CHAPTER X.

eldtobe“goodlivers”wenttochurchwithgreater,thoughstillwithmoderate,frequency. Mrs.Winthropwasoneofthese:shewasinallrespectsawomanofscrupulousconscience,soeagerfordutiesthatlifeseemedtoofferthemtooscantilyunlesssheroseathalf-pastfour,thoughthisthrewascarcityofworkoverthemoreadvancedhoursofthemorning,whichitwasaconstantproblemwithhertoremove.Yetshehadnotthevixenishtemperwhichissometimessupposedtobeanecessaryconditionofsuchhabits:shewasaverymild,patientwoman,whosenatureitwastoseekoutallthesadderandmoreseriouselementsoflife,andpastureherminduponthem.ShewasthepersonalwaysfirstthoughtofinRaveloewhentherewasillnessordeathinafamily,whenleechesweretobeapplied,ortherewasasuddendisappointmentinamonthlynurse.Shewasa“comfortablewoman”—good-looking,fresh-complexioned,havingherlipsalwaysslightlyscrewed,asifshefeltherselfinasick-roomwiththedoctorortheclergymanpresent.Butshewasneverwhimperingnoonehadseenhershedtearsshewassimplygraveandinclinedtoshakeherheadandsigh,almostimperceptibly,likeafunerealmournerwhoisnotarelation.ItseemedsurprisingthatBenWinthrop,wholovedhisquart-potandhisjoke,gotalongsowellwithDollybutshetookherhusband’sjokesandjovialityaspatientlyaseverythingelse,consideringthat“menwouldbeso”,andviewingthestrongersexinthelightofanimalswhomithadpleasedHeaventomakenaturallytroublesome,likebullsandturkey-cocks. ThisgoodwholesomewomancouldhardlyfailtohaveherminddrawnstronglytowardsSilasMarner,nowthatheappearedinthelightofasuffererandoneSundayafternoonshetookherlittleboyAaronwithher,andwenttocallonSilas,carryinginherhandsomesmalllard-cakes,flatpaste-likearticlesmuchesteemedinRaveloe.Aaron,anapple-cheekedyoungsterofseven,withacleanstarchedfrillwhichlookedlikeaplatefortheapples,neededallhisadventurouscuriositytoemboldenhimagainstthepossibilitythatthebig-eyedweavermightdohimsomebodilyinjuryandhisdubietywasmuchincreasedwhen,onarrivingattheStone-pits,theyheardthemysterioussoundoftheloom. “Ah,itisasIthought,”saidMrs.Winthrop,sadly. TheyhadtoknockloudlybeforeSilasheardthembutwhenhedidcometothedoorheshowednoimpatience,ashewouldoncehavedone,atavisitthathadbeenunaskedforandunexpected.Formerly,hishearthadbeenasalockedcasketwithitstreasureinsidebutnowthecasketwasempty,andthelockwasbroken.Leftgropingindarkness,withhisproputterlygone,Silashadinevitablyasense,thoughadullandhalf-despairingone,thatifanyhelpcametohimitmustcomefromwithoutandtherewasaslightstirringofexpectationatthesightofhisfellow-men,afaintconsciousnessofdependenceontheirgoodwill.HeopenedthedoorwidetoadmitDolly,butwithoutotherwisereturninghergreetingthanbymovingthearmchairafewinchesasasignthatshewastositdowninit.Dolly,assoonasshewasseated,removedthewhitecloththatcoveredherlard-cakes,andsaidinhergravestway— “I’dabakingyisterday,MasterMarner,andthelard-cakesturnedoutbetternorcommon,andI’dha’askedyoutoacceptsome,ifyou’dthoughtwell.Idon’teatsuchthingsmyself,forabito’bread’swhatIlikefromoneyear’sendtotheotherbutmen’sstomichsaremadesocomical,theywantachange—theydo,Iknow,Godhelp’em.” DollysighedgentlyassheheldoutthecakestoSilas,whothankedherkindlyandlookedverycloseatthem,absently,beingaccustomedtolooksoateverythinghetookintohishand—eyedallthewhilebythewonderingbrightorbsofthesmallAaron,whohadmadeanoutworkofhismother’schair,andwaspeepingroundfrombehindit. “There’slettersprickedon’em,”saidDolly.“Ican’tread’emmyself,andthere’snobody,notMr.Maceyhimself,rightlyknowswhattheymeanbutthey’veagoodmeaning,forthey’rethesameasisonthepulpit-clothatchurch.Whatarethey,Aaron,mydear?” Aaronretreatedcompletelybehindhisoutwork. “Oh,go,that’snaughty,”saidhismother,mildly.“Well,whativerthelettersare,they’veagoodmeaningandit’sastampashasbeeninourhouse,Bensays,eversincehewasalittleun,andhismotherusedtoputitonthecakes,andI’veallaysputitontooforifthere’sanygood,we’veneedofiti’thisworld.” “It’sI.H.S.,”saidSilas,atwhichproofoflearningAaronpeepedroundthechairagain. “Well,tobesure,youcanread’emoff,”saidDolly.“Ben’sread’emtomemanyandmanyatime,buttheyslipouto’mymindagainthemore’sthepity,forthey’regoodletters,elsetheywouldn’tbeinthechurchandsoIprick’emonalltheloavesandallthecakes,thoughsometimestheywon’thold,becauseo’therising—for,asIsaid,ifthere’sanygoodtobegotwe’veneedofiti’thisworld—thatwehaveandIhopethey’llbringgoodtoyou,MasterMarner,forit’swi’thatwillIbroughtyouthecakesandyouseethelettershaveheldbetternorcommon.” SilaswasasunabletointerpretthelettersasDolly,buttherewasnopossibilityofmisunderstandingthedesiretogivecomfortthatmadeitselfheardinherquiettones.Hesaid,withmorefeelingthanbefore—“Thankyou—thankyoukindly.”Buthelaiddownthecakesandseatedhimselfabsently—drearilyunconsciousofanydistinctbenefittowardswhichthecakesandtheletters,orevenDolly’skindness,couldtendforhim. “Ah,ifthere’sgoodanywhere,we’veneedofit,”repeatedDolly,whodidnotlightlyforsakeaserviceablephrase.ShelookedatSilaspityinglyasshewenton.“Butyoudidn’thearthechurch-bellsthismorning,MasterMarner?Idoubtyoudidn’tknowitwasSunday.Livingsolonehere,youloseyourcount,Idaresayandthen,whenyourloommakesanoise,youcan’thearthebells,morepartic’larnowthefrostkillsthesound.” “Yes,IdidIheard’em,”saidSilas,towhomSundaybellswereamereaccidentoftheday,andnotpartofitssacredness.TherehadbeennobellsinLanternYard. “Dearheart!”saidDolly,pausingbeforeshespokeagain.“ButwhatapityitisyoushouldworkofaSunday,andnotcleanyourself—ifyoudid