Great Expectations

Betimes in the morning I was up and out. It was too early yet to go to

Miss Havisham's, so I loitered into the country on Miss Havisham's

side of town,--which was not Joe's side; I could go there

to-morrow,--thinking about my patroness, and painting brilliant pictures

of her plans for me.

She had adopted Estella, she had as good as adopted me, and it could not

fail to be her intention to bring us together. She reserved it for me to

restore the desolate house, admit the sunshine into the dark rooms,

set the clocks a-going and the cold hearths a-blazing, tear down the

cobwebs, destroy the vermin,--in short, do all the shining deeds of the

young Knight of romance, and marry the Princess. I had stopped to

look at the house as I passed; and its seared red brick walls, blocked

windows, and strong green ivy clasping even the stacks of chimneys with

its twigs and tendons, as if with sinewy old arms, had made up a rich

attractive mystery, of which I was the hero.

Estella was the inspiration

of it, and the heart of it, of course. But, though she had taken such

strong possession of me, though my fancy and my hope were so set upon

her, though her influence on my boyish life and character had been

all-powerful, I did not, even that romantic morning, invest her with any

attributes save those she possessed. I mention this in this place, of a

fixed purpose, because it is the clew by which I am to be followed into

my poor labyrinth. According to my experience, the conventional notion

of a lover cannot be always true. The unqualified truth is, that when I

loved Estella with the love of a man, I loved her simply because I found

her irresistible. Once for all; I knew to my sorrow, often and often,

if not always, that I loved her against reason, against promise, against

peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that

could be. Once for all; I loved her none the less because I knew it,

and it had no more influence in restraining me than if I had devoutly

believed her to be human perfection.

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.