"Aye, aye, make him sit down," said several voices at once, well
pleased that the reality of ghosts remained still an open question.

The landlord forced Marner to take off his coat, and then to sit
down on a chair aloof from every one else, in the centre of the
circle and in the direct rays of the fire. The weaver, too feeble
to have any distinct purpose beyond that of getting help to recover
his money, submitted unresistingly. The transient fears of the
company were now forgotten in their strong curiosity, and all faces
were turned towards Silas, when the landlord, having seated himself
again, said--

"Now then, Master Marner, what's this you've got to say--as
you've been robbed? Speak out."

"He'd better not say again as it was me robbed him," cried Jem
Rodney, hastily. "What could I ha' done with his money? I could
as easy steal the parson's surplice, and wear it."

"Hold your tongue, Jem, and let's hear what he's got to say," said
the landlord. "Now then, Master Marner."

Silas now told his story, under frequent questioning as the
mysterious character of the robbery became evident.

This strangely novel situation of opening his trouble to his Raveloe
neighbours, of sitting in the warmth of a hearth not his own, and
feeling the presence of faces and voices which were his nearest
promise of help, had doubtless its influence on Marner, in spite of
his passionate preoccupation with his loss. Our consciousness