CHAPTER XIII.

,“How’sthis?—what’sthis?—whatdoyoudocominginhereinthisway?” “I’mcomeforthedoctor—Iwantthedoctor,”Silashadsaid,inthefirstmoment,toMr.Crackenthorp. “Why,what’sthematter,Marner?”saidtherector.“Thedoctor’sherebutsayquietlywhatyouwanthimfor.” “It’sawoman,”saidSilas,speakinglow,andhalf-breathlessly,justasGodfreycameup.“She’sdead,Ithink—deadinthesnowattheStone-pits—notfarfrommydoor.” Godfreyfeltagreatthrob:therewasoneterrorinhismindatthatmoment:itwas,thatthewomanmightnotbedead.Thatwasanevilterror—anuglyinmatetohavefoundanestling-placeinGodfrey’skindlydispositionbutnodispositionisasecurityfromevilwishestoamanwhosehappinesshangsonduplicity. “Hush,hush!”saidMr.Crackenthorp.“Gooutintothehallthere.I’llfetchthedoctortoyou.Foundawomaninthesnow—andthinksshe’sdead,”headded,speakinglowtotheSquire.“Bettersayaslittleaboutitaspossible:itwillshocktheladies.Justtellthemapoorwomanisillfromcoldandhunger.I’llgoandfetchKimble.” Bythistime,however,theladieshadpressedforward,curioustoknowwhatcouldhavebroughtthesolitarylinen-weaverthereundersuchstrangecircumstances,andinterestedintheprettychild,who,halfalarmedandhalfattractedbythebrightnessandthenumerouscompany,nowfrownedandhidherface,nowliftedupherheadagainandlookedroundplacably,untilatouchoracoaxingwordbroughtbackthefrown,andmadeherburyherfacewithnewdetermination. “Whatchildisit?”saidseveralladiesatonce,and,amongtherest,NancyLammeter,addressingGodfrey. “Idon’tknow—somepoorwoman’swhohasbeenfoundinthesnow,Ibelieve,”wastheanswerGodfreywrungfromhimselfwithaterribleeffort.(“Afterall,amIcertain?”hehastenedtoadd,silently,inanticipationofhisownconscience.) “Why,you’dbetterleavethechildhere,then,MasterMarner,”saidgood-naturedMrs.Kimble,hesitating,however,totakethosedingyclothesintocontactwithherownornamentedsatinbodice.“I’lltelloneo’thegirlstofetchit.” “No—no—Ican’tpartwithit,Ican’tletitgo,”saidSilas,abruptly.“It’scometome—I’vearighttokeepit.” ThepropositiontotakethechildfromhimhadcometoSilasquiteunexpectedly,andhisspeech,utteredunderastrongsuddenimpulse,wasalmostlikearevelationtohimself:aminutebefore,hehadnodistinctintentionaboutthechild. “Didyoueverhearthelike?”saidMrs.Kimble,inmildsurprise,toherneighbour. “Now,ladies,Imusttroubleyoutostandaside,”saidMr.Kimble,comingfromthecard-room,insomebitternessattheinterruption,butdrilledbythelonghabitofhisprofessionintoobediencetounpleasantcalls,evenwhenhewashardlysober. “It’sanastybusinessturningoutnow,eh,Kimble?”saidtheSquire.“Hemightha’goneforyouryoungfellow—the’prentice,there—what’shisname?” “Might?aye—what’stheuseoftalkingaboutmight?”growleduncleKimble,hasteni