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1Evidently Biddy had taught Joe to write. As I lay in bed looking at him, it made me, in my weak state, cry again with
2pleasure to see the pride with which he set about his letter. My bedstead, divested of its curtains, had been removed,
3with me upon it, into the sitting-room, as the airiest and largest, and the carpet had been taken away, and the room
4kept always fresh and wholesome night and day. At my own writing-table, pushed into a corner and cumbered with little
5bottles, Joe now sat down to his great work, first choosing a pen from the pen-tray as if it were a chest of large
6tools, and tucking up his sleeves as if he were going to wield a crow-bar or sledgehammer. It was necessary for Joe to
7hold on heavily to the table with his left elbow, and to get his right leg well out behind him, before he could begin;
8and when he did begin he made every downstroke so slowly that it might have been six feet long, while at every upstroke
9I could hear his pen spluttering extensively. He had a curious idea that the inkstand was on the side of him where it
10was not, and constantly dipped his pen into space, and seemed quite satisfied with the result. Occasionally, he was
11tripped up by some orthographical stumbling-block; but on the whole he got on very well indeed; and when he had signed
12his name, and had removed a finishing blot from the paper to the crown of his head with his two forefingers, he got up
13and hovered about the table, trying the effect of his performance from various points of view, as it lay there, with
14unbounded satisfaction. Not to make Joe uneasy by talking too much, even if I had been able to talk much, I deferred
15asking him about Miss Havisham until next day. He shook his head when I then asked him if she had recovered. "Is she
16dead, Joe?" "Why you see, old chap," said Joe, in a tone of remonstrance, and by way of getting at it by degrees, "I
17wouldn't go so far as to say that, for that's a deal to say; but she ain't--" "Living, Joe?" "That's nigher where it
18is," said Joe; "she ain't living." "Did she linger long, Joe?" "Arter you was took ill, pretty much about what you might
19call (if you was put to it) a week," said Joe; still determined, on my account, to come at everything by degrees. "Dear
20Joe, have you heard what becomes of her property?" "Well, old chap," said Joe, "it do appear that she had settled the
21most of it, which I meantersay tied it up, on Miss Estella. But she had wrote out a little coddleshell in her own hand a
22day or two afore the accident, leaving a cool four thousand to Mr. Matthew Pocket. And why, do you suppose, above all
23things, Pip, she left that cool four thousand unto him? 'Because of Pip's account of him, the said Matthew.' I am told
24by Biddy, that air the writing," said Joe, repeating the legal turn as if it did him infinite good, "'account of him the
25said Matthew.' And a cool four thousand, Pip!" I never discovered from whom Joe derived the conventional temperature of
26the four thousand pounds; but it appeared to make the sum of money more to him, and he had a manifest relish in
27insisting on its being cool. This account gave me great joy, as it perfected the only good thing I had done. I asked Joe
28whether he had heard if any of the other relations had any legacies? "Miss Sarah," said Joe, "she have twenty-five pound
29perannium fur to buy pills, on account of being bilious. Miss Georgiana, she have twenty pound down. Mrs.--what's the
30name of them wild beasts with humps, old chap?" "Camels?" said I, wondering why he could possibly want to know. Joe
31nodded. "Mrs. Camels," by which I presently understood he meant Camilla, "she have five pound fur to buy rushlights to
32put her in spirits when she wake up in the night." The accuracy of these recitals was sufficiently obvious to me, to
33give me great confidence in Joe's information. "And now," said Joe, "you ain't that strong yet, old chap, that you can
34take in more nor one additional shovelful to-day. Old Orlick he's been a bustin' open a dwelling-ouse." "Whose?" said I.
35"Not, I grant you, but what his manners is given to blusterous," said Joe, apologetically; "still, a Englishman's ouse
36is his Castle, and castles must not be busted 'cept when done in war time. And wotsume'er the failings on his part, he
37were a corn and seedsman in his hart." "Is it Pumblechook's house that has been broken into, then?" "That's it, Pip,"
38said Joe; "and they took his till, and they took his cash-box, and they drinked his wine, and they partook of his
39wittles, and they slapped his face, and they pulled his nose, and they tied him up to his bedpust, and they giv' him a
40dozen, and they stuffed his mouth full of flowering annuals to prewent his crying out. But he knowed Orlick, and
41Orlick's in the county jail." By these approaches we arrived at unrestricted conversation. I was slow to gain strength,
42but I did slowly and surely become less weak, and Joe stayed with me, and I fancied I was little Pip again. For the
43tenderness of Joe was so beautifully proportioned to my need, that I was like a child in his hands. He would sit and
44talk to me in the old confidence, and with the old simplicity, and in the old unassertive protecting way, so that I
45would half believe that all my life since the days of the old kitchen was one of the mental troubles of the fever that
46was gone. He did everything for me except the household work, for which he had engaged a very decent woman, after paying
47off the laundress on his first arrival. "Which I do assure you, Pip," he would often say, in explanation of that
48liberty; "I found her a tapping the spare bed, like a cask of beer, and drawing off the feathers in a bucket, for sale.
49Which she would have tapped yourn next, and draw'd it off with you a laying on it, and was then a carrying away the
50coals gradiwally in the soup-tureen and wegetable-dishes, and the wine and spirits in your Wellington boots." We looked
51forward to the day when I should go out for a ride, as we had once looked forward to the day of my apprenticeship. And
52when the day came, and an open carriage was got into the Lane, Joe wrapped me up, took me in his arms, carried me down
53to it, and put me in, as if I were still the small helpless creature to whom he had so abundantly given of the wealth of
54his great nature. And Joe got in beside me, and we drove away together into the country, where the rich summer growth
55was already on the trees and on the grass, and sweet summer scents filled all the air. The day happened to be Sunday,
56and when I looked on the loveliness around me, and thought how it had grown and changed, and how the little wild-flowers
57had been forming, and the voices of the birds had been strengthening, by day and by night, under the sun and under the
58stars, while poor I lay burning and tossing on my bed, the mere remembrance of having burned and tossed there came like
59a check upon my peace. But when I heard the Sunday bells, and looked around a little more upon the outspread beauty, I
60felt that I was not nearly thankful enough,--that I was too weak yet to be even that,--and I laid my head on Joe's
61shoulder, as I had laid it long ago when he had taken me to the Fair or where not, and it was too much for my young
62senses. More composure came to me after a while, and we talked as we used to talk, lying on the grass at the old
63Battery. There was no change whatever in Joe. Exactly what he had been in my eyes then, he was in my eyes still; just as
64simply faithful, and as simply right.
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