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Silas know that recent events had given him the advantage of
standing more favourably in the opinion of a man whose judgment
was not formed lightly； opened the conversation by saying； as soon
as he had seated himself and adjusted his thumbs—“Come； Master
Marner； why； you’ve no call to sit a…moaning。 You’re a deal better
off to ha’ lost your money； nor to ha’ kep’ it by foul means。 I used
to think； when you first come into these parts； as you were no
better nor you should be； you were younger a deal than what you
are now； but you were allays a staring； white…faced creatur； partly
like a bald…faced calf； as I may say。 But there’s no knowing： it isn’t
every queer…looksed thing as Old Harry’s had the making of—I
mean； speaking o’ toads and such； for they’re often harmless； and
useful against varmin。 And it’s pretty much the same wi’ you； as
fur as I can see。 Though as to the yarbs and stuff to cure the
breathing； if you brought that sort o’ knowledge from distant
parts； you might ha’ been a bit freer of it。 And if the knowledge
wasn’t well come by； why； you might ha’ made up for it by coming
to church reg’lar； for as for the children as the Wise Woman
charmed； I’ve been at the christening of ’em again and again； and
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they took the water just as well。 And that’s reasonable； for if Old
Harry’s a mind to do a bit o’ kindness for a holiday； like； who’s got
anything against it？ That’s my thinking； and I’ve been clerk o’ this
parish forty year； and I know； when the parson and me does the
cussing of a Ash Wednesday； there’s no cussing o’ folks as have a
mind to be cured without a doctor； let Kimble say what he will。
And so； Master Marner； as I was saying—for there’s windings i’
things as they may carry you to the fur end o’ the prayer…book
afore you get back to ’em—my advice is； as you keep up your
sperrits； for as for thinking you’re a deep un； and ha’ got more
inside you nor ’ull bear daylight； I’m not o’ that opinion at all； and
so I tell the neighbours。 For； says I； you talk o’ Master Marner
making out a tale—why； it’s nonsense； that is： it ’ud take a ’cute
man to make a tale like that； and； says I； he looked as scared as a
rabbit。”
During this discursive address Silas had continued motionless
in his previous attitude； leaning his elbows on his knees； and
pressing his hands against his head。 Mr。 Macey； not doubting that
he had been listened to； paused； in the expectation of some
appreciatory reply； but Marner remained silent。 He had a sense
that the old man meant to be good…natured and neighbourly； but
the kindness fell on him as sunshine falls on the wretched—he had
no heart to taste it； and felt that it was very far off him。
“Come； Master Marner； have you got nothing to say to that？”
said Mr。 Macey at last； with a slight accent of impatience。
“Oh；” said Marner slowly； shaking his head between his hands；
“I thank you—thank you—kindly。”
“Ay； ay； to be sure； I thought you would；” said Mr。 Macey； “and
my advice is—have you got a Sunday suit？”
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“No；” said Marner。
“I doubted it was so；” said Mr。 Macey。 “Now； let me advise you
to get a Sunday suit： there’s Tookey； he’s a poor creatur； but he’s
got my tailoring business； and some o’ my money in it； and he shall
make a suit at a low price； and give you trust； and then you can
come to church； and be a bit neighbourly。 Why； you’ve never
heared me say ‘Amen’ since you come into these parts； and I
recommend you to lose no time； for it’ll be poor work when
Tookey has it all to himself； for I mayn’t be equil to stand i’ the
desk at all； come another winter。” Here Mr。 Macey paused；
perhaps expecting some sign of emotion in his hearer； but not
observing any； he went on： “And as for the money for the suit o’
clothes； why； you get a matter of a pound a week at your weaving；
Master Marner； and you’re a young man； eh； for all you look so
mushed。 Why； you couldn’t ha’ been five…and…twenty when you
come into these parts； eh？”
Silas started a little at the change to a questioning tone； and
answered mildly； “I don’t know； I can’t rightly say—it’s a long
while since。”
After receiving such an answer as this； it is not surprising that
Mr。 Macey observed； later on in the evening at the Rainbow； that
Marner’s head was “all of a muddle”； and that it was to be doubted
if he ever knew when Sunday came round； which showed him a
worse heathen than many a dog。
Another of Silas’s comforters； besides Mr。 Macey； came to him
with a mind highly charged on the same topic。 This was Mrs。
Winthrop； the wheelwright’s wife。 The inhabitants of Raveloe
were not severely regular in their church…going； and perhaps there
was hardly a person in the parish who would not have held that to
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go to church every Sunday in the calendar would have shown a
greedy desire to stand well with Heaven； and get an undue
advantage over their neighbours—a wish to be better than the
“common run”； that would have implied a reflection on those who
had had godfathers and godmothers as well as themselves； and
had an equal right to the burying…service。 At the same time it was
understood to be requisite for all who were not household
servants； or young men； to take the sacrament at one of the great
festivals： Squire Cass himself took it on Christmas Day； while
those who were held to be “good livers” went to church with
greater； though still with moderate； frequency。
Mrs。 Winthrop was one of these： she was in all respects a
woman of scrupulous conscience； so eager for duties that life
seemed to offer them too scantily unless she rose at half…past four；
though this threw a scarcity of work over the more advanced
hours of the morning； which it was a constant problem with her to
remove。 Yet she had not the vixenish temper which is sometimes
supposed to be a necessary condition of such habits： she was a
very mild； patient woman； whose nature it was to seek out all the
sadder and more serious elements of life； and pasture her mind
upon them。 She was the person always first thought of in Raveloe
when there was illness or death in a family； when leeches were to
be applied； or there was a sudden disappointment in a monthly
nurse。 She was a “comfortable woman”—good…looking； fresh…
complexioned； having her lips always slightly screwed； as if she
felt herself in a sickroom with the doctor or the clergyman present。
But she was never whimpering； no one had seen her shed tears；
she was simply grave and inclined to shake her head and sigh；
almost imperceptibly； like a funereal mourner who is not a
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relation。 It seemed surprising that Ben Winthrop； who loved his
quart…pot and his joke； got along so well with Dolly； but she took
her husband’s jokes and joviality as patiently as everything else；
considering that “men