The moonstone

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Moonstone, by Wilkie Collins This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Moonstone Author: Wilkie Collins Release Date: January 12, 2006 [EBook #155] Last Updated: June 21, 2019 Language: English *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOONSTONE *** Produced by John Hamm and David Widger THE MOONSTONE A Romance by Wilkie Collins Contents PROLOGUE THE STORY FIRST PERIOD CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII CHAPTER IX CHAPTER X CHAPTER XI CHAPTER XII CHAPTER XIII CHAPTER XIV CHAPTER XV CHAPTER XVI CHAPTER XVII CHAPTER XVIII CHAPTER XIX CHAPTER XX CHAPTER XXI CHAPTER XXII CHAPTER XXIII SECOND PERIOD FIRST NARRATIVE CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII SECOND NARRATIVE CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III THIRD NARRATIVE CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII CHAPTER IX CHAPTER X FOURTH NARRATIVE FIFTH NARRATIVE SIXTH NARRATIVE I II III IV V SEVENTH NARRATIVE EIGHTH NARRATIVE EPILOGUE I II III PROLOGUE THE STORMING OF SERINGAPATAM (1799): (Extracted from a Family Paper.) I I address these lines—written in India—to my relatives in England My object is to explain the motive which has induced me to refuse the right hand of friendship to my cousin, John Herncastle The reserve which I have hitherto maintained in this matter has been misinterpreted by members of my family whose good opinion I cannot consent to forfeit I request them to suspend their decision until they have read my narrative And I declare, on my word of honour, that what I am now about to write is, strictly and literally, the truth The private difference between my cousin and me took its rise in a great public event in which we were both concerned—the storming of Seringapatam, under General Baird, on the 4th of May, 1799 In order that the circumstances may be clearly understood, I must revert for a moment to the period before the assault, and to the stories current in our camp of the treasure in jewels and gold stored up in the Palace of Seringapatam II One of the wildest of these stories related to a Yellow Diamond—a famous gem in the native annals of India The earliest known traditions describe the stone as having been set in the forehead of the four-handed Indian god who typifies the Moon Partly from its peculiar colour, partly from a superstition which represented it as feeling the influence of the deity whom it adorned, and growing and lessening in lustre with the waxing and waning of the moon, it first gained the name by which it continues to be known in India to this day—the name of THE MOONSTONE A similar superstition was once prevalent, as I have heard, in ancient Greece and Rome; not applying, however (as in India), to a diamond devoted to the service of a god, but to a semi-transparent stone of the inferior order of gems, supposed to be affected by the lunar influences—the moon, in this latter case also, giving the name by which the stone is still known to collectors in our own time The adventures of the Yellow Diamond begin with the eleventh century of the Christian era At that date, the Mohammedan conqueror, Mahmoud of Ghizni, crossed India; seized on the holy city of Somnauth; and stripped of its treasures the famous temple, which had stood for centuries—the shrine of Hindoo pilgrimage, and the wonder of the Eastern world Of all the deities worshipped in the temple, the moon-god alone escaped the rapacity of the conquering Mohammedans Preserved by three Brahmins, the inviolate deity, bearing the Yellow Diamond in its forehead, was removed by night, and was transported to the second of the sacred cities of India—the city of Benares Here, in a new shrine—in a hall inlaid with precious stones, under a roof supported by pillars of gold—the moon-god was set up and worshipped Here, on the night when the shrine was completed, Vishnu the Preserver appeared to the three Brahmins in a dream The deity breathed the breath of his divinity on the Diamond in the forehead of the god And the Brahmins knelt and hid their faces in their robes The deity commanded that the Moonstone should be watched, from that time forth, by three priests in turn, night and day, to the end of the generations of men And the Brahmins heard, and bowed before his will The deity predicted certain disaster to the presumptuous mortal who laid hands on the sacred gem, and to all of his house and name who received it after him And the Brahmins caused the prophecy to be written over the gates of the shrine in letters of gold One age followed another—and still, generation after generation, the successors of the three Brahmins watched their priceless Moonstone, night and day One age followed another until the first years of the eighteenth Christian century saw the reign of Aurungzebe, Emperor of the Moguls At his command havoc and rapine were let loose once more among the temples of the worship of Brahmah The shrine of the four-handed god was polluted by the slaughter of sacred animals; the images of the deities were broken in pieces; and the Moonstone was seized by an officer of rank in the army of Aurungzebe Powerless to recover their lost treasure by open force, the three guardian priests followed and watched it in disguise The generations succeeded each other; the warrior who had committed the sacrilege perished miserably; the Moonstone passed (carrying its curse with it) from one