-pit by Marner's cottage went dry, owing to drainage
operations, the skeleton of Dunstan Cass was found, wedged between two
great stones. The watch and seals were recognised, and all the weaver's
money was at the bottom of the pit. The shock of this discovery moved
Godfrey to tell Nancy the secret of his earlier marriage.
"Everything comes to light, Nancy, sooner or later," he said. "That
woman Marner found dead in the snow--Eppie's mother--was my wife. Eppie
is my child. I oughtn't to have left the child unowned. I oughtn't to
have kept it from you."
"It's but little wrong to me, Godfrey," Nancy answered sadly. "You've
made it up to me--you've been good to me for fifteen years. It'll be a
different coming to us, now she's grown up."
They were childless, and it hadn't occurred to them as they approached
Silas Marner's cottage that Godfrey's offer might be declined. At first
Godfrey explained that he and his wife wanted to adopt Eppie in place of
a daughter.
"Eppie, my child, speak," said old Marner faintly. "I won't stand in
your way. Thank Mr. and Mrs. Cass."
"Thank you, ma'am--thank you, sir," said Eppie dropping a curtsy; "but I
can't leave my father, nor own anybody nearer than him."
Godfrey Cass was irritated at this obstacle.
"But I've a claim on you, Eppie," he returned. "It's my duty, Marner, to
own Eppie as my child, and provide for her. She's my own child. Her
mother was my wife. I've a natural claim on her."
"Then, sir, why didn't you say so sixteen years ago, and claim her
before I'd come to love her, i'stead o' coming to take her from me now,
when you might as well take the heart out o' my body? When a man turns a
blessing from his door, it falls to them as take it in. But let it be as
you will. Speak to the child. I'll hinder nothing."
"Eppie, my dear," said Godfrey, looking at his daughter not without some
embarrassment, "it'll always be our wish that you should show your love
and gratitude to one who's been a father to you so many years; but we
hope you'll come to love us as well, and though I haven't been what a
father should ha' been to you all these years, I wish to do the utmost
in my power for you now, and provide for you as my only child. And
you'll have the best of mothers in my wife."
Eppie did not come forward and curtsy as she had done before, but she
held Silas's hand in hers and grasped it firmly.
"Thank you, ma'am--thank you, sir, for your offers--they're very great
a
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