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were not severely regular in their church…going； and perhaps there
was hardly a person in the parish who would not have held that to
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go to church every Sunday in the calendar would have shown a
greedy desire to stand well with Heaven； and get an undue
advantage over their neighbours—a wish to be better than the
“common run”； that would have implied a reflection on those who
had had godfathers and godmothers as well as themselves； and
had an equal right to the burying…service。 At the same time it was
understood to be requisite for all who were not household
servants； or young men； to take the sacrament at one of the great
festivals： Squire Cass himself took it on Christmas Day； while
those who were held to be “good livers” went to church with
greater； though still with moderate； frequency。
Mrs。 Winthrop was one of these： she was in all respects a
woman of scrupulous conscience； so eager for duties that life
seemed to offer them too scantily unless she rose at half…past four；
though this threw a scarcity of work over the more advanced
hours of the morning； which it was a constant problem with her to
remove。 Yet she had not the vixenish temper which is sometimes
supposed to be a necessary condition of such habits： she was a
very mild； patient woman； whose nature it was to seek out all the
sadder and more serious elements of life； and pasture her mind
upon them。 She was the person always first thought of in Raveloe
when there was illness or death in a family； when leeches were to
be applied； or there was a sudden disappointment in a monthly
nurse。 She was a “comfortable woman”—good…looking； fresh…
complexioned； having her lips always slightly screwed； as if she
felt herself in a sickroom with the doctor or the clergyman present。
But she was never whimpering； no one had seen her shed tears；
she was simply grave and inclined to shake her head and sigh；
almost imperceptibly； like a funereal mourner who is not a
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relation。 It seemed surprising that Ben Winthrop； who loved his
quart…pot and his joke； got along so well with Dolly； but she took
her husband’s jokes and joviality as patiently as everything else；
considering that “men would be so；” and viewing the stronger sex
in the light of animals whom it had pleased Heaven to make
naturally troublesome； like bulls and turkey…cocks。
This good wholesome woman could hardly fail to have her mind
drawn strongly towards Silas Marner； now that he appeared in the
light of a sufferer； and one Sunday afternoon she took her little
boy Aaron with her； and went to call on Silas； carrying in her hand
some small lard…cakes； flat paste…like articles much esteemed in
Raveloe。 Aaron； an apple…cheeked youngster of seven； with a clean
starched frill which looked like a plate for the apples； needed all
his adventurous curiosity to embolden him against the possibility
that the big…eyed weaver might do him some bodily injury； and his
dubiety was much increased when； on arriving at the Stone…pits；
they heard the mysterious sound of the loom。
“Ah； it is as I thought；” said Mrs。 Winthrop sadly。
They had to knock loudly before Silas heard them； but when he
did come to the door he showed no impatience； as he would once
have done； at a visit that had been unasked for and unexpected。
Formerly； his heart had been as a locked casket with its treasure
inside； but now the casket was empty； and the lock was broken。
Left groping in darkness； with his prop utterly gone； Silas had
inevitably a sense； though a dull and half…despairing one； that if
any help came to him it must come from without； and there was a
slight stirring of expectation at the sight of his fellow…men； a faint
consciousness of dependence on their good will。 He opened the
door wide to admit Dolly； but without otherwise returning her
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greeting than by moving the armchair a few inches as a sign that
she was to sit down in it。 Dolly； as soon as she was seated； removed
the white cloth that covered her lard…cakes； and said in her gravest
way—“I’d a baking yisterday； Master Marner； and the lard…cakes
turned out better nor common； and I’d ha’ asked you to accept
some； if you’d thought well。 I don’t eat such things myself； for a bit
o’ bread’s what I like from one year’s end to the other； but men’s
stomichs are made so comical； they want a change—they do； I
know； God help ’em。”
Dolly sighed gently as she held out the cakes to Silas； who
thanked her kindly and looked very close at them； absently； being
accustomed to look so at everything he took into his hand—eyed
all the while by the wondering bright orbs of the small Aaron； who
had made an outwork of his mother’s chair； and was peeping
round from behind it。
“There’s letters pricked on ’em；” said Dolly。 “I can’t read ’em
myself； and there’s nobody； not Mr。 Macey himself； rightly knows
what they mean； but they’ve a good meaning； for they’re the same
as is on the pulpit…cloth at church。 What are they； Aaron； my
dear？”
Aaron retreated completely behind his outwork。
“Oh； go； that’s naughty；” said his mother； mildly。 “Well；
whativer the letters are； they’ve a good meaning； and it’s a stamp
as has been in our house； Ben says； ever since he was a little un；
and his mother used to put it on the cakes； and I’ve allays put it on
too； for if there’s any good； we’ve need of it i’ this world。”
“It’s I。 H。 S。；” said Silas； at which proof of learning Aaron
peeped around the chair a