HERBERT and I went on from bad to worse, in the way of increasing our debts, looking into our affairs, leaving Margins, and the like exemplary transactions; and Time went on, whether or no, as he has a way of doing; and I came of age - in fulfilment of Herbert's prediction, that I should do so before I knew where I was.
Herbert himself had come of age, eight months before me. As he had nothing else than his majority to come into, the event did not make a profound sensation in Barnard's Inn. But we had looked forward to my one-and-twentieth birthday, with a crowd of speculations and anticipations, for we had both considered that my guardian could hardly help saying something definite on that occasion.

I had taken care to have it well understood in Little Britain, when my birthday was. On the day before it, I received an official note from Wemmick, informing me that Mr Jaggers would be glad if I would call upon him at five in the afternoon of the auspicious day. This convinced us that something great was to happen, and threw me into an unusual flutter when I repaired to my guardian's office, a model of punctuality.

In the outer office Wemmick offered me his congratulations, and incidentally rubbed the side of his nose with a folded piece of tissuepaper that I liked the look of. But he said nothing respecting it, and motioned me with a nod into my guardian's room. It was November, and my guardian was standing before his fire leaning his back against the chimney-piece, with his hands under his coattails.

`Well, Pip,' said he, `I must call you Mr Pip to-day. Congratulations, Mr Pip.'

We shook hands - he was always a remarkably short shaker - and I thanked him.

`Take a chair, Mr Pip,' said my guardian.

As I sat down, and he preserved his attitude and bent his brows at his boots, I felt at a disadvantage, which reminded me of that old time when I had been put upon a tombstone. The two ghastly casts on the shelf were not far from him, and their expression was as if they were making a stupid apoplectic attempt to attend to the conversation.

`Now my young friend,' my guardian began, as if I were a witness in the box, `I am going to have a word or two with you.'

`If you please, sir.'

`What do you suppose,' said Mr Jaggers, bending forward to look at the ground, and then throwing his head back to look at the ceiling, `what do you suppose you are living at the rate of?'

`At the rate of, sir?'

`At,' repeated Mr Jaggers, still looking at the ceiling, `the - rate - of?' And then looked all round the room, and paused with his pocket-handkerchief in his hand, half way to his nose.

I had looked into my affairs so often, that I had thoroughly destroyed any slight notion I might ever have had of their bearings. Reluctantly, I confessed myself quite unable to answer the question. This reply seemed agreeable to Mr Jaggers, who said, `I thought so!' and blew his nose with an air of satisfaction.

`Now, I have asked you a question, my friend,' said Mr Jaggers. `Have you anything to ask me?'

`Of course it would be a great relief to me to ask you several questions, sir; but I remember your prohibition.'

`Ask one,' said Mr Jaggers.

`Is my benefactor to be made known to me to-day?'

`No. Ask another.'

`Is that confidence to be imparted to me soon?'

`Waive that, a moment,' said Mr Jaggers, `and ask another.'

I looked about me, but there appeared to be now no possible escape from the inquiry, `Have - I - anything to receive, sir?' On that, Mr Jaggers said, triumphantly, `I thought we should come to it!' and called to Wemmick to give him that piece of paper. Wemmick appeared, handed it in, and disappeared.

`Now, Mr Pip,' said Mr Jaggers, `attend, if you please. You have been drawing pretty freely here; your name occurs pretty often in Wemmick's cash-book; but you are in debt, of course?'

`I am afraid I must say yes, sir.'

`You know you must say yes; don't you?' said Mr Jaggers.

`Yes, sir.'

`I don't ask you what you owe, because you don't know; and if you did know, you wouldn't tell me; you would say less. Yes, yes, my friend,' cried Mr Jaggers, waving his forefinger to stop me, as I made a show of protesting: `it's likely enough that you think you wouldn't, but you would. You'll excuse me, but I know better than you. Now, take this piece of paper in your hand. You have got it? Very good. Now, unfold it and tell me what it is.'

`This is a bank-note,' said I, `for five hundred pounds.'

`That is a bank-note,' repeated Mr Jaggers, `for five hundred pounds. And a very handsome sum of money too, I think. You consider it so?'

`How could I do otherwise!'

`Ah! But answer the question,' said Mr Jaggers.

`Undoubtedly.'

`You consider it, undoubtedly, a handsome sum of money. Now, that handsome sum of money, Pip, is your own. It is a present to you on this day, in earnest of your expectations. And at the rate of that handsome sum of money per annum, and at no higher rate, you are to live until the donor of the whole appears. That is to say, you will now take your money affairs entirely into your own hands, and you will draw from Wemmick one hundred and twenty-five pounds per quarter, until you are in communication with the fountain-head, and no longer with the mere agent. As I have told you before, I am the mere agent. I execute my instructions, and I am paid for doing so. I think them injudicious, but I am not paid for giving any opinion on their merits.'

I was beginning to express my gratitude to my benefactor for the great liberality with which I was treated, when Mr Jaggers stopped me. `I am not paid, Pip,' said he, coolly, `to carry your words to any one;' and then gathered up his coat-tails, as he had gathered up the subject, and stood frowning at his boots as if he suspected them of designs against him.

After a pause, I hinted:

`There was a question just now, Mr Jaggers, which you desired me to waive for a moment. I hope I am doing nothing wrong in asking it again?'

`What is it?' said he.

I might have known that he would never help me out; but it took me aback to have to shape the question afresh, as if it were quite new. `Is it likely,' I said, after hesitating, `that my patron, the fountain-head you have spoken of, Mr Jaggers, will soon--' there I delicately stopped.

`Will soon what?' asked Mr Jaggers. `That's no question as it stands, you know.'

`Will soon come to London,' said I, after casting about for a precise form of words, `or summon me anywhere else?'

`Now here,' replied Mr Jaggers, fixing me for the first time with his dark deep-set eyes, `we must revert to the evening when we first encountered one another in your village. What did I tell you then, Pip?'

`You told me, Mr Jaggers, that it might be years hence when that person appeared.'

`Just so,' said Mr Jaggers; `that's my answer.'

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