Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the fifty-seventh chapter of Great Expectations.

Come with us as we release one bite a day of one of your favorite classic novels, plays & short stories. Bree reads these classics like she reads to her daughter, one chapter a day. If you love books or audiobooks and want something to listen to as you're getting ready, driving to work, or as you're getting ready for bed, check out Bite at a Time Books!

Follow, rate, and review Bite at a Time Books where we read you your favorite classics, one bite at a time. Available wherever you listen to podcasts.

Check out our website, or join our Facebook Group!

Get exclusive Behind the Scenes content on our YouTube!

We are now part of the Bite at a Time Books Productions network!

If you ever wondered what inspired your favorite classic novelist to write their stories, what was happening in their lives or the world at the time, check out Bite at a Time Books Behind the Story wherever you listen to podcasts.

Follow us on all the socials: Instagram - Twitter - Facebook - TikTok

Follow Bree at: Instagram - Twitter - Facebook

San the book and let's see what we can find.

Take it chapter by chapter, one bite at a time so many adventures and mountains we can climb take it word for word like by line.

One bite at a time.

My name is Brie Carlyle and I love to read and wanted to share my passion with listeners like you.

If you want to know what's coming next and vote on upcoming books, sign up for our newsletter@byetatimebooks.com you'll also find our new t shirts in the shop, including podcast shirts and quote shirts from your favorite classic novels.

Be sure to follow my show on your favorite podcast platform so you get all the new episodes.

You can find most of our links in the show notes, but also our website, bytetimebooks.com includes all of the links for our show, including to our Patreon to support the show and YouTube, where we have special behind the narration of the episodes.

We're part of the Bite at a Time Books productions network.

If you'd also like to hear what inspired your favorite classic authors to write their novels and what was going on in the world at the time, check out the bite at a Time books behind the story podcast.

Wherever you listen to podcasts, please note while we try to keep the text as close to the original as possible, some words have been changed to honor the marginalized communities who've identified the words as harmful and to stay in alignment with bite at a time book's brand values.

Today we'll be continuing great expectations by Charles Dickens chapter 57 now that I was left holy to myself, I gave notice of my intention to quit the chambers in the temple as soon as my tenacity could legally determine, and in the meanwhile to underlet them at once, I put bills up in the windows, for I was in debt and had scarcely any money, and began to be seriously alarmed by the state of my affairs.

I ought rather to write that I should have been alarmed if I had had energy and concentration enough to help me to clear the perception of any truth beyond the fact that I was falling very ill.

The late stress upon me had enabled me to put off illness, but not to put it away.

I knew that it was coming on me now, and I knew very little else, and was even careless as to that.

For a day or two I lay on the sofa or on the floor anywhere, according as I happened to sink down with a heavy head and aching limbs and no purpose and no power.

Then there came one night which appeared of great duration, and which teemed with anxiety and horror, and when in the morning I tried to sit up in my bed and think of it, I found I could not do so.

Whether I really had been down in garden court in the dead of night groping about for the boat that I supposed to be there whether I had two or three times come to myself on the staircase with great terror, not knowing how I had got out of bed whether I had found myself lighting the lamp, possessed by the idea that he was coming up the stairs and that the lights were blown out whether I had been inexpressibly harassed by the distracted talking, laughing and groaning of someone and had half suspected those sounds to be of my own making whether there had been a closed iron furnace in a dark corner of the room and a voice had called it out over and over again that Miss Havisham was consuming within it.

These were things that I tried to settle with myself and get into some order as I laid that morning on my bed.

But the vapor of a lime kiln would come between me and them, disordering them all.

And it was through the vapor at last that I saw two men looking at me.

What do you want?

I asked, starting.

I don't know you well, sir, returned one of them, bending down and touching me on the shoulder, this is a.

Matter that you'll soon arrange, I dare.

Say, but you're arrested.

What is the debt?

Hundred and 23 pound.

15.

Six.

Jeweler's account.

I think what is to be done.

You would better come to my house, said the man.

I keep a very nice house.

I made some attempt to get up and dress myself.

When I next attended to them they were standing a little off from the bed, looking at me.

I still lay there, you see.

My state, said I, I would come with you if I could, but indeed I am quite unable.

If you take me from here, I think I shall die, by the way.

Perhaps they replied, or argued the point, or tried to encourage me to believe that I was better than I thought.

For as much as they hang in my memory by only this one slender thread, I don't know what they did, except that they forbore to remove me, that I had a fever and was avoided that I suffered greatly that I often lost my reason that the time seemed interminable that I confounded impossible existences with my own identity that I was a brick in the house wall and yet intreating to be released from the giddy place where the builders had set me that I was a steel beam of a vast engine clashing and whirling over a gulf and yet that I implored in my own person to have the engine stopped and my part in it hammered off, that I passed through these phases of disease.

