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Dolly was much puzzled at this new word； but she was rather
afraid of inquiring further； lest “chapel” might mean some haunt
of wickedness。 After a little thought she said—“Well； Master
Marner； it’s niver too late to turn over a new leaf； and if you’ve
niver had no church； there’s no telling the good it’ll do you。 For I
feel so set up and comfortable as niver was； when I’ve been and
heard the prayers； and the singing to the praise and glory o’ God；
as Mr。 Macey gives out—and Mr。 Crackenthorp saying good
words； and more partic’lar on Sacramen’ Day； and if a bit o’
trouble comes； I feel as I can put up wi’ it； for I’ve looked for help i’
the right quarter； and gev myself up to Them as we must all give
ourselves up to at the last； and if we’n done our part； it isn’t to be
believed as Them as are above us ’ull be worse nor we are； and
come short o’ Their’n。”
Poor Dolly’s exposition of her simple Raveloe theology fell
rather unmeaningly on Silas’s ears； for there was no word in it
that could rouse a memory of what he had known as religion； and
his comprehension was quite baffled by the plural pronoun； which
was no heresy of Dolly’s； but only her way of avoiding a
presumptuous familiarity。 He remained silent； not feeling inclined
to assent to the part of Dolly’s speech which he fully understood—
her recommendation that he should go to church。 Indeed； Silas
was so unaccustomed to talk beyond the brief questions and
answers necessary for the transaction of his simple business； that
words did not easily come to him without the urgency of a distinct
purpose。
But now little Aaron； having become used to the weaver’s awful
presence； had advanced to his mother’s side； and Silas； seeming to
notice him for the first time； tried to return Dolly’s signs of good
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will by offering the lad a bit of lard…cake。 Aaron shrank back a
little； and rubbed his head against his mother’s shoulder； but still
thought the piece of cake worth the risk of putting his hand out for
it。
“Oh； for shame； Aaron！” said his mother； taking him on her lap；
however； “why； you don’t want cake again yet awhile。—He’s
wonderful hearty；” she went on； with a little sigh—”that he is； God
knows。 He’s my youngest； and we spoil him sadly； for either me or
the father must allays hev him in our sight—that we must。”
She stroked Aaron’s brown head； and thought it must do
Master Marner good to see such a “picture of a child”。 But
Marner； on the other side of the hearth； saw the neat…featured；
rosy face as a mere dim round； with two dark spots in it。
“And he’s got a voice like a bird—you wouldn’t think；” Dolly
went on； “he can sing a Christmas carril as his father’s taught him；
and I take it for a token as he’ll come to good； as he can learn the
good tunes so quick。 Come； Aaron； stan’ up and sing the carril to
Master Marner； come。”
Aaron replied by rubbing his forehead against his mother’s
shoulder。
“Oh； that’s naughty；” said Dolly gently。 “Stan’ up； when mother
tells you； and let me hold the cake till you’ve done。”
Aaron was not indisposed to display his talents； even to an ogre；
under protecting circumstances； and after a few more signs of
coyness； consisting chiefly in rubbing the backs of his hands over
his eyes； and then peeping between them at Master Marner； to see
if he looked anxious for the “carril”； he at length allowed his head
to be duly adjusted； and standing behind the table； which let him
appear above it only as far as his broad frill； so that he looked like
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a cherubic head untroubled with a body； he began with a clear
chirp； and in a melody that had the rhythm of an industrious
hammer—
“God rest you； merry gentlemen； Let nothing you dismay； For
Jesus Christ our Saviour Was born on Christmas Day。”
Dolly listened with a devout look； glancing at Marner in some
confidence that this strain would help to allure him to church。
“That’s Christmas music；” she said； when Aaron had ended；
and had secured his piece of cake again。 “There’s no other music
equil to the Christmas music—’Hark the erol angils sing。’ And you
may judge what it is at church； Master Marner； with the bassoon
and the voices； as you can’t help thinking you’ve got to a better
place a’ready—for I wouldn’t speak ill o’ this world； seeing as
Them put us in it as knows best—but what wi’ the drink； and the
quarrelling； and the bad illnesses； and the hard dying； as I’ve seen
times and times； one’s thankful to hear of a better。 The boy sings
pretty； don’t he； Master Marner？”
“Yes；” said Silas； absently； “very pretty。”
The Christmas carol； with its hammer…like rhythm； had fallen
on his ears as strange music； quite unlike a hymn； and could have
none of the effect Dolly contemplated。 But he wanted to show her
that he was grateful； and the only mode that occurred to him was
to offer Aaron a bit more cake。
“Oh； no； thank you； Master Marner；” said Dolly； holding down
Aaron’s willing hands。 “We must be going home now。 And so I
wish you good…bye； Master Marner； and if you ever feel anyways
bad in your inside； as you can’t fend for yourself； I’ll come and
clean up for you； and get you a bit o’ victual； and willing。 But I beg
and pray of you to leave off weaving of a Sunday； for it’s bad for
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soul and body—and the money as comes i’ that way ’ull be a bad
bed to lie down on at the last； if it doesn’t fly away； nobody knows
where； like the white frost。 And you’ll excuse me being that free
with you； Master Marner； for I wish you well—I do。 Make your
bow； Aaron。”
Silas said “Good…bye； and thank you kindly”； as he opened the
door for Dolly； but he couldn’t help feeling relieved when she was
gone—relieved that he might weave again and moan at his ease。
Her simple view of life and its comforts； by which she had tried to
cheer him； was only like a report of unknown objects； which his
imagination could not fashion。 The fountains of human love and of
faith in a divine love had not yet been unlocked； and his soul was
still the shrunken rivulet； with only this difference； that its little
groove of sand was blocked up； and it wandered confusedly
against dark obstruction。
And so； notwithstanding the honest persuasions of Mr。 Macey
and Dolly Winthrop； Silas spent his Christmas Day in loneliness；
eating his meat in sadness of heart； though the meat had come to
him as a neighbourly present。 In the morning he looked out on the
black frost that seemed to press cruelly on every blade of grass；
while the half…icy red pool shivered under the bitter wind； but
towards evening the snow began to fall； and curtained from him
even that dreary outlook； shutting him close up with his narrow
grief。 And he sat in his robbed home through the livelong evening；
not caring to close his shutters or lock his door； pressing his head
between his hands and moaning； till the cold grasped him and told
him that his fire was gray。
Nobody in this world but himself knew that he was the same
Silas Marner who had once loved his fellow with tender love； and
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trusted