Chapter XXI

by George Eliot

　　The next morning, when Silas and Eppie were seated at theirbreakfast, he said to her--"Eppie, there's a thing I've had on my mind to do this two year,and now the money's been brought back to us, we can do it. I'vebeen turning it over and over in the night, and I think we'll setout to-morrow, while the fine days last. We'll leave the house andeverything for your godmother to take care on, and we'll make alittle bundle o' things and set out.""Where to go, daddy?" said Eppie, in much surprise."To my old country--to the town where I was born--up LanternYard. I want to see Mr. Paston, the minister: something may ha'come out to make 'em know I was innicent o' the robbery. AndMr. Paston was a man with a deal o' light--I want to speak to himabout the drawing o' the lots. And I should like to talk to himabout the religion o' this country-side, for I partly think hedoesn't know on it."Eppie was very joyful, for there was the prospect not only of wonderand delight at seeing a strange country, but also of coming back totell Aaron all about it. Aaron was so much wiser than she was aboutmost things--it would be rather pleasant to have this littleadvantage over him. Mrs. Winthrop, though possessed with a dim fearof dangers attendant on so long a journey, and requiring manyassurances that it would not take them out of the region ofcarriers' carts and slow waggons, was nevertheless well pleased thatSilas should revisit his own country, and find out if he had beencleared from that false accusation."You'd be easier in your mind for the rest o' your life, MasterMarner," said Dolly--"that you would. And if there's any lightto be got up the yard as you talk on, we've need of it i' thisworld, and I'd be glad on it myself, if you could bring it back."So on the fourth day from that time, Silas and Eppie, in theirSunday clothes, with a small bundle tied in a blue linenhandkerchief, were making their way through the streets of a greatmanufacturing town. Silas, bewildered by the changes thirty yearshad brought over his native place, had stopped several persons insuccession to ask them the name of this town, that he might be surehe was not under a mistake about it."Ask for Lantern Yard, father--ask this gentleman with thetassels on his shoulders a-standing at the shop door; he isn't in ahurry like the rest," said Eppie, in some distress at her father'sbewilderment, and ill at ease, besides, amidst the noise, themovement, and the multitude of strange indifferent faces."Eh, my child, he won't know anything about it," said Silas;"gentlefolks didn't ever go up the Yard. But happen somebody cantell me which is the way to Prison Street, where the jail is.I know the way out o' that as if I'd seen it yesterday."With some difficulty, after many turnings and new inquiries, theyreached Prison Street; and the grim walls of the jail, the firstobject that answered to any image in Silas's memory, cheered himwith the certitude, which no assurance of the town's name hadhitherto given him, that he was in his native place."Ah," he said, drawing a long breath, "there's the jail, Eppie;that's just the same: I aren't afraid now. It's the third turningon the left hand from the jail doors--that's the way we must go.""Oh, what a dark ugly place!" said Eppie. "How it hides thesky! It's worse than the Workhouse. I'm glad you don't live inthis town now, father. Is Lantern Yard like this street?""My precious child," said Silas, smiling, "it isn't a big streetlike this. I never was easy i' this street myself, but I was fondo' Lantern Yard. The shops here are all altered, I think--I can'tmake 'em out; but I shall know the turning, because it's thethird.""Here it is," he said, in a tone of satisfaction, as they came toa narrow alley. "And then we must go to the left again, and thenstraight for'ard for a bit, up Shoe Lane: and then we shall be atthe entry next to the o'erhanging window, where there's the nick inthe road for the water to run. Eh, I can see it all.""O father, I'm like as if I was stifled," said Eppie. "Icouldn't ha' thought as any folks lived i' this way, so closetogether. How pretty the Stone-pits 'ull look when we get back!""It looks comical to me, child, now--and smells bad. I can'tthink as it usened to smell so."Here and there a sallow, begrimed face looked out from a gloomydoorway at the strangers, and increased Eppie's uneasiness, so thatit was a longed-for relief when they issued from the alleys intoShoe Lane, where there was a broader strip of sky."Dear heart!" said Silas, "why, there's people coming out o' theYard as if they'd been to chapel at this time o' day--a weekdaynoon!"Suddenly he started and stood still with a look of distressedamazement, that alarmed Eppie. They were before an opening in frontof a large factory, from which men and women were streaming fortheir midday meal."Father," said Eppie, clasping his arm, "what's the matter?"But she had to speak again and again before Silas could answer her."It's gone, child," he said, at last, in strong agitation--"Lantern Yard's gone. It must ha' been here, because here's thehouse with the o'erhanging window--I know that--it's just thesame; but they've made this new opening; and see that big factory!It's all gone--chapel and all.""Come into that little brush-shop and sit down, father--they'lllet you sit down," said Eppie, always on the watch lest one of herfather's strange attacks should come on. "Perhaps the people cantell you all about it."But neither from the brush-maker, who had come to Shoe Lane only tenyears ago, when the factory was already built, nor from any othersource within his reach, could Silas learn anything of the oldLantern Yard friends, or of Mr. Paston the minister."The old place is all swep' away," Silas said to Dolly Winthrop onthe night of his return--"the little graveyard and everything.The old home's gone; I've no home but this now. I shall never knowwhether they got at the truth o' the robbery, nor whether Mr. Pastoncould ha' given me any light about the drawing o' the lots. It'sdark to me, Mrs. Winthrop, that is; I doubt it'll be dark to thelast.""Well, yes, Master Marner," said Dolly, who sat with a placidlistening face, now bordered by grey hairs; "I doubt it may. It'sthe will o' Them above as a many things should be dark to us; butthere's some things as I've never felt i' the dark about, andthey're mostly what comes i' the day's work. You were hard done bythat once, Master Marner, and it seems as you'll never know therights of it; but that doesn't hinder there being a rights, MasterMarner, for all it's dark to you and me.""No," said Silas, "no; that doesn't hinder. Since the time thechild was sent to me and I've come to love her as myself, I've hadlight enough to trusten by; and now she says she'll never leave me,I think I shall trusten till I die."