HE was taken to the Police Court next day, and would have been
immediately committed for trial, but that it was necessary to send down for an
old officer of the prison-ship from which he had once escaped, to speak to his
identity. Nobody doubted it; but, Compeyson, who had meant to depose to it, was
tumbling on the tides, dead, and it happened that there was not at that time any
prison officer in London who could give the required evidence. I had gone direct
to Mr Jaggers at his private house, on my arrival over night, to retain his
assistance, and Mr Jaggers on the prisoner's behalf would admit nothing. It was
the sole resource, for he told me that the case must be over in five minutes
when the witness was there, and that no power on earth could prevent its going
against us.
I imparted to Mr Jaggers my design of keeping him in ignorance of the fate of
his wealth. Mr Jaggers was querulous and angry with me for having `let it slip
through my fingers,' and said we must memorialize by-and-by, and try at all
events for some of it. But, he did not conceal from me that although there might
be many cases in which the forfeiture would not be exacted, there were no
circumstances in this case to make it one of them. I understood that, very well.
I was not related to the outlaw, or connected with him by any recognizable tie;
he had put his hand to no writing or settlement in my favour before his
apprehension, and to do so now would be idle. I had no claim, and I finally
resolved, and ever afterwards abided by the resolution, that my heart should
never be sickened with the hopeless task of attempting to establish one. aThere
appeared to be reason for supposing that the drowned informer had hoped for a
reward out of this forfeiture, and had obtained some accurate knowledge of
Magwitch's affairs. When his body was found, many miles from the scene of his
death, and so horribly disfigured that he was only recognizable by the contents
of his pockets, notes were still legible, folded in a case he carried. Among
these, were the name of a banking-house in New South Wales where a sum of money
was, and the designation of certain lands of considerable value. Both these
heads of information were in a list that Magwitch, while in prison, gave to Mr
Jaggers, of the possessions he supposed I should inherit. His ignorance, poor
fellow, at last served him; he never mistrusted but that my inheritance was
quite safe, with Mr Jaggers's aid.
After three days' delay, during which the crown prosecution stood over for
the production of the witness from the prison-ship, the witness came, and
completed the easy case. He was committed to take his trial at the next
Sessions, which would come on in a month.
It was at this dark time of my life that Herbert returned home one evening, a
good deal cast down, and said:
`My dear Handel, I fear I shall soon have to leave you.'
His partner having prepared me for that, I was less surprised than he
thought.
`We shall lose a fine opportunity if I put off going to Cairo, and I am very
much afraid I must go, Handel, when you most need me.'
`Herbert, I shall always need you, because I shall always love you; but my
need is no greater now, than at another time.'
`You will be so lonely.'
`I have not leisure to think of that,' said I. `You know that I am always
with him to the full extent of the time allowed, and that I should be with him
all day long, if I could. And when I come away from him, you know that my
thoughts are with him.'
The dreadful condition to which he was brought, was so appalling to both of
us, that we could not refer to it in plainer words.
`My dear fellow,' said Herbert, `let the near prospect of our separation -
for, it is very near - be my justification for troubling you about yourself.
Have you thought of your future?'
`No, for I have been afraid to think of any future.'
`But yours cannot be dismissed; indeed, my dear dear Handel, it must not be
dismissed. I wish you would enter on it now, as far as a few friendly words go,
with me.'
`I will,' said I.
`In this branch house of ours, Handel, we must have a--'
I saw that his delicacy was avoiding the right word, so I said, `A clerk.'
`A clerk. And I hope it is not at all unlikely that he may expand (as a clerk
of your acquaintance has expanded) into a partner. Now, Handel - in short, my
dear boy, will you come to me?'
There was something charmingly cordial and engaging in the manner in which
after saying `Now, Handel,' as if it were the grave beginning of a portentous
business exordium, he had suddenly given up that tone, stretched out his honest
hand, and spoken like a schoolboy.
`Clara and I have talked about it again and again,' Herbert pursued, `and the
dear little thing begged me only this evening, with tears in her eyes, to say to
you that if you will live with us when we come together, she will do her best to
make you happy, and to convince her husband's friend that he is her friend too.
We should get on so well, Handel!'
I thanked her heartily, and I thanked him heartily, but said I could not yet
make sure of joining him as he so kindly offered. Firstly, my mind was too
preoccupied to be able to take in the subject clearly. Secondly - Yes! Secondly,
there was a vague something lingering in my thoughts that will come out very
near the end of this slight narrative.
