ust like himself in his young days in a tone that implied this
to be the very highest stamp of juvenile merit, was the centre of a
group who had placed themselves opposite the performer, not far from
the upper door. Godfrey was standing a little way off, not to admire
his brother's dancing, but to keep sight of Nancy, who was seated in
the group, near her father. He stood aloof, because he wished to avoid
suggesting himself as a subject for the Squire's fatherly jokes in
connection with matrimony and Miss Nancy Lammeter's beauty, which were
likely to become more and more explicit. But he had the prospect of
dancing with her again when the hornpipe was concluded, and in the
meanwhile it was very pleasant to get long glances at her quite
unobserved.

But when Godfrey was lifting his eyes from one of those long glances,
they encountered an object as startling to him at that moment as if it
had been an apparition from the dead. It _was_ an apparition from that
hidden life which lies, like a dark by-street, behind the goodly
ornamented facade that meets the sunlight and the gaze of respectable
admirers. It was his own child, carried in Silas Marner's arms. That
was his instantaneous impression, unaccompanied by doubt, though he had
not seen the child for months past; and when the hope was rising that
he might possibly be mistaken, Mr. Crackenthorp and Mr. Lammeter had
already advanced to Silas, in astonishment at this strange advent.
Godfrey joined them immediately, unable to rest without hearing every
word--trying to control himself, but conscious that if any one noticed
him, they must see that he was white-lipped and trembling.

But now all eyes at that end of the room were bent on Silas Marner; the
Squire himself had risen, and asked angrily, "How's this?--what's
this?--what do you do coming in here in this way?"

"I'm come for the doctor--I want the doctor," Silas had said, in the
first moment, to Mr. Crackenthorp.

"Why, what's the matter, Marner?" said the rector. "The doctor's
here; but say quietly what you want him for."

"It's a woman," said Silas, speaking low, and half-breathlessly, just
as Godfrey came up. "She's dead, I think--dead in the snow at the
Stone-pits--not far from my door."

Godfrey felt a great throb: there was one terror in his mind at that
moment: it was, that the woman might _not_ be dead. That was an evil
terror--an ugly inmate to have found a nestling-place in Godfrey's
kindly d