Silas Marner George Eliot (christmas read aloud .TXT) š
- Author: George Eliot
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A plain man like Godfrey Cass, speaking under some embarrassment, necessarily blunders on words that are coarser than his intentions, and that are likely to fall gratingly on susceptible feelings. While he had been speaking, Eppie had quietly passed her arm behind Silasās head, and let her hand rest against it caressingly: she felt him trembling violently. He was silent for some moments when Mr. Cass had endedā āpowerless under the conflict of emotions, all alike painful. Eppieās heart was swelling at the sense that her father was in distress; and she was just going to lean down and speak to him, when one struggling dread at last gained the mastery over every other in Silas, and he said, faintlyā ā
āEppie, my child, speak. I wonāt stand in your way. Thank Mr. and Mrs. Cass.ā
Eppie took her hand from her fatherās head, and came forward a step. Her cheeks were flushed, but not with shyness this time: the sense that her father was in doubt and suffering banished that sort of self-consciousness. She dropped a low curtsy, first to Mrs. Cass and then to Mr. Cass, and saidā ā
āThank you, maāamā āthank you, sir. But I canāt leave my father, nor own anybody nearer than him. And I donāt want to be a ladyā āthank you all the sameā (here Eppie dropped another curtsy). āI couldnāt give up the folks Iāve been used to.ā
Eppieās lips began to tremble a little at the last words. She retreated to her fatherās chair again, and held him round the neck: while Silas, with a subdued sob, put up his hand to grasp hers.
The tears were in Nancyās eyes, but her sympathy with Eppie was, naturally, divided with distress on her husbandās account. She dared not speak, wondering what was going on in her husbandās mind.
Godfrey felt an irritation inevitable to almost all of us when we encounter an unexpected obstacle. He had been full of his own penitence and resolution to retrieve his error as far as the time was left to him; he was possessed with all-important feelings, that were to lead to a predetermined course of action which he had fixed on as the right, and he was not prepared to enter with lively appreciation into other peopleās feelings counteracting his virtuous resolves. The agitation with which he spoke again was not quite unmixed with anger.
āBut Iāve a claim on you, Eppieā āthe strongest of all claims. Itās my duty, Marner, to own Eppie as my child, and provide for her. She is my own childā āher mother was my wife. Iāve a natural claim on her that must stand before every other.ā
Eppie had given a violent start, and turned quite pale. Silas, on the contrary, who had been relieved, by Eppieās answer, from the dread lest his mind should be in opposition to hers, felt the spirit of resistance in him set free, not without a touch of parental fierceness. āThen, sir,ā he answered, with an accent of bitterness that had been silent in him since the memorable day when his youthful hope had perishedā āāthen, sir, why didnāt you say so sixteen year ago, and claim her before Iād come to love her, iāstead oā coming to take her from me now, when you might as well take the heart out oā my body? God gave her to me because you turned your back upon her, and He looks upon her as mine: youāve no right to her! When a man turns a blessing from his door, it falls to them as take it in.ā
āI know that, Marner. I was wrong. Iāve repented of my conduct in that matter,ā said Godfrey, who could not help feeling the edge of Silasās words.
āIām glad to hear it, sir,ā said Marner, with gathering excitement; ābut repentance doesnāt alter whatās been going on for sixteen year. Your coming now and saying āIām her fatherā doesnāt alter the feelings inside us. Itās me sheās been calling her father ever since she could say the word.ā
āBut I think you might look at the thing more reasonably, Marner,ā said Godfrey, unexpectedly awed by the weaverās direct truth-speaking. āIt isnāt as if she was to be taken quite away from you, so that youād never see her again. Sheāll be very near you, and come to see you very often. Sheāll feel just the same towards you.ā
āJust the same?ā said Marner, more bitterly than ever. āHowāll she feel just the same for me as she does now, when we eat oā the same bit, and drink oā the same cup, and think oā the same things from one dayās end to another? Just the same? thatās idle talk. Youād cut us iā two.ā
Godfrey, unqualified by experience to discern the pregnancy of Marnerās simple words, felt rather angry again. It seemed to him that the weaver was very selfish (a judgment readily passed by those who have never tested their own power of sacrifice) to oppose what was undoubtedly for Eppieās welfare; and he felt himself called upon, for her sake, to assert his authority.
āI should have thought, Marner,ā he said, severelyā āāI should have thought your affection for Eppie would make you rejoice in what was for her good, even if it did call upon you to give up something. You ought to remember your own lifeās uncertain, and sheās at an age now when her lot may soon be fixed in a way very different from what it would be in her fatherās home: she may marry some low workingman, and then, whatever I might do for her, I couldnāt make her well-off. Youāre putting yourself in the way of her welfare; and though Iām sorry to hurt you after what youāve done, and what Iāve left undone, I feel now itās my duty to insist on taking care of my own daughter. I want to do my duty.ā
It would be difficult to say whether it were Silas or Eppie
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