21. CHAPTER XXI.

Silas Marner / 织工马南

1The next morning, when Silas and Eppie were seated at their breakfast, he said to her

2“Eppie, theres a thing Ive had on my mind to do this two year, and now the moneys been brought back to us, we can do it. Ive been turning it over and over in the night, and I think well set out to-morrow, while the fine days last. Well leave the house and everything for your godmother to take care on, and well make a little bundle othings and set out.”

3Where to go, daddy?” said Eppie, in much surprise.

4To my old countryto the town where I was bornup Lantern Yard. I want to see Mr. Paston, the minister: something may hacome out to makeem know I was innicent othe robbery. And Mr. Paston was a man with a deal olightI want to speak to him about the drawing othe lots. And I should like to talk to him about the religion othis country-side, for I partly think he doesn’t know on it.”

5Eppie was very joyful, for there was the prospect not only of wonder and delight at seeing a strange country, but also of coming back to tell Aaron all about it. Aaron was so much wiser than she was about most thingsit would be rather pleasant to have this little advantage over him. Mrs. Winthrop, though possessed with a dim fear of dangers attendant on so long a journey, and requiring many assurances that it would not take them out of the region of carrierscarts and slow waggons, was nevertheless well pleased that Silas should revisit his own country, and find out if he had been cleared from that false accusation.

6Youd be easier in your mind for the rest oyour life, Master Marner,” said Dolly—“that you would. And if theres any light to be got up the yard as you talk on, weve need of it ithis world, and Id be glad on it myself, if you could bring it back.”

7So on the fourth day from that time, Silas and Eppie, in their Sunday clothes, with a small bundle tied in a blue linen handkerchief, were making their way through the streets of a great manufacturing town. Silas, bewildered by the changes thirty years had brought over his native place, had stopped several persons in succession to ask them the name of this town, that he might be sure he was not under a mistake about it.

8Ask for Lantern Yard, fatherask this gentleman with the tassels on his shoulders a-standing at the shop door; he isn’t in a hurry like the rest,” said Eppie, in some distress at her fathers bewilderment, and ill at ease, besides, amidst the noise, the movement, and the multitude of strange indifferent faces.

9Eh, my child, he wont know anything about it,” said Silas; “gentlefolks didn’t ever go up the Yard. But happen somebody can tell me which is the way to Prison Street, where the jail is. I know the way out othat as if Id seen it yesterday.”

10With some difficulty, after many turnings and new inquiries, they reached Prison Street; and the grim walls of the jail, the first object that answered to any image in Silas’s memory, cheered him with the certitude, which no assurance of the towns name had hitherto given him, that he was in his native place.

11Ah,” he said, drawing a long breath, “theres the jail, Eppie; thats just the same: I aren’t afraid now. Its the third turning on the left hand from the jail doorsthats the way we must go.”

12Oh, what a dark ugly place!” said Eppie. How it hides the sky! Its worse than the Workhouse. Im glad you dont live in this town now, father. Is Lantern Yard like this street?”

13My precious child,” said Silas, smiling, “it isn’t a big street like this. I never was easy ithis street myself, but I was fond oLantern Yard. The shops here are all altered, I thinkI cant makeem out; but I shall know the turning, because its the third.”

14Here it is,” he said, in a tone of satisfaction, as they came to a narrow alley. And then we must go to the left again, and then straight for’ard for a bit, up Shoe Lane: and then we shall be at the entry next to the o’erhanging window, where theres the nick in the road for the water to run. Eh, I can see it all.”

15O father, Im like as if I was stifled,” said Eppie. I couldn’t hathought as any folks lived ithis way, so close together. How pretty the Stone-pits ’ull look when we get back!”

16It looks comical to me, child, nowand smells bad. I cant think as it usened to smell so.”

17Here and there a sallow, begrimed face looked out from a gloomy doorway at the strangers, and increased Eppie’s uneasiness, so that it was a longed-for relief when they issued from the alleys into Shoe Lane, where there was a broader strip of sky.

18Dear heart!” said Silas, “why, theres people coming out othe Yard as if theyd been to chapel at this time odaya weekday noon!”

19Suddenly he started and stood still with a look of distressed amazement, that alarmed Eppie. They were before an opening in front of a large factory, from which men and women were streaming for their midday meal.

20Father,” said Eppie, clasping his arm, “whats the matter?”

21But she had to speak again and again before Silas could answer her.

22Its gone, child,” he said, at last, in strong agitation—“Lantern Yards gone. It must habeen here, because heres the house with the o’erhanging windowI know thatits just the same; but theyve made this new opening; and see that big factory! Its all gonechapel and all.”

23Come into that little brush-shop and sit down, fathertheyll let you sit down,” said Eppie, always on the watch lest one of her fathers strange attacks should come on. Perhaps the people can tell you all about it.”

24But neither from the brush-maker, who had come to Shoe Lane only ten years ago, when the factory was already built, nor from any other source within his reach, could Silas learn anything of the old Lantern Yard friends, or of Mr. Paston the minister.

25The old place is all swep’ away,” Silas said to Dolly Winthrop on the night of his return—“the little graveyard and everything. The old homes gone; Ive no home but this now. I shall never know whether they got at the truth othe robbery, nor whether Mr. Paston could hagiven me any light about the drawing othe lots. Its dark to me, Mrs. Winthrop, that is; I doubt itll be dark to the last.”

