“Everything comes to light, Nancy, sooner or later,” he said.  “That woman Marner found dead in the snow—­Eppie’s mother—­was my wife.  Eppie is my child.  I oughtn’t to have left the child unowned.  I oughtn’t to have kept it from you.”

“It’s but little wrong to me, Godfrey,” Nancy answered sadly.  “You’ve made it up to me—­you’ve been good to me for fifteen years.  It’ll be a different coming to us, now she’s grown up.”

They were childless, and it hadn’t occurred to them as they approached Silas Marner’s cottage that Godfrey’s offer might be declined.  At first Godfrey explained that he and his wife wanted to adopt Eppie in place of a daughter.

“Eppie, my child, speak,” said old Marner faintly.  “I won’t stand in your way.  Thank Mr. and Mrs. Cass.”

“Thank you, ma’am—­thank you, sir,” said Eppie dropping a curtsy; “but I can’t leave my father, nor own anybody nearer than him.”

Godfrey Cass was irritated at this obstacle.

“But I’ve a claim on you, Eppie,” he returned.  “It’s my duty, Marner, to own Eppie as my child, and provide for her.  She’s my own child.  Her mother was my wife.  I’ve a natural claim on her.”

“Then, sir, why didn’t you say so sixteen years ago, and claim her before I’d come to love her, i’stead o’ coming to take her from me now, when you might as well take the heart out o’ my body?  When a man turns a blessing from his door, it falls to them as take it in.  But let it be as you will.  Speak to the child.  I’ll hinder nothing.”

“Eppie, my dear,” said Godfrey, looking at his daughter not without some embarrassment, “it’ll always be our wish that you should show your love and gratitude to one who’s been a father to you so many years; but we hope you’ll come to love us as well, and though I haven’t been what a father should ha’ been to you all these years, I wish to do the utmost in my power for you now, and provide for you as my only child.  And you’ll have the best of mothers in my wife.”

Eppie did not come forward and curtsy as she had done before, but she held Silas’s hand in hers and grasped it firmly.

“Thank you, ma’am—­thank you, sir, for your offers—­they’re very great and far above my wish.  For I should have no delight in life any more if I was forced to go away from my father.”

In vain Nancy expostulated mildly.

“I can’t feel as I’ve got any father but one,” said Eppie.  “I’ve always thought of a little home where he’d sit i’ the corner, and I should fend and do everything for him.  I can’t think o’ no other home.  I wasn’t brought up to be a lady, and,” she ended passionately, “I’m promised to marry a working man, as’ll live with father and help me to take care of him.”

Godfrey Cass and his wife went out.

A year later Eppie was married, and Mrs. Godfrey Cass provided the wedding dress, and Mr. Cass made some necessary alterations to suit Silas’s larger family.