The Moonstone

by Wilkie Collins

  The true story of the broken marriage engagement comes first in point oftime, and must therefore take the first place in the present narrative.Tracing my way back along the chain of events, from one end to theother, I find it necessary to open the scene, oddly enough as you willthink, at the bedside of my excellent client and friend, the late SirJohn Verinder.

  Sir John had his share--perhaps rather a large share--of the moreharmless and amiable of the weaknesses incidental to humanity. Amongthese, I may mention as applicable to the matter in hand, an invinciblereluctance--so long as he enjoyed his usual good health--to face theresponsibility of making his will. Lady Verinder exerted her influenceto rouse him to a sense of duty in this matter; and I exerted myinfluence. He admitted the justice of our views--but he went no furtherthan that, until he found himself afflicted with the illness whichultimately brought him to his grave. Then, I was sent for at last, totake my client's instructions on the subject of his will. They provedto be the simplest instructions I had ever received in the whole of myprofessional career.

  Sir John was dozing, when I entered the room. He roused himself at thesight of me.

  "How do you do, Mr. Bruff?" he said. "I sha'n't be very long about this.And then I'll go to sleep again." He looked on with great interest whileI collected pens, ink, and paper. "Are you ready?" he asked. I bowed andtook a dip of ink, and waited for my instructions.

  "I leave everything to my wife," said Sir John. "That's all." He turnedround on his pillow, and composed himself to sleep again.

  I was obliged to disturb him.

  "Am I to understand," I asked, "that you leave the whole of theproperty, of every sort and description, of which you die possessed,absolutely to Lady Verinder?"

  "Yes," said Sir John. "Only, I put it shorter. Why can't you put itshorter, and let me go to sleep again? Everything to my wife. That's myWill."

  His property was entirely at his own disposal, and was of two kinds.Property in land (I purposely abstain from using technical language),and property in money. In the majority of cases, I am afraid I shouldhave felt it my duty to my client to ask him to reconsider his Will. Inthe case of Sir John, I knew Lady Verinder to be, not only worthy of theunreserved trust which her husband had placed in her (all good wivesare worthy of that)--but to be also capable of properly administering atrust (which, in my experience of the fair sex, not one in a thousand ofthem is competent to do). In ten minutes, Sir John's Will was drawn, andexecuted, and Sir John himself, good man, was finishing his interruptednap.

  Lady Verinder amply justified the confidence which her husband hadplaced in her. In the first days of her widowhood, she sent for me, andmade her Will. The view she took of her position was so thoroughly soundand sensible, that I was relieved of all necessity for advising her. Myresponsibility began and ended with shaping her instructions into theproper legal form. Before Sir John had been a fortnight in his grave,the future of his daughter had been most wisely and most affectionatelyprovided for.

  The Will remained in its fireproof box at my office, through more yearsthan I like to reckon up. It was not till the summer of eighteen hundredand forty-eight that I found occasion to look at it again under verymelancholy circumstances.

  At the date I have mentioned, the doctors pronounced the sentence onpoor Lady Verinder, which was literally a sentence of death. I was thefirst person whom she informed of her situation; and I found her anxiousto go over her Will again with me.

  It was impossible to improve the provisions relating to her daughter.But, in the lapse of time, her wishes in regard to certain minorlegacies, left to different relatives, had undergone some modification;and it became necessary to add three or four Codicils to the originaldocument. Having done this at once, for fear of accident, I obtainedher ladyship's permission to embody her recent instructions in asecond Will. My object was to avoid certain inevitable confusions andrepetitions which now disfigured the original document, and which, toown the truth, grated sadly on my professional sense of the fitness ofthings.

  The execution of this second Will has been described by Miss Clack, whowas so obliging as to witness it. So far as regarded Rachel Verinder'specuniary interests, it was, word for word, the exact counterpart of thefirst Will. The only changes introduced related to the appointment of aguardian, and to certain provisions concerning that appointment, whichwere made under my advice. On Lady Verinder's death, the Will was placedin the hands of my proctor to be "proved" (as the phrase is) in theusual way.