26Well, yes, Master Marner,” said Dolly, who sat with a placid listening face, now bordered by grey hairs; “I doubt it may. Its the will oThem above as a many things should be dark to us; but theres some things as Ive never felt ithe dark about, and theyre mostly what comes ithe days work. You were hard done by that once, Master Marner, and it seems as youll never know the rights of it; but that doesn’t hinder there being a rights, Master Marner, for all its dark to you and me.”

27No,” said Silas, “no; that doesn’t hinder. Since the time the child was sent to me and Ive come to love her as myself, Ive had light enough to trusten by; and now she says shell never leave me, I think I shall trusten till I die.”

28CONCLUSION

29There was one time of the year which was held in Raveloe to be especially suitable for a wedding. It was when the great lilacs and laburnums in the old-fashioned gardens showed their golden and purple wealth above the lichen-tinted walls, and when there were calves still young enough to want bucketfuls of fragrant milk. People were not so busy then as they must become when the full cheese-making and the mowing had set in; and besides, it was a time when a light bridal dress could be worn with comfort and seen to advantage.

30Happily the sunshine fell more warmly than usual on the lilac tufts the morning that Eppie was married, for her dress was a very light one. She had often thought, though with a feeling of renunciation, that the perfection of a wedding-dress would be a white cotton, with the tiniest pink sprig at wide intervals; so that when Mrs. Godfrey Cass begged to provide one, and asked Eppie to choose what it should be, previous meditation had enabled her to give a decided answer at once.

31Seen at a little distance as she walked across the churchyard and down the village, she seemed to be attired in pure white, and her hair looked like the dash of gold on a lily. One hand was on her husbands arm, and with the other she clasped the hand of her father Silas.

32You wont be giving me away, father,” she had said before they went to church; “youll only be taking Aaron to be a son to you.”

33Dolly Winthrop walked behind with her husband; and there ended the little bridal procession.

34There were many eyes to look at it, and Miss Priscilla Lammeter was glad that she and her father had happened to drive up to the door of the Red House just in time to see this pretty sight. They had come to keep Nancy company to-day, because Mr. Cass had had to go away to Lytherley, for special reasons. That seemed to be a pity, for otherwise he might have gone, as Mr. Crackenthorp and Mr. Osgood certainly would, to look on at the wedding-feast which he had ordered at the Rainbow, naturally feeling a great interest in the weaver who had been wronged by one of his own family.

35I could hawished Nancy had had the luck to find a child like that and bring her up,” said Priscilla to her father, as they sat in the gig; “I should hahad something young to think of then, besides the lambs and the calves.”

36Yes, my dear, yes,” said Mr. Lammeter; “one feels that as one gets older. Things look dim to old folks: theyd need have some young eyes aboutem, to letem know the worlds the same as it used to be.”

37Nancy came out now to welcome her father and sister; and the wedding group had passed on beyond the Red House to the humbler part of the village.

38Dolly Winthrop was the first to divine that old Mr. Macey, who had been set in his arm-chair outside his own door, would expect some special notice as they passed, since he was too old to be at the wedding-feast.

39Mr. Macey’s looking for a word from us,” said Dolly; “hell be hurt if we pass him and say nothingand him so racked with rheumatiz.”

40So they turned aside to shake hands with the old man. He had looked forward to the occasion, and had his premeditated speech.

41Well, Master Marner,” he said, in a voice that quavered a good deal, “Ive lived to see my words come true. I was the first to say there was no harm in you, though your looks might be againyou; and I was the first to say youd get your money back. And its nothing but rightful as you should. And Id hasaid theAmens,’ and willing, at the holy matrimony; but Tookey’s done it a good while now, and I hope youll have none the worse luck.”

42In the open yard before the Rainbow the party of guests were already assembled, though it was still nearly an hour before the appointed feast time. But by this means they could not only enjoy the slow advent of their pleasure; they had also ample leisure to talk of Silas Marner’s strange history, and arrive by due degrees at the conclusion that he had brought a blessing on himself by acting like a father to a lone motherless child. Even the farrier did not negative this sentiment: on the contrary, he took it up as peculiarly his own, and invited any hardy person present to contradict him. But he met with no contradiction; and all differences among the company were merged in a general agreement with Mr. Snell’s sentiment, that when a man had deserved his good luck, it was the part of his neighbours to wish him joy.

43As the bridal group approached, a hearty cheer was raised in the Rainbow yard; and Ben Winthrop, whose jokes had retained their acceptable flavour, found it agreeable to turn in there and receive congratulations; not requiring the proposed interval of quiet at the Stone-pits before joining the company.

44Eppie had a larger garden than she had ever expected there now; and in other ways there had been alterations at the expense of Mr. Cass, the landlord, to suit Silas’s larger family. For he and Eppie had declared that they would rather stay at the Stone-pits than go to any new home. The garden was fenced with stones on two sides, but in front there was an open fence, through which the flowers shone with answering gladness, as the four united people came within sight of them.

45O father,” said Eppie, “what a pretty home ours is! I think nobody could be happier than we are.”