CHAPTER XIII.

wayfromallrestrainttowardthesuddenprospectofdeliverancefromhislongbondage. “Isshedead?”saidthevoicethatpredominatedovereveryotherwithinhim.“Ifsheis,ImaymarryNancyandthenIshallbeagoodfellowinfuture,andhavenosecrets,andthechild—shallbetakencareofsomehow.”Butacrossthatvisioncametheotherpossibility—“Shemaylive,andthenit’sallupwithme.” GodfreyneverknewhowlongitwasbeforethedoorofthecottageopenedandMr.Kimblecameout.Hewentforwardtomeethisuncle,preparedtosuppresstheagitationhemustfeel,whatevernewshewastohear. “Iwaitedforyou,asI’dcomesofar,”hesaid,speakingfirst. “Pooh,itwasnonsenseforyoutocomeout:whydidn’tyousendoneofthemen?There’snothingtobedone.She’sdead—hasbeendeadforhours,Ishouldsay.” “Whatsortofwomanisshe?”saidGodfrey,feelingthebloodrushtohisface. “Ayoungwoman,butemaciated,withlongblackhair.Somevagrant—quiteinrags.She’sgotawedding-ringon,however.Theymustfetchherawaytotheworkhouseto-morrow.Come,comealong.” “Iwanttolookather,”saidGodfrey.“IthinkIsawsuchawomanyesterday.I’llovertakeyouinaminuteortwo.” Mr.Kimblewenton,andGodfreyturnedbacktothecottage.Hecastonlyoneglanceatthedeadfaceonthepillow,whichDollyhadsmoothedwithdecentcarebutherememberedthatlastlookathisunhappyhatedwifesowell,thatattheendofsixteenyearseverylineinthewornfacewaspresenttohimwhenhetoldthefullstoryofthisnight. Heturnedimmediatelytowardsthehearth,whereSilasMarnersatlullingthechild.Shewasperfectlyquietnow,butnotasleep—onlysoothedbysweetporridgeandwarmthintothatwide-gazingcalmwhichmakesusolderhumanbeings,withourinwardturmoil,feelacertainaweinthepresenceofalittlechild,suchaswefeelbeforesomequietmajestyorbeautyintheearthorsky—beforeasteadyglowingplanet,orafull-floweredeglantine,orthebendingtreesoverasilentpathway.Thewide-openblueeyeslookedupatGodfrey’swithoutanyuneasinessorsignofrecognition:thechildcouldmakenovisibleaudibleclaimonitsfatherandthefatherfeltastrangemixtureoffeelings,aconflictofregretandjoy,thatthepulseofthatlittlehearthadnoresponseforthehalf-jealousyearninginhisown,whentheblueeyesturnedawayfromhimslowly,andfixedthemselvesontheweaver’squeerface,whichwasbentlowdowntolookatthem,whilethesmallhandbegantopullMarner’switheredcheekwithlovingdisfiguration. “You’lltakethechildtotheparishto-morrow?”askedGodfrey,speakingasindifferentlyashecould. “Whosaysso?”saidMarner,sharply.“Willtheymakemetakeher?” “Why,youwouldn’tliketokeepher,shouldyou—anoldbachelorlikeyou?” “Tillanybodyshowsthey’vearighttotakeherawayfromme,”saidMarner.“Themother’sdead,andIreckonit’sgotnofather:it’salonething—andI’malonething.Mymoney’sgone,Idon’tknowwhere—andthisiscomefromIdon’tknowwhere.Iknownothing—I’mpartlymazed