I know of my own remembrance, and I did in some sort know at that time that I sometimes struggled with real people in the belief that they were murderers, and that I would all at once comprehend that they meant to do me good, and would then sink exhausted in their arms and suffer them to lay me down.

I also knew at the time, but above all, I knew, that there was a constant tendency in all these people who, when I was very ill, would present all kinds of extraordinary transformations of the human face, and would be much dilated in size.

Above all, I say, I knew that there was an extraordinary tendency in all these people, sooner or later, to settle down into the likeness of Joe.

After I had turned the worst point of my illness, I began to notice that while all its other features changed, this one consistent feature did not change.

Whoever came about me still settled down into Joe.

I opened my eyes in the night, and I saw in the great chair.

At the bedside, Joe.

I opened my eyes in the day, and sitting on the window seat, smoking his pipe in the shaded open window still I saw Joe.

I asked for cooling drink, and the dear hand that gave it me was Joe's.

I sank back on my pillow after drinking, and the face that looked so hopefully and tenderly upon me was the face of Joe.

At last, one day I took courage and said, is it Joe?

And the dear old home voice answered.

Which it ere, old chap.

Oh, Joe, you break my heart.

Look angry at me, Joe.

Strike me, Joe, tell me of my ingratitude.

Don't be so good to me.

For Joe had actually laid his head down on the pillow at my side and put his arm round my neck in his joy that I knew him.

Which, dear old Pip, old chap, said, joe, you and me was ever friends, and when you're well enough to go out for a ride, what larks.

After which Joe withdrew to the window and stood with his back towards me, wiping his eyes, and as my extreme weakness prevented me from getting up and going to him, I lay there penitently whispering, oh, God bless him.

Oh, God, bless this gentle christian man.

Joe's eyes were red when I next found him beside me, but I was holding his hand and we both felt happy.

How long, dear Joe?

Which you mean to say, pip, how long have your illness lasted, dear old chap?

Yes, Joe.

It's the end of May, Pip.

Tomorrow is the first day of June.

And have you been here all that.

Time, dear Joe, pretty nigh, old chap.

For, as I says to bidy, when the news of your being ill were brought by letter, which it were brought by the post, and being formerly single, he's now married, though underpaid for a deal of walking and shoe leather.

But wealth were not an object on his part, and marriage were the great wish of his heart.

It is so delightful to hear you, Joe, but I interrupt you in what you said to Biddy.

Which it were said, joe, that how you might be among strangers, and that how you and me having been ever friends, a wizard at such a moment might not prove unacceptable.

And Biddy, her word, were, go to him without loss of time.

That, said Joe, summing up with his judicial air, or the word of bidy, go to him, biddy, say, without loss of time.

In short, I shouldn't greatly deceive you.

Joe added, after a little grave reflection.

If I represented to you that the.

Word of that young woman were without.

A minute's loss of time there, Joe.

Cut himself short, and informed me that I was to be talked to in great moderation, and that I was to take a little nourishment at stated frequent times, whether I felt inclined for it or not, and that I was to submit myself to all its orders.

So I kissed his hand, and lay quiet, while he proceeded to indict a note to bidy with my love in it.

Evidently Biddy had taught Joe to write.

As I lay in bed looking at him, it made me in my weak state cry again with pleasure to see the pride with which he said about his letter.

My bedstead, divested of its curtains, had been removed with me upon it into the sitting room, as the airiest and largest in the carpet had been taken away, and the room kept always fresh and wholesome night and day.

At my own writing table, pushed into a corner, encumbered with little bottles, Joe now sat down to his great work, first choosing a pen from the pen tray as if it were a chest of large tools, and tucking up his sleeves as if he were going to wield a crowbar or sledgehammer.

It was necessary for Joe to hold on heavily to the table with his left elbow, and to get his right leg well out behind him before he could begin.

And when he did begin, he made every downstroke so slowly that it might have been 6ft long, while at every upstroke I could hear his pen spluttering extensively.

He had a curious idea that the ink stand was on the side of him where it was not, and constantly dipped his pen into space, and seemed quite satisfied with the result.

Occasionally he was chipped up by some orthographical stumbling block, but on the whole he got on very well indeed and when he had signed his name, and had removed a finishing blot from the paper to the crown of his head with two forefingers, he got up and hovered about the table, trying the effect of his performance from various points of view as it lay there with unbound satisfaction.

Not to make Joe uneasy by talking too much.

