Maria understood that it was wrong that time and so she had to do it over again: and this time she got the prayer-book.
Maria herself seems a bit naive as well. It looks like (more or less) that she does what she is told with almost a childlike simplicity.
“Maria, you are a veritable peace-maker!”
She seems like the type of person that gets things done and makes sure that they stay done.
She waited on patiently, almost cheerfully, without alarm, her memories gradually giving place to hopes and visions of the future. Her hopes and visions were so intricate that she no longer saw the white pillows on which her gaze was fixed or remembered that she was waiting for anything.
I think after a certain point of sadness, it becomes natural to just feel empty.
He drank, plundered the till, ran headlong into debt. It was no use making him take the pledge: he was sure to break out again a few days after.
Drinking (especially excessive drinking) seems to be a somewhat recurrent theme along with familial tensions.
He rushed beyond the barrier and called to her to follow. He was shouted at to go on but he still called to her. She set her white face to him, passive, like a helpless animal. Her eyes gave him no sign of love or farewell or recognition.
It seems like the endings never have a pleasant end. There always seems to be an emotional disturbance or something goes wrong.
Of course, her father had found out the affair and had forbidden her to have anything to say to him.
On top of being (implied physically) abusive, the father seems very controlling and manipulative - which are also further signs of abusiveness
Even now, though she was over nineteen, she sometimes felt herself in danger of her father’s violence. She knew it was that that had given her the palpitations.
It looks like she wants to get out of where she is right now, no matter the cost. She simply wants to be her own person.
I looked humbly at the great jars that stood like eastern guards at either side of the dark entrance to the stall and murmured:
It looks like this trip will be a failure. Nothing has worked out in his favor so far.
You’ve kept him late enough as it is.”
It almost seems that going to the bazaar is the only thing giving the narrator enough energy to move forward and carry-on in what he does.
Then I stood up abruptly. Lest I should betray my agitation I delayed a few moments pretending to fix my shoe properly and then, saying that I was obliged to go, I bade him good-day.
For such young children, they displayed a maturity through their restraint that I did not expect.
But real adventures, I reflected, do not happen to people who remain at home: they must be sought abroad.
It looks like the Wild West books might have an effect on the narrator's life - making them explore the world around them instead of staying in.
“Wide-awake and laughing-like to himself…. So then, of course, when they saw that, that made them think that there was something gone wrong with him….”
There seems to be a haunting note in the statement. The priest seems to have become unstable, but he's still there, for everyone to find.
I felt my soul receding into some pleasant and vicious region
I wonder why there is such a juxtaposition between "pleasant" and "vicious" because the text that follows is a bit confusing to me and seems to lean more towards the pleasant than the vicious.
I knew that I was under observation so I continued eating as if the news had not interested me.
I wonder why emotion can't be directly expressed.
She was his wife, that little pale girl, and all the rest of his life had been a dream.
This makes me question if this is simply an altered dream state of a very, very tired person and if he is indeed even "successful."
What legs he had! They were like a spider’s—thin, withered.
It almost seems like all the joy has been sucked out of his own life for the sake of his family's.
And how many times old Mr. Neave, pushing the cigar box across the smoking-room table, had listened to praises of his wife, his girls, of himself even.
Even though he seems extremely successful on the outside, there's some lingering feeling that he isn't really happy with where he is.
“Pardon,” she smiled at him more radiantly than ever. She didn’t even recognise him again.
I think another point here is to also think about living in the moment and doing what "you" really want to do.
Her first ball! She was only at the beginning of everything.
This almost begins to seem like a rite of passage in the way the ball and the idea of it is presented.
Oh dear, how hard it was to be indifferent like the others! She tried not to smile too much; she tried not to care.
It seems like the traditional idea of keeping a stiff upper lip - trying to remain stoic at all costs, much like from the text yesterday.
William couldn’t help a grim smile as he thought of Isabel’s horror if she knew the full extent of his sentimentality.
It's strange how it seems that if he has to hide his true feelings for her. It doesn't make sense in the sense of a "normal" relationship.
When he looked up again there were fields, and beasts standing for shelter under the dark trees. A wide river, with naked children splashing in the shallows, glided into sight and was gone again. The sky shone pale, and one bird drifted high like a dark fleck in a jewel.
This effectively brings a sense that the train is moving fast, the sentences seem quite disjointed enough for that affect.
“I don’t know why you’re giving me all these,” she said, and nearly smiled. “I shan’t eat them; I couldn’t!”
Even though she pretends to stick her nose up high and look down at what she might perceive to be childish, she still enjoys it and wants those experiences.
