CHAPTER I
In the spring of the year eighteen hundred and forty-nine I waswandering in the East, and had then recently altered the travellingplans which I had laid out some months before, and which I hadcommunicated to my lawyer and my banker in London.
This change made it necessary for me to send one of my servants toobtain my letters and remittances from the English consul in a certaincity, which was no longer included as one of my resting-places in my newtravelling scheme. The man was to join me again at an appointed placeand time. An accident, for which he was not responsible, delayed him onhis errand. For a week I and my people waited, encamped on theborders of a desert. At the end of that time the missing man made hisappearance, with the money and the letters, at the entrance of my tent.
"I am afraid I bring you bad news, sir," he said, and pointed to one ofthe letters, which had a mourning border round it, and the address onwhich was in the handwriting of Mr. Bruff.
I know nothing, in a case of this kind, so unendurable as suspense. Theletter with the mourning border was the letter that I opened first.
It informed me that my father was dead, and that I was heir to his greatfortune. The wealth which had thus fallen into my hands brought itsresponsibilities with it, and Mr. Bruff entreated me to lose no time inreturning to England.
By daybreak the next morning, I was on my way back to my own country.
The picture presented of me, by my old friend Betteredge, at the time ofmy departure from England, is (as I think) a little overdrawn. He has,in his own quaint way, interpreted seriously one of his young mistress'smany satirical references to my foreign education; and has persuadedhimself that he actually saw those French, German, and Italian sides tomy character, which my lively cousin only professed to discover in jest,and which never had any real existence, except in our good Betteredge'sown brain. But, barring this drawback, I am bound to own that he hasstated no more than the truth in representing me as wounded to the heartby Rachel's treatment, and as leaving England in the first keenness ofsuffering caused by the bitterest disappointment of my life.
I went abroad, resolved--if change and absence could help me--to forgether. It is, I am persuaded, no true view of human nature which deniesthat change and absence DO help a man under these circumstances; theyforce his attention away from the exclusive contemplation of his ownsorrow. I never forgot her; but the pang of remembrance lost its worstbitterness, little by little, as time, distance, and novelty interposedthemselves more and more effectually between Rachel and me.
On the other hand, it is no less certain that, with the act of turninghomeward, the remedy which had gained its ground so steadily, began now,just as steadily, to drop back. The nearer I drew to the countrywhich she inhabited, and to the prospect of seeing her again, the moreirresistibly her influence began to recover its hold on me. On leavingEngland she was the last person in the world whose name I would havesuffered to pass my lips. On returning to England, she was the firstperson I inquired after, when Mr. Bruff and I met again.
I was informed, of course, of all that had happened in my absence;in other words, of all that has been related here in continuation ofBetteredge's narrative--one circumstance only being excepted. Mr. Bruffdid not, at that time, feel himself at liberty to inform me of themotives which had privately influenced Rachel and Godfrey Ablewhite inrecalling the marriage promise, on either side. I troubled him with noembarrassing questions on this delicate subject. It was relief enough tome, after the jealous disappointment caused by hearing that she had evercontemplated being Godfrey's wife, to know that reflection had convincedher of acting rashly, and that she had effected her own release from hermarriage engagement.
Having heard the story of the past, my next inquiries (still inquiriesafter Rachel!) advanced naturally to the present time. Under whose carehad she been placed after leaving Mr. Bruff's house? and where was sheliving now?
She was living under the care of a widowed sister of the late Sir JohnVerinder--one Mrs. Merridew--whom her mother's executors had requestedto act as guardian, and who had accepted the proposal. They werereported to me as getting on together admirably well, and as being nowestablished, for the season, in Mrs. Merridew's house in Portland Place.
Half an hour after receiving this information, I was on my way toPortland Place--without having had the courage to own it to Mr. Bruff!
The man who answered the door was not sure whether Miss Verinder was athome or not. I sent him upstairs with my card, as the speediest wayof setting the question at rest. The man came down again with animpenetrable face, and informed me that Miss Verinder was out.
I might have suspected other people of purposely denying themselves tome. But it was impossible to suspect Rachel. I left word that I wouldcall again at six o'clock that evening.
At six o'clock I was informed for the second time that Miss Verinder wasnot at home. Had any message been left for me. No message had been leftfor me. Had Miss Verinder not received my card? The servant begged mypardon--Miss Verinder HAD received it.
The inference was too plain to be resisted. Rachel declined to see me.
