on the other side

of Miss Skiffins. Instantly, Miss Skiffins stopped it with the neatness

of a placid boxer, took off that girdle or cestus as before, and laid

it on the table. Taking the table to represent the path of virtue, I am

justified in stating that during the whole time of the Aged’s reading,

Wemmick’s arm was straying from the path of virtue and being recalled

to it by Miss Skiffins.

At last, the Aged read himself into a light slumber. This was the time

for Wemmick to produce a little kettle, a tray of glasses, and a black

bottle with a porcelain-topped cork, representing some clerical

dignitary of a rubicund and social aspect. With the aid of these

appliances we all had something warm to drink, including the Aged, who

was soon awake again. Miss Skiffins mixed, and I observed that she and

Wemmick drank out of one glass. Of course I knew better than to offer

to see Miss Skiffins home, and under the circumstances I thought I had

best go first; which I did, taking a cordial leave of the Aged, and

having passed a pleasant evening.

Before a week was out, I received a note from Wemmick, dated Walworth,

stating that he hoped he had made some advance in that matter

appertaining to our private and personal capacities, and that he would

be glad if I could come and see him again upon it. So, I went out to

Walworth again, and yet again, and yet again, and I saw him by

appointment in the City several times, but never held any communication

with him on the subject in or near Little Britain. The upshot was, that

we found a worthy young merchant or shipping-broker, not long

established in business, who wanted intelligent help, and who wanted

capital, and who in due course of time and receipt would want a

partner. Between him and me, secret articles were signed of which

Herbert was the subject, and I paid him half of my five hundred pounds

down, and engaged for sundry other payments: some, to fall due at

certain dates out of my income: some, contingent on my coming into my

property. Miss Skiffins’s brother conducted the negotiation. Wemmick

pervaded it throughout, but never appeared in it.

The whole business was so cleverly managed, that Herbert had not the

least suspicion of my hand being in it. I never shall forget the

radiant face with which he came home one afternoon, and told me, as a

mighty piece of news, of his having fallen in with one Clarriker (the

young merchant’s name), and of Clarriker’s having shown an

extraordinary inclination towards him, and of his belief that the

opening had come at last. Day by day as his hopes grew stronger and his

face brighter, he must have thought me a more and more affectionate

friend, for I had the greatest difficulty in restraining my tears of

triumph when I saw him so happy. At length, the thing being done, and

he having that day entered Clarriker’s House, and he having talked to

me for a whole evening in a flush of pleasure and success, I did really

cry in good earnest when I went to bed, to think that my expectations

had done some good to somebody.

A great event in my life, the turning point of my life, now opens on my

view. But, before I proceed to narrate it, and before I pass on to all

the changes it involved, I must give one chapter to Estella. It is not

much to give to the theme that so long filled my heart.