  In about three weeks from that time--as well as I can remember--thefirst warning reached me of something unusual going on under thesurface. I happened to be looking in at my friend the proctor's office,and I observed that he received me with an appearance of greaterinterest than usual.

  "I have some news for you," he said. "What do you think I heard atDoctors' Commons this morning? Lady Verinder's Will has been asked for,and examined, already!"

  This was news indeed! There was absolutely nothing which could becontested in the Will; and there was nobody I could think of who hadthe slightest interest in examining it. (I shall perhaps do well if Iexplain in this place, for the benefit of the few people who don't knowit already, that the law allows all Wills to be examined at Doctors'Commons by anybody who applies, on the payment of a shilling fee.)

  "Did you hear who asked for the Will?" I asked.

  "Yes; the clerk had no hesitation in telling ME. Mr. Smalley, of thefirm of Skipp and Smalley, asked for it. The Will has not been copiedyet into the great Folio Registers. So there was no alternative but todepart from the usual course, and to let him see the original document.He looked it over carefully, and made a note in his pocket-book. Haveyou any idea of what he wanted with it?"

  I shook my head. "I shall find out," I answered, "before I am a dayolder." With that I went back at once to my own office.

  If any other firm of solicitors had been concerned in this unaccountableexamination of my deceased client's Will, I might have found somedifficulty in making the necessary discovery. But I had a hold overSkipp and Smalley which made my course in this matter a comparativelyeasy one. My common-law clerk (a most competent and excellent man) was abrother of Mr. Smalley's; and, owing to this sort of indirect connectionwith me, Skipp and Smalley had, for some years past, picked up thecrumbs that fell from my table, in the shape of cases brought to myoffice, which, for various reasons, I did not think it worth whileto undertake. My professional patronage was, in this way, of someimportance to the firm. I intended, if necessary, to remind them of thatpatronage, on the present occasion.

  The moment I got back I spoke to my clerk; and, after telling him whathad happened, I sent him to his brother's office, "with Mr. Bruff'scompliments, and he would be glad to know why Messrs. Skipp and Smalleyhad found it necessary to examine Lady Verinder's will."

  This message brought Mr. Smalley back to my office in company with hisbrother. He acknowledged that he had acted under instructions receivedfrom a client. And then he put it to me, whether it would not be abreach of professional confidence on his part to say more.

  We had a smart discussion upon that. He was right, no doubt; and Iwas wrong. The truth is, I was angry and suspicious--and I insistedon knowing more. Worse still, I declined to consider any additionalinformation offered me, as a secret placed in my keeping: I claimedperfect freedom to use my own discretion. Worse even than that, I tookan unwarrantable advantage of my position. "Choose, sir," I said to Mr.Smalley, "between the risk of losing your client's business and the riskof losing Mine." Quite indefensible, I admit--an act of tyranny, andnothing less. Like other tyrants, I carried my point. Mr. Smalley chosehis alternative, without a moment's hesitation.

  He smiled resignedly, and gave up the name of his client:

  Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite.

  That was enough for me--I wanted to know no more.

  Having reached this point in my narrative, it now becomes necessaryto place the reader of these lines--so far as Lady Verinder's Will isconcerned--on a footing of perf
ect equality, in respect of information,with myself.

  Let me state, then, in the fewest possible words, that Rachel Verinderhad nothing but a life-interest in the property. Her mother's excellentsense, and my long experience, had combined to relieve her of allresponsibility, and to guard her from all danger of becoming the victimin the future of some needy and unscrupulous man. Neither she, nor herhusband (if she married), could raise sixpence, either on the propertyin land, or on the property in money. They would have the houses inLondon and in Yorkshire to live in, and they would have the handsomeincome--and that was all.

