It was a bright autumn Sunday, sixteen years after Silas had found Eppie in his cottage. The Raveloe church bells were ringing, and people were coming out of church after the morning service. First came the new squire, Godfrey Cass, looking a little heavier now, but with a straight back and a firm step. On his arm was his wife Nancy, still a pretty woman. Just behind them came Mr Lammeter and Priscilla. They all went into the Red House.

"Well, it's better for your health if I manage everything, father," said Priscilla. "Then there's nothing for you to worry about. No, Nancy dear, we must go home now. But you and I can have a walk round the garden while the servants are get ting the horses ready."

"My dear, you must ask Priscilla," replied Mr Lammeter with a smile. "She manages me and the farm as well."

"You and Priscilla will stay for tea, won't you?" Nancy asked her father.

When the sisters were alone in the garden, Priscilla said, "My dear, I'm very glad you're going to have a dairy. Making your own butter will give you something to think about all the time. You'll never be sad when you've got a dairy." And she put her arm through her sister's.

"Men!" cried Priscilla impatiently. "They're always wanting something new! Never happy with what they've got! I'm glad I was too ugly to get married! I'm much happier with father!"

"You'll be back by tea-time, dear?"

"Dear Priscilla," said Nancy gratefully. "I'm only ever sad when Godfrey is. I could be happy if he could accept our life as it is. But it's more difficult for a man."

"Oh Priscilla," said Nancy. "Don't be angry with Godfrey -- he's a very good husband. But of course he's disappointed that we haven't had children -- he wanted them so much."

"Oh yes, I'll be back in an hour."

"Well, father is waiting for me -- I'd better go now. Goodbye, my dear." And the sisters kissed goodbye When Priscilla and her father had left, Godfrey said, "Nancy, I think I'll just go and look at some of the fields we're draining near the old quarry."

This was a habit of Godfrey's on Sunday afternoons. He enjoyed walking round the fields that belonged to him now. So Nancy often had a quiet hour at about this time, which she spent reading, or sometimes just thinking.

Nancy's religion was extremely important to her. She firmly believed that people should accept whatever happened to them in life, because it was God who decided everything. But she understood how difficult it was for Godfrey to accept that their marriage would be childless. "Was I right," she wondered for the hundredth time, "to refuse him, when he said we should adopt a child? I believe that if God hasn't given us a child, it's because God doesn't want us to have one. I'm sure I'm right. But poor Godfrey! It's worse for him than for me. I've got him, and the house, and now the dairy to think about. But although he's always good to me, I know he's unhappy -- he wants children so much!"

She remembered all the little things that had happened to her, especially during her marriage, in the last fifteen years. The great sadness of her married life had been the death of her only baby. Like most women, she had looked forward to becoming a mother very much. But when the baby died soon after it was born, she made herself accept the fact. She did not allow herself to think about it, or to wish for anything different. Godfrey, however, had been terribly disappointed, especially when it seemed likely that Nancy could have no more children.

From the first moment Godfrey had spoken of adopting a child, he had mentioned Eppie's name. She had always been the child he wanted to adopt. He had no idea that Silas would rather die than lose Eppie, and he imagined that the weaver would be glad if the child were adopted by the Cass family. "After all, the girl will have a much better life with us,"he told himself. "I can't be really happy if we don't have a child. And I can never tell Nancy the truth about Eppie -- I'm afraid she'll hate me for it."

While Nancy was sitting quietly in the Red House, thinking about her husband, Silas and Eppie were sitting outside their cottage near the quarry They had been to church too, which they did every week, like the Casses and most of the villagers Silas had started taking Eppie to church when she was very young, because Dolly Winthrop had persuaded him that every child should have some religious training. Because of Eppie, Silas was completely accepted in Raveloe now. Nobody thought he was strange any more; in fact, he was almost a popular figure in the village.

He had told Eppie how her mother had died in the snow, and he had given her the dead woman's wedding ring. Eppie was not at all interested in who her real father was, as she thought she had the best father in the world already. At the moment she was sitting close to Silas outside their door in the sunshine. Neither of them had spoken for a while.

He was older now, and could not work as hard as he used to. Recently, as he had more time to think, he had begun to remember the past, and his old friends at the Light Street chapel. He realized how his once lonely life had changed since Eppie had come to him Now he had friends, and trusted people, and was happy. And he began to see that the God in the Raveloe church was the same God he had been so angry with, the last time he had been to the chapel. It seemed to him that there had been some mistake in his past, which had thrown a dark shadow over his early life Perhaps now he would never know whether Mr Paston, the chapel minister, still thought he was guilty of stealing. And he would never discover why the drawing of the lots had seemed to prove his guilt. "But there must be a Good of goodness in this world,"he thought,"because He sent Eppie to me. I must just trust, and believe that He is right."

"Father," she said gently, "if I get married, do you think I should wear my mother's ring?"

"Why, me, of course, daddy!" said Eppie, laughing and kissing her father. "He won't want to marry anyone else!"

"Oh, Eppie!" said Silas, surprised. "Are you thinking of getting married, then?"

"No, child," said Silas. "I was a lonely man before you were sent to me."

"And who would he like to marry?" asked Silas with rather a sad smile.

"Well, Aaron was talking to me about it," replied Eppie, blushing. "You know he's nearly twenty-four now, and is earning good money, and he'd like to marry soon."

"And you'd like to marry him, would you?" asked Silas.

"Yes, one day. I don't know when. Aaron says everyone's married some time. But I told him that's not true, because you haven't ever been married, have you, daddy?"

"But you'll never be lonely again, father," said Eppie lovingly. "That's what Aaron said. He doesn't want to take me away from you. He wants us all to live together, and he'll do all the work, and you needn't work at all, father. He'll be like a son to you."

"Well, my child, you're young to be married," said Silas. "But he's a good young man. We'll ask his mother what we should do. She always gives us good advice. You see, Eppie, I'm getting older, and I'd like to think of you with a strong young husband to take care of you for the rest of your life. Yes, we'll ask Dolly Winthrop for her opinion."