Chapter VII

by George Eliot

　　Yet the next moment there seemed to be some evidence that ghosts hada more condescending disposition than Mr. Macey attributed to them;for the pale thin figure of Silas Marner was suddenly seen standingin the warm light, uttering no word, but looking round at thecompany with his strange unearthly eyes. The long pipes gave asimultaneous movement, like the antennae of startled insects, andevery man present, not excepting even the sceptical farrier, had animpression that he saw, not Silas Marner in the flesh, but anapparition; for the door by which Silas had entered was hidden bythe high-screened seats, and no one had noticed his approach.Mr. Macey, sitting a long way off the ghost, might be supposed tohave felt an argumentative triumph, which would tend to neutralizehis share of the general alarm. Had he not always said that whenSilas Marner was in that strange trance of his, his soul went loosefrom his body? Here was the demonstration: nevertheless, on thewhole, he would have been as well contented without it. For a fewmoments there was a dead silence, Marner's want of breath andagitation not allowing him to speak. The landlord, under thehabitual sense that he was bound to keep his house open to allcompany, and confident in the protection of his unbroken neutrality,at last took on himself the task of adjuring the ghost."Master Marner," he said, in a conciliatory tone, "what's lackingto you? What's your business here?""Robbed!" said Silas, gaspingly. "I've been robbed! I want theconstable--and the Justice--and Squire Cass--andMr. Crackenthorp.""Lay hold on him, Jem Rodney," said the landlord, the idea of aghost subsiding; "he's off his head, I doubt. He's wet through."Jem Rodney was the outermost man, and sat conveniently near Marner'sstanding-place; but he declined to give his services."Come and lay hold on him yourself, Mr. Snell, if you've a mind,"said Jem, rather sullenly. "He's been robbed, and murdered too,for what I know," he added, in a muttering tone."Jem Rodney!" said Silas, turning and fixing his strange eyes onthe suspected man."Aye, Master Marner, what do you want wi' me?" said Jem,trembling a little, and seizing his drinking-can as a defensiveweapon."If it was you stole my money," said Silas, clasping his handsentreatingly, and raising his voice to a cry, "give it me back--and I won't meddle with you. I won't set the constable on you.Give it me back, and I'll let you--I'll let you have a guinea.""Me stole your money!" said Jem, angrily. "I'll pitch this canat your eye if you talk o' my stealing your money.""Come, come, Master Marner," said the landlord, now risingresolutely, and seizing Marner by the shoulder, "if you've got anyinformation to lay, speak it out sensible, and show as you're inyour right mind, if you expect anybody to listen to you. You're aswet as a drownded rat. Sit down and dry yourself, and speakstraight forrard.""Ah, to be sure, man," said the farrier, who began to feel that hehad not been quite on a par with himself and the occasion. "Let'shave no more staring and screaming, else we'll have you strapped fora madman. That was why I didn't speak at the first--thinks I, theman's run mad.""Aye, aye, make him sit down," said several voices at once, wellpleased that the reality of ghosts remained still an open question.The landlord forced Marner to take off his coat, and then to sitdown on a chair aloof from every one else, in the centre of thecircle and in the direct rays of the fire. The weaver, too feebleto have any distinct purpose beyond that of getting help to recoverhis money, submitted unresistingly. The transient fears of thecompany were now forgotten in their strong curiosity, and all faceswere turned towards Silas, when the landlord, having seated himselfagain, said--"Now then, Master Marner, what's this you've got to say--asyou've been robbed? Speak out.""He'd better not say again as it was me robbed him," cried JemRodney, hastily. "What could I ha' done with his money? I couldas easy steal the parson's surplice, and wear it.""Hold your tongue, Jem, and let's hear what he's got to say," saidthe landlord. "Now then, Master Marner."Silas now told his story, under frequent questioning as themysterious character of the robbery became evident.This strangely novel situation of opening his trouble to his Raveloeneighbours, of sitting in the warmth of a hearth not his own, andfeeling the presence of faces and voices which were his nearestpromise of help, had doubtless its influence on Marner, in spite ofhis passionate preoccupation with his loss. Our consciousnessrarely registers the beginning of a growth within us any more thanwithout us: there have been many circulations of the sap before wedetect the smallest sign of the bud.The slight suspicion with which his hearers at first listened tohim, gradually melted away before the convincing simplicity of hisdistress: it was impossible for the neighbours to doubt that Marnerwas telling the truth, not because they were capable of arguing atonce from the nature of his statements to the absence of any motivefor making them falsely, but because, as Mr. Macey observed, "Folksas had the devil to back 'em were not likely to be so mushed" aspoor Silas was. Rather, from the strange fact that the robber hadleft no traces, and had happened to know the nick of time, utterlyincalculable by mortal agents, when Silas would go away