silas marner(织工马南)-第5节
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usual； and before many hours were past； the minister and one of
the deacons came to him with the message from Sarah； that she
held her engagement to him at an end。 Silas received the message
mutely； and then turned away from the messengers to work at his
loom again。 In little more than a month from that time； Sarah was
married to William Dane； and not long afterwards it was known to
the brethren in Lantern Yard that Silas Marner had departed
from the town。
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Chapter 2
ven people whose lives have been made various by
Elearning； sometimes find it hard to keep a fast hold on
their habitual views of life； on their faith in the Invisible；
nay； on the sense that their past joys and sorrows are a real
experience； when they are suddenly transported to a new land；
where the beings around them know nothing of their history； and
share none of their ideas—where their mother earth shows
another lap； and human life has other forms than those on which
their souls have been nourished。 Minds that have been unhinged
from their old faith and love have perhaps sought this Lethean
influence of exile in which the past becomes dreamy because its
symbols have all vanished； and the present too is dreamy because
it is linked with no memories。 But even their experience may
hardly enable them thoroughly to imagine what was the effect on a
simple weaver like Silas Marner； when he left his own country and
people and came to settle in Raveloe。 Nothing could be more
unlike his native town； set within sight of the widespread hillsides；
than this low； wooded region； where he felt hidden even from the
heavens by the screening trees and hedgerows。 There was nothing
here； when he rose in the deep morning quiet and looked out on
the dewy brambles and rank tufted grass； that seemed to have any
relation with that life centring in Lantern Yard； which had once
been to him the altar…place of high dispensations。 The
whitewashed walls； the little pews where well…known figures
entered with a subdued rustling； and where first one well…known
voice and then another； pitched in a peculiar key of petition；
uttered phrases at once occult and familiar； like the amulet worn
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on the heart； the pulpit where the minister delivered
unquestioned doctrine； and swayed to and fro； and handled the
book in a long…accustomed manner； the very pauses between the
couplets of the hymn； as it was given out； and the recurrent swell
of voices in song： these things had been the channel of divine
influence to Marner—they were the fostering home of his religious
emotions—they were Christianity and God’s kingdom upon earth。
A weaver who finds hard words in his hymn…book knows nothing
of abstractions； as the little child knows nothing of parental love；
but only knows one face and one lap towards which it stretches its
arms for refuge and nurture。
And what could be more unlike that Lantern Yard world than
the world in Raveloe？—orchards looking lazy with neglected
plenty； the large church in the wide churchyard； which men gazed
at lounging at their own doors in service…time； the purple…faced
farmers jogging along the lanes or turning in at the Rainbow；
homesteads； where men supped heavily and slept in the light of
the evening hearth； and where women seemed to be laying up a
stock of linen for the life to come。 There were no lips in Raveloe
from which a word could fall that would stir Silas Marner’s
benumbed faith to a sense of pain。 In the early ages of the world；
we know； it was believed that each territory was inhabited and
ruled by its own divinities； so that a man could cross the bordering
heights and be out of the reach of his native gods； whose presence
was confined to the streams and the groves and the hills among
which he had lived from his birth。 And poor Silas was vaguely
conscious of something not unlike the feeling of primitive men；
when they fled thus； in fear or in sullenness； from the face of an
unpropitious deity。 It seemed to him that the Power he had vainly
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trusted in among the streets and at the prayer…meetings was very
far away from this land in which he had taken refuge； where men
lived in careless abundance； knowing and needing nothing of that
trust which； for him； had been turned to bitterness。 The little light
he possessed spread its beams so narrowly that frustrated belief
was a curtain broad enough to create for him the blackness of
night。
His first movement after the shock had been to work in his
loom； and he went on with this unremittingly； never asking
himself why； now he was come to Raveloe； he worked far on into
the night to finish the tale of Mrs。 Osgood’s table…linen sooner than
she expected—without contemplating beforehand the money she
would put into his hand for the work。 He seemed to weave； like the
spider； from pure impulse； without reflection。 Every man’s work；
pursued steadily； tends in this way to become an end in itself； and
so to bridge over the loveless chasms of his life。 Silas’s hand
satisfied itself with throwing the shuttle； and his eye with seeing
the little squares in the cloth complete themselves under his effort。
Then there were the calls of hunger； and Silas； in his solitude； had
to provide his own breakfast； dinner； and supper； to fetch his own
water from the well； and to put his own kettle on the fire； and all
these immediate promptings helped； along with the weaving； to
reduce his life to the unquestioning activity of a spinning insect。
He hated the thought of the past； there was nothing that called out
his love and fellowship toward the strangers he had come
amongst； and the future was all dark； for there was no Unseen
Love that cared for him。 Thought was arrested by utter
bewilderment； now its old narrow pathway was closed； and
affection seemed to have died under the bruise that had fallen on
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its keenest nerves。
But at last Mrs。 Osgood’s table…linen was finished； and Silas was
paid in gold。 His earnings in his native town； where he worked for
a wholesale dealer； had been after a lower rate； he had been paid
weekly； and of his weekly earnings a large proportion had gone to
objects of piety and charity。 Now； for the first time in his life； he
had five bright guineas put into his hand； no man expected a share
of them； and he loved no man that he should offer him a share。
But what were the guineas to him who saw no vista beyond
countless days of weaving？ It was needless for him to ask that； for
it was pleasant to him to feel them in his palm； and look at their
bright faces； which were all his own： it was another element of life；
like the weaving and the satisfaction of hunger； subsisting quite
aloof from the life of belief and love from which he had been cut
off。 The weaver’s hand had known the touch of hard…won money
even before the palm had grown to its full breadth； for twenty
years； mysterious money had stood to him as the symbol of earthly
good； and the immediate object of toil。 He had seemed to love it
little in the years when e
