silas marner(织工马南)-第7章
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Coulter had。 Silas Marner could very likely do as much； and more；
and now it was all clear how he should have come from unknown
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parts； and be so “comical…looking”。 But Sally Oates must mind and
not tell the doctor； for he would be sure to set his face against
Marner： he was always angry about the Wise Woman； and used to
threaten those who went to her that they should have none of his
help any more。
Silas now found himself and his cottage suddenly beset by
mothers who wanted him to charm away the whooping…cough； or
bring back the milk； and by men who wanted stuff against the
rheumatics or the knots in the hands； and； to secure themselves
against a refusal； the applicants brought silver in their palms。 Silas
might have driven a profitable trade in charms as well as in his
small list of drugs； but money on this condition was no temptation
to him。 He had never known an impulse towards falsity； and he
drove one after another away with growing irritation； for the news
of him as a wise man had spread even to Tarley； and it was long
before people ceased to take long walks for the sake of asking his
aid。 But the hope in his wisdom was at length changed into dread；
for no one believed him when he said he knew no charms and
could work no cures； and every man and woman who had an
accident or a new attack after applying to him； set the misfortune
down to Master Marner’s ill…will and irritated glances。 Thus it
came to pass that his movement of pity towards Sally Oates； which
had given him a transient sense of brotherhood； heightened the
repulsion between him and his neighbours； and made his isolation
more complete。
Gradually the guineas； the crowns； and the half…crowns grew to
a heap； and Marner drew less and less for his own wants； trying to
solve the problem of keeping himself strong enough to work
sixteen hours a day on as small an outlay as possible。 Have not
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men； shut up in solitary imprisonment； found an interest in
marking the moments by straight strokes of a certain length on the
wall； until the growth of the sum of straight strokes； arranged in
triangles； has become a mastering purpose？ Do we not while away
moments of inanity or fatigued waiting by repeating some trivial
movement or sound； until the repetition has bred a want； which is
incipient habit？ That will help us to understand how the love of
accumulating money grows an absorbing passion in men whose
imaginations； even in the very beginning of their hoard； showed
them no purpose beyond it。 Marner wanted the heaps of ten to
grow into a square； and then into a larger square； and every added
guinea； while it was itself a satisfaction； bred a new desire。 In this
strange world； made a hopeless riddle to him； he might； if he had
had a less intense nature； have sat weaving； weaving—looking
towards the end of his pattern； or towards the end of his web； till
he forgot the riddle； and everything else but his immediate
sensations； but the money had come to mark off his weaving into
periods； and the money not only grew； but it remained with him。
He began to think it was conscious of him； as his loom was； and he
would on no account have exchanged those coins； which had
become his familiars； for other coins with unknown faces。 He
handled them； he counted them； till their form and colour were
like the satisfaction of a thirst to him； but it was only in the night；
when his work was done； that he drew them out to enjoy their
companionship。 He had taken up some bricks in his floor
underneath his loom； and here he had made a hole in which he set
the iron pot that contained his guineas and silver coins； covering
the bricks with sand whenever he replaced them。 Not that the idea
of being robbed presented itself often or strongly to his mind：
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hoarding was common in country districts in those days； there
were old labourers in the parish of Raveloe who were known to
have their savings by them； probably inside their flock…beds； but
their rustic neighbours； though not all of them as honest as their
ancestors in the days of King Alfred； had not imaginations bold
enough to lay a plan of burglary。 How could they have spent the
money in their own village without betraying themselves？ They
would be obliged to “run away”—a course as dark and dubious as
a balloon journey。
So； year after year； Silas Marner had lived in this solitude； his
guineas rising in the iron pot； and his life narrowing and
hardening itself more and more into a mere pulsation of desire
and satisfaction that had no relation to any other being。 His life
had reduced itself to the functions of weaving and hoarding；
without any contemplation of an end towards which the functions
tended。 The same sort of process has perhaps been undergone by
wiser men； when they have been cut off from faith and love—only；
instead of a loom and a heap of guineas； they have had some
erudite research； some ingenious project； or some well…knit theory。
Strangely； Marner’s face and figure shrank and bent themselves
into a constant mechanical relation to the objects of his life； so that
he produced the same sort of impression as a handle or a crooked
tube； which has no meaning standing apart。 The prominent eyes
that used to look trusting and dreamy； now looked as if they had
been made to see only one kind of thing that was very small； like
tiny grain； for which they hunted everywhere： and he was so
withered and yellow that； though he was not yet forty； the children
always called him “Old Master Marner”。
Yet even in this stage of withering a little incident happened；
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which showed that the sap of affection was not all gone。 It was one
of his daily tasks to fetch his water from a well a couple of fields
off； and for this purpose； ever since he came to Raveloe； he had
had a brown earthenware pot； which he held as his most precious
utensil among the very few conveniences he had granted himself。
It had been his companion for twelve years； always standing on
the same spot； always lending its handle to him in the early
morning； so that its form had an expression for him of willing
helpfulness； and
