The transient fears of the company were now
forgotten in their strong curiosity, and all faces were turned towards
Silas, when the landlord, having seated himself again, said:
'Now then, Master Marner, what's this you've got to say, as
you've been robbed? speak out.'
'He'd better not say again as it was me robbed him,' cried Jem
Rodney, hastily. 'What could I ha' done with his money? I could as
easy steal the parson's surplice, and wear it.'
'Hold your tongue, Jem, and let's hear what he's got to say,'
said the landlord. 'Now then, Master Marner.'
Silas now told his story under frequent questioning, as the
mysterious character of the robbery became evident.
This strangely novel situation of opening his trouble to his
Raveloe neighbours, of sitting in the warmth of a hearth not his
own, and feeling the presence of faces and voices which were his
nearest promise of help, had doubtless its influence on Marner, in
spite of his passionate preoccupation with his loss. Our consciousness
rarely registers the beginning of a growth within us any more than
without us: there have been many circulations of the sap before we
detect the smallest sign of the bud.
The slight suspicion with which his hearers at first listened to
him, gradually melted away before the convincing simplicity of his
distress: it was impossible for the neighbours to doubt that Marner
was telling the truth, not because they were capable of arguing at
once from the nature of his statements to the absence of any motive
for making them falsely, but because, as Mr Macey observed, 'Folks
as had the devil to back 'em were not likely to be so mushed' as
poor Silas was.
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