"Why didn't I speak to you! why didn't I speak to you!
"I wonder whether the risks and difficulties of keeping the nightgown
were as much as I could manage, without having other risks and
difficulties added to them? This might have been the case with some
women--but how could it be the case with me? In the days when I was
a thief, I had run fifty times greater risks, and found my way out of
difficulties to which THIS difficulty was mere child's play. I had been
apprenticed, as you may say, to frauds and deceptions--some of them on
such a grand scale, and managed so cleverly, that they became famous,
and appeared in the newspapers. Was such a little thing as the keeping
of the nightgown likely to weigh on my spirits, and to set my heart
sinking within me, at the time when I ought to have spoken to you? What
nonsense to ask the question! The thing couldn't be.
"Where is the use of my dwelling in this way on my own folly? The plain
truth is plain enough, surely? Behind your back, I loved you with all
my heart and soul. Before your face--there's no denying it--I was
frightened of you; frightened of making you angry with me; frightened
of what you might say to me (though you HAD taken the Diamond) if I
presumed to tell you that I had found it out. I had gone as near to it
as I dared when I spoke to you in the library. You had not turned your
back on me then. You had not started away from me as if I had got the
plague. I tried to provoke myself into feeling angry with you, and to
rouse up my courage in that way. No! I couldn't feel anything but the
misery and the mortification of it. You're a plain girl; you have got
a crooked shoulder; you're only a housemaid--what do you mean by
attempting to speak to Me?" You never uttered a word of that, Mr.
Franklin; but you said it all to me, nevertheless! Is such madness as
this to be accounted for? No. There is nothing to be done but to confess
it, and let it be.
"I ask your pardon, once more, for this wandering of my pen. There is no
fear of its happening again. I am close at the end now.
"The first person who disturbed me by coming into the empty room was
Penelope. She had found out my secret long since, and she had done her
best to bring me to my senses--and done it kindly too.
"'Ah!' she said, 'I know why you're sitting here, and fretting, all by
yourself. The best thing that can happen for your advantage, Rosanna,
will be for Mr. Franklin's visit here to come to an end. It's my belief
that he won't be long now before he leaves the house."