lawless Mohammedan hand to another; and still, through all chances and changes, the successors of the three guardian priests kept their watch, waiting the day when the will of Vishnu the Preserver should restore to them their sacred gem Time rolled on from the first to the last years of the eighteenth Christian century The Diamond fell into the possession of Tippoo, Sultan of Seringapatam, who caused it to be placed as an ornament in the handle of a dagger, and who commanded it to be kept among the choicest treasures of his armoury Even then—in the palace of the Sultan himself—the three guardian priests still kept their watch in secret There were three officers of Tippoo’s household, strangers to the rest, who had won their master’s confidence by conforming, or appearing to conform, to the Mussulman faith; and to those three men report pointed as the three priests in disguise III So, as told in our camp, ran the fanciful story of the Moonstone It made no serious impression on any of us except my cousin—whose love of the marvellous induced him to believe it On the night before the assault on Seringapatam, he was absurdly angry with me, and with others, for treating the whole thing as a fable A foolish wrangle followed; and Herncastle’s unlucky temper got the better of him He declared, in his boastful way, that we should see the Diamond on his finger, if the English army took Seringapatam The sally was saluted by a roar of laughter, and there, as we all thought that night, the thing ended Let me now take you on to the day of the assault My cousin and I were separated at the outset I never saw him when we forded the river; when we planted the English flag in the first breach; when we crossed the ditch beyond; and, fighting every inch of our way, entered the town It was only at dusk, when the place was ours, and after General Baird himself had found the dead body of Tippoo under a heap of the slain, that Herncastle and I met We were each attached to a party sent out by the general’s orders to prevent the plunder and confusion which followed our conquest The camp-followers committed deplorable excesses; and, worse still, the soldiers found their way, by a guarded door, into the treasury of the Palace, and loaded themselves with gold and jewels It was in the court outside the treasury that my cousin and I met, to enforce the laws of discipline on our own soldiers Herncastle’s fiery temper had been, as I could plainly see, exasperated to a kind of frenzy by the terrible slaughter through which we had passed He was very unfit, in my opinion, to perform the duty that had been entrusted to him There was riot and confusion enough in the treasury, but no violence that I saw The men (if I may use such an expression) disgraced themselves goodhumouredly All sorts of rough jests and catchwords were bandied about among them; and the story of the Diamond turned up again unexpectedly, in the form of a mischievous joke “Who’s got the Moonstone?” was the rallying cry which perpetually caused the plundering, as soon as it was stopped in one place, to break out in another While I was still vainly trying to establish order, I heard a frightful yelling on the other side of the courtyard, and at once ran towards the cries, in dread of finding some new outbreak of the pillage in that direction I got to an open door, and saw the bodies of two Indians (by their dress, as I guessed, officers of the palace) lying across the entrance, dead A cry inside hurried me into a room, which appeared to serve as an armoury A third Indian, mortally wounded, was sinking at the feet of a man whose back was towards me The man turned at the instant when I came in, and I saw John Herncastle, with a torch in one hand, and a dagger dripping with blood in the other A stone, set like a pommel, in the end of the dagger’s handle, flashed in the torchlight, as he turned on me, like a gleam of fire The dying Indian sank to his knees, pointed to the dagger in Herncastle’s hand, and said, in his native language—“The Moonstone will have its vengeance yet on you and yours!” He spoke those words, and fell dead on the floor Before I could stir in the matter, the men who had followed me across the courtyard crowded in My cousin rushed to meet them, like a madman “Clear the room!” he shouted to me, “and set a guard on the door!” The men fell back as he threw himself on them with his torch and his dagger I put two sentinels of my own company, on whom I could rely, to keep the door Through the remainder of the night, I saw no more of my cousin Early in the morning, the plunder still going on, General Baird announced publicly by beat of drum, that any thief detected in the fact, be he whom he might, should be hung The provost-marshal was in attendance, to prove that the General was in earnest; and in the throng that followed the proclamation, Herncastle and I met again He held out his hand, as usual, and said, “Good morning.” I waited before I gave him my hand in return “Tell me first,” I said, “how the Indian in the armoury met his death, and what those last words meant, when he pointed to the dagger in your hand.” “The Indian met his death, as I suppose, by a mortal wound,” said Herncastle SEVENTH NARRATIVE In a Letter from Mr Candy Frizinghall, Wednesday, September 26th, 1849.