he person always first thought of
in Raveloe when there was illness or death in a family, when leeches
were to be applied, or there was a sudden disappointment in a monthly
nurse. She was a "comfortable woman"--good-looking,
fresh-complexioned, having her lips always slightly screwed, as if she
felt herself in a sick-room with the doctor or the clergyman present.
But she was never whimpering; no one had seen her shed tears; she was
simply grave and inclined to shake her head and sigh, almost
imperceptibly, like a funereal mourner who is not a relation. It
seemed surprising that Ben Winthrop, who loved his quart-pot and his
joke, got along so well with Dolly; but she took her husband's jokes
and joviality as patiently as everything else, considering that "men
_would_ be so", and viewing the stronger sex in the light of animals
whom it had pleased Heaven to make naturally troublesome, like bulls
and turkey-cocks.

This good wholesome woman could hardly fail to have her mind drawn
strongly towards Silas Marner, now that he appeared in the light of a
sufferer; and one Sunday afternoon she took her little boy Aaron with
her, and went to call on Silas, carrying in her hand some small
lard-cakes, flat paste-like articles much esteemed in Raveloe. Aaron,
an apple-cheeked youngster of seven, with a clean starched frill which
looked like a plate for the apples, needed all his adventurous
curiosity to embolden him against the possibility that the big-eyed
weaver might do him some bodily injury; and his dubiety was much
increased when, on arriving at the Stone-pits, they heard the
mysterious sound of the loom.

"Ah, it is as I thought," said Mrs. Winthrop, sadly.

They had to knock loudly before Silas heard them; but when he did come
to the door he showed no impatience, as he would once have done, at a
visit that had been unasked for and unexpected. Formerly, his heart had
been as a locked casket with its treasure inside; but now the casket
was empty, and the lock was broken. Left groping in darkness, with his
prop utterly gone, Silas had inevitably a sense, though a dull and
half-despairing one, that if any help came to him it must come from
without; and there was a slight stirring of expectation at the sight of
his fellow-men, a faint consciousness of dependence on their goodwill.
He opened the door wide to admit Dolly, but without otherwise returning
her greeting than by moving the armchair a few inches as a sign that
she