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ONE:Chapter 3

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TWO:"Hemmed Methody! That's how you spik of the man wot's s?aved my soul. I tell you as there I wur lost in trespasses and sins, and now I'm washed white as wool��there wur my evil doings sticking to my soul lik maggots to a dead rat, and now my soul's washed in the Blood of the Lamb, and I'm going out to spread the Word." THREE:"Yes, yes," he replied, grumblingly, as he pocketed the coin, "Black Jack is easily satisfied."

• FORE:"How know you that?" asked Richard, with surprise.

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• FORE:Reuben received the blow in silence��it stunned him. He did not go over to Cheat Land��something, he scarcely knew what, kept him away. In the long yellow twilights he wandered on Boarzell. The rain-smelling March wind scudded over the grass, over the wet furrows of his cornfields, over the humming tops of the firs that, with the gorse splashed round their trunks, marked the crest of the Moor and of his ambition. Would they ever be his, those firs? Would he ever tear up that gorse and fling it on the bonfire, as he had torn up the gorse on the lower slopes and burned it with roars and cracklings and smoke that streamed over the Moor to Totease? Perhaps Realf would have the firs and the gorse, and pile that gorgeous bonfire. Tilly would put him up to her father's game��Reuben's imagination again failed to conceive the man who did not want Boarzell��she would betray Odiam's ambitions, and babble its most vital secrets. Tilly, Reuben told Boarzell, was a bitch.

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• FORE:"To London!"

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• FORE:A momentary thought of "Oh, had she been mine, would she have looked thus?" and an execration against Holgrave told that the demon had not wholly possessed her quondam lover; but the next moment, as Holgrave, after looking round the assembly, caught the eye of his enemy, the solitary feeling of humanity died away, and Calverley turned from the fierce glance of the yeoman with all the malignity of his heart newly arrayed against him.

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• FORE:He went to bed early with the birds and beasts. Before he climbed into the bed, lying broad and white and dim in the background of the candleless room, he opened the window, to drink in the scent of his land as it fell asleep. The breeze whiffled in the orchard, fluttering the boughs where the young green apples hid under the leaves, there was a dull sound of stamping in the barns ... he could see the long line of his new haycocks beyond the yard, soft dark shapes in the twilight.

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• FORE:

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TWO:"Odiam's doing splendid��you don't want no more.""Over at Grandturzel��can't see wot's burning from here. Git buckets and come!" THREE:Though they were technically a Couple, they never spoke of love. They never even kissed or held each other's hands, however tenderly the velvet darkness called. He told her about his work at Odiam��about the little calf that was born that day, or the trouble he had had, patching the rent in the pigsty, or how the poultry had not taken well to their new food, but preferred something with more sharps in it. She in her turn would tell him how she had washed little Georgie's shirt��taking advantage of a warm day when he could run about naked��how her mother had lamentable hard pains all down her back, how her father had got drunk at the harvest supper and tried to beat her.She remembered that there had been a wedding at Gablehook. One of the farmer's girls had married a Rye fisherman, and this was probably a guest on his way home, a little the worse for drink.

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TWO: THREE:While Oakley was speaking, all eyes were fixed upon him with something of astonishment at advice that would not come amiss from the sagest among them."But I t?ald him as I wur coming over��it's about that Handshut."

• FORE:The proceedings before the Rye magistrates had been brief, and ended in Robert's committal for trial at Quarter Sessions. He had made no attempt to deny his guilt��it would have been useless. He was almost dumb in the dock, for his soul was struck with wonder at the cruel circumstances which had betrayed him.

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• FORE:Chapter 18

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• FORE:He had used to turn from Boarzell to her for rest, and now he found himself turning from her to Boarzell. It was part of the baffling paradox that the thing he fought should also be the thing he loved, and the battlefield his refuge. Out on the Moor, with the south-west wind rolling over him like the waves of some huge earth-scented sea, he drank in the spirit of conflict, he was swept back into the cleanness and singleness of his warfare. It was then that Boarzell nerved him for its own subduing, stripped his heart of softness, cleansed it of domestic fret. Rose and her love and sweetness were all very well, but he was out for something greater than Rose��he must keep in mind that she was only a part of things. Why, he himself was only a part of things, and in his cravings and softenings must be conquered and brushed aside even as Rose. In challenging Boarzell he had challenged the secret forces of his own body, all the riot of hope and weakness and desire that go to make a man. The battle was not to be won except over the heaped bodies of the slain, and on the summit of the heap would lie his own.

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TWO: THREE:"I��I must be gitting back home."

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