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changed than her husband： the lovely bloom that used to be
always on her cheek now comes but fitfully； with the fresh
morning air or with some strong surprise； yet to all who love
human faces best for what they tell of human experience； Nancy’s
beauty has a heightened interest。 Often the soul is ripened into
fuller goodness while age has spread an ugly film； so that mere
glances can never divine the preciousness of the fruit。 But the
years have not been so cruel to Nancy。 The firm yet placid mouth；
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the clear veracious glance of the brown eyes； speak now of a
nature that has been tested and has kept its highest qualities； and
even the costume； with its dainty neatness and purity； has more
significance now the coquetries of youth can have nothing to do
with it。
Mr。 and Mrs。 Godfrey Cass （any higher title has died away from
Raveloe lips since the old Squire was gathered to his fathers and
his inheritance was divided） have turned round to look for the tall
aged man and the plainly dressed woman who are a little behind—
Nancy having observed that they must wait for “father and
Priscilla”—and now they all turn into a narrower path leading
across the churchyard to a small gate opposite the Red House。 We
will not follow them now； for may there not be some others in this
departing congregation whom we should like to see again—some
of those who are not likely to be handsomely clad； and whom we
may not recognise so easily as the master and mistress of the Red
House？
But it is impossible to mistake Silas Marner。 His large brown
eyes seem to have gathered a longer vision； as is the way with eyes
that have been short…sighted in early life； and they have a less
vague； a more answering gaze； but in everything else one sees
signs of a frame much enfeebled by the lapse of the sixteen years。
The weaver’s bent shoulders and white hair give him almost the
look of advanced age； though he is not more than five…and…fifty；
but there is the freshest blossom of youth close by his side—a
blonde dimpled girl of eighteen； who has vainly tried to chastise
her curly auburn hair into smoothness under her brown bonnet：
the hair ripples as obstinately as a brooklet under the March
breeze； and the little ringlets burst away from the restraining
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comb behind and show themselves below the bonnet…crown。 Eppie
cannot help being rather vexed about her hair； for there is no
other girl in Raveloe who has hair at all like it； and she thinks hair
ought to be smooth。 She does not like to be blameworthy even in
small things： you see how neatly her prayer…book is folded in her
spotted handkerchief。
That good…looking young fellow； in a new fustian suit； who
walks behind her； is not quite sure upon the question of hair in the
abstract； when Eppie puts it to him； and thinks that perhaps
straight hair is the best in general； but he doesn’t want Eppie’s
hair to be different。 She surely divines that there is someone
behind her who is thinking about her very particularly； and
mustering courage to come to her side as soon as they are out in
the lane； else why should she look rather shy； and take care not to
turn away her head from her father Silas； to whom she keeps
murmuring little sentences as to who was at church and who was
not at church； and how pretty the red…mountain…ash is over the
Rectory wall。
“I wish we had a little garden； father； with double daisies in；
like Mrs。 Winthrop’s；” said Eppie； when they were out in the lane；
“only they say it ’ud take a deal of digging and bringing fresh
soil—and you couldn’t do that； could you； father？ Anyhow； I
shouldn’t like you to do it； for it ’ud be too hard work for you。”
“Yes； I could do it； child； if you want a bit o’ garden： these long
evenings； I could work at taking in a little bit o’ the waste； just
enough for a root or two o’ flowers for you； and again； i’ the
morning； I could have a turn wi’ the spade before I sat down to the
loom。 Why didn’t you tell me before as you wanted a bit o’
garden？”
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“I can dig it for you； Master Marner；” said the young man in
fustian； who was now by Eppie’s side； entering into the
conversation without the trouble of formalities。 “It’ll be play to me
after I’ve done my day’s work； or any odd bits o’ time when the
work’s slack。 And I’ll bring you some soil from Mr。 Cass’s garden—
he’ll let me； and willing。”
“Eh； Aaron； my lad； are you there？” said Silas； “I wasn’t aware
of you； for when Eppie’s talking o’ things I see nothing but what
she’s a…saying。 Well； if you could help me with the digging； we
might get her a bit o’ garden all the sooner。”
“Then； if you think well and good；” said Aaron； “I’ll come to the
Stone…pits this afternoon； and we’ll settle what land’s to be taken
in； and I’ll get up an hour earlier i’ the morning； and begin on it。”
“But not if you don’t promise me not to work at the hard
digging； father；” said Eppie。 “For I shouldn’t ha’ said anything
about it；” she added； half…bashfully； half…roguishly； “only Mrs。
Winthrop said as Aaron ’ud be so good； and—” “And you might ha’
known it without mother telling you；” said Aaron。 “And Master
Marner knows too； I hope； as I’m able and willing to do a turn o’
work for him； and he won’t do me the unkindness to anyways take
it out o’ my hands。”
“There； now； father； you won’t work in it till it’s all easy；” said
Eppie； “and you and me can mark out the beds； and make holes
and plant the roots。 It’ll be a deal livelier at the Stone…pits when
we’ve got some flowers； for I always think the flowers can see us
and know what we’re talking about。 And I’ll have a bit o’ rosemary
and bergamot and thyme； because they’re so sweet…smelling； but
there’s no lavender only in the gentlefolks’ gardens； I think。”
“That’s no reason why you shouldn’t have some；” said Aaron；
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“for I can bring you slips of anything； I’m forced to cut no end of
’em when I’m gardening； and throw ’em away mostly。 There’s a
big bed o’ lavender at the Red House： the missis is very fond of it。”
“Well；” said Silas； gravely； “so as you don’t make free for us； or
ask for anything as is worth much at the Red House： for Mr。 Cass’s
been so good to us； and built us up the new end o’ the cottage； and
given us beds and things； as I couldn’t abide to be imposin’ for
garden…stuff or anything else。”
“No； no； there’s no imposin’；” said Aaron； “there’s never a
garden in all the parish but what there’s endless waste in it for
want o’ somebody as could use everything up。 It’s what I think to
myself sometimes； as there need nobody run short o’ victuals if the
land was made the most on； and there was never a morsel but
what could find its way to a mouth。 It sets one thinking o’ that—
gardening does。 But I must go back now； else mother ’ull be in
trouble as I aren’t there。”