sed
Biddy, and threw my arms around Joe's neck. Then I took up my little
portmanteau and walked out. The last I saw of them was, when I presently
heard a scuffle behind me, and looking back, saw Joe throwing an old
shoe after me and Biddy throwing another old shoe. I stopped then, to
wave my hat, and dear old Joe waved his strong right arm above his head,
crying huskily "Hooroar!" and Biddy put her apron to her face.

I walked away at a good pace, thinking it was easier to go than I had
supposed it would be, and reflecting that it would never have done to
have had an old shoe thrown after the coach, in sight of all the High
Street. I whistled and made nothing of going. But the village was very
peaceful and quiet, and the light mists were solemnly rising, as if to
show me the world, and I had been so innocent and little there, and all
beyond was so unknown and great, that in a moment with a strong heave
and sob I broke into tears. It was by the finger-post at the end of the
village, and I laid my hand upon it, and said, "Good by, O my dear, dear
friend!"

Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain
upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was
better after I had cried than before,--more sorry, more aware of my own
ingratitude, more gentle. If I had cried before, I should have had Joe
with me then.

So subdued I was by those tears, and by their breaking out again in the
course of the quiet walk, that when I was on the coach, and it was clear
of the town, I deliberated with an aching heart whether I would not get
down when we changed horses and walk back, and have another evening at
home, and a better parting. We changed, and I had not made up my mind,
and still reflected for my comfort that it would be quite practicable to
get down and walk back, when we changed again. And while I was occupied
with these deliberations, I would fancy an exact resemblance to Joe
in some man coming along the road towards us, and my heart would beat
high.--As if he could possibly be there!

We changed again, and yet again, and it was now too late and too far to
go back, and I went on. And the mists had all solemnly risen now, and
the world lay spread before me.

This is the end of the first stage of Pip's expectations.

Chapter XX

The journey from our town to the metropolis was a journey of about five
hours. It was a little past midday when the four-horse stage-coach by
which I was a pas