Hennie squeezed past her and wriggled on to a stool at the end. He felt awfully out of it. She didn’t even take her gloves off. She lowered her eyes and drummed on the table. When a faint violin sounded she winced and bit her lip again. Silence.
Hennie seems to be trying to make the most out of the current possible worst while she just seems to want the experience to be over with.
“Why can’t you leave me?” she said furiously. “What utter rot! How dare you make a scene like this? This is the last time I’ll come out with you. You really are too awful for words.”
She seems quite spoiled and entitled.
Some little sparrows, young sparrows they sounded, chirped on the window-ledge. “Yeep—eyeep—yeep.” But Josephine felt they were not sparrows, not on the window-ledge. It was inside her, that queer little crying noise. “Yeep—eyeep—yeep.” Ah, what was it crying, so weak and forlorn?
I feel like when mourning or when looking for a "sign" in real life, people always try to attribute events that don't have much of a correlation to what's at hand a correlation and make it seem like there is a meaning in something.
t sounded such an appallingly heartless thing to do. Such a wicked advantage to take of a person because he happened to be helpless at the moment.
It's telling how guilty the girls feel. Like the annotation above mine by Sophie and Abhinav, it seems to suggest that the parent left some psychological marks on the children.
Chapter 3.III.
These chapters don't really feel like "chapters" but more like small breaks within the texts. I wonder why this story was broken into tiny chapters as well.
"This Life is Wee-ary, A Tear—a Sigh. A Love that Chan-ges, This Life is Wee-ary, A Tear—a Sigh. A Love that Chan-ges, And then... Good-bye!"
This seems to allude to death - which is compared to the later verse (?). The lyrics seem to say that life is nothing but a drag.
Against the karakas. Then the karaka-trees would be hidden.
While we know the author is a New Zealander, the trees give a confirmation that this part of the story is indeed happening in New Zealand - unless of course they were imported.
It’s so delicious to have an excuse for eating out of doors, and besides, she loved having to arrange things; she always felt she could do it so much better than anybody else.
While this is just a glimpse into Laura's character, all the descriptions of the characters so far feel a lot more meaningful than the typical character descriptions that I am used to.
“Now, sir, do you believe in Robinson Crusoe?”
I still find it funny how Betteredge uses it quite like the Bible and then shows it to others to say phrases such as what perhaps other religious figures might say.
Yes! after the lapse of eight centuries, the Moonstone looks forth once more, over the walls of the sacred city in which its story first began. How it has found its way back to its wild native land–by what accident, or by what crime, the Indians regained possession of their sacred gem, may be in your knowledge, but is not in mine.
It's slightly ironic how this hasn't happened in real life with many colonial powers holding treasures of the places they took over.
The notice of the great man–the hero of many a famous story in every lawyer’s office in London–appeared to fascinate the boy.
It's incredible how after all these years past his retirement, Sergeant Cuff's reputation is so large that even children are drawn by it (at least a niche group).
As a necessary result, the agony of the disease that is in me has got the upper hand again. I felt the attack coming on, and left abruptly, so as not to alarm or distress him.
This brings out the harsh reality of high British society that under the gilded covers there was still rot and decay. Not in the person themselves, but in the ongoing opium epidemic which debilitated many lives.
Still, admitting all this, I clung–with an obstinacy which was surely natural and excusable, under the circumstances–to one or other of the only two explanations that I could see which accounted for the unendurable position in which I then stood.
It's incredible how guilty Franklin feels and to what lengths he will go in his belief to believe himself guilty instead of anyone else.
“The Sergeant said it!” cried Betteredge. “From first to last, sir, the Sergeant said she had got a memorandum of the hiding-place. And here it is! Lord save us, Mr. Franklin, here is the secret that puzzled everybody, from the great Cuff downwards, ready and waiting, as one may say, to show itself to you! It’s the ebb now, sir, as anybody may see for themselves. How long will it be till the turn of the tide?”
I feel like this is a pretty obvious turning point in the story so far: it goes as far to say that the tides have begun to turn.
Because no Indian, Mr. Bruff, ever runs an unnecessary risk.
While the description here is "favorable" it is still a stereotype. And just as wrong as stereotypes are when applying them to a large group of diverse individuals, it becomes an absolute blur in criminal and civic investigations and it goes into a lot of the issues surrounding policing methods in today's world, especially with the rise of AI that aids police and governmental bodies.
The first instinct of girls in general, on being told of anything which interests them, is to ask a multitude of questions, and then to run off, and talk it all over with some favourite friend.
