Had he not always said that when Silas Marner was in that
strange trance of his, his soul went loose from his body? Here was the
demonstration: nevertheless, on the whole, he would have been as
well contented without it. For a few moments there was a dead silence,
Marner's want of breath and agitation not allowing him to speak. The
landlord, under the habitual sense that he was bound to keep his house
open to all company, and confident in the protection of his unbroken
neutrality, at last took on himself the task of adjuring the ghost.
'Master Marner,' he said, in a conciliatory tone, 'what's lacking
to you? What's your business here?'
'Robbed!' said Silas, gaspingly. 'I've been robbed! I want the
constable- and the Justice- and Squire Cass- and Mr Crackenthorp.'
'Lay hold on him, Jem Rodney,' said the landlord, the idea of a
ghost subsiding; 'he's off his head, I doubt. He's wet through.'
Jem Rodney was the outermost man, and sat conveniently near
Marner's standing-place; but he declined to give his services.
'Come and lay hold on him yourself, Mr Snell, if you've a mind,'
said Jem, rather sullenly. 'He's been robbed, and murdered too, for
what I know,' he added, in a muttering tone.
'Jem Rodney!' said Silas, turning and fixing his strange eyes on
the suspected man.
'Aye, Master Marner, what do you want wi' me?' said Jem,
trembling a little, and seizing his drinking-can as a defensive
weapon.
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