Great Expectations

It was the first time that a grave had opened in my road of life, and

the gap it made in the smooth ground was wonderful. The figure of my

sister in her chair by the kitchen fire, haunted me night and day. That

the place could possibly be, without her, was something my mind seemed

unable to compass; and whereas she had seldom or never been in my

thoughts of late, I had now the strangest ideas that she was coming

towards me in the street, or that she would presently knock at the door.

In my rooms too, with which she had never been at all associated, there

was at once the blankness of death and a perpetual suggestion of the

sound of her voice or the turn of her face or figure, as if she were

still alive and had been often there.

Whatever my fortunes might have been, I could scarcely have recalled my

sister with much tenderness. But I suppose there is a shock of regret

which may exist without much tenderness. Under its influence (and

perhaps to make up for the want of the softer feeling) I was seized with

a violent indignation against the assailant from whom she had suffered

so much; and I felt that on sufficient proof I could have revengefully

pursued Orlick, or any one else, to the last extremity.

Having written to Joe, to offer him consolation, and to assure him

that I would come to the funeral, I passed the intermediate days in

the curious state of mind I have glanced at. I went down early in the

morning, and alighted at the Blue Boar in good time to walk over to the

forge.

It was fine summer weather again, and, as I walked along, the times

when I was a little helpless creature, and my sister did not spare me,

vividly returned. But they returned with a gentle tone upon them that

softened even the edge of Tickler. For now, the very breath of the beans

and clover whispered to my heart that the day must come when it would

be well for my memory that others walking in the sunshine should be

softened as they thought of me.

At last I came within sight of the house, and saw that Trabb and Co. had

put in a funereal execution and taken possession. Two dismally absurd

persons, each ostentatiously exhibiting a crutch done up in a black

bandage,--as if that instrument could possibly communicate any comfort

to anybody,--were posted at the front door; and in one of them I

recognized a postboy discharged from the Boar for turning a young couple

into a sawpit on their bridal morning, in consequence of intoxication

rendering it necessary for him to ride his horse clasped round the neck

with both arms. All the children of the village, and most of the women,

were admiring these sable warders and the closed windows of the house

and forge; and as I came up, one of the two warders (the postboy)

knocked at the door,--implying that I was far too much exhausted by

grief to have strength remaining to knock for myself.