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 disposition; but no disposition is a security from evil wishes to a man whose happiness hangs on duplicity.
'Hush, hush!' said Mr. Crackenthorp. 'Go
