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Godfrey； rather tremulously。 “Can you forgive me ever？”
“The wrong to me is but little； Godfrey： you’ve made it up to
me—you’ve been good to me for fifteen years。 It’s another you did
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the wrong to； and I doubt it can never be all made up for。”
“But we can take Eppie now；” said Godfrey。 “I won’t mind the
world knowing at last。 I’ll be plain and open for the rest o’ my life。”
“It’ll be different coming to us； now she’s grown up；” said
Nancy； shaking her head sadly。 “But it’s your duty to acknowledge
her and provide for her； and I’ll do my part by her； and pray to
God Almighty to make her love me。”
“Then we’ll go together to Silas Marner’s this very night； as
soon as everything’s quiet at the Stone…pits。”
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Chapter 19
etween eight and nine o’clock that evening； Eppie and
BSilas were seated alone in the cottage。 After the great
excitement the weaver had undergone from the events of
the afternoon； he had felt a longing for this quietude； and had even
begged Mrs。 Winthrop and Aaron； who had naturally lingered
behind every one else； to leave him alone with his child。 The
excitement had not passed away： it had only reached that stage
when the keenness of the susceptibility makes external stimulus
intolerable—when there is no sense of weariness； but rather an
intensity of inward life； under which sleep is an impossibility。 Any
one who has watched such moments in other men remembers the
brightness of the eyes and the strange definiteness that comes
over coarse features from that transient influence。 It is as if a new
fineness of ear for all spiritual voices had sent wonder…working
vibrations through the heavy mortal frame—as if “beauty born of
murmuring sound” had passed into the face of the listener。
Silas’s face showed that sort of transfiguration； as he sat in his
armchair and looked at Eppie。 She had drawn her own chair
towards his knees； and leaned forward； holding both his hands；
while she looked up at him。 On the table near them； lit by a candle；
lay the recovered gold—the old long…loved gold； ranged in orderly
heaps； as Silas used to range it in the days when it was his only
joy。 He had been telling her how he used to count it every night；
and how his soul was utterly desolate till she was sent to him。
“At first； I’d a sort o’ feeling come across me now and then；” he
was saying in a subdued tone； “as if you might be changed into the
gold again； for sometimes； turn my head which way I would； I
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seemed to see the gold； and I thought I should be glad if I could
feel it； and find it was come back。 But that didn’t last long。 After a
bit； I should have thought it was a curse come again if it had drove
you from me； for I’d got to feel the need o’ your looks and your
voice and the touch o’ your little fingers。 You didn’t know then；
Eppie； when you were such a little ’un—you didn’t know what
your old father Silas felt for you。”
“But I know now； father；” said Eppie。 “If it hadn’t been for you；
they’d have taken me to the workhouse； and there’d have been
nobody to love me。”
“Eh； my precious child； the blessing was mine。 If you hadn’t
been sent to save me； I should ha’ gone to the grave in my misery。
The money was taken away from me in time； and you see it’s been
kept—kept till it was wanted for you。 It’s wonderful—our life is
wonderful。”
Silas sat in silence a few minutes； looking at the money。 “It
takes no hold of me now；” he said ponderingly—”the money
doesn’t。 I wonder if it ever could again—I doubt it might； if I lost
you； Eppie。 I might come to think I was forsaken again； and lose
the feeling that God was good to me。”
At that moment there was a knocking at the door； and Eppie
was obliged to rise without answering Silas。 Beautiful she looked；
with the tenderness of gathering tears in her eyes and a slight
flush on her cheeks； as she stepped to open the door。 The flush
deepened when she saw Mr。 and Mrs。 Godfrey Cass。 She made her
little rustic curtsy； and held the door wide for them to enter。
“We’re disturbing you very late； my dear；” said Mrs。 Cass；
taking Eppie’s hand； and looking in her face with an expression of
anxious interest and admiration。 Nancy herself was pale and
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tremulous。
Eppie； after placing chairs for Mr。 and Mrs。 Cass； went to stand
against Silas； opposite to them。
“Well； Marner；” said Godfrey； trying to speak with perfect
firmness； “it’s a great comfort to me to see you with your money
again； that you’ve been deprived of so many years。 It was one of
my family did you the wrong—the more grief to me—and I feel
bound to make up to you for it in every way。 Whatever I can do for
you will be nothing but paying a debt； even if I looked no further
than the robbery。 But there are other things I’m beholden—shall
be beholden to you for； Marner。”
Godfrey checked himself。 It had been agreed between him and
his wife that the subject of his fatherhood should be approached
very carefully； and that； if possible； the disclosure should be
reserved for the future； so that it might be made to Eppie
gradually。 Nancy had urged this； because she felt strongly the
painful light in which Eppie must inevitably see the relation
between her father and mother。
Silas； always ill at ease when he was being spoken to by
“betters”； such as Mr。 Cass—tall； powerful； florid men； seen chiefly
on horseback—answered with some constraint—“Sir； I’ve a deal
to thank you for a’ready。 As for the robbery； I count it no loss to
me。 And if I did； you couldn’t help it； you aren’t answerable for it。”
“You may look at it in that way； Marner； but I never can； and I
hope you’ll let me act according to my own feeling of what’s just。 I
know you’re easily contented： you’ve been a hard…working man all
your life。”
“Yes； sir； yes；” said Marner； meditatively。 “I should ha’ been
bad off without my work： it was what I held by when everything
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else was gone from me。”
“Ah；” said Godfrey； applying Marner’s words simply to his
bodily wants； “it was a good trade for you in this country； because
there’s been a great deal of linen…weaving to be done。 But you’re
getting rather past such close work； Marner： it’s time you laid by
and had some rest。 You look a good deal pulled down； though
you’re not an old man； are you？”
“Fifty…five； as near as I can say； sir；” said Silas。
“Oh； why； you may live thirty years longer—look at old Macey！
And that money on the table； after all； is but little。 It won’t go far
either way—whether it’s put out to interest； or you were to live on
it as long as it would last： it wouldn’t go far if you’d nobody to keep
but yourself； and you’ve had two to keep for a good many years
now。”
“Eh； si