—Dear Mr Franklin Blake, you will anticipate the sad news I have to tell you, on finding your letter to Ezra Jennings returned to you, unopened, in this enclosure He died in my arms, at sunrise, on Wednesday last I am not to blame for having failed to warn you that his end was at hand He expressly forbade me to write to you “I am indebted to Mr Franklin Blake,” he said, “for having seen some happy days Don’t distress him, Mr Candy—don’t distress him.” His sufferings, up to the last six hours of his life, were terrible to see In the intervals of remission, when his mind was clear, I entreated him to tell me of any relatives of his to whom I might write He asked to be forgiven for refusing anything to me And then he said—not bitterly—that he would die as he had lived, forgotten and unknown He maintained that resolution to the last There is no hope now of making any discoveries concerning him His story is a blank The day before he died, he told me where to find all his papers I brought them to him on his bed There was a little bundle of old letters which he put aside There was his unfinished book There was his Diary—in many locked volumes He opened the volume for this year, and tore out, one by one, the pages relating to the time when you and he were together “Give those,” he said, “to Mr Franklin Blake In years to come, he may feel an interest in looking back at what is written there.” Then he clasped his hands, and prayed God fervently to bless you, and those dear to you He said he should like to see you again But the next moment he altered his mind “No,” he answered when I offered to write “I won’t distress him! I won’t distress him!” At his request I next collected the other papers—that is to say, the bundle of letters, the unfinished book and the volumes of the Diary—and enclosed them all in one wrapper, sealed with my own seal “Promise,” he said, “that you will put this into my coffin with your own hand; and that you will see that no other hand touches it afterwards.” I gave him my promise And the promise has been performed He asked me to do one other thing for him—which it cost me a hard struggle to comply with He said, “Let my grave be forgotten Give me your word of honour that you will allow no monument of any sort—not even the commonest tombstone—to mark the place of my burial Let me sleep, nameless Let me rest, unknown.” When I tried to plead with him to alter his resolution, he became for the first, and only time, violently agitated I could not bear to see it; and I gave way Nothing but a little grass mound marks the place of his rest In time, the tombstones will rise round it And the people who come after us will look and wonder at the nameless grave As I have told you, for six hours before his death his sufferings ceased He dozed a little I think he dreamed Once or twice he smiled A woman’s name, as I suppose—the name of “Ella”—was often on his lips at this time A few minutes before the end he asked me to lift him on his pillow, to see the sun rise through the window He was very weak His head fell on my shoulder He whispered, “It’s coming!” Then he said, “Kiss me!” I kissed his forehead On a sudden he lifted his head The sunlight touched his face A beautiful expression, an angelic expression, came over it He cried out three times, “Peace! peace! peace!” His head sank back again on my shoulder, and the long trouble of his life was at an end So he has gone from us This was, as I think, a great man—though the world never knew him He had the sweetest temper I have ever met with The loss of him makes me feel very lonely Perhaps I have never been quite myself since my illness Sometimes, I think of giving up my practice, and going away, and trying what some of the foreign baths and waters will do for me It is reported here, that you and Miss Verinder are to be married next month Please to accept my best congratulations The pages of my poor friend’s Journal are waiting for you at my house— sealed up, with your name on the wrapper I was afraid to trust them to the post My best respects and good wishes attend Miss Verinder I remain, dear Mr Franklin Blake, truly yours, THOMAS CANDY EIGHTH NARRATIVE Contributed by Gabriel Betteredge I am the person (as you remember no doubt) who led the way in these pages, and opened the story I am also the person who is left behind, as it were, to close the story up Let nobody suppose that I have any last words to say here concerning the Indian Diamond I hold that unlucky jewel in abhorrence—and I refer you to other authority than mine, for such news of the Moonstone as you may, at the present time, be expected to receive My purpose, in this place, is to state a fact in the history of the family, which has been passed over by everybody, and which I won’t allow to be disrespectfully smothered up in that way The fact to which I allude is—the marriage of Miss Rachel and Mr Franklin Blake This interesting event took place at our house in Yorkshire, on Tuesday, October ninth, eighteen hundred and forty-nine I had a new suit of clothes on the occasion And the married couple went to spend the honeymoon in Scotland Family festivals having been rare enough at our house, since my poor mistress’s death, I own—on this occasion of the wedding—to having (towards the latter part of the day) taken a drop too much on the strength of it If you have ever done the same sort of thing yourself you will understand and feel for me If you have not, you will very likely say, “Disgusting old man! why does he tell us this?” The reason why is now to come Having, then, taken my drop (bless you! you have got your favourite vice, too; only your vice isn’t mine, and mine isn’t yours), I next applied the one infallible remedy—that remedy being, as you know, Robinson Crusoe Where I opened that unrivalled book, I can’t say Where the lines of print at last left off running into each other, I know, however, perfectly well It was at page three hundred and eighteen—a domestic bit concerning Robinson Crusoe’s marriage, as follows: “With those Thoughts, I considered my new Engagement, that I had a Wife”—(Observe! so had Mr Franklin!)