1. 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
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: