yes," said Silas, meditatively, sitting in his usual posture of
leaning on his knees, and supporting his head. "There was churches--a
many--it was a big town. But I knew nothing of 'em--I went to chapel."

Dolly was much puzzled at this new word, but she was rather afraid of
inquiring further, lest "chapel" might mean some haunt of wickedness.
After a little thought, she said--

"Well, Master Marner, it's niver too late to turn over a new leaf, and
if you've niver had no church, there's no telling the good it'll do
you. For I feel so set up and comfortable as niver was, when I've been
and heard the prayers, and the singing to the praise and glory o' God,
as Mr. Macey gives out--and Mr. Crackenthorp saying good words, and
more partic'lar on Sacramen' Day; and if a bit o' trouble comes, I feel
as I can put up wi' it, for I've looked for help i' the right quarter,
and gev myself up to Them as we must all give ourselves up to at the
last; and if we'n done our part, it isn't to be believed as Them as are
above us 'ull be worse nor we are, and come short o' Their'n."

Poor Dolly's exposition of her simple Raveloe theology fell rather
unmeaningly on Silas's ears, for there was no word in it that could
rouse a memory of what he had known as religion, and his comprehension
was quite baffled by the plural pronoun, which was no heresy of
Dolly's, but only her way of avoiding a presumptuous familiarity. He
remained silent, not feeling inclined to assent to the part of Dolly's
speech which he fully understood--her recommendation that he should go
to church. Indeed, Silas was so unaccustomed to talk beyond the brief
questions and answers necessary for the transaction of his simple
business, that words did not easily come to him without the urgency of
a distinct purpose.

But now, little Aaron, having become used to the weaver's awful
presence, had advanced to his mother's side, and Silas, seeming to
notice him for the first time, tried to return Dolly's signs of
good-will by offering the lad a bit of lard-cake. Aaron shrank back a
little, and rubbed his head against his mother's shoulder, but still
thought the piece of cake worth the risk of putting his hand out for it.

"Oh, for shame, Aaron," said his mother, taking him on her lap,
however; "why, you don't want cake again yet awhile. He's wonderful
hearty," she went on, with a little sigh--"that he is, God knows. He's
my youngest, and we spoil him sadly, for either me o