—“one Child born”—(Observe again! that might yet be Mr Franklin’s case, too!)—“and my Wife then”—What Robinson Crusoe’s wife did, or did not do, “then,” I felt no desire to discover I scored the bit about the Child with my pencil, and put a morsel of paper for a mark to keep the place; “Lie you there,” I said, “till the marriage of Mr Franklin and Miss Rachel is some months older—and then we’ll see!” The months passed (more than I had bargained for), and no occasion presented itself for disturbing that mark in the book It was not till this present month of November, eighteen hundred and fifty, that Mr Franklin came into my room, in high good spirits, and said, “Betteredge! I have got some news for you! Something is going to happen in the house, before we are many months older.” “Does it concern the family, sir?” I asked “It decidedly concerns the family,” says Mr Franklin “Has your good lady anything to do with it, if you please, sir?” “She has a great deal to with it,” says Mr Franklin, beginning to look a little surprised “You needn’t say a word more, sir,” I answered “God bless you both! I’m heartily glad to hear it.” Mr Franklin stared like a person thunderstruck “May I venture to inquire where you got your information?” he asked “I only got mine (imparted in the strictest secrecy) five minutes since.” Here was an opportunity of producing Robinson Crusoe! Here was a chance of reading that domestic bit about the child which I had marked on the day of Mr Franklin’s marriage! I read those miraculous words with an emphasis which did them justice, and then I looked him severely in the face “Now, sir, do you believe in Robinson Crusoe?” I asked, with a solemnity, suitable to the occasion “Betteredge!” says Mr Franklin, with equal solemnity, “I’m convinced at last.” He shook hands with me—and I felt that I had converted him With the relation of this extraordinary circumstance, my reappearance in these pages comes to an end Let nobody laugh at the unique anecdote here related You are welcome to be as merry as you please over everything else I have written But when I write of Robinson Crusoe, by the Lord it’s serious—and I request you to take it accordingly! When this is said, all is said Ladies and gentlemen, I make my bow, and shut up the story EPILOGUE THE FINDING OF THE DIAMOND I THE STATEMENT OF SERGEANT CUFF’S MAN (1849.) On the twenty-seventh of June last, I received instructions from Sergeant Cuff to follow three men; suspected of murder, and described as Indians They had been seen on the Tower Wharf that morning, embarking on board the steamer bound for Rotterdam I left London by a steamer belonging to another company, which sailed on the morning of Thursday the twenty-eighth Arriving at Rotterdam, I succeeded in finding the commander of the Wednesday’s steamer He informed me that the Indians had certainly been passengers on board his vessel—but as far as Gravesend only Off that place, one of the three had inquired at what time they would reach Calais On being informed that the steamer was bound to Rotterdam, the spokesman of the party expressed the greatest surprise and distress at the mistake which he and his two friends had made They were all willing (he said) to sacrifice their passage money, if the commander of the steamer would only put them ashore Commiserating their position, as foreigners in a strange land, and knowing no reason for detaining them, the commander signalled for a shore boat, and the three men left the vessel This proceeding of the Indians having been plainly resolved on beforehand, as a means of preventing their being traced, I lost no time in returning to England I left the steamer at Gravesend, and discovered that the Indians had gone from that place to London Thence, I again traced them as having left for Plymouth Inquiries made at Plymouth proved that they had sailed, forty-eight hours previously, in the Bewley Castle, East Indiaman, bound direct to Bombay On receiving this intelligence, Sergeant Cuff caused the authorities at Bombay to be communicated with, overland—so that the vessel might be boarded by the police immediately on her entering the port This step having been taken, my connection with the matter came to an end I have heard nothing more of it since that time II THE STATEMENT OF THE CAPTAIN (1849.) I am requested by Sergeant Cuff to set in writing certain facts, concerning three men (believed to be Hindoos) who were passengers, last summer, in the ship Bewley Castle, bound for Bombay direct, under my command The Hindoos joined us at Plymouth On the passage out I heard no complaint of their conduct They were berthed in the forward part of the vessel I had but few occasions myself of personally noticing them In the latter part of the voyage, we had the misfortune to be becalmed for three days and nights, off the coast of India I have not got the ship’s journal to refer to, and I cannot now call to mind the latitude and longitude As to our position, therefore, I