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1For which cogent reason I kept Biddy at a distance during supper, and when I went up to my own old little room, took as
2stately a leave of her as I could, in my murmuring soul, deem reconcilable with the churchyard and the event of the day.
3As often as I was restless in the night, and that was every quarter of an hour, I reflected what an unkindness, what an
4injury, what an injustice, Biddy had done me. Early in the morning I was to go. Early in the morning I was out, and
5looking in, unseen, at one of the wooden windows of the forge. There I stood, for minutes, looking at Joe, already at
6work with a glow of health and strength upon his face that made it show as if the bright sun of the life in store for
7him were shining on it. "Good-bye, dear Joe!--No, don't wipe it off--for God's sake, give me your blackened hand!--I
8shall be down soon and often." [Illustration] "Never too soon, sir," said Joe, "and never too often, Pip!" Biddy was
9waiting for me at the kitchen door, with a mug of new milk and a crust of bread. "Biddy," said I, when I gave her my
10hand at parting, "I am not angry, but I am hurt." "No, don't be hurt," she pleaded quite pathetically; "let only me be
11hurt, if I have been ungenerous." Once more, the mists were rising as I walked away. If they disclosed to me, as I
12suspect they did, that I should not come back, and that Biddy was quite right, all I can say is,--they were quite right
13too.
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