She turned once more to Mr. Godfrey. With an obstinacy dreadful to see,
she went back again to the place where she had checked herself, and
completed her question in these words:

"I spoke to you, a minute since, about what people were saying in
certain quarters. Tell me plainly, Godfrey, do they any of them say that
Mr. Luker's valuable gem is--the Moonstone?"

As the name of the Indian Diamond passed her lips, I saw a change come
over my admirable friend. His complexion deepened. He lost the
genial suavity of manner which is one of his greatest charms. A noble
indignation inspired his reply.

"They DO say it," he answered. "There are people who don't hesitate to
accuse Mr. Luker of telling a falsehood to serve some private interests
of his own. He has over and over again solemnly declared that, until
this scandal assailed him, he had never even heard of the Moonstone. And
these vile people reply, without a shadow of proof to justify them, He
has his reasons for concealment; we decline to believe him on his oath.
Shameful! shameful!"

Rachel looked at him very strangely--I can't well describe how--while he
was speaking. When he had done, she said, "Considering that Mr. Luker
is only a chance acquaintance of yours, you take up his cause, Godfrey,
rather warmly."

My gifted friend made her one of the most truly evangelical answers I
ever heard in my life.

"I hope, Rachel, I take up the cause of all oppressed people rather
warmly," he said.

The tone in which those words were spoken might have melted a stone.
But, oh dear, what is the hardness of stone? Nothing, compared to the
hardness of the unregenerate human heart! She sneered. I blush to record
it--she sneered at him to his face.

"Keep your noble sentiments for your Ladies' Committees, Godfrey. I am
certain that the scandal which has assailed Mr. Luker, has not spared
You."

Even my aunt's torpor was roused by those words.

"My dear Rachel," she remonstrated, "you have really no right to say
that!"

"I mean no harm, mamma--I mean good. Have a moment's patience with me,
and you will see."

She looked back at Mr. Godfrey, with what appeared to be a sudden pity
for him. She went the length--the very unladylike length--of taking him
by the hand.

"I am certain," she said, "that I have found out the true reason of your
unwillingness to speak of this matter before my mother and before me.
An unlucky accident has associated you in people's minds with M