On my side, I declined to be treated in this way, without making anattempt, at least, to discover a reason for it. I sent up my name toMrs. Merridew, and requested her to favour me with a personal interviewat any hour which it might be most convenient to her to name.
Mrs. Merridew made no difficulty about receiving me at once. I was showninto a comfortable little sitting-room, and found myself in the presenceof a comfortable little elderly lady. She was so good as to feel greatregret and much surprise, entirely on my account. She was at the sametime, however, not in a position to offer me any explanation, or topress Rachel on a matter which appeared to relate to a question ofprivate feeling alone. This was said over and over again, with a politepatience that nothing could tire; and this was all I gained by applyingto Mrs. Merridew.
My last chance was to write to Rachel. My servant took a letter to herthe next day, with strict instructions to wait for an answer.
The answer came back, literally in one sentence.
"Miss Verinder begs to decline entering into any correspondence with Mr.Franklin Blake."
Fond as I was of her, I felt indignantly the insult offered to me inthat reply. Mr. Bruff came in to speak to me on business, before I hadrecovered possession of myself. I dismissed the business on the spot,and laid the whole case before him. He proved to be as incapable ofenlightening me as Mrs. Merridew herself. I asked him if any slander hadbeen spoken of me in Rachel's hearing. Mr. Bruff was not aware of anyslander of which I was the object. Had she referred to me in any waywhile she was staying under Mr. Bruff's roof? Never. Had she not so muchas asked, during all my long absence, whether I was living or dead? Nosuch question had ever passed her lips. I took out of my pocket-book theletter which poor Lady Verinder had written to me from Frizinghall, onthe day when I left her house in Yorkshire. And I pointed Mr. Bruff'sattention to these two sentences in it:
"The valuable assistance which you rendered to the inquiry after thelost jewel is still an unpardoned offence, in the present dreadful stateof Rachel's mind. Moving blindfold in this matter, you have added to theburden of anxiety which she has had to bear, by innocently threateningher secret with discovery through your exertions."
"Is it possible," I asked, "that the feeling towards me which is theredescribed, is as bitter as ever against me now?"
Mr. Bruff looked unaffectedly distressed.
"If you insist on an answer," he said, "I own I can place no otherinterpretation on her conduct than that."
I rang the bell, and directed my servant to pack my portmanteau, and tosend out for a railway guide. Mr. Bruff asked, in astonishment, what Iwas going to do.
"I am going to Yorkshire," I answered, "by the next train."
"May I ask for what purpose?"
"Mr. Bruff, the assistance I innocently rendered to the inquiry afterthe Diamond was an unpardoned offence, in Rachel's mind, nearly a yearsince; a
nd it remains an unpardoned offence still. I won't accept thatposition! I am determined to find out the secret of her silence towardsher mother, and her enmity towards me. If time, pains, and money can doit, I will lay my hand on the thief who took the Moonstone!"
The worthy old gentleman attempted to remonstrate--to induce me tolisten to reason--to do his duty towards me, in short. I was deaf toeverything that he could urge. No earthly consideration would, at thatmoment, have shaken the resolution that was in me.
"I shall take up the inquiry again," I went on, "at the point where Idropped it; and I shall follow it onwards, step by step, till I come tothe present time. There are missing links in the evidence, as I left it,which Gabriel Betteredge can supply, and to Gabriel Betteredge I go!"
Towards sunset that evening I stood again on the well-rememberedterrace, and looked once more at the peaceful old country house. Thegardener was the first person whom I saw in the deserted grounds. He hadleft Betteredge, an hour since, sunning himself in the customary cornerof the back yard. I knew it well; and I said I would go and seek himmyself.
I walked round by the familiar paths and passages, and looked in at theopen gate of the yard.
There he was--the dear old friend of the happy days that were never tocome again--there he was in the old corner, on the old beehive chair,with his pipe in his mouth, and his ROBINSON CRUSOE on his lap, and histwo friends, the dogs, dozing on either side of him! In the positionin which I stood, my shadow was projected in front of me by the lastslanting rays of the sun. Either the dogs saw it, or their keen scentinformed them of my approach; they started up with a growl. Startingin his turn, the old man quieted them by a word, and then shaded hisfailing eyes with his hand, and looked inquiringly at the figure at thegate.
My own eyes were full of tears. I was obliged to wait a moment before Icould trust myself to speak to him.
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