There once lived, in a little English town, a skilful linen weaver
named Silas Marner. He was of a simple, trusting nature. He thought no
wrong of anybody, and had never harmed any one in word or deed. Among
his friends in the town there was one man whom he loved so dearly that
he would gladly have given his life for him.
This man, however, far from being a true friend, acted most dishonestly
and unfaithfully. Having committed a robbery himself, he cast the blame
on Silas; and the weaver, who was too simple to see through the trick
that had been played upon him, was forced to leave his native town,
not only a disgraced, but a broken-hearted, man. The wickedness of the
man whom he had thought his true friend, and the readiness of all his
fellow-townsmen to believe evil of him, changed his whole nature and
made him suspicious of and bitter against all men.
He wandered forth and settled at last in the village of Raveloe,
far away from his old home. There he took up his abode in a little
weather-beaten cottage at the outskirts of the town, and would have
nothing to do with his neighbors beyond furnishing them with the fine
linen he wove so well, and taking his pay in gold.
All day long he sat spinning at his loom, seeing no one and thinking
only of his wrongs; and at night he had nothing to do but count his
gold and watch with delight how the pile grew larger and larger every
week. At last the gold, taking the place of his former interests,
became the one thing in life he cared for. He hoarded it and gloated
over it like a miser; and before long, though he still worked steadily
at his loom, he thought no more of his work, but only of the gold it
would bring him to add to his store. Thus passed his life for a long
time.
But one evening when Silas had gone out to carry a bundle to a
neighboring house, and had left his door ajar because he meant to be
back in a short time, a thief, attracted by the light and the open
door, entered the weaver’s hut and stole the bags of gold. When he
returned, and, as usual, lifted the stone under which his treasure was
hidden, he found nothing but the empty hole.
At first he could not believe that the money was gone. He hunted
everywhere through his little cottage, turning again and again to the
empty hole in the ground, to make sure that his eyes had not deceived
him. When at last the truth forced itself upon him that his gold was
really gone, he uttered a cry of anger and dismay, and rushed forth
into the night, weeping and wailing and searching in vain for his lost
treasure.
His neighbors, who soon heard what had happened, felt very sorry for
him, and tried to show, by many little kind acts, their friendliness
for the now desolate man. But he would have nothing to do with any of
them. He shut himself up in his cheerless cottage, and though, from
force of habit, he still worked at his loom, he had no longer any
interest in life.
One bitterly cold night, Silas again had occasion to go out after dark.
This time he left his door wide open, for now he had nothing left to
lose. But while he was gone, a little golden-haired child, whose poor
mother lay frozen to death in the snow on the roadside, had spied the
light in Marner’s cottage and had crept to it for safety. Once inside
the warm room, the child had fallen asleep, her golden head resting
upon the very spot from which the miser’s treasure had been stolen.
When Silas entered the cottage and saw the glitter of gold on the
floor, he was so startled that for a moment he stood stock-still. His
first thought was that his treasure had been restored to him, and with
a cry of joy he rushed forward to seize it. But instead of the cold,
hard gold, he felt soft, warm curls; and the next minute the little
child, who was awakened by his touch, began to cry.
Silas Marner, dazed as he was by the strange, living thing he had
found in the place of his lost gold, did all he could to comfort the
frightened little stranger; and soon, warm and no longer hungry, she
was nestling her golden head against his arm, and laughing and babbling
as contentedly as though she had always known her protector.
That was the beginning of a new happiness for Silas, much more
satisfying than the miser’s love he had formerly felt for his gold. The
lonely, helpless child aroused his pity and affection. As the mother
was dead and no relatives came to claim the little girl, he decided
to take care of her himself, and soon found himself loving her with a
deep, fatherly tenderness.
He knew so little about children, however, that he needed the advice of
a woman to help him bring up Eppie, as he had called the little girl;
and so, gradually, he began to mingle more and more with the people
of the village. As for the simple Raveloe folk, when they saw Silas
Marner’s tenderness for the child, they felt that they had not really
understood the lonely man. Before long all the villagers were on the
best of terms with Silas and Eppie, and he had cast behind him all the
hatred and bitterness that had led him to shun his fellow-men.
Eppie grew up strong and beautiful, and by the most tender love
repaid Silas Marner for all his care of her through the years of her
childhood. She had led him back to love and faith in human nature; and
he never again regretted his lost treasure, which had been so richly
replaced by the golden-haired child.
--GRACE H. KUPFER.
_From “Lives and Stories Worth Remembering,” by permission of the
American Book Company._