  When I came to think over what I had discovered, I was sorely perplexedwhat to do next.

  Hardly a week had passed since I had heard (to my surprise and distress)of Miss Verinder's proposed marriage. I had the sincerest admirationand affection for her; and I had been inexpressibly grieved when I heardthat she was about to throw herself away on Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite. Andnow, here was the man--whom I had always believed to be a smooth-tonguedimpostor--justifying the very worst that I had thought of him, andplainly revealing the mercenary object of the marriage, on his side! Andwhat of that?--you may reply--the thing is done every day. Granted, mydear sir. But would you think of it quite as lightly as you do, if thething was done (let us say) with your own sister?

  The first consideration which now naturally occurred to me was this.Would Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite hold to his engagement, after what hislawyer had discovered for him?

  It depended entirely on his pecuniary position, of which I knew nothing.If that position was not a desperate one, it would be well worth hiswhile to marry Miss Verinder for her income alone. If, on the otherhand, he stood in urgent need of realising a large sum by a giventime, then Lady Verinder's Will would exactly meet the case, and wouldpreserve her daughter from falling into a scoundrel's hands.

  In the latter event, there would be no need for me to distress MissRachel, in the first days of her mourning for her mother, by animmediate revelation of the truth. In the former event, if I remainedsilent, I should be conniving at a marriage which would make hermiserable for life.

  My doubts ended in my calling at the hotel in London, at which I knewMrs. Ablewhite and Miss Verinder to be staying. They informed methat they were going to Brighton the next day, and that an unexpectedobstacle prevented Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite from accompanying them. I atonce proposed to take his place. While I was only thinking of RachelVerinder, it was possible to hesitate. When I actually saw her, my mindwas made up directly, come what might of it, to tell her the truth.

  I found my opportunity, when I was out walking with her, on the dayafter my arrival.

  "May I speak to you," I asked, "about your marriage engagement?"

  "Yes," she said, indifferently, "if you have nothing more interesting totalk about."

  "Will you forgive an old friend and servant of your family, Miss Rachel,if I venture on asking whether your heart is set on this marriage?"

  "I am marrying in despair, Mr. Bruff--on the chance of dropping intosome sort of stagnant happiness which may reconcile me to my life."

  Strong language! and suggestive of something below the surface, in theshape of a romance. But I had my own object in view, and I declined (aswe lawyers say) to pursue the question into its side issues.

  "Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite can hardly be of your way of thinking," I said."HIS heart must be set on the marriage at any rate?"

  "He says so, and I suppose I ought to believe him. He would hardly marryme, after what I have owned to him, unless he was fond of me."

  Poor thing! the bare idea of a man marrying her for his own selfish andmercenary ends had never entered her head. The task I had set myselfbegan to look like a harder task than I had bargained for.

  "It sounds strangely," I went on, "in my old-fashioned ears----"

  "What sounds strangely?" she asked.

  "To hear you speak of your future husband as if you were not quite sureof the sincerity of his attachment. Are you conscious of any reason inyour own mind for doubting him?"

  Her astonishing quickness of perception, detected a change in my voice,or my manner, when I put that question, which warned her that I had beenspeaking all along with some ulterior object in view. She stopped, andtaking her arm out of mine, looked me searchingly in the face.

  "Mr. Bruff," she said, "you have something to tell me about GodfreyAblewhite. Tell it."

  I knew her well enough to take her at her word. I told it.

  She put her arm again into mine, and walked on with me slowly. I felther hand tightening its grasp mechanically on my arm, and I saw hergetting paler and paler as I went on--but, not a word passed her lipswhile I was speaking. When I had done, she still kept silence. Her headdrooped a little, and she walked by my side, unconscious of my presence,unconscious of everything about her; lost--buried, I might almostsay--in her own thoughts.

  I made no attempt to disturb her. My experience of her dispositionwarned me, on this, as on former occasions, to give her time.

