Silas, always ill at ease when he was being spoken to by “betters,” such as Mr. Cass—tall, powerful, florid men, seen chiefly on horseback—answered with some constraint,—

“Sir, I’ve a deal to thank you for a’ready. As for the robbery, I count it no loss to me. And if I did, you couldn’t help it; you aren’t answerable for it.”

“You may look at it in that way, Marner, but I never can; and I hope you’ll let me act according to my own feeling of what’s just. I know you’re easily contented; you’ve been a hard-working man all your life.”

“Yes, sir, yes,” said Marner meditatively. “I should ha’ been bad off without my work; it was what I held by when everything else was gone from me.”

“Ah,” said Godfrey, applying Marner’s words simply to his bodily wants, “it was a good trade for you in this country, because there’s been a great deal of linen-weaving to be done. But you’re getting rather past such close work, Marner; it’s time you laid by and had some rest. You look a good deal pulled down, though you’re not an old man, are you?”

“Fifty-five, as near as I can say, sir,” said Silas

“Oh, why, you may live thirty years longer—look at old Macey! And that money on the table, after all, is but little. It won’t go far either way—whether it’s put out to interest, or you were to live on it as long as it would last; it wouldn’t go far if you’d nobody to keep but yourself, and you’ve had two to keep for a good many years now.”

“Eh, sir,” said Silas, unaffected by anything Godfrey was saying, “I’m in no fear o’ want. We shall do very well—Eppie and me ’ull do well enough. There’s few working-folks have got so much laid by as that. I don’t know what it is to gentlefolks, but I look upon it as a deal—almost too much. And as for us, it’s little we want.”

“Only the garden, father,” said Eppie, blushing up to the ears the moment after.

“You love a garden, do you, my dear?” said Nancy, thinking that this turn in the point of view might help her husband. “We should agree in that; I give a deal of time to the garden.”

“Ah, there’s plenty of gardening at the Red House,” said Godfrey, surprised at the difficulty he found in approaching a proposition which had seemed so easy to him in the distance. “You’ve done a good part by Eppie, Marner, for sixteen years. It ’ud be a great comfort to you to see her well provided for, wouldn’t it? She looks blooming and healthy, but not fit for any hardships; she doesn’t look like a strapping girl come of working parents. You’d like to see her taken care of by those who can leave her well off, and make a lady of her; she’s more fit for it than for a rough life, such as she might come to have in a few years’ time.”

A slight flush came over Marner’s face, and disappeared, like a passing gleam. Eppie was simply wondering Mr. Cass should talk so about things that seemed to have nothing to do with reality, but Silas was hurt and uneasy.

“I don’t take your meaning, sir,” he answered, not having the words at command to express the mingled feelings with which he had heard Mr. Cass’s words.

“Well, my meaning is this, Marner,” said Godfrey, determined to come to the point. “Mrs. Cass and I, you know, have no children—nobody to be the better for our good home and everything else we have—more than enough for ourselves. And we should like to have somebody in the place of a daughter to us—we should like to have Eppie, and treat her in every way as our own child. It ’ud be a great comfort to you in your old age, I hope, to see her fortune made in that way, after you’ve been at the trouble of bringing her up so well. And it’s right you should have every reward for that. And Eppie, I’m sure, will