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Boarzell, not Alice, should be his. He muttered the words aloud as he strained his eyes into the darkness, tracing the beloved outline. He despised himself for having wavered even in thought. Through blood and tearsothers' and his ownhe would wade to Boarzell, and conquer it at last. From that night all would be changed, the past should be thrust behind him, he would pull himself together, make himself a man. Alice must go where everything else had gonemother, wife, children, friends, and love. Thank God! Boarzell was worth more to him than all these.
Expose
ONE:"Not so, my lord," said Holgrave, suffering the coin to remain between De Boteler's fingers."Not so my lord. I take back the merchet with many thanks, but I crave your pardon for not taking your gold. I have no need of goldI did not wed Margaret for dowerand with your lordship's leave I pray you excuse my taking it."

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TWO:One evening, as the rumour went, a female figure, enveloped in a mantle of some dark colour, and holding an infant in her arms, was observed, seated on one of the stones of the quarry, with her feet resting on a fragment beneath. Her face was turned towards Sudley, and as the atmosphere was clear, and her position elevated, the castle could well be distinguished. Wild shrieks were heard by some during that night, and the morning sun revealed blood on fragments of the stone, and on the earth beneath; and at a little distance it was perceived that the grass had been recently dug up, and trodden down with a heavy foot. The peasants crossed themselves at the sight, but no enquiries were made, and from that day the cliff was sacred to superstition, for no inhabitant of the district would have touched a stone of the quarry, or have dared to pass it after nightfall for the world.

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TWO:"Rose," he said again, and his voice quivered as he said it, "you do want me a liddle bit now."

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TWO:It was about half a mile to the churchover the hanger of Tidebarn Hill. The morning was full of soft loamy smells, quickening under the February sun, which is so pale and errant, but sometimes seems to have the power to make the earth turn in its sleep and dream of spring. Peasmarsh church-tower, squab like a toadstool, looked at itself in the little spread of water at the foot of the churchyard. Beside this pool, darkened with winter sedges, stood Parson Barnaby, the Curate-in-Charge of Peasmarsh, Beckley, and Iden. His boots under his surplice were muddy and spurred, for he had just galloped over from a wedding at Iden, and his sweat dropped on the book as he read "I know that my[Pg 28] Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth."

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TWO:It was quite dark when they reached Eggs Hole, and parted after kisses no longer as shy as they used to be.
FORE:It was only for a momentthe next she yielded. But he had seen her reluctance, felt the shiver of repulsion go through her limbs. He rose, and pushed back his chair.

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FORE:"Alice."

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FORE:"Why not? There's naun shameful in it. Munds's brother did it for twenty years. And think of the difference it'll m?ake to usthirty pound or so a year, instead of the dead loss of Harry's keep and the wages of an extra man beside. I tell you, mother, I wur fair sick about the farm till I thought of this.""Caro, I'm going out to see the gates burned. I expect I'll be back before Ben is, but if I'm not, tell him where I'm gone."

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FORE:The yeoman muttered an excuse; but his speech betrayed him.

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FORE:The lady Isabella's application to the abbot had been attended with as little effect. Sudbury had met with readiness the overtures of reconciliation, and in accordance with her desire, had interrogated the monk; but Father John evaded his questions with a firmness which gave offence to his superior, and convinced De Boteler and his lady, that he knew much more than he chose to reveal. Spies were set about his path, but nothing was gainednothing discovered to prove that any communication existed between the fugitive, Holgrave, and the obdurate ecclesiastic.

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TWO:"May be not so, entirely, yet I am sure you are as sinless as woman can bebut listen to me, Lucyyou know that I am a bondman's sonthat I fled from bondageand that ten years of roving freedom, had not made me free. All this you know, but you do not know that I am the Genoese galleyman who cheated the chapman's dame at the fair of Winchcombe.""I can. I've got near a hundred acres sown already" ... and then all the floodgates that had been shut for so long were burst, and the tides of his confidence rolled out to her, moaningall the ache of his ambition which nobody would share.

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THREE:Her tears welled up afresh."Oh Stephen, my son, my first-bornthy mother kneels to thee. Lay aside that lance and hearken to the words of her who bore thee, and nourished thee. Oh, bring not sorrow and ruin on thyself and her! What would be the bitterness of my dying moments if my son lived not to lay me beside his father?if thy Margaret was left to mourn in lowly widowhoodand, perhaps, to fall beneath the base arts of Calverley! Oh, my son, my son, by the soul of thy dead father, and by the blessing of thy mother, resist not!Hark! they comethey come! Haste, StephenGive me the weapon."

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THREE:"If you are a friend, I will trust you; and if not, I do not fear you," said Holgrave, raising the brim of a slouched hat that had shadowed his face"I am Stephen Holgrave."Richard was embarrassed. Her fine words disconcerted him. He had often watched Miss Bardon from a respectful distance, but had never spoken to her before.

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THREE:"By St. Nicholas!" said the smith, as he stooped to remove the pressure, while the tears started to his eyes, "this is too bad. 'Tis enough to make a heathen sick to see a christian man served in this manner. Here, father John, (assisting him to rise) take my jerkin, and wrap this about you (snatching a cloak from the shoulders of one of the men). And now, good father, tell me who did this?"
TWO:

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One evening he came home particularly depressed. He had just finished the most degrading transaction of his lifethe raising of a mortgage on the Flightshot side of his land. It was horrible, but it was unavoidable. He could not now sell his milk-round, and yet he absolutely must have ready money if he was to stand up against circumstances. The mortgagee was a wealthy Rye butcher, and Reuben had hopes that the disgraceful affair might be kept secret, but also an uneasy suspicion that it was at that moment being discussed in every public-house.Chapter 9Harry did not seem to hear."I've bin on the new land all to-day. It's doing justabout splendid. Those oats are as dentical as wheatnot a sedge-leaf adin them."
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