Silas was as unable to interpret the letters as Dolly, but there was no possibility of misunderstanding the desire to give comfort that made itself heard in her quiet tones. He said, with more feeling than before, “Thank you—thank you kindly.” But he laid down the cakes and seated himself absently, drearily unconscious of any distinct benefit towards which the cakes and the letters, or even Dolly’s kindness, could tend for him.

“Ah, if there’s good anywhere, we’ve need of it,” repeated Dolly, who did not lightly forsake a serviceable phrase. She looked at Silas pityingly as she went on. “But you didn’t hear the church bells this morning, Master Marner? I doubt you didn’t know it was Sunday. Living so lone here you lose your count, I dare say; and then, when your loom makes a noise, you can’t hear the bells, more partic’lar now the frost kills the sound.”

“Yes, I did; I heard ’em,” said Silas, to whom Sunday bells were a mere accident of the day, and not part of its sacredness. There had been no bells in Lantern Yard.

“Dear heart!” said Dolly, pausing before she spoke again. “But what a pity it is you should work of a Sunday, and not clean yourself—if you didn’t go to church; for if you’d a roasting bit, it might be as you couldn’t leave it, being a lone man. But there’s the bakehus, if you could make up your mind to spend a twopence on the oven now and then—not every week, in course; I shouldn’t like to do that myself—you might carry your bit o’ dinner there; for it’s nothing but right to have a bit o’ summat hot of a Sunday, and not to make it as you can’t know your dinner from Saturday. But now, upo’ Christmas day, this blessed Christmas as is ever coming, if you was to take your dinner to the bakehus, and go to church, and see the holly and the yew, and hear the anthim, and then take the sacramen’, you’d be a deal the better, and you’d know which end you stood on, and you could put your trust i’ Them as knows better nor we do, seein’ you’d ha’ done what it lies on us all to do.”

Dolly’s exhortation, which was an unusually long effort of speech for her, was uttered in the soothing, persuasive tone with which she would have tried to prevail on a sick man to take his medicine, or a basin of gruel for which he had no appetite. Silas had never before been closely urged on the point of his absence from church, which had only been thought of as a part of his general queerness; and he was too direct and simple to evade Dolly’s appeal.

“Nay, nay,” he said, “I know nothing o’ church; I’ve never been to church.”

“No!” said Dolly, in a low tone of wonderment. Then bethinking herself of Silas’s advent from an unknown country, she said, “Could it ha’ been as they’d no church where you was born?”

“Oh yes,” said Silas meditatively, sitting in his usual posture of leaning on his knees and supporting his head. “There was churches—a many—it was a big town. But I knew nothing of ’em; I went to chapel.”

Dolly was much puzzled at this new word, but she was rather afraid of inquiring further, lest “chapel” might mean some haunt of wickedness. After a little thought she said,—

“Well, Master Marner, it’s niver too late to turn over a new leaf; and if you’ve niver had no church, there’s no telling the good it’ll do you. For I feel so set up and comfortable as niver was when I’ve been and heard the prayers, and the singing to the praise and glory o’ God, as Mr. Macey gives out; and Mr. Crackenthorp saying good words, and more partic’lar on Sacramen’ Day. And if a bit o’ trouble comes, I feel as I can put up wi’ it, for I’ve looked for help i’ the right quarter, and gev myself up to Them as we must all give ourselves up to at the last; and if we ’n done our part, it isn’t to be believed as Them as are above us ’ull be worse nor we are, and come short o’ Their’n.”

Poor Dolly’s exposition of her simple Raveloe theology fell rather unmeaningly on Silas’s ears, for there was no word in it that could rouse a memory of what he had known as religion, and his comprehension was quite baffled by the plural pronoun, which was no heresy of Dolly’s, but only her way of avoiding a presumptuous familiarity. He remained silent, not feeling inclined to assent to the part of Dolly’s speech