silas marner(织工马南)-第12章
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lifted his hands to his head； trying to steady himself； that he might
think。 Had he put his gold somewhere else； by a sudden resolution
last night； and then forgotten it？ A man falling into dark waters
seeks a momentary footing even on sliding stones； and Silas； by
acting as if he believed in false hopes； warded off the moment of
despair。 He searched in every corner； he turned his bed over； and
shook it； and kneaded it； he looked in his brick oven where he laid
his sticks。 When there was no other place to be searched； he
kneeled down again and felt once more all round the hole。 There
was no untried refuge left for a moment’s shelter from the terrible
truth。
Yes； there was a sort of refuge which always comes with the
prostration of thought under an overpowering passion： it was that
expectation of impossibilities； that belief in contradictory images；
which is still distinct from madness； because it is capable of being
dissipated by the external fact。 Silas got up from his knees
trembling； and looked round at the table： didn’t the gold lie there
after all？ The table was bare。 Then he turned and looked behind
him—looked all round his dwelling； seeming to strain his brown
eyes after some possible appearance of the bags where he had
already sought them in vain。 He could see every object in his
cottage—and his gold was not there。
Again he put his trembling hands to his head； and gave a wild；
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ringing scream； the cry of desolation。 For a few moments after； he
stood motionless； but the cry had relieved him from the first
maddening pressure of the truth。 He turned； and tottered towards
his loom； and got into the seat where he worked； instinctively
seeking this as the strongest assurance of reality。
And now that all the false hopes had vanished； and the first
shock of certainty was past； the idea of a thief began to present
itself； and he entertained it eagerly； because a thief might be
caught and made to restore the gold。 The thought brought some
new strength with it； and he started from his loom to the door。 As
he opened it the rain beat in upon him； for it was falling more and
more heavily。 There were no footsteps to be tracked on such a
night—footsteps？ When had the thief come？ During Silas’s
absence in the daytime the door had been locked； and there had
been no marks of any inroad on his return by daylight。 And in the
evening； too； he said to himself； everything was the same as when
he had left it。 The sand and bricks looked as if they had not been
moved。 Was it a thief who had taken the bags？ or was it a cruel
power that no hands could reach； which had delighted in making
him a second time desolate？ He shrank from this vaguer dread；
and fixed his mind with struggling effort on the robber with hands；
who could be reached by hands。 His thoughts glanced at all the
neighbours who had made any remarks； or asked any questions
which he might now regard as a ground of suspicion。 There was
Jem Rodney； a known poacher； and otherwise disreputable： he
had often met Marner in his journeys across the fields； and had
said something jestingly about the weaver’s money； nay； he had
once irritated Marner； by lingering at the fire when he called to
light his pipe； instead of going about his business。 Jem Rodney
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was the man—there was ease in the thought。 Jem could be found
and made to restore the money： Marner did not want to punish
him； but only to get back his gold which had gone from him； and
left his soul like a forlorn traveller on an unknown desert。 The
robber must be laid hold of。 Marner’s ideas of legal authority were
confused； but he felt that he must go and proclaim his loss； and the
great people in the village—the clergyman； the constable； and
Squire Cass—would make Jem Rodney； or somebody else； deliver
up the stolen money。 He rushed out in the rain； under the stimulus
of this hope； forgetting to cover his head； not caring to fasten his
door； for he felt as if he had nothing left to lose。 He ran swiftly； till
want of breath compelled him to slacken his pace as he was
entering the village at the turning close to the Rainbow。
The Rainbow； in Marner’s view； was a place of luxurious resort
for rich and stout husbands； whose wives had superfluous stores
of linen； it was the place where he was likely to find the powers
and dignities of Raveloe； and where he could most speedily make
his loss public。 He lifted the latch； and turned into the bright bar
or kitchen on the right hand； where the less lofty customers of the
house were in the habit of assembling； the parlour on the left
being reserved for the more select society in which Squire Cass
frequently enjoyed the double pleasure of conviviality and
condescension。 But the parlour was dark tonight； the chief
personages who ornamented its circle being all at Mrs。 Osgood’s
birthday dance； as Godfrey Cass was。 And in consequence of this；
the party on the high…screened seats in the kitchen was more
numerous than usual； several personages； who would otherwise
have been admitted into the parlour and enlarged the opportunity
of hectoring and condescension for their betters； being content
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this evening to vary their enjoyment by taking their spirits…and…
water where they could themselves hector and condescend in
company that called for beer。
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Chapter 6
he conversation； which was at a high pitch of animation
when Silas approached the door of the Rainbow； had； as
T
usual； been slow and intermittent when the company first
assembled。 The pipes began to be puffed in a silence which had an
air of severity； the more important customers； who drank spirits
and sat nearest the fire； staring at each other as if a bet were
depending on the first man who winked； while the beer…drinkers；
chiefly men in fustian jackets and smock…frocks； kept their eyelids
down and rubbed their hands across their mouths； as if their
draughts of beer were a funereal duty attended with embarrassing
sadness。 At last； Mr。 Snell； the landlord； a man of a neutral
disposition； accustomed to stand aloof from human differences as
those of beings who were all alike in need of liquor； broke silence；
by saying in a doubtful tone to his cousin the butcher—“Some
folks ’ud say that was a fine beast you druv in yesterday； Bob？”
The butcher； a jolly； smiling； red…haired man； was not disposed
to answer rashly。 He gave a few puffs before he spat and replied；
“And they wouldn’t be fur wrong； John。”
After this feeble； delusive thaw； the silence set in as severely as
before。
“Was it a red Durham？” said the farrier； taking up the thread of
discourse after the lapse of a few minutes。
The farrier looked at the landlord； and the landlord looked at
the butcher； as the person who must take the responsibility of
answering。
“Red it was；” said the butcher； in his good…humoured； husky
treble—”and a Durham it was。”
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“Then you needn’t tell me who you bought it of；” said the
farrier； looking round with some triumph； “I know who it is has
got the red Durhams o’ this countryside。 And she’d a white star on
her brow； I’ll bet a penny？” The farrier leaned forward with his
hands on his knees as he put this question； and his eyes twinkled
knowingly。
“Well； yes—she might；” said the butcher； slowly； considering
that he was giving a decided affirmative。 “I don’t say contrairy。”
“I knew that very well；” said the farrier； throwing himself
backward again； and speaking defiantly； “if I don’t know Mr。
Lammeter’s cows； I should like to know who does—that’s all！ And
as for the cow you’ve bought； bargain or no bargain； I’ve been at
the drenching of her—contradick me who will。”
The farrier looked fierce； and the mild butcher’s conversational
spirit was roused a little。
“I’m not for contradicking no man；” he said； “I’m for peace and
quietness。 Some are for cutting long ribs—I’m for cutting ’em
short myself； but I don’t quarrel with ’em。 All I say is； it’s a lovely
carkiss—and anybody as was reasonable； it ’ud bring tears into
their eyes to look at it。”
“Well； it’s the cow as I drenched； whatever it is；” pursued the
farrier； angrily； “and it was Mr。 Lammeter’s cow； else you told a lie
when you said it was a red Durham。”
“I tell no lies；” said the butcher； with the same mild huskiness
as before； “and I contradick none—not if a man was to swear
himself black： he’s no meat o’ mine