This seems ironic considering the types of questions he was asking Rachel Verinder. Moreover, this type of thinking once again represents patriarchal structures of the society of the times.
The smooth varnish on his wicked old face never cracked.
The varnish implies that the face is simply a mask and one that is resistant to any outside stressors. Of course, the "wicked" also heavily implies deep darkness and secrets that could probably reveal quite a few things.
Miss Clack presents her compliments to Mr. Franklin Blake; and, in sending him the fifth chapter of her humble narrative, begs to say that she feels quite unequal to enlarge as she could wish on an event so awful, under the circumstances, as Lady Verinder’s death.
The overly formal manner of correspondence seems to match up with the depicts of the time and the emphasis on overbearing sobriety. As someone annotates below, it is quite engaging to see this exchange play out.
Contributed by MISS CLACK; niece of the late SIR JOHN VERINDER
I think this new introduction of a series of different perspectives is going to be absolutely key in helping us make our own decisions. No longer are we going to be relegated to Betteredge's mind, but instead, we will have access to many more key perspectives.
Here was another of your average good Christians, and here was the usual break-down, consequent on that same average Christianity being pushed too far!
While I don't want to make a statement here, it's curious to see how socio-economic factors and religion come into play together and what the relationship is - based on perspective.
Lord! how it did enrage me to notice that he was not in the least put out by our silence!
No matter how angry and frustrated Betteredge becomes, he still is smart enough to recognize the cards laid down on the deck, which can speak volumes of his own character.
As the rain was still threatening
Oftentimes, authors use weather to mimic the plot. The rain here (alludes to the Indians) is still on the horizon and the time to make it safely to the destination before the rain hits is running short.
My daughter had already noticed that Rosanna went about her work like a woman in a dream. I now added to this observation, that she also listened and spoke like a woman in a dream. I doubted if her mind was in a fit condition to take in what I had said to her.
There is something that made Rosanna the way she is now. I wonder who will find out why first: Cuff or Betteredge?
“Nobody has stolen the diamond,”
This just seems like the classic twist of a detective novel or show. And sure enough, it does end with a cliffhanger.
Sergeant Cuff’s immovable eyes never stirred from off her face.
With actions like this, Sergeant Cuff seems to be like a man on a mission that won't be stopped for anything. Here, the narrator truly builds up the character and credibility of Cuff.
What he said about the Diamond to Miss Rachel was said, as usual, by way of a mystification or joke.
Sometimes, the way the narrator reads makes it seem like he truly does not believe in much of what he hears or sees about the Diamond and looks down on others.
The next date worthy of notice is Sunday the fourth of June
The way this line is broken up delineates parts of the story, to allow us to better understand what is first mentioned in the chapter, "here, for one moment, I find it necessary to call a halt," by providing better transitions.
But, remembering what Penelope had told me about the jugglers, and the pouring of the little pool of ink into the palm of the boy’s hand, I instantly suspected that I had disturbed the three Indians, lurking about the house, and bent, in their heathenish way, on discovering the whereabouts of the Diamond that night.
It seems that he's pre-disposed to assume the perpetrators are the three Indians who are attempting to recover the Diamond.
All the jewellers consulted, at once confirmed the Colonel’s assertion that he possessed one of the largest diamonds in the world.
Having, and possessing this large diamond, despite knowing the threats it held reflects on the statement that there was a version of the devil that possessed the Colonel - and perhaps the wealth blinded him to it or made him possess it despite any dangers.
In two words, this was how the thing happened
This is a clear juxtaposition to the paragraph that follows. In a massive chunk of text, the story becomes sort of lost and the eyes glaze over. If nothing else, this is not as simple as the "two words" suggest.
The dying Indian sank to his knees, pointed to the dagger in Herncastle’s hand, and said, in his native language
This line vaguely remind's me of the monkey's paw. The original Sergeant in the British India army got the paw from a fakir who warned that each wish would come with an equally hellish punishment. While not exactly the same here, it does seem to typify "'its vengeance yet on you and yours'" slightly.
Partly from its peculiar colour, partly from a superstition which represented it as feeling the influence of the deity whom it adorned, and growing and lessening in lustre with the waxing and waning of the moon, it first gained the name by which it continues to be known in India to this day–the name of THE MOONSTONE.
This sentence helps foreshadow what will happen throughout the rest of the text. While it is clear that the objective - as explained earlier - is to explain why the cousin's friendship is being rejected, this sentence might allude to the change in the relationship between the narrator and the cousin over time.