not a matter in which any stranger can help us. He adds to
what I have to suffer; and he maddens Rachel if she only hears his name.

"My plans for the future are as well settled as they can be. My present
idea is to take Rachel to London--partly to relieve her mind by a
complete change, partly to try what may be done by consulting the best
medical advice. Can I ask you to meet us in town? My dear Franklin, you,
in your way, must imitate my patience, and wait, as I do, for a fitter
time. The valuable assistance which you rendered to the inquiry after
the lost jewel is still an unpardoned offence, in the present dreadful
state of Rachel's mind. Moving blindfold in this matter, you have
added to the burden of anxiety which she has had to bear, by innocently
threatening her secret with discovery, through your exertions. It is
impossible for me to excuse the perversity that holds you responsible
for consequences which neither you nor I could imagine or foresee. She
is not to be reasoned with--she can only be pitied. I am grieved to have
to say it, but for the present, you and Rachel are better apart. The
only advice I can offer you is, to give her time."

I handed the letter back, sincerely sorry for Mr. Franklin, for I knew
how fond he was of my young lady; and I saw that her mother's account
of her had cut him to the heart. "You know the proverb, sir," was all I
said to him. "When things are at the worst, they're sure to mend. Things
can't be much worse, Mr. Franklin, than they are now."

Mr. Franklin folded up his aunt's letter, without appearing to be much
comforted by the remark which I had ventured on addressing to him.

"When I came here from London with that horrible Diamond," he said, "I
don't believe there was a happier household in England than this. Look
at the household now! Scattered, disunited--the very air of the place
poisoned with mystery and suspicion! Do you remember that morning at
the Shivering Sand, when we talked about my uncle Herncastle, and
his birthday gift? The Moonstone has served the Colonel's vengeance,
Betteredge, by means which the Colonel himself never dreamt of!"

With that he shook me by the hand, and went out to the pony chaise.

I followed him down the steps. It was very miserable to see him leaving
the old place, where he had spent the happiest years of his life, in
this way. Penelope (sadly upset by all that had happened in the house)
came round crying, to bid him good-bye. Mr. Fr