It was the fourth year of my apprenticeship, and it was a Saturday night. A group of us were gathered around the fire at the Three Jolly Bargemen. Mr. Wopsle was reading a newspaper aloud, enjoying a very popular murder story. He acted out all the parts, groaning like the victim and shouting like the murderer. We were all feeling very comfortable and interested.
Then, I noticed a strange gentleman leaning over the back of a bench. He was watching us with a look of dislike and biting the side of his large forefinger. When the reading was finished, the stranger spoke to Mr. Wopsle.
"Well!" he said. "You have decided everything yourself, I see. You think he is guilty, of course?"
"Sir," Mr. Wopsle replied, "I do say he is guilty."
"I knew you would," said the stranger. "But let me ask you: do you know that English law says every man is innocent until he is proven guilty?"
The stranger began to bully Mr. Wopsle with questions. He moved his finger at him like a weapon. He showed us that the witnesses had not been questioned properly yet and that the prisoner had not even started his defense. Soon, we all began to think that Mr. Wopsle was not as clever as we had thought.
The stranger then turned to the rest of us. He had an air of authority, as if he knew a dark secret about everyone in the room.
"I have been told," he said, "that there is a blacksmith here named Joe Gargery. Which one is he?"
"I am," said Joe.
The stranger then looked at me. "You have an apprentice named Pip? Is he here?"
"I am here!" I cried.
I recognized him immediately. He was the same man I had met on the stairs during my second visit to Miss Havisham. He had deep-set eyes, bushy black eyebrows, and a large watch-chain. His hands smelled of scented soap.
"I need to speak with you both in private," he said. "We should go to your house."
We walked home in silence. When we arrived, we went into the best parlor. The stranger sat down, looked at his pocket-book, and began.
"My name is Jaggers," he said. "I am a lawyer from London. I am here as an agent for someone else. I have an offer for you, Joe Gargery. Would you be willing to cancel Pip’s apprenticeship so he can leave? You would receive no money for doing this."
"I would never stand in Pip's way," Joe said, looking surprised.
"Very well," said Mr. Jaggers. "Now, I have a communication for this young man. Pip, you have 'Great Expectations.' You will one day inherit a very large amount of property. The owner of this property wants you to be removed from your present life and brought up as a gentleman."
My dream had come true! I was certain that Miss Havisham was making my fortune.
"However," Mr. Jaggers continued, "there are two conditions. First, you must always keep the name Pip. Second, the name of your benefactor must remain a secret until that person chooses to tell you. You must never ask questions about who it is. Do you agree?"
My heart was beating fast. I stammered that I agreed.
Mr. Jaggers told me that he would be my guardian. He explained that I needed a better education and suggested a tutor named Mr. Matthew Pocket. I remembered the name—he was a relative of Miss Havisham. I agreed to go to London in one week to begin my new life.
Mr. Jaggers then counted out twenty guineas on the table for my new clothes. Then he turned to Joe.
"Joe Gargery, the person I represent offered to give you some money as compensation for losing Pip's help at the forge. What do you say?"
Joe laid his hand gently on my shoulder. "Pip is welcome to go to his fortune," Joe said. "But if you think money can pay me for the loss of the child who came to the forge and was always my best friend—then you don't know me."
I felt a little guilty, but I was too excited about my future to say much. I told Joe to be happy for me. Mr. Jaggers, however, looked at Joe as if he were a fool. He offered the money one last time, but Joe got so angry that he looked ready to fight the lawyer. Mr. Jaggers quickly stood up and left.
I ran after him to ask one more question. "May I say goodbye to my friends in town before I go?"
"No objection," he said, and then he was gone.
When I returned to the kitchen, Joe was sitting by the fire, staring at the coals. I sat next to him, but I found it hard to look at him. Finally, I asked, "Joe, have you told Biddy?"
"Pip is a gentleman now," Joe said to Biddy. "God bless him!"
They both congratulated me, but they looked sad. I felt a bit annoyed by their sadness. I told them they must keep the secret of my benefactor. Biddy promised she would, and Joe agreed. We tried to explain the news to my sister, but she just nodded and smiled without understanding.
That night, as we ate supper, I felt like a stranger in my own home. I told them I would buy my new clothes in town and put them on there because I didn't want the local people staring at me.
"Joe and Biddy might like to see you in your new clothes," Joe said quietly.
"I don't want a big scene," I replied. "It’s too common."
Biddy looked at me but said nothing. I felt as if they were judging me, and I grew moody. Later, when I went up to my small bedroom, I looked at it with a sense of distance. I was leaving this poor place forever.
I looked out the window and saw Joe and Biddy standing outside. Joe was smoking his pipe, which he rarely did so late. I heard them mention my name in a kind, loving way. It felt very strange. This was the first night of my new, bright fortune, yet it was the loneliest night I had ever known.