THE MOONSTONE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE WOMAN IN WHITE," &c. &c.

       SECOND PERIOD. THE DISCOVERY OF THE

                     TRUTH. (1848—1849.)

                       SECOND NARRATIVE.

           Contributed by Mathew Bruff, Solicitor, of
                          Gray's Inn Square.

                               CHAPTER I.

My fair friend, Miss Clack, having laid down
the pen, there are two reasons for my taking it
up next, in my turn.

In the first place, I am in a position to throw
the necessary light on certain points of interest
which have thus far been left in the dark.
Miss Verinder had her own private reason for
breaking her marriage engagement—and I was
at the bottom of it. Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite
had his own private reason for withdrawing all
claim to the hand of his charming cousin—and I
discovered what it was.

In the second place, it was my good or ill
fortune, I hardly know which, to find myself
personally involved—at the period of which I
am now writing—in the mystery of the Indian
Diamond. I had the honour of an interview, at
my own office, with an Oriental stranger of
distinguished manners, who was no other,
unquestionably, than the chief of the three Indians.
Add to this, that I met with the celebrated
traveller, Mr. Murthwaite, the day afterwards,
and that I held a conversation with him on the
subject of the Moonstone, which has a very
important bearing on later events. And there
you have the statement of my claims to fill the
position which I occupy in these pages.

The true story of the broken marriage
engagement comes first in point of time, and must
therefore take the first place in the present
narrative. Tracing my way back along the chain
of events, from one end to the other, I find it
necessary to open the scene, oddly enough as
you will think, at the bedside of my excellent
client and friend, the late Sir John Verinder.

Sir John had his share— perhaps rather a
large share—of the more harmless and amiable
of the weaknesses incidental to humanity.
Among these, I may mention as applicable to
the matter in hand, an invincible reluctance—so
long as he enjoyed his usual good health—to
face the responsibility of making his will.
Lady Verinder exerted her influence to rouse
him to a sense of duty in this matter; and I
exerted my influence. He admitted the justice
of our views—but he went no further than that,
until he found himself afflicted with the illness
which ultimately brought him to his grave.
Then, I was sent for at last, to take my client's
instructions on the subject of his will. They
proved to be the simplest instructions I had
ever received in the whole of my professional
career.

Sir John was dozing, when I entered the
room. He roused himself at the sight of me.

"How do you do, Mr. Bruff?" he said. " I
shan't be very long about this. And then I'll
go to sleep again." He looked on with great
interest while I collected pens, ink, and paper.
"Are you ready?" he asked. I bowed, and
took a dip of ink, and waited for my instructions.

"I leave everything to my wife," said Sir
John. "That's all." He turned round on his
pillow, and composed himself to sleep again.

I was obliged to disturb him.

"Am I to understand," I asked, "that you
leave the whole of the property, of every sort
and description, of which you die possessed,
absolutely to Lady Verinder?"

"Yes," said Sir John. "Only / put it
shorter. Why can't you put it shorter, and
let me go to sleep again? Everything to my
wife. That's my Will."

His property was entirely at his own
disposal, and was of two kinds. Property in land
(I purposely abstain from using technical
language), and property in money. In the majority
of cases, I am afraid I should have felt it my
duty to my client to ask him to reconsider his
Will. In the case of Sir John, I knew Lady
Verinder to be, not only worthy of the
unreserved trust which her husband had placed in.
her (all good wives are worthy of that)—but
to be also capable of properly administering a
trust (which, in my experience of the fair sex,
not one in a thousand of them is competent to
do). In ten minutes, Sir John's Will was
drawn, and executed, and Sir John himself,
good man, was finishing his interrupted nap.

Lady Verinder amply justified the confidence
which her husband had placed in her. In the
first days of her widowhood, she sent for me,