Even if I had been able to talk much, I deferred asking him about Miss Havisham until next day.

He shook his head when I then asked him if she had recovered.

Is she dead, Joe?

Why, you see, old chap, said Joe.

In a tone of remonstrance, and by way of getting at it by degrees.

I wouldn'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 is, said Joe.

She ain't living.

Did she linger long, Joe?

Arter you was took ill pretty much about what you might call if you was put to it a week, said.

Joe, still determined on my account to come at everything by degrees.

Dear Joe, have you heard what becomes of her property?

Well, old chap, said Joe, it do appear that she had settled the most of it, which, I mean to say, tied it up on Mrs.

Stella but she had rode out a little coddle shell in her own hand a day or two before the accident, leaving a cool 4000 to Mr.

Matthew's pocket.

And why do you suppose, above all things, Pip, she left that cool 4000 unto him?

Because of Pip's account of him, said Matthew.

I'm told by Biddy.

That air of the writing, said Joe.

Repeating the legal turn as if it did him infinite good account of him.

Said the Matthew, and a cool 4000.

Pip.

I never discovered from whom Joe derived the conventional temperature of the 4000 pounds, but it appeared to make the sum of money more to him, and he had a manifest relish in insisting on its being cool.

This account gave me great joy as it perfected the only thing I had done.

I asked Joe whether he had heard if any of the other relations had any legacies.

Miss Sarah, said Joe, she of 25 pound perennium fur to buy pills on account of being bilious.

Miss Georgiana, she of 20 pound down Mrs.

What's the name of them wild beasts with Humsold Chap?

Camels, said I, wondering why he could possibly want to know.

Joe nodded Mrs.

Camels, by which I presently understood he meant Camilla, she of.

Five pound fur, to buy rush lights to put her in spirits when she wakes up in the night.

The accuracy of these recitals was sufficiently obvious to me to give me great confidence in Joe's information.

And now, said Joe, you ain't that strong yet, old chap, that you can take in more nor one additional shovelful.

Today, old Orlich, he's been a busting open a dwelling house whose?

Said I.

Not I grant you, but what is manners is given to blusterous, said Joe apologetically.

Still an Englishman's house is his castle, and castles must not be busted except when done in wartime and water summer the failings on his part, but he were a corn and seedsmen in his heart.

Is it Pumblechuck's house that has been broken into, then?

That's it, Pip, said Joe.

And they took his till, and they took his cash box and they drank his wine, and they partook of his widows and they slapped his face and they pulled his nose and they tied him up to his bedpost, and they gave him a dozen, and they stuffed his mouthful of flowering annuals to prevent him crying out.

But he knowed Orlich and orlicks in the county jail.

By these approaches we arrived at unrestricted conversation.

I was slow to gain strength, but I did slowly and surely become less weak, and Joe stayed with me, and I fancied I was little Pip again, for the tenderness of Joe was so beautifully proportioned to my need that I was like a child in his hands.

He would sit and talk to me in the old confidence and with the old simplicity and in the old unassertive protecting way, so that I would half believe that all my life, since the days of the old kitchen, was one of the mental troubles of the fever that was gone.

He did everything for me except the household work for which he had engaged a very decent woman after paying off the laundress on his first arrival, which, I do assure you, Pip, he would often say, an explanation of that liberty.

I found her a tapping the spare bed like a cask of beer, and.

Drawing off the feathers in a bucket.

For sale, which she would have tapped yarn next and drawed it off with you a layin on it, and was then a carrying away the coals gradually in the soup terrain and vegetable dishes, and the wine and spirits in your Wellington boots.

We looked forward to the day when I should go out for a ride, as we had once looked forward to the day of my apprenticeship, and when the day came, and an open carriage was got into the lane.

Joe wrapped me up, took me in his arms, carried me down to it, and put me in as if I were still the small helpless creature to whom he had so abundantly given up the wealth of his great nature.

And Joe got in beside me, and we drove away together into the country, where the rich summer growth was already on the trees and on the grass, and sweet summer scents filled all the air.

The day happened to be Sunday, and when I looked on the loveliness around me and thought how it had grown and changed, and how the little wildflowers had been forming, and the voices of the birds had been strengthening by day and by night, under the sun and under the stars, while poor eye lay burning and tossing on my bed, the mere remembrance of having burned and tossed there came like a check upon my piece.

But when I had heard the Sunday bells and looked around a little more upon the outspread beauty, I felt 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 shoulder, 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 senses.

More composure came to me after a while, and we talked as we used to talk, lying on the grass at the old battery.

There was no change whatever in Joe, except what he had been in my eyes then.

He was in my eyes still, just as simply faithful and as simply right.

