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George Eliot ElecBook Classics
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Silas Marner 193
can’t do a power to help ’em； not if I was to get up i’ the middle o’
the night—it comes into my head as Them above has got a deal
tenderer heart nor what I’ve got—for I can’t be anyways better nor
Them as made me； and if anything looks hard to me； it’s because
there’s things I don’t know on； and for the matter o’ that； there
may be plenty o’ things I don’t know on； for it’s little as I know—
that it is。 And so； while I was thinking o’ that； you come into my
mind； Master Marner； and it all come pouring in： if I felt i’ my
inside what was the right and just thing by you； and them as
prayed and drawed the lots； all but that wicked un； if they’d ha’
done the right thing by you if they could； isn’t there Them as was
at the making on us； and knows better and has a better will？ And
that’s all as ever I can be sure on； and everything else is a big
puzzle to me when I think on it。 For there was the fever come and
took off them as were full…growed； and left the helpless children；
and there’s the breaking o’ limbs； and them as ’ud do right and be
sober have to suffer by them as are contrairy—eh； there’s trouble
i’ this world； and there’s things as we can niver make out the
rights on。 And all as we’ve got to do is to trusten； Master Marner—
to do the right thing as fur as we know； and to trusten。 For if us as
knows so little can see a bit o’ good and rights； we may be sure as
there’s a good and a rights bigger nor what we can know—I feel it
i’ my own inside as it must be so。 And if you could but ha’ gone on
trustening； Master Marner； you wouldn’t ha’ run away from your
fellow…creaturs and been so lone。”
“Ah； but that ’ud ha’ been hard；” said Silas； in an undertone； “it
’ud ha’ been hard to trusten then。”
“And so it would；” said Dolly； almost with compunction： “them
things are easier said nor done； and I’m partly ashamed o’
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Silas Marner 194
talking。”
“Nay； nay；” said Silas； “you’re i’ the right； Mrs。 Winthrop—
you’re i’ the right。 There’s good i’ this world—I’ve a feeling o’ that
now； and it makes a man feel as there’s a good more nor he can
see； i’ spite o’ the trouble and the wickedness。 That drawing o’ the
lots is dark； but the child was sent to me： there’s dealings with
us—there’s dealings。”
This dialogue took place in Eppie’s earlier years； when Silas
had to part with her for two hours every day； that she might learn
to read at the dame school； after he had vainly tried himself to
guide her in that first step to learning。 Now that she was grown
up； Silas had often been led； in those moments of quiet outpouring
which come to people who live together in perfect love； to talk
with her too of the past； and how and why he had lived a lonely
man until she had been sent to him。 For it would have been
impossible for him to hide from Eppie that she was not his own
child： even if the most delicate reticence on the point could have
been expected from Raveloe gossips in her presence； her own
questions about her mother could not have been parried； as she
grew up； without that complete shrouding of the past which would
have made a painful barrier between their minds。 So Eppie had
long known how her mother had died on the snowy ground； and
how she herself had been found on the hearth by father Silas； who
had taken her golden curls for his lost guineas brought back to
him。 The tender and peculiar love with which Silas had reared her
in almost inseparable companionship with himself； aided by the
seclusion of their dwelling； had preserved her from the lowering
influences of the village talk and habits； and had kept her mind in
that freshness which is sometimes falsely supposed to be an
George Eliot ElecBook Classics
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Silas Marner 195
invariable attribute of rusticity。 Perfect love has a breath of poetry
which can exalt the relations of the least…instructed human beings；
and this breath of poetry had surrounded Eppie from the time
when she had followed the bright gleam that beckoned her to
Silas’s hearth； so that it is not surprising if； in other things besides
her delicate prettiness； she was not quite a common village
maiden； but had a touch of refinement and fervour which came
from no other teaching than that of tenderly nurtured unvitiated
feeling。 She was too childish and simple for her imagination to
rove into questions about her unknown father； for a long while it
did not even occur to her that she must have had a father； and the
first time that the idea of her mother having had a husband
presented itself to her was when Silas showed her the wedding…
ring which had been taken from the wasted finger； and had been
carefully preserved by him in a little lacquered box shaped like a
shoe。 He delivered this box into Eppie’s charge when she had
grown up； and she often opened it to look at the ring； but still she
thought hardly at all about the father of whom it was the symbol。
Had she not a father very close to her； who loved her better than
any real fathers in the village seemed to love their daughters？ On
the contrary； who her mother was； and how she came to die in that
forlornness； were questions that often pressed on Eppie’s mind。
Her knowledge of Mrs。 Winthrop； who was her nearest friend next
to Silas； made her feel that a mother must be very precious； and
she had again and again asked Silas to tell her how her mother
looked； whom she was like； and how he had found her against the
furze bush； led towards it by the little footsteps and the
outstretched arms