  The first instinct of girls in general, on being told of anything whichinterests them, is to ask a multitude of questions, and then to run off,and talk it all over with some favourite friend. Rachel Verinder's firstinstinct, under similar circumstances, was to shut herself up in her ownmind, and to think it over by herself. This absolute self-dependence isa great virtue in a man. In a woman it has a serious drawback ofmorally separating her from the mass of her sex, and so exposing herto misconstruction by the general opinion. I strongly suspect myself ofthinking as the rest of the world think in this matter--except in thecase of Rachel Verinder. The self-dependence in HER character, was oneof its virtues in my estimation; partly, no doubt, because I sincerelyadmired and liked her; partly, because the view I took of her connexionwith the loss of the Moonstone was based on my own special knowledge ofher disposition. Badly as appearances might look, in the matter of theDiamond--shocking as it undoubtedly was to know that she was associatedin any way with the mystery of an undiscovered theft--I was satisfiednevertheless that she had done nothing unworthy of her, because I wasalso satisfied that she had not stirred a step in the business, withoutshutting herself up in her own mind, and thinking it over first.

  We had walked on, for nearly a mile I should say before Rachel rousedherself. She suddenly looked up at me with a faint reflection of hersmile of happier times--the most irresistible smile I have ever seen ona woman's face.

  "I owe much already to your kindness," she said. "And I feel more deeplyindebted to it now than ever. If you hear any rumours of my marriagewhen you get back to London contradict them at once, on my authority."

  "Have you resolved to break your engagement?" I asked.

  "Can you doubt it?" she returned proudly, "after what you have told me!"

  "My dear Miss Rachel, you are very young--and you may find moredifficulty in withdrawing from your present position than youanticipate. Have you no one--I mean a lady, of course--whom you couldconsult?"

  "No one," she answered.

  It distressed me, it did indeed distress me, to hear her say that. Shewas so young and so lonely--and she bore it so well! The impulse to helpher got the better of any sense of my own unfitness which I might havefelt under the circumstances; and I stated such ideas on the subject asoccurred to me on the spur of the moment, to the best of my ability. Ihave advised a prodigious number of clients, and have dealt with someexceedingly awkward difficulties, in my time. But this was the firstoccasion on which I had ever found myself advising a young lady how toobtain her release from a marriage engagement. The suggestion Ioffered amounted briefly to this. I recommended her to tell Mr. GodfreyAblewhite--at a private interview, of course--that he had, to hercertain knowledge, betrayed the mercenary nature of the motive onhis side. She was then to add that their marriage, after what she haddiscovered, was a simple impossibility--and she was to put it to him,whether he thought it wisest to secure her silence by falling in withher views, or to force her, by opposing them, to make the motive underwhich she
was acting generally known. If he attempted to defend himself,or to deny the facts, she was, in that event, to refer him to ME.

  Miss Verinder listened attentively till I had done. She then thanked mevery prettily for my advice, but informed me at the same time that itwas impossible for her to follow it.

  "May I ask," I said, "what objection you see to following it?"

  She hesitated--and then met me with a question on her side.

  "Suppose you were asked to express your opinion of Mr. GodfreyAblewhite's conduct?" she began.

  "Yes?"

  "What would you call it?"

  "I should call it the conduct of a meanly deceitful man."

  "Mr. Bruff! I have believed in that man. I have promised to marry thatman. How can I tell him he is mean, how can I tell him he has deceivedme, how can I disgrace him in the eyes of the world after that? I havedegraded myself by ever thinking of him as my husband. If I say what youtell me to say to him--I am owning that I have degraded myself to hisface. I can't do that. After what has passed between us, I can't dothat! The shame of it would be nothing to HIM. But the shame of it wouldbe unendurable to _me_."

