Early in the morning I was to go. Early in the morning I was out, and looking in, unseen, at one of the wooden windows of the forge. There I stood, for minutes, looking at Joe, already at work with a glow of health and strength upon his face that made it show as if the bright sun of the life in store for him were shining on it.

     "Good by, dear Joe!--No, don't wipe it off--for God's sake, give me your blackened hand!--I shall be down soon and often."

     "Never too soon, sir," said Joe, "and never too often, Pip!"

     Biddy was waiting for me at the kitchen door, with a mug of new milk and a crust of bread. "Biddy," said I, when I gave her my hand at parting, "I am not angry, but I am hurt."

     "No, don't be hurt," she pleaded quite pathetically; "let only me be hurt, if I have been ungenerous."

     Once more, the mists were rising as I walked away. If they disclosed to me, as I suspect they did, that I should not come back, and that Biddy was quite right, all I can say is,--they were quite right too.