The Moonstone, Wilkie Collins [best motivational books of all time .TXT] 📗

has worn the mask of truth. If we look at what happened on the night of your birthday together, we may end in understanding each other yet.”

Her head dropped back on my shoulder. The tears gathered in her eyes, and fell slowly over her cheeks. “Oh!” she said, “have I never had that hope? Have I not tried to see it, as you are trying now?”

“You have tried by yourself,” I answered. “You have not tried with me to help you.”

Those words seemed to awaken in her something of the hope which I felt myself when I uttered them. She replied to my questions with more than docility⁠—she exerted her intelligence; she willingly opened her whole mind to me.

“Let us begin,” I said, “with what happened after we had wished each other good night. Did you go to bed? or did you sit up?”

“I went to bed.”

“Did you notice the time? Was it late?”

“Not very. About twelve o’clock, I think.”

“Did you fall asleep?”

“No. I couldn’t sleep that night.”

“You were restless?”

“I was thinking of you.”

The answer almost unmanned me. Something in the tone, even more than in the words, went straight to my heart. It was only after pausing a little first that I was able to go on.

“Had you any light in your room?” I asked.

“None⁠—until I got up again, and lit my candle.”

“How long was that, after you had gone to bed?”

“About an hour after, I think. About one o’clock.”

“Did you leave your bedroom?”

“I was going to leave it. I had put on my dressing-gown; and I was going into my sitting-room to get a book⁠—”

“Had you opened your bedroom door?”

“I had just opened it.”

“But you had not gone into the sitting-room?”

“No⁠—I was stopped from going into it.”

“What stopped you?”

“I saw a light, under the door; and I heard footsteps approaching it.”

“Were you frightened?”

“Not then. I knew my poor mother was a bad sleeper; and I remembered that she had tried hard, that evening, to persuade me to let her take charge of my Diamond. She was unreasonably anxious about it, as I thought; and I fancied she was coming to me to see if I was in bed, and to speak to me about the Diamond again, if she found that I was up.”

“What did you do?”

“I blew out my candle, so that she might think I was in bed. I was unreasonable, on my side⁠—I was determined to keep my Diamond in the place of my own choosing.”

“After blowing out the candle, did you go back to bed?”

“I had no time to go back. At the moment when I blew the candle out, the sitting-room door opened, and I saw⁠—”

“You saw?”

“You.”

“Dressed as usual?”

“No.”

“In my nightgown?”

“In your nightgown⁠—with your bedroom candle in your hand.”

“Alone?”

“Alone.”

“Could you see my face?”

“Yes.”

“Plainly?”

“Quite plainly. The candle in your hand showed it to me.”

“Were my eyes open?”

“Yes.”

“Did you notice anything strange in them? Anything like a fixed, vacant expression?”

“Nothing of the sort. Your eyes were bright⁠—brighter than usual. You looked about in the room, as if you knew you were where you ought not to be, and as if you were afraid of being found out.”

“Did you observe one thing when I came into the room⁠—did you observe how I walked?”

“You walked as you always do. You came in as far as the middle of the room⁠—and then you stopped and looked about you.”

“What did you do, on first seeing me?”

“I could do nothing. I was petrified. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t call out, I couldn’t even move to shut my door.”

“Could I see you, where you stood?”

“You might certainly have seen me. But you never looked towards me. It’s useless to ask the question. I am sure you never saw me.”

“How are you sure?”

“Would you have taken the Diamond? would you have acted as you did afterwards? would you be here now⁠—if you had seen that I was awake and looking at you? Don’t make me talk of that part of it! I want to answer you quietly. Help me to keep as calm as I can. Go on to something else.”

She was right⁠—in every way, right. I went on to other things.

“What did I do, after I had got to the middle of the room, and had stopped there?”

“You turned away, and went straight to the corner near the window⁠—where my Indian cabinet stands.”

“When I was at the cabinet, my back must have been turned towards you. How did you see what I was doing?”

“When you moved, I moved.”

“So as to see what I was about with my hands?”

“There are three glasses in my sitting-room. As you stood there, I saw all that you did, reflected in one of them.”

“What did you see?”

“You put your candle on the top of the cabinet. You opened, and shut, one drawer after another, until you came to the drawer in which I had put my Diamond. You looked at the open drawer for a moment. And then you put your hand in, and took the Diamond out.”

“How do you know I took the Diamond out?”

“I saw your hand go into the drawer. And I saw the gleam of the stone between your finger and thumb, when you took your hand out.”

“Did my hand approach the drawer again⁠—to close it, for instance?”

“No. You had the Diamond in your right hand; and you took the candle from the top of the cabinet with your left hand.”

“Did I look about me again, after that?”

“No.”

“Did I leave the room immediately?”

“No. You stood quite still, for what seemed a long time. I saw your face sideways in the glass. You looked like a man thinking, and dissatisfied with his own thoughts.”

“What happened next?”

“You roused yourself on a sudden, and you went straight out of the room.”

“Did I close the door after me?”

“No. You passed out quickly into the passage, and left the door open.”

“And then?”

“Then, your light disappeared, and the sound of your steps died away, and I was left alone in the dark.”

“Did nothing happen⁠—from that time, to the