My favourite Characters

Jai Guru Deva,

Some how remembering my favourite characters: Rosanna Spearman and Dr. John Watson. Rosanna Spearman is the servant lady in Moon Stone while Watson is the friend/ally of one and only Sherlock Holmes. I dont want write in my words as to why I like them so copy/pasting the below paragraphs. one from Moon Stone and the other from Sign of Four.

I turned to the slip of paper next. Here is the literal copy of it, word
for word: "Memorandum:--To go to the Shivering Sand at the turn of the tide. To
walk out on the South Spit, until I get the South Spit Beacon, and
the flagstaff at the Coast-guard station above Cobb's Hole in a line
together. To lay down on the rocks, a stick, or any straight thing to
guide my hand, exactly in the line of the beacon and the flagstaff. To
take care, in doing this, that one end of the stick shall be at the edge
of the rocks, on the side of them which overlooks the quicksand. To feel
along the stick, among the sea-weed (beginning from the end of the stick
which points towards the beacon), for the Chain. To run my hand along
the Chain, when found, until I come to the part of it which stretches
over the edge of the rocks, down into the quicksand. AND THEN TO PULL

"It would be very disgraceful to me to tell you this, if I was a living
woman when you read it. I shall be dead and gone, sir, when you find my
letter. It is that which makes me bold. Not even my grave will be left
to tell of me. I may own the truth--with the quicksand waiting to hide
me when the words are written.
"Besides, you will find your nightgown in my hiding-place, with the
smear of the paint on it; and you will want to know how it came to be
hidden by me? and why I said nothing to you about it in my life-time?
I have only one reason to give. I did these strange things, because I
loved you.
"I won't trouble you with much about myself, or my life, before you came
to my lady's house. Lady Verinder took me out of a reformatory. I
had gone to the reformatory from the prison. I was put in the prison,
because I was a thief. I was a thief, because my mother went on the
streets when I was quite a little girl. My mother went on the streets,
because the gentleman who was my father deserted her. There is no need
to tell such a common story as this, at any length. It is told quite
often enough in the newspapers.
"Lady Verinder was very kind to me, and Mr. Betteredge was very kind
to me. Those two, and the matron at the reformatory, are the only good
people I have ever met with in all my life. I might have got on in
my place--not happily--but I might have got on, if you had not come
visiting. I don't blame you, sir. It's my fault--all my fault.

"Do you remember when you came out on us from among the sand hills,
that morning, looking for Mr. Betteredge? You were like a prince in
a fairy-story. You were like a lover in a dream. You were the most
adorable human creature I had ever seen. Something that felt like the
happy life I had never led yet, leapt up in me at the instant I set eyes
on you. Don't laugh at this if you can help it. Oh, if I could only make
you feel how serious it is to ME!
"I went back to the house, and wrote your name and mine in my work-box,
and drew a true lovers' knot under them. Then, some devil--no, I ought
to say some good angel--whispered to me, 'Go and look in the glass.' The
glass told me--never mind what. I was too foolish to take the warning.
I went on getting fonder and fonder of you, just as if I was a lady in
your own rank of life, and the most beautiful creature your eyes ever
rested on. I tried--oh, dear, how I tried--to get you to look at me.
If you had known how I used to cry at night with the misery and the
mortification of your never taking any notice of me, you would have
pitied me perhaps, and have given me a look now and then to live on.
"It would have been no very kind look, perhaps, if you had known how
I hated Miss Rachel. I believe I found out you were in love with her,
before you knew it yourself. She used to give you roses to wear in your
button-hole. Ah, Mr. Franklin, you wore my roses oftener than either you
or she thought! The only comfort I had at that time, was putting my rose
secretly in your glass of water, in place of hers--and then throwing her
rose away.

"If she had been really as pretty as you thought her, I might have borne
it better. No; I believe I should have been more spiteful against her
still. Suppose you put Miss Rachel into a servant's dress, and took her
ornaments off? I don't know what is the use of my writing in this way.It can't be denied that she had a bad figure; she was too thin. But
who can tell what the men like? And young ladies may behave in a manner
which would cost a servant her place. It's no business of mine. I can't
expect you to read my letter, if I write it in this way. But it does
stir one up to hear Miss Rachel called pretty, when one knows all the
time that it's her dress does it, and her confidence in herself.
"Try not to lose patience with me, sir. I will get on as fast as I can
to the time which is sure to interest you--the time when the Diamond was
"But there is one thing which I have got it on my mind to tell you
"My life was not a very hard life to bear, while I was a thief. It
was only when they had taught me at the reformatory to feel my own
degradation, and to try for better things, that the days grew long and
weary. Thoughts of the future forced themselves on me now. I felt
the dreadful reproach that honest people--even the kindest of honest
people--were to me in themselves. A heart-breaking sensation of
loneliness kept with me, go where I might, and do what I might, and see
what persons I might. It was my duty, I know, to try and get on with my
fellow-servants in my new place. Somehow, I couldn't make friends with
them. They looked (or I thought they looked) as if they suspected what
I had been. I don't regret, far from it, having been roused to make the
effort to be a reformed woman--but, indeed, indeed it was a weary life.
You had come across it like a beam of sunshine at first--and then you
too failed me. I was mad enough to love you; and I couldn't even attract
your notice. There was great misery--there really was great misery in

Sign of Four:

she had borne trouble with a calm face as long as there was some one weaker than herself to support, and I had found her bright and placid by the side of the fright ened housekeeper. In the cab, however, she first turned faint, and then burst into a passion of weeping,--so sorely had she been tried by the adventures of the night. She has told me since that she thought me cold and distant upon that journey. She little guessed the struggle within my breast, or the effort of self-restraint which held me back.
My sympathies and my love went out to her, even as my hand had in the garden. I felt that years of the conventionalities of life could not teach me to know her sweet, brave nature as had this one day of strange experiences. Yet there were two thoughts which sealed the words of affection upon my lips. She was weak and helpless, shaken in mind and nerve. It was to take her at a disadvantage to obtrude love upon her at such a time. Worse still, she was rich. If Holmes's researches were successful, she would be an heiress. Was it fair, was it honorable, that a half-pay surgeon should take such advantage of an intimacy which chance had brought about? Might she not look upon me as a mere vulgar fortune-seeker? I could not bear to risk that such a thought should cross her mind. 

Sarvejana Sukhinobhavantu,


Popular posts from this blog

My Top-10 Bhajans

I am tired