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<h2> FIRST PERIOD </h2>
<h3> THE LOSS OF THE DIAMOND (1848) </h3>
<p>The events related by GABRIEL BETTEREDGE, house-steward in the service of
JULIA, LADY VERINDER.</p>
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<h2> CHAPTER I </h2>
<p>In the first part of ROBINSON CRUSOE, at page one hundred and twenty-nine,
you will find it thus written:</p>
<p>"Now I saw, though too late, the Folly of beginning a Work before we count
the Cost, and before we judge rightly of our own Strength to go through
with it."</p>
<p>Only yesterday, I opened my ROBINSON CRUSOE at that place. Only this
morning (May twenty-first, Eighteen hundred and fifty), came my lady's
nephew, Mr. Franklin Blake, and held a short conversation with me, as
follows:—</p>
<p>"Betteredge," says Mr. Franklin, "I have been to the lawyer's about some
family matters; and, among other things, we have been talking of the loss
of the Indian Diamond, in my aunt's house in Yorkshire, two years since.
Mr. Bruff thinks as I think, that the whole story ought, in the interests
of truth, to be placed on record in writing—and the sooner the
better."</p>
<p>Not perceiving his drift yet, and thinking it always desirable for the
sake of peace and quietness to be on the lawyer's side, I said I thought
so too. Mr. Franklin went on.</p>
<p>"In this matter of the Diamond," he said, "the characters of innocent
people have suffered under suspicion already—as you know. The
memories of innocent people may suffer, hereafter, for want of a record of
the facts to which those who come after us can appeal. There can be no
doubt that this strange family story of ours ought to be told. And I
think, Betteredge, Mr. Bruff and I together have hit on the right way of
telling it."</p>
<p>Very satisfactory to both of them, no doubt. But I failed to see what I
myself had to do with it, so far.</p>
<p>"We have certain events to relate," Mr. Franklin proceeded; "and we have
certain persons concerned in those events who are capable of relating
them. Starting from these plain facts, the idea is that we should all
write the story of the Moonstone in turn—as far as our own personal
experience extends, and no farther. We must begin by showing how the
Diamond first fell into the hands of my uncle Herncastle, when he was
serving in India fifty years since. This prefatory narrative I have
already got by me in the form of an old family paper, which relates the
necessary particulars on the authority of an eye-witness. The next thing
to do is to tell how the Diamond found its way into my aunt's house in
Yorkshire, two years ago, and how it came to be lost in little more than
twelve hours afterwards. Nobody knows as much as you do, Betteredge, about
what went on in the house at that time. So you must take the pen in hand,
and start the story."</p>
<p>In those terms I was informed of what my personal concern was with the
matter of the Diamond. If you are curious to know what course I took under
the circumstances, I beg to inform you that I did what you would probably
have done in my place. I modestly declared myself to be quite unequal to
the task imposed upon me—and I privately felt, all the time, that I
was quite clever enough to perform it, if I only gave my own abilities a
fair chance. Mr. Franklin, I imagine, must have seen my private sentiments
in my face. He declined to believe in my modesty; and he insisted on
giving my abilities a fair chance.</p>
<p>Two hours have passed since Mr. Franklin left me. As soon as his back was
turned, I went to my writing desk to start the story. There I have sat
helpless (in spite of my abilities) ever since; seeing what Robinson
Crusoe saw, as quoted above—namely, the folly of beginning a work
before we count the cost, and before we judge rightly of our own strength
to go through with it. Please to remember, I opened the book by accident,
at that bit, only the day before I rashly undertook the business now in
hand; and, allow me to ask—if THAT isn't prophecy, what is?</p>
<p>I am not superstitious; I have read a heap of books in my time; I am a
scholar in my own way. Though turned seventy, I possess an active memory,
and legs to correspond. You are not to take it, if you please, as the
saying of an ignorant man, when I express my opinion that such a book as
ROBINSON CRUSOE never was written, and never will be written again. I have
tried that book for years—generally in combination with a pipe of
tobacco—and I have found it my friend in need in all the necessities
of this mortal life. When my spirits are bad—ROBINSON CRUSOE. When I
want advice—ROBINSON CRUSOE. In past times when my wife plagued me;
in present times when I have had a drop too much—ROBINSON CRUSOE. I
have worn out six stout ROBINSON CRUSOES with hard work in my service. On
my lady's last birthday she gave me a seventh. I took a drop too much on
the strength of it; and ROBINSON CRUSOE put me right again. Price four
shillings and sixpence, bound in blue, with a picture into the bargain.</p>
<p>Still, this don't look much like starting the story of the Diamond—does
it? I seem to be wandering off in search of Lord knows what, Lord knows
where. We will take a new sheet of paper, if you please, and begin over
again, with my best respects to you.</p>
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