The Moonstone

THE DISCOVERY OF THE TRUTH (1848-1849) The events related in several narratives.

In that happy bygone time, I was taught to keep my hair tidy at all

hours of the day and night, and to fold up every article of my clothing

carefully, in the same order, on the same chair, in the same place at

the foot of the bed, before retiring to rest. An entry of the day's

events in my little diary invariably preceded the folding up. The

"Evening Hymn" (repeated in bed) invariably followed the folding up. And

the sweet sleep of childhood invariably followed the "Evening Hymn."

In later life (alas!) the Hymn has been succeeded by sad and bitter

meditations; and the sweet sleep has been but ill exchanged for the

broken slumbers which haunt the uneasy pillow of care. On the other

hand, I have continued to fold my clothes, and to keep my little diary.

The former habit links me to my happy childhood--before papa was ruined.

The latter habit--hitherto mainly useful in helping me to discipline the

fallen nature which we all inherit from Adam--has unexpectedly proved

important to my humble interests in quite another way. It has enabled

poor Me to serve the caprice of a wealthy member of the family into

which my late uncle married. I am fortunate enough to be useful to Mr.

Franklin Blake.

I have been cut off from all news of my relatives by marriage for

some time past. When we are isolated and poor, we are not infrequently

forgotten. I am now living, for economy's sake, in a little town in

Brittany, inhabited by a select circle of serious English friends, and

possessed of the inestimable advantages of a Protestant clergyman and a

cheap market.

In this retirement--a Patmos amid the howling ocean of popery that

surrounds us--a letter from England has reached me at last. I find my

insignificant existence suddenly remembered by Mr. Franklin Blake.

My wealthy relative--would that I could add my spiritually-wealthy

relative!--writes, without even an attempt at disguising that he wants

something of me. The whim has seized him to stir up the deplorable

scandal of the Moonstone: and I am to help him by writing the account

of what I myself witnessed while visiting at Aunt Verinder's house

in London. Pecuniary remuneration is offered to me--with the want of

feeling peculiar to the rich. I am to re-open wounds that Time

has barely closed; I am to recall the most intensely painful

remembrances--and this done, I am to feel myself compensated by a new

laceration, in the shape of Mr. Blake's cheque. My nature is weak. It

cost me a hard struggle, before Christian humility conquered sinful

pride, and self-denial accepted the cheque.