am only able to state generally that the currents drifted us in towards the land, and that when the wind found us again, we reached our port in twentyfour hours afterwards The discipline of a ship (as all seafaring persons know) becomes relaxed in a long calm The discipline of my ship became relaxed Certain gentlemen among the passengers got some of the smaller boats lowered, and amused themselves by rowing about, and swimming, when the sun at evening time was cool enough to let them divert themselves in that way The boats when done with ought to have been slung up again in their places Instead of this they were left moored to the ship’s side What with the heat, and what with the vexation of the weather, neither officers nor men seemed to be in heart for their duty while the calm lasted On the third night, nothing unusual was heard or seen by the watch on deck When the morning came, the smallest of the boats was missing—and the three Hindoos were next reported to be missing, too If these men had stolen the boat shortly after dark (which I have no doubt they did), we were near enough to the land to make it vain to send in pursuit of them, when the discovery was made in the morning I have no doubt they got ashore, in that calm weather (making all due allowance for fatigue and clumsy rowing), before day-break On reaching our port, I there learnt, for the first time, the reason these passengers had for seizing their opportunity of escaping from the ship I could only make the same statement to the authorities which I have made here They considered me to blame for allowing the discipline of the vessel to be relaxed I have expressed my regret on this score to them, and to my owners Since that time, nothing has been heard to my knowledge of the three Hindoos I have no more to add to what is here written III THE STATEMENT OF MR MURTHWAITE (1850.) (In a letter to Mr Bruff.) Have you any recollection, my dear sir, of a semi-savage person whom you met out at dinner, in London, in the autumn of ’forty-eight? Permit me to remind you that the person’s name was Murthwaite, and that you and he had a long conversation together after dinner The talk related to an Indian Diamond, called the Moonstone, and to a conspiracy then in existence to get possession of the gem Since that time, I have been wandering in Central Asia Thence I have drifted back to the scene of some of my past adventures in the north and north-west of India About a fortnight since, I found myself in a certain district or province (but little known to Europeans) called Kattiawar Here an adventure befell me, in which (incredible as it may appear) you are personally interested In the wild regions of Kattiawar (and how wild they are, you will understand, when I tell you that even the husbandmen plough the land, armed to the teeth), the population is fanatically devoted to the old Hindoo religion—to the ancient worship of Bramah and Vishnu The few Mahometan families, thinly scattered about the villages in the interior, are afraid to taste meat of any kind A Mahometan even suspected of killing that sacred animal, the cow, is, as a matter of course, put to death without mercy in these parts by the pious Hindoo neighbours who surround him To strengthen the religious enthusiasm of the people, two of the most famous shrines of Hindoo pilgrimage are contained within the boundaries of Kattiawar One of them is Dwarka, the birthplace of the god Krishna The other is the sacred city of Somnauth—sacked, and destroyed as long since as the eleventh century, by the Mahometan conqueror, Mahmoud of Ghizni Finding myself, for the second time, in these romantic regions, I resolved not to leave Kattiawar, without looking once more on the magnificent desolation of Somnauth At the place where I planned to do this, I was (as nearly as I could calculate it) some three days distant, journeying on foot, from the sacred city I had not been long on the road, before I noticed that other people—by twos and threes—appeared to be travelling in the same direction as myself To such of these as spoke to me, I gave myself out as a Hindoo-Boodhist, from a distant province, bound on a pilgrimage It is needless to say that my dress was of the sort to carry out this description Add, that I know the language as well as I know my own, and that I am lean enough and brown enough to make it no easy matter to detect my European origin—and you will understand that I passed muster with the people readily: not as one of themselves, but as a stranger from a distant part of their own country On the second day, the number of Hindoos travelling in my direction had increased to fifties and hundreds On the third day, the throng had swollen to thousands; all slowly converging to one point—the city of Somnauth A trifling service which I was able to render to one of my fellow-pilgrims, during the third day’s journey, proved the means of introducing me to certain Hindoos of the higher caste From these men I learnt that the multitude was on its way to a great religious ceremony, which was to take place on a hill at a little distance from Somnauth The ceremony was in honour of the god of the Moon; and it was to be held at night The crowd detained us as we drew near to the place of celebration By the time we reached the hill the moon was high in the heaven My Hindoo friends possessed some special privileges which enabled them to gain access to the shrine They kindly allowed me to