a heavy bag on his back, instead of resting the bag on the stile as
a man in his senses would have done; and that, on coming up to him,
he saw that Marner's eyes were set like a dead man's, and he spoke
to him, and shook him, and his limbs were stiff, and his hands
clutched the bag as if they'd been made of iron; but just as he had
made up his mind that the weaver was dead, he came all right again,
like, as you might say, in the winking of an eye, and said
"Good-night", and walked off. All this Jem swore he had seen,
more by token that it was the very day he had been mole-catching on
Squire Cass's land, down by the old saw-pit. Some said Marner must
have been in a "fit", a word which seemed to explain things
otherwise incredible; but the argumentative Mr. Macey, clerk of the
parish, shook his head, and asked if anybody was ever known to go
off in a fit and not fall down. A fit was a stroke, wasn't it? and
it was in the nature of a stroke to partly take away the use of a
man's limbs and throw him on the parish, if he'd got no children to
look to. No, no; it was no stroke that would let a man stand on his
legs, like a horse between the shafts, and then walk off as soon as
you can say "Gee!" But there might be such a thing as a man's
soul being loose from his body, and going out and in, like a bird
out of its nest and back; and that was how folks got over-wise, for
they went to school in this shell-less state to those who could
teach them more than their neighbours could learn with their five
senses and the parson. And where did Master Marner get his
knowledge of herbs from--and charms too, if he liked to give them
away? Jem Rodney's story was no more than what might have been
expected by anybody who had seen how Marner had cured Sally Oates,
and made her sleep like a baby, when her heart had been beating
enough to burst her body, for two months and more, while she had
been under the doctor's care. He might cure more folks if he would;