from homewithout locking his door, the more probable conclusion seemed to be,that his disreputable intimacy in that quarter, if it ever existed,had been broken up, and that, in consequence, this ill turn had beendone to Marner by somebody it was quite in vain to set the constableafter. Why this preternatural felon should be obliged to wait tillthe door was left unlocked, was a question which did not presentitself."It isn't Jem Rodney as has done this work, Master Marner," saidthe landlord. "You mustn't be a-casting your eye at poor Jem.There may be a bit of a reckoning against Jem for the matter of ahare or so, if anybody was bound to keep their eyes staring open,and niver to wink; but Jem's been a-sitting here drinking his can,like the decentest man i' the parish, since before you left yourhouse, Master Marner, by your own account.""Aye, aye," said Mr. Macey; "let's have no accusing o' theinnicent. That isn't the law. There must be folks to swear again'a man before he can be ta'en up. Let's have no accusing o' theinnicent, Master Marner."Memory was not so utterly torpid in Silas that it could not beawakened by these words. With a movement of compunction as new andstrange to him as everything else within the last hour, he startedfrom his chair and went close up to Jem, looking at him as if hewanted to assure himself of the expression in his face."I was wrong," he said--"yes, yes--I ought to have thought.There's nothing to witness against you, Jem. Only you'd been intomy house oftener than anybody else, and so you came into my head.I don't accuse you--I won't accuse anybody--only," he added,lifting up his hands to his head, and turning away with bewilderedmisery, "I try--I try to think where my guineas can be.""Aye, aye, they're gone where it's hot enough to melt 'em, Idoubt," said Mr. Macey."Tchuh!" said the farrier. And then he asked, with across-examining air, "How much money might there be in the bags,Master Marner?""Two hundred and seventy-two pounds, twelve and sixpence, lastnight when I counted it," said Silas, seating himself again, with agroan."Pooh! why, they'd be none so heavy to carry. Some tramp's beenin, that's all; and as for the no footmarks, and the bricks and thesand being all right--why, your eyes are pretty much like ainsect's, Master Marner; they're obliged to look so close, you can'tsee much at a time. It's my opinion as, if I'd been you, or you'dbeen me--for it comes to the same thing--you wouldn't havethought you'd found everything as you left it. But what I vote is,as two of the sensiblest o' the company should go with you to MasterKench, the constable's--he's ill i' bed, I know that much--andget him to appoint one of us his deppity; for that's the law, and Idon't think anybody 'ull take upon him to contradick me there. Itisn't much of a walk to Kench's; and then, if it's me as is deppity,I'll go back with you, Master Marner, and examine your premises; andif anybody's got any fault to find with that, I'll thank him tostand up and say it out like a man."By this pregnant speech the farrier had re-established hisself-complacency, and waited with confidence to hear himself namedas one of the superlatively sensible men."Let us see how the night is, though," said the landlord, who alsoconsidered himself personally concerned in this proposition. "Why,it rains heavy still," he said, returning from the door."Well, I'm not the man to be afraid o' the rain," said thefarrier. "For it'll look bad when Justice Malam hears asrespectable men like us had a information laid before 'em and tookno steps."The landlord agreed with this view, and after taking the sense ofthe company, and duly rehearsing a small ceremony known in highecclesiastical life as the nolo episcopari, he consented to takeon himself the chill dignity of going to Kench's. But to thefarrier's strong disgust, Mr. Macey now started an objection to hisproposing himself as a deputy-constable; for that oracular oldgentleman, claiming to know the law, stated, as a fact delivered tohim by his father, that no doctor could be a constable."And you're a doctor, I reckon, though you're only a cow-doctor--for a fly's a fly, though it may be a hoss-fly," concludedMr. Macey, wondering a little at his own "'cuteness".There was a hot debate upon this, the farrier being of courseindisposed to renounce the quality of doctor, but contending that adoctor could be a constable if he liked--the law meant, he needn'tbe one if he didn't like. Mr. Macey thought this was nonsense,since the law was not likely to be fonder of doctors than of otherfolks. Moreover, if it was in the nature of doctors more than ofother men not to like being constables, how came Mr. Dowlas to be soeager to act in that capacity?"I don't want to act the constable," said the farrier, driveninto a corner by this merciless reasoning; "and there's no man cansay it of me, if he'd tell the truth. But if there's to be anyjealousy and envying about going to Kench's in the rain, let themgo as like it--you won't get me to go, I can tell you."By the landlord's intervention, however, the dispute wasaccommodated. Mr. Dowlas consented to go as a second persondisinclined to act officially; and so poor Silas, furnished withsome old coverings, turned out with his two companions into the rainagain, thinking of the long night-hours before him, not as those dowho long to rest, but as those who expect to "watch for themorning".