accompany them When we arrived at the place, we found the shrine hidden from our view by a curtain hung between two magnificent trees Beneath the trees a flat projection of rock jutted out, and formed a species of natural platform Below this, I stood, in company with my Hindoo friends Looking back down the hill, the view presented the grandest spectacle of Nature and Man, in combination, that I have ever seen The lower slopes of the eminence melted imperceptibly into a grassy plain, the place of the meeting of three rivers On one side, the graceful winding of the waters stretched away, now visible, now hidden by trees, as far as the eye could see On the other, the waveless ocean slept in the calm of the night People this lovely scene with tens of thousands of human creatures, all dressed in white, stretching down the sides of the hill, overflowing into the plain, and fringing the nearer banks of the winding rivers Light this halt of the pilgrims by the wild red flames of cressets and torches, streaming up at intervals from every part of the innumerable throng Imagine the moonlight of the East, pouring in unclouded glory over all—and you will form some idea of the view that met me when I looked forth from the summit of the hill A strain of plaintive music, played on stringed instruments and flutes, recalled my attention to the hidden shrine I turned, and saw on the rocky platform the figures of three men In the central figure of the three I recognised the man to whom I had spoken in England, when the Indians appeared on the terrace at Lady Verinder’s house The other two who had been his companions on that occasion were no doubt his companions also on this One of the spectators, near whom I was standing, saw me start In a whisper, he explained to me the apparition of the three figures on the platform of rock They were Brahmins (he said) who had forfeited their caste in the service of the god The god had commanded that their purification should be the purification by pilgrimage On that night, the three men were to part In three separate directions, they were to set forth as pilgrims to the shrines of India Never more were they to look on each other’s faces Never more were they to rest on their wanderings, from the day which witnessed their separation, to the day which witnessed their death As those words were whispered to me, the plaintive music ceased The three men prostrated themselves on the rock, before the curtain which hid the shrine They rose—they looked on one another—they embraced Then they descended separately among the people The people made way for them in dead silence In three different directions I saw the crowd part, at one and the same moment Slowly the grand white mass of the people closed together again The track of the doomed men through the ranks of their fellow mortals was obliterated We saw them no more A new strain of music, loud and jubilant, rose from the hidden shrine The crowd around me shuddered, and pressed together The curtain between the trees was drawn aside, and the shrine was disclosed to view There, raised high on a throne—seated on his typical antelope, with his four arms stretching towards the four corners of the earth—there, soared above us, dark and awful in the mystic light of heaven, the god of the Moon And there, in the forehead of the deity, gleamed the yellow Diamond, whose splendour had last shone on me in England, from the bosom of a woman’s dress! Yes! after the lapse of eight centuries, the Moonstone looks forth once more, over the walls of the sacred city in which its story first began How it has found its way back to its wild native land—by what accident, or by what crime, the Indians regained possession of their sacred gem, may be in your knowledge, but is not in mine You have lost sight of it in England, and (if I know anything of this people) you have lost sight of it for ever So the years pass, and repeat each other; so the same events revolve in the cycles of time What will be the next adventures of the Moonstone? Who can tell? FINIS End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Moonstone, by Wilkie Collins *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOONSTONE *** ***** This file should be named 155-h.htm or 155-h.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/155/ Produced by John Hamm and David Widger Updated editions will replace the previous one the old editions will be renamed Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you 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Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S unless a copyright notice is included Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks ... the shrine was completed, Vishnu the Preserver appeared to the three Brahmins in a dream The deity breathed the breath of his divinity on the Diamond in the forehead of the god And the Brahmins knelt and hid their faces in their robes... hand to another; and still, through all chances and changes, the successors of the three guardian priests kept their watch, waiting the day when the will of Vishnu the Preserver should restore to them their sacred gem Time rolled on from the first to the last years of the eighteenth Christian century... our house Then they jabbered and disputed in their own language, and looked at each other like men in doubt Then they all turned to their little English boy, as if they expected him to help them And then the chief Indian, who spoke English,