Estella

She came back, with some bread and meat and a little mug of beer
She put the mug down on the stones of the yard, and gave me the bread
And meat without looking at me
As insolently as if I were a dog in disgrace. I was so humiliated
Hurt, spurned, offended, angry, sorry, that tears started to my eyes
The moment they sprang there, the girl looked at me
With a quick delight in having been the cause of them
This gave me power to keep them back and to look at her
So, she gave a contemptuous toss—but with a sense, I thought
Of having made too sure that I was so wounded—and left me

A bell with an old voice—which I dare say in its time had often said
To the house, Here is the green farthingale, Here is the
Diamond-hilted sword, Here are the shoes with red heels
And the blue solitaire—sounded gravely in the moonlight
And two cherry-coloured maids came fluttering out to receive Estella
The doorway soon absorbed her boxes, and she gave me
Her hand and a smile, and said good-night, and was absorbed likewise
And still I stood looking at the house, thinking how happy I should be
If I lived there with her, and knowing that I never was happy with her
But always miserable

"Be as considerate and good to me as you were
And tell me we are friends."
"We are friends," said I, rising and bending over her
As she rose from the bench
"And will continue friends apart," said Estella
I took her hand in mine, and we went out of the ruined place
And, as the morning mists had risen long ago
When I first left the forge, so the evening mists were rising now
And in all the broad expanse of tranquil light they showed to me
I saw no shadow of another parting from her