“This is wery liberal on your part, Pip,” said Joe, “and it is as such received and grateful welcome, though never looked for, far nor near nor nowheres.  And now, old chap,” said Joe, conveying to me a sensation, first of burning and then of freezing, for I felt as if that familiar expression were applied to Miss Havisham; “and now, old chap, may we do our duty!  May you and me do our duty, both on us by one and another, and by them which your liberal present — have — conweyed — to be — for the satisfaction of mind — of — them as never—­” here Joe showed that he felt he had fallen into frightful difficulties, until he triumphantly rescued himself with the words, “and from myself far be it!” These words had such a round and convincing sound for him that he said them twice.

“Good-bye, Pip!” said Miss Havisham.  “Let them out, Estella.”

“Am I to come again, Miss Havisham?” I asked.

“No.  Gargery is your master now.  Gargery!  One word!”

Thus calling him back as I went out of the door, I heard her say to Joe, in a distinct emphatic voice, “The boy has been a good boy here, and that is his reward.  Of course, as an honest man, you will expect no other and no more.”

How Joe got out of the room, I have never been able to determine; but, I know that when he did get out he was steadily proceeding up-stairs instead of coming down, and was deaf to all remonstrances until I went after him and laid hold of him.  In another minute we were outside the gate, and it was locked, and Estella was gone.

When we stood in the daylight alone again, Joe backed up against a wall, and said to me, “Astonishing!” And there he remained so long, saying “Astonishing” at intervals, so often, that I began to think his senses were never coming back.  At length he prolonged his remark into “Pip, I do assure you this is as-TONishing!” and so, by degrees, became conversational and able to walk away.

I have reason to think that Joe’s intellects were brightened by the encounter they had passed through, and that on our way to Pumblechook’s he invented a subtle and deep design.  My reason is to be found in what took place in Mr. Pumblechook’s parlour:  where, on our presenting ourselves, my sister sat in conference with that detested seedsman.

“Well?” cried my sister, addressing us both at once.  “And what’s happened to you?  I wonder you condescend to come back to such poor society as this, I am sure I do!”

“Miss Havisham,” said Joe, with a fixed look at me, like an effort of remembrance, “made it wery partick’ler that we should give her — were it compliments or respects, Pip?”

“Compliments,” I said.

“Which that were my own belief,” answered Joe — “her compliments to Mrs. J. Gargery—­”

“Much good they’ll do me!” observed my sister; but rather gratified too.

“And wishing,” pursued Joe, with another fixed look at me, like another effort of remembrance, “that the state of Miss Havisham’s elth were sitch as would have — allowed, were it, Pip?”