I so shaped out my walk as to arrive at the gate at my old time. When
I had rung at the bell with an unsteady hand, I turned my back upon the
gate, while I tried to get my breath and keep the beating of my heart
moderately quiet. I heard the side-door open, and steps come across the
courtyard; but I pretended not to hear, even when the gate swung on its
rusty hinges.

Being at last touched on the shoulder, I started and turned. I started
much more naturally then, to find myself confronted by a man in a sober
gray dress. The last man I should have expected to see in that place of
porter at Miss Havisham's door.

"Orlick!"

"Ah, young master, there's more changes than yours. But come in, come
in. It's opposed to my orders to hold the gate open."

I entered and he swung it, and locked it, and took the key out. "Yes!"
said he, facing round, after doggedly preceding me a few steps towards
the house. "Here I am!"

"How did you come here?"

"I come her," he retorted, "on my legs. I had my box brought alongside
me in a barrow."

"Are you here for good?"

"I ain't here for harm, young master, I suppose?"

I was not so sure of that. I had leisure to entertain the retort in my
mind, while he slowly lifted his heavy glance from the pavement, up my
legs and arms, to my face.