I kept my spirits from sinking by sticking fast to my pipe and my
ROBINSON CRUSOE. The women (excepting Penelope) beguiled the time by
talking of Rosanna's suicide. They were all obstinately of opinion
that the poor girl had stolen the Moonstone, and that she had destroyed
herself in terror of being found out. My daughter, of course, privately
held fast to what she had said all along. Her notion of the motive which
was really at the bottom of the suicide failed, oddly enough, just
where my young lady's assertion of her innocence failed also. It left
Rosanna's secret journey to Frizinghall, and Rosanna's proceedings in
the matter of the nightgown entirely unaccounted for. There was no
use in pointing this out to Penelope; the objection made about as much
impression on her as a shower of rain on a waterproof coat. The truth
is, my daughter inherits my superiority to reason--and, in respect to
that accomplishment, has got a long way ahead of her own father.
On the next day (Sunday), the close carriage, which had been kept at Mr.
Ablewhite's, came back to us empty. The coachman brought a message for
me, and written instructions for my lady's own maid and for Penelope.
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