I kept my spirits from sinking by sticking fast to my pipe and my
ROBINSON CRUSOE. The women (excepting Penelope) beguiled the time by
talking of Rosanna's suicide. They were all obstinately of opinion
that the poor girl had stolen the Moonstone, and that she had destroyed
herself in terror of being found out. My daughter, of course, privately
held fast to what she had said all along. Her notion of the motive which
was really at the bottom of the suicide failed, oddly enough, just
where my young lady's assertion of her innocence failed also. It left
Rosanna's secret journey to Frizinghall, and Rosanna's proceedings in
the matter of the nightgown entirely unaccounted for. There was no
use in pointing this out to Penelope; the objection made about as much
impression on her as a shower of rain on a waterproof coat. The truth
is, my daughter inherits my superiority to reason--and, in respect to
that accomplishment, has got a long way ahead of her own father.
On the next day (Sunday), the close carriage, which had been kept at Mr.
Ablewhite's, came back to us empty. The coachman brought a message for
me, and written instructions for my lady's own maid and for Penelope.
The message informed me that my mistress had determined to take Miss
Rachel to her house in London, on the Monday. The written instructions
informed the two maids of the clothing that was wanted, and directed
them to meet their mistresses in town at a given hour. Most of the other
servants were to follow. My lady had found Miss Rachel so unwilling to
return to the house, after what had happened in it, that she had decided
on going to London direct from Frizinghall. I was to remain in the
country, until further orders, to look after things indoors and out. The
servants left with me were to be put on board wages.
Being reminded, by all this, of what Mr. Franklin had said about our
being a scattered and disunited household, my mind was led naturally to
Mr. Franklin himself. The more I thought of him, the more uneasy I felt
about his future proceedings. It ended in my writing, by the Sunday's
post, to his father's valet, Mr. Jeffco (whom I had known in former
years) to beg he would let me know what Mr. Franklin had settled to do,
on arriving in London.
The Sunday evening was, if possible, duller even than the Saturday
evening. We ended the day of rest, as hundreds of thousands of people
end it regularly, once a week, in these islands--that is to say, we all
anticipated bedtime, and fell asleep in our chairs.
How the Monday affected the rest of the household I don't know. The
Monday gave ME a good shake up. The first of Sergeant Cuff's
prophecies of what was to happen--namely, that I should hear from the
Yollands--came true on that day.