ever strolled into the village to drink a pint at
the Rainbow, or to gossip at the wheel-wrights'; he sought no man or
woman, save for the purposes of his calling, or in order to supply
himself with necessaries.

At the end of fifteen years the Raveloe men said just the same things
about Silas Marner as at the beginning. There was only one important
addition which the years had brought; it was that Master Marner had laid
by a fine sight of money somewhere, and that he could buy up "bigger men
than himself."

But while his daily habits presented scarcely any visible change,
Marner's inward life had been a history and a metamorphosis as that of
every fervid nature must be when it has been condemned to solitude. His
life, before he came to Raveloe, had been filled with the close
fellowship of a narrow religious sect, where the poorest layman had the
chance of distinguishing himself by gifts of speech; and Marner was
highly thought of in that little hidden world, known to itself as the
church assembling in Lantern Yard. He was believed to be a young man of
exemplary life and ardent faith, and a peculiar interest had been
centred in him ever since he had fallen at a prayer-meeting into a
trance or cataleptic fit, which lasted for an hour.

Among the members of his church there was one young man, named William
Dane, with whom he lived in close friendship; and it seemed to the
unsuspecting Silas that the friendship suffered no chill, even after he
had formed a closer attachment, and had become engaged to a young
servant-woman.

At this time the senior deacon was taken dangerously ill, and Silas and
William, with others of the brethren, took turns at night-watching. On
the night the old man died, Silas fell into one of his trances, and when
he awoke at four o'clock in the morning death had come, and, further, a
little bag of money had been stolen from the deacon's bureau, and
Silas's pocket-knife was found inside the bureau. For some time Silas
was mute with astonishment, then he said, "God will clear me; I know
nothing about the knife being there, or the money being gone. Search me
and my dwelling."

The search was made, and it ended in William Dane finding the deacon's
bag, empty, tucked behind the chest of drawers in Silas's chamber.

According to the principles of the church in Lantern Yard prosecution
was forbidden to Christians. But the members were bound to take other
measures for finding out the truth, and they r