When we got back again, and he lifted me out and carried me so easily across the court and up the stairs, I thought of that eventful Christmas day when he had carried me over the marshes.

We had not yet made any allusion to my change of fortune, nor did I know how much of my late history he was acquainted with.

I was so doubtful of myself now, and put so much trust in him, that I could not satisfy myself whether I ought to refer to it when he did not.

Have you heard, Joe?

Asked him that evening, upon further consideration, as he smoked his pipe at the window, who my patron was, I heard.

Returned Joe, as they were not Miss Havisham, old chap.

Did you hear who it was, Joe?

Well, I heard, as it were, a person what sent the person what gave you the banknotes at the Jolly bargeman, Pip so it was astonishing, said Joe.

In the placidest way.

Did you hear that he was dead, Joe?

I presently asked with increasing which him.

Has sent the banknotes, Pip?

Yes, I think, said Joe, after meditating a long time and looking rather evasively.

At the window seat, as I did here, tell that he were something or other in a general way in that direction.

Did you hear anything of his circumstances, Joe?

Not particular, Pip.

If you would like to hear Joe.

I was beginning when Joe got up and came to my sofa.

Looky here, old chap, said Joe, bending over me, ever the best of friends, ain't us, Pip?

I was ashamed to answer him.

Very good, then, said Joe, as if I had answered.

That's all right, that's agreed upon.

Then why go into subjects, old chap, which is betwixt too such must be forever unnecessary.

There's subjects enough as betwixt too such without unnecessary ones.

Lord, to think of your poor sister and her rampages.

And don't you remember Tickler?

I do indeed, Joe.

Lucky here, old chap, said Joe.

I'd done what I could to keep you and tickler in sunders, but my power were not always fully equal to my inclinations.

For when your poor sister out of mind to drop into you, it were.

Not so much, said Joe in his.

Favorite argumentative way, that she dropped into me, too, if I put myself in opposition to her, but that she dropped into you always heavier for it, I noticed that it ain't a grab at a man's whisker, not yet a shake or two of a man, to which your sister was quite welcome, that had put a man off from getting a little child out of punishment.

But when that little child is dropped into heavier for that grab of whisker, or shaking, and that man naturally up and says to himself, where's the good as you're doing?

I grant you.

I see the arm, says the man, but I don't see the good.

I call upon you, sir, therefore, to pint out the good, the man says.

I observed, as Joe waited for me to speak.

The man says.

Joe assented.

Is he right, that man, dear Joe, he is always right.

Well, old chap, said Joe, then abide by your words.

If he is always right, which in general he's more likely wrong.

He is right when he says this.

Supposing ever you kept any little matter to yourself when you was a little child, you kept it mostly because you know it is J.

Gardrey's power to part you, and Tickler and sunders were not fully equal to his inclinations near four.

Think no more of it as betwixt too such, and do not let us pass remarks upon unnecessary subjects.

Biddy give herself a deal of trouble with me before I left, for I am almost awfully dull, as I should view it in this light, and viewing it in this light, as I should so put it.

Both of which, said Joe, quite charmed with his logical arrangement being done.

Now this to you, a true friend, say, namely, you mustn't go overdoing on it, but you must have your supper, and your wine and water, and you must be put betwixt the sheets.

The delicacy with which Joe dismissed this theme, and the sweet tact and kindness with which Biddy, who with her woman's wit had found me out so soon, had prepared him for it, made a deep impression on my mind whether Joe knew how poor I was, and how my great expectations had all dissolved like our own marsh mists before the sun.

I could not understand another thing in Joe that I could not understand when it first began to develop itself, but which I soon arrived at a sorrowful comprehension of, was this, as I became stronger and better, job became a little less easy with me in my weakness, an entire dependence on him.

The dear fellow had fallen into the old tone, and called me by the old names, the dear old pip, old chap, that now wore music in my ears.

I too had fallen into the old ways, only happy and thankful that he let me.

But imperceptibly, though I held by them fast, Joe's hold upon them began to slacken.

And whereas I wondered at this at first, I soon began to understand that the cause of it was in me, and that the fault of it was all mine.

Had I given Joe no reason to doubt my constancy, and to think that in prosperity I should grow cold to him and cast him off, had I given Joe's innocent heart no cause to feel instinctively that as I got stronger, his hold upon me would be weaker, and that he had better loosen it in time and let me go before I plucked myself away?

It was on the third or fourth occasion of my going out walking in the temple gardens, leaning on Joe's arm, that I saw this change in him very plainly.

We had been sitting in the bright, warm sunlight, looking at the river, and I chanced to say, as we got up, see, Joe, I can walk quite strongly now.

