But the complete torpor came at last: the fingers lost their
tension, the arms unbent; then the little head fell away from the
bosom, and the blue eyes opened wide on the cold starlight. At first
there was a little peevish cry of 'mammy', and an effort to regain the
pillowing arm and bosom; but mammy's ear was deaf, and the pillow
seemed to be slipping away backward. Suddenly, as the child rolled
downward on its mother's knees, all wet with snow, its eyes were
caught by a bright glancing light on the white ground, and, with the
ready transition of infancy, it was immediately absorbed in watching
the bright living thing running towards it, yet never arriving. That
bright living thing must be caught; and in an instant the child had
slipped on all-fours, and held out one little hand to catch the gleam.
But the gleam would not be caught in that way, and now the head was
held up to see where the cunning gleam came from. It came from a
very bright place; and the little one, rising on its legs, toddled
through the snow, the old grimy shawl in which it was wrapped trailing
behind it, and the queer little bonnet dangling at its back- toddled
on to the open door of Silas Marner's cottage, and right up to the
warm hearth, where there was a bright fire of logs and sticks, which
had thoroughly warmed the old sack (Silas's greatcoat) spread out on
the bricks to dry. The little one, accustomed to be left to itself for
long hours without notice from its mother, squatted down on the
sack, and spread its tiny hands towards the blaze, in perfect
contentment, gurgling and making inarticulate communications to the
cheerful fire, like a new-hatched gosling beginning to find itself
comfortable.
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