همسایگان سیلاس

Chapter 5

Silas’s neighbours

In the weeks following the robbery, the police tried hard to find the pedlar, because so many people suspected him of being the thief. But there was no sign of him in any of the towns and villages round Raveloe.

Nobody was surprised at Dunstan Cass’s absence. Once before he had stayed away for six weeks and then come back.

Nobody imagined he could have anything to do with the robbery. The villagers continued to discuss Silas and his lost gold, but they had no more explanations to offer.

Silas himself still had his loom and his work, so he went on weaving. But the only thing that had made his life worth living had gone, and now he had nothing to look forward to. A lifetime of empty evenings lay ahead of him. He did not enjoy thinking of the money he would earn, because it reminded him of the money he had lost. As he sat weaving, he sometimes used to moan quietly to himself. And in the evenings, as he sat alone in front of the fire, he used to put his head in his hands and moan again.

But this disaster had one good result. Little by little, Silas’s neighbours realized it was wrong to be suspicious of him. He was just a poor, simple, harmless man, who needed their help.

They showed their new opinion of him in many different ways.

Some of the women, who were baking cakes and preparing meat for Christmas, brought him presents of food. Some of the men, who had nothing to give him, stopped him in the village to ask about his health, or visited him to discuss the robbery. They often finished their conversation by saying cheerfully, ‘Now you’re the same as the rest of us - we’re poor too! Cheer up, Master Marner! If you get ill and can’t work any more, the Squire’ll give you food and your neighbours will take care of you.’ This did not make Silas feel better, but he realized it was meant kindly.

Old Mr Macey, the church clerk, came to the cottage one day, to explain how his opinion of the weaver had changed.

‘You see, Master Marner,’ he said in his high old voice, ‘I used to think you worked for the devil - you’ve always looked strange, you know. But now I’m sure you’re not evil, just a little bit crazy. That’s what I tell the neighbours.’

He stopped to give Silas time to reply, but the weaver did not speak. He was sitting with his head in his hands as usual. He knew that the old man was trying to be kind, but he was too miserable to show any interest.

‘Come, Master Marner, what’s your answer to that?’ asked Mr Macey, a little impatiently.

‘Oh,’ said Silas, slowly lifting his head, ‘thank you. Thank you for your kindness.’

‘That’s all right,’ replied the old man, pleased. ‘Now, you shouldn’t sit here moaning, you know. Here’s my advice to you.

Ask Tookey in the village to make you a Sunday suit - I don’t expect you’ve got one - and then you can come to church with your neighbours. It’ll make you feel better. You’re not an old man yet, although you look like one. How old were you when you came here first? Twenty-five?’

‘I don’t remember,’ answered Silas, shaking his head.

That evening, Mr Macey told a number of villagers at the Rainbow, ‘Poor Master Marner doesn’t know how old he is!

And I don’t suppose he knows what day of the week it is! He really is a bit crazy.’

Another villager, Dolly Winthrop, was also worried about Silas’s absence from church. She was a large, fresh-faced woman with a sweet, patient smile, who was always busy from early morning until late at night, and who went to church herself every Sunday. She believed in helping her neighbours, and if someone in Raveloe was ill or dying, Dolly was often asked to take care of the patient. This good, sensible woman decided that Silas needed her help. So one Sunday afternoon she took her son Aaron, a pretty little boy of seven, to visit the weaver. As they came closer to the cottage, they heard the sound of the loom.

‘Oh dear! Working on a Sunday! That’s bad!’ said Mrs Winthrop sadly. She had to knock loudly on the door before Silas heard. He said nothing, but opened the door to let them in, and Dolly sat down in an armchair.

‘I was baking yesterday, Master Marner,’ she said, ‘and I’ve brought you some of my cakes. Here they are.’

‘Thank you,’ replied Silas, taking the little bag of cakes Dolly was holding out to him. Aaron was hiding behind his mother’s chair, in childish fear of the weaver.

‘You didn’t hear the church bells this morning, perhaps, Master Marner?’ Dolly asked gently. ‘This cottage is a long way from the village.’

‘Yes, I heard them,’ answered Silas. For him Sunday bells did not mean anything. There had been no bells at the Light Street chapel.

‘Oh!’ said Dolly. ‘But - but do you have to work on a Sunday? You could make Sunday different from the other days, you know, by washing yourself, and cooking a little piece of meat, and going to church. And Master Marner, Christmas Day will be here soon! If you put on your best clothes and go to church and see the flowers and hear the singing, you’ll feel much better! You’ll know there is Someone you can trust!’

Dolly did not usually talk so much, but the matter seemed extremely important to her.

‘No, no,’ Silas replied. ‘I don’t know anything about church. I’ve never been to church.’

‘Never been!’ repeated Dolly. ‘Were there no churches in the town you were born in?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Silas, ‘there were a lot of churches. It was a big town, you see. But I only ever went to chapel.’

Dolly did not understand this word, but was afraid of asking any more questions, in case ‘chapel’ meant something evil. After considering carefully for a moment, she said, ‘Well, Master Marner, it’s never too late to start going to church. It’s very pleasant listening to the singing and the good words. If we go to church, then when trouble comes, Someone will take care of us.

And if we do our best, then I believe Someone will help us when we need help.’

Dolly’s explanation of her simple religion did not seem at all clear to Silas, but he did understand that she was asking him to go to church. He did not want to agree to that. Just then young Aaron came out from behind his mother’s chair, and Silas offered him one of Dolly’s cakes.

‘Oh Aaron!’ said his mother. ‘You’re always eating! No, don’t give him any more, Master Marner. But he can sing a song for you. I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s a beautiful Christmas carol.

Come, Aaron, let’s hear it.’

Little Aaron stood up straight and sang his carol in a clear, sweet voice. Dolly listened with delight, hoping that the carol Would help to persuade Silas to come to church.

‘You see, Master Marner,’ she said when Aaron had finished, that’s Christmas music. The Christmas Day service is wonderful, Wlth all the voices and the music. I hope you’ll be there with us. remember, if you feel ill, I’ll be happy to come and cook or clean for you. But I beg you, please stop weaving on Sundays, jt’s bad for soul and body, I’m sure. We must go now. Goodbye, Master Marner.’

‘Thank you, and goodbye,’ said Silas, as he opened the door for them. He could not help feeling relieved when she had gone.

Now he could weave and moan as much as he liked. Mr Macey and Dolly had tried hard to persuade Silas to go to church. But in the end he spent Christmas Day alone in his cottage, looking out at the cold grey sky. In the evening, snow began to fall, and he felt more distant and separate from his neighbours than ever. He sat in his robbed home, moaning miserably to himself, not noticing that his fire was no longer burning and that he was getting cold.

But in Raveloe the church bells were ringing and the church was fuller than all through the rest of the year. It was a special day for everybody, and after the service they all hurried home in the biting cold to eat and drink with their families.

At the Red House nobody spoke of Dunstan’s absence. The village doctor, Dr Kimble, and his wife were guests there for Christmas lunch, and the day passed happily.

The servants, however, were already preparing for the New Year’s Eve dance which Squire Cass gave every year. It was the best party of the year, and guests used to come from miles around. Godfrey was looking forward to this year’s party more than usual. But he was still worried.

‘What if Dunstan returns?’ he thought. ‘He’ll tell the Squire about my secret marriage! And Molly’s asking for more money! I’ll have to sell something for cash. But on New Year’s Eve, I can forget everything for an evening, and sit with Nancy, and look into her eyes, and dance with her . ..’