You shall see me walk back by.

Myself, which do not overdo it, Pip, said Joe.

But I shall be happy for to see you able, sir.

The last word grated on me, but how could I remonstrate?

I walked no further than the gate of the gardens, and then pretended to be weaker than I was, and asked Joe for his arm.

Joe gave it me, but was thoughtful I, for my part, was thoughtful too, for how best to check this growing change in Joe was a great perplexity to my remorseful thoughts, that I was ashamed to tell him exactly how I was placed and what I had come down to.

I do not seek to conceal, but I hope my reluctance was not quite an unworthy one.

He would want to help me out of his little savings.

I knew and I knew that he ought not to help me, and that I must not suffer him to do it.

It was a thoughtful evening with both of us.

But before we went to bed, I had resolved that I would wait over tomorrow, tomorrow being Sunday, and would begin my new course with the new week.

On Monday morning I would speak to Joe about this change.

I would lay aside this last vestige of reserve.

I would tell him what I had in my thoughts that, secondly, not yet arrived at, and why I had not decided to go out to Herbert, and then the change would be conquered forever.

As I cleared, Joe cleared, and it seemed as though he had sympathetically arrived at a resolution too.

We had a quiet day on the Sunday, and we rode out into the country, and then walked in the fields.

I feel thankful that I've been ill, Joe, I said.

Dear old Pip, old chap.

You're almost coming round, sir.

It has been a memorable time for.

Me, Joe, like ways for myself.

Joe returned.

We've had a time together, Joe, that I can never forget.

There were days once, I know that I did for a while forget, but I never shall forget these.

Pip, said Joe, appearing a little hurried and troubled.

There's been larks.

And, dear sir, what have been betwixt us have been at night.

When I had gone to bed, Joe came into my room, as he had done all through my recovery.

He asked me if I felt sure that I was as well as in the morning.

Yes, dear Joe, quite.

And they're always a getting stronger, old chap.

Yes, dear Joe.

Steadily Joe patted the coverlet on my shoulder with his great good hand, and said, in what I thought a husky voice, good night.

When I got up in the morning, or fresh and stronger yet, I was full of my resolution to tell Joe all without delay.

I would tell him before breakfast I would dress it once, and go to his room and surprise him, for it was not the first day I had been up early.

I went to his room, and he was not there.

Not only was he not there, but his box was gone.

I hurried then to the breakfast table, and on it found a letter.

These were its brief contents, not wishful to intrude I have departed, for you are well again, dear Pip, and will do better without Joe.

P.

S.

Ever the best of friends.

Enclosed in the letter was a receipt for the debt and costs on which I had been arrested.

Down to that moment I had vainly supposed that my creditor had withdrawn or suspended proceedings until I should be quite recovered.

I had never dreamed of Joe's having paid the money, but Joe had paid it, and the receipt was in his name.

What remained for me now but to follow him to the dear old forge, and there to have out my disclosure to him, and my penitent remonstrance with him, and there to relieve my mind and heart of that reserved.

Secondly, which had begun is a vague something lingering in my thoughts and had formed into its settled purpose.

The purpose was that I would go to Biddy, that I would show her how humbled and repentant I came back, that I would tell her how I had lost all I once hoped for, that I would remind her of our old confidences in my first unhappy time.

Then I would say to her, biddy, I think you once liked me very well, when my errant heart, even while it strayed away from you, was quieter and better with you than it has ever been since.

If you can like me only half as well once more, if you can take me with all my faults and disappointments on my head, if you can receive me like a forgiven child.

And indeed I am as sorry, Biddy, and have as much need of a hushing voice and a soothing hand.

I hope I'm a little worthy of you, that I was not much, but a little.

And biddy, it shall rest with you to say whether I shall work at the forge with Joe, or whether I shall try for any different occupation down in this country, or whether we shall go away to a distant place, or an opportunity awaits me which I set aside when it was offered, until I know your answer.

And now, dear bidy, if you can tell me that you will go through the world with me, you will surely make it a better world for me, and me a better man for it, and I will try hard to make it a better world for you.

Such was my purpose.

After three days more of recovery, I went down to the old place to put it in execution, and how I sped in it is all I have left to tell.

Thank you for joining bite at a time books today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics again.

My name is Brie Carlisle, and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of great expectations.

Don't forget to sign up for our newsletter@byteimebooks.com, and check out the shop.

You can check out the show notes or our website, bytitimebooks.com, for the rest of the links for our show.

We'd love to hear from you on social media as well.

You so many adventures and mountains we can climb.

Take it word for word, line by line, one bite at a time.

Close.