  Here was another of the marked peculiarities in her character disclosingitself to me without reserve. Here was her sensitive horror of the barecontact with anything mean, blinding her to every consideration of whatshe owed to herself, hurrying her into a false position which mightcompromise her in the estimation of all her friends! Up to this time,I had been a little diffident about the propriety of the advice I hadgiven to her. But, after what she had just said, I had no sort of doubtthat it was the best advice that could have been offered; and I felt nosort of hesitation in pressing it on her again.

  She only shook her head, and repeated her objection in other words.

  "He has been intimate enough with me to ask me to be his wife. He hasstood high enough in my estimation to obtain my consent. I can't tellhim to his face that he is the most contemptible of living creatures,after that!"

  "But, my dear Miss Rachel," I remonstrated, "it's equally impossible foryou to tell him that you withdraw from your engagement without givingsome reason for it."

  "I shall say that I have thought it over, and that I am satisfied itwill be best for both of us if we part.

  "No more than that?"

  "No more."

  "Have you thought of what he may say, on his side?"

  "He may say what he pleases."

  It was impossible not to admire her delicacy and her resolution, and itwas equally impossible not to feel that she was putting herself in thewrong. I entreated her to consider her own position. I reminded her thatshe would be exposing herself to the most odious misconstruction of hermotives. "You can't brave public opinion," I said, "at the command ofprivate feeling."

  "I can," she answered. "I have done it already."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You have forgotten the Moonstone, Mr. Bruff. Have I not braved publicopinion, THERE, with my own private reasons for it?"

  Her answer silenced me for the moment. It set me trying to trace theexplanation of her conduct, at the time of the loss of the Moonstone,out of the strange avowal which had just escaped her. I might perhapshave done it when I was younger. I certainly couldn't do it now.

  I tried a last remonstrance before we returned to the house. She wasjust as immovable as ever. My mind was in a strange conflict of feelingsabout her when I left her that day. She was obstinate; she was wrong.She was interesting; she was admirable; she was deeply to be pitied. Imade her promise to write to me the moment she had any news to send.And I went back to my business in London, with a mind exceedingly ill atease.

  On the evening of my return, before it was possible for me to receivemy promised letter, I was surprised by a visit from Mr. Ablewhite theelder, and was informed that Mr. Godfrey had got his dismissal--AND HADACCEPTED IT--that very day.

  With the view I already took of the case, the bare fact stated in thewords that I have underlined, revealed Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite's motivefor submission as plainly as if he had acknowledged it himself. Heneeded a large sum of money; and he needed it by a given time. Rachel'sincome, which would have helped him to anything else, would not help himhere; and Rachel had accordingly released herself, without encounteringa moment's serious opposition on his part. If I am told that this is amere speculation, I ask, in my turn, what other theory will account forhis giving up a marriage which would have maintained him in splendourfor the rest of his life?

  Any exultation I might otherwise have felt at the lucky turn whichthings had now taken, was effectually checked by what passed at myinterview with old Mr. Ablewhite.

  He came, of course, to know whether I could give him any explanation ofMiss Verinder's extraordinary conduct. It is needless to say that Iwas quite unable to afford him the information he wanted. The annoyancewhich I thus inflicted, following on the irritation produced by a recentinterview with his son, threw Mr. Ablewhite off his guard. Both hislooks and his language convinced me that Miss Verinder would find hima merciless man to deal with, when he joined the ladies at Brighton thenext day.

  I had a restless night, considering what I ought to do next. How myreflections ended, and how thoroughly well founded my distrust of Mr.Ablewhite proved to be, are items of information which (as I am told)have already been put tidily in their proper places, by thatexemplary person, Miss Clack. I have only to add--in completion of hernarrative--that Miss Verinder found the quiet and repose which she sadlyneeded, poor thing, in my house at Hampstead. She honoured us by makinga long stay. My wife and daughters were charmed with her; and, when theexecutors decided on the appointment of a new guardian, I feel sincerepride and pleasure in recording that my guest and my family parted likeold friends, on either side.