The Moonstone - Page 12/404

The perturbation in my mind, in regard to thinking about it, being truly

dreadful after my lady had gone away, I applied the remedy which I have

never yet found to fail me in cases of doubt and emergency. I smoked a

pipe and took a turn at ROBINSON CRUSOE. Before I had occupied myself

with that extraordinary book five minutes, I came on a comforting bit

(page one hundred and fifty-eight), as follows: "To-day we love, what

to-morrow we hate." I saw my way clear directly. To-day I was all for

continuing to be farm-bailiff; to-morrow, on the authority of ROBINSON

CRUSOE, I should be all the other way. Take myself to-morrow while in

to-morrow's humour, and the thing was done. My mind being relieved

in this manner, I went to sleep that night in the character of Lady

Verinder's farm bailiff, and I woke up the next morning in the character

of Lady Verinder's house-steward. All quite comfortable, and all through

ROBINSON CRUSOE!

My daughter Penelope has just looked over my shoulder to see what I have

done so far. She remarks that it is beautifully written, and every word

of it true. But she points out one objection. She says what I have done

so far isn't in the least what I was wanted to do. I am asked to tell

the story of the Diamond and, instead of that, I have been telling the

story of my own self. Curious, and quite beyond me to account for. I

wonder whether the gentlemen who make a business and a living out of

writing books, ever find their own selves getting in the way of their

subjects, like me? If they do, I can feel for them. In the meantime,

here is another false start, and more waste of good writing-paper.

What's to be done now? Nothing that I know of, except for you to keep

your temper, and for me to begin it all over again for the third time.