`But if you thought, Herbert, that you could, without doing any injury to
your business, leave the questions open for a little while--'
`For any while,' cried Herbert. `Six months, a year!'
`Not so long as that,' said I. `Two or three months at most.'
Herbert was highly delighted when we shook hands on this arrangement, and
said he could now take courage to tell me that he believed he must go away at
the end of the week.
`And Clara?' said I.
`The dear little thing,' returned Herbert, `holds dutifully to her father as
long as he lasts; but he won't last long. Mrs Whimple confides to me that the is
certainly going.'
`Not to say an unfeeling thing,' said I, `he cannot do better than go.'
`I am afraid that must be admitted,' said Herbert: `and then I shall come
back for the dear little thing, and the dear little thing and I will walk
quietly into the nearest church. Remember! The blessed darling comes of no
family, my dear Handel, and never looked into the red book, and hasn't a notion
about her grandpapa. What a fortune for the son of my mother!'
On the Saturday in that same week, I took my leave of Herbert - full of
bright hope, but sad and sorry to leave me - as he sat on one of the seaport
mail coaches. I went into a coffee-house to write a little note a Clara, telling
her he had gone off, sending his love to her over and over again, and then went
to my lonely home - if it deserved the name, for it was now no home to me, and I
had no home anywhere.
On the stairs I encountered Wemmick, who was coming down, after an
unsuccessful application of his knuckles to my door. I had not seen him alone,
since the disastrous issue of the attempted flight; and he had come, in his
private and personal capacity, to say a few words of explanation in reference to
that failure.
`The late Compeyson,' said Wemmick, `had by little and little got at the
bottom of half of the regular business now transacted, and it was from the talk
of some of his people in trouble (some of his people being always in trouble)
that I heard what I did. I kept my ears open, seeming to have them shut, until I
heard that he was absent, and I thought that would be the best time for making
the attempt. I can only suppose now, that it was a part of his policy, as a very
clever man, habitually to deceive his own instruments. You don't blame me, I
hope, Mr Pip? I am sure I tried to serve you, with all my heart.'
`I am as sure of that, Wemmick, as you can be, and I thank you most earnestly
for all your interest and friendship.'
`Thank you, thank you very much. It's a bad job,' said Wemmick, scratching
his head, `and I assure you I haven't been so cut up for a long time. What I
look at, is the sacrifice of so much portable property. Dear me!'
`What I think of, Wemmick, is the poor owner of the property.'
`Yes, to be sure,' said Wemmick. `Of course there can be no objection to your
being sorry for him, and I'd put down a five-pound note myself to get him out of
it. But what I look at, is this. The late Compeyson having been beforehand with
him in intelligence of his return, and being so determined to bring him to book,
I do not think he could have been saved. Whereas, the portable property
certainly could have been saved. That's the difference between the property and
the owner, don't you see?'
I invited Wemmick to come up-stairs, and refresh himself with a glass of grog
before walking to Walworth. He accepted the invitation. While he was drinking
his moderate allowance, he said, with nothing to lead up to it, and after having
appeared rather fidgety:
`What do you think of my meaning to take a holiday on Monday, Mr Pip?'
`Why, I suppose you have not done such a thing these twelve months.'
`These twelve years, more likely,' said Wemmick. `Yes. I'm going to take a
holiday. More than that; I'm going to take a walk. More than that; I'm going to
ask you to take a walk with me.'
I was about to excuse myself, as being but a bad companion just than, when
Wemmick anticipated me.
`I know your engagements,' said he, `and I know you are out of sorts, Mr Pip.
But if you could oblige me, I should take it as a kindness. It ain't a long
walk, and it's an early one. Say it might occupy you (including breakfast on the
walk) from eight to twelve. Couldn't you stretch a point and manage it?'
He had done so much for me at various times, that this was very little to do
for him. I said I could manage it - would manage it - and he was so very much
pleased by my acquiescence, that I was pleased too. At his particular request, I
appointed to call for him at the Castle at half-past eight on Monday morning,
and so we parted for the time.
Punctual to my appointment, I rang at the Castle gate on the Monday morning,
and was received by Wemmick himself: who struck me as looking tighter than
usual, and having a sleeker hat on. Within, there were two glasses of
rum-and-milk prepared, and two biscuits. The Aged must have been stirring with
the lark, for, glancing into the perspective of his bedroom, I observed that his
bed was empty.
When we had fortified ourselves with the rum-and-milk and biscuits, and were
going out for the walk with that training preparation on us, I was considerably
surprised to see Wemmick take up a fishing-rod, and put it over his shoulder.
`Why, we are not going fishing!' said I. `No,' returned Wemmick, `but I like to
walk with one.'
I thought this odd; however, I said nothing, and we set off. We went towards
Camberwell Green, and when we were thereabouts, Wemmick said suddenly:
`Halloa! Here's a church!'
There was nothing very surprising in that; but a gain, I was rather
surprised, when he said, as if he were animated by a brilliant idea:
`Let's go in!'
We went in, Wemmick leaving his fishing-rod in the porch, and looked all
round. In the mean time, Wemmick was diving into his his coat-pockets, and
getting something out of paper there.
`Halloa!' said he. `Here's a couple of pair of gloves! Let's put 'em on!'
As the gloves were white kid gloves, and as the post-office was widened to
its utmost extent, I now began to have my strong suspicions. They were
strengthened into certainty when I beheld the Aged enter at a side door,
escorting a lady.
`Halloa!' said Wemmick. `Here's Miss Skiffins! Let's have a wedding.'
That discreet damsel was attired as usual, except that she was now engaged in
substituting for her green kid gloves, a pair of white. The Aged was likewise
occupied in preparing a similar sacrifice for the altar of Hymen. The old
gentleman, however, experienced so much difficulty in getting his gloves on,
that Wemmick found it necessary to put him with his back against a pillar, and
then to get behind the pillar himself and pull away at them, while I for my part
held the old gentleman round the waist, that he might present and equal and safe
resistance. By dint of this ingenious Scheme, his gloves were got on to
perfection.
The clerk and clergyman then appearing, we were ranged in order at those
fatal rails. True to his notion of seeming to do it all without preparation, I
heard Wemmick say to himself as he took something out of his waistcoat-pocket
before the service began, `Halloa! Here's a ring!'
I acted in the capacity of backer, or best-man, to the bridegroom; while a
little limp pew opener in a soft bonnet like a baby's, made a feint of being the
bosom friend of Miss Skiffins. The responsibility of giving the lady away,
devolved upon the Aged, which led to the clergyman's being unintentionally
scandalized, and it happened thus. When he said, `Who giveth this woman to be
married to this man?' the old gentlemen, not in the least knowing what point of
the ceremony we had arrived at, stood most amiably beaming at the ten
commandments. Upon which, the clergyman said again, `WHO giveth this woman to be
married to this man?' The old gentleman being still in a state of most estimable
unconsciousness, the bridegroom cried out in his accustomed voice, `Now Aged P.
you know; who giveth?' To which the Aged replied with great briskness, before
saying that he gave, `All right, John, all right, my boy!' And the clergyman
came to so gloomy a pause upon it, that I had doubts for the moment whether we
should get completely married that day.
It was completely done, however, and when we were going out of church,
Wemmick took the cover off the font, and put his white gloves in it, and put the
cover on again. Mrs Wemmick, more heedful of the future, put her white gloves in
her pocket and assumed her green. `Now, Mr Pip,' said Wemmick, triumphantly
shouldering the fishing-rod as we came out, `let me ask you whether anybody
would suppose this to be a wedding-party!'
Breakfast had been ordered at a pleasant little tavern, a mile or so away
upon the rising ground beyond the Green, and there was a bagatelle board in the
room, in case we should desire to unbend our minds after the solemnity. It was
pleasant to observe that Mrs Wemmick no longer unwound Wemmick's arm when it
adapted itself to her figure, but sat in a high-backed chair against the wall,
like a violoncello in its case, and submitted to be embraced as that melodious
instrument might have done.
We had an excellent breakfast, and when any one declined anything on table,
Wemmick said, `Provided by contract, you know; don't be afraid of it!' I drank
to the new couple, drank to the Aged, drank to the Castle, saluted the bride at
parting, and made myself as agreeable as I could.
Wemmick came down to the door with me, and I again shook hands with him, and
wished him joy.
`Thankee!' said Wemmick, rubbing his hands. `She's such a manager of fowls,
you have no idea. You shall have some eggs, and judge for yourself. I say, Mr
Pip!' calling me back, and speaking low. `This is altogether a Walworth
sentiment, please.'
`I understand. Not to be mentioned in Little Britain,' said I.
Wemmick nodded. `After what you let out the other day, Mr Jaggers may as well
not know of it. He might think my brain was softening, or something of the
kind.'
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