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TWO:De Boteler looked at Edith an instant with a frown, as if about to answer fiercely; but after a moment he inquired calmly,"But I owe you a grudge, Mr. Backfield, for you have entirely spoilt one of the finest commons in Sussex. The records of Boarzell go back to the twelfth century, and in the Visitations of Sussex it is referred to as a fine piece of moorland three hundred acres in extent and grown over with heather and gorse. I went to see it yesterday, and found only a tuft of gorse and firs at the top." More info
TWO:He stood with his arms folded over his chest, and watched the first stars flicker above Castweasel. The scent of the ground steamed up to mingle with the mists, a soft rasp of frost was in the air and the earth which he had loved seemed to breathe out towards him, and tell him that by his faithful service he had won not only Boarzell but all gracious soil, all the secrets of seed-time and harvest, all the tender mysteries of sap, and growth."Oh, no. I'll light it; Mary's busy clearing the table. But I reckon as f?ather w?an't be pleased." More info
TWO:"I know not, unless he be with the king at Mile-end."They flowed through Playden like a torrent through an open sluice, sweeping up and carrying on all sorts of flotsamvillagers from cottage doors, ploughboys from the farms down by the Military Canal, gipsies from Iden Wood ... a mixed multitude, which the central mass absorbed, till all was one steaming and shouting blackness. More info
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THREE:Margaret ceased to speak, and her tears dropped fast on the little innocent she was so anxiously watching; presently it gave a faint sigh, and the mother's agonizing shriek, told her husband that the breath was its last. Holgrave had beheld in silence the death-pang of his child; and now, when the cry of the mother announced that it had ceased to be, he turned from the bed and rushed to the door without uttering a word.

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THREE:"Yes, my lord," replied the yeoman, with a humble reverence.

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THREE:"How's Topsy's foal?"

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THREE:"What! the audacious monk who thrice entered this castle to insult its lord?"

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TWO:Nevertheless, he called at Starvecrow and renewed his impressions of Rose. They did not want much[Pg 251] adjustment; he found her as he had found her that first eveningchildlike in all things save love, indolent, languorous, and yet with gay bursts of spirit which made her charming. He noticed too how well dressed she washe admired her stuff gown and neat buttoned boots, so different from what he was accustomed to see on the feet of his womenfolk; he admired the crinkle and gloss of her hair, so beautifully waved and brushed, and scented with some lotionher hands, too, well kept and white with shining pink nails, her trim muslin collar, the clover scent of her garments ... it was all new, and gave him somehow a vague feeling of self-respect.

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THREE:"Mer-c-c-y! mer-c-c-y! oh! mercy, Stephen Holgrave!" gasped he, as, with a despairing effort, he attempted to unloose the death-hold.

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THREE:"Silence, knave!" said the baron; "let the man answer for himself.""I tell you, you're no wife of mine. I'm shut of youyou false, fair, lying, scarlet woman. You needn't cry and weep, nuthernone 'ull say as Ben Backfield wur a soft man fur woman's tears."

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TWO:

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"I bequeath the farm of Starvecrow, with all lands, stock, and tools pertaining thereto, also the house and fixtures, together with seven thousand pounds to Henry Robert Crick of Lone Mills, Ontario, Canada, my dear son by Marion Crick.... My household furniture and fifty pounds free of legacy duty I bequeath to my niece, Rose Backfield, wife of Reuben Backfield of Odiam.""That's wot I mean, surelye. Could you come and talk to a sick man about all that sort of thing?"As time wore on, and her hopes were once more roused, she became quite obsessed by the idea of having a girl. She thought of nothing but the little frocks, the ribbons with which she would tie the pretty hair. She pictured the times she and her daughter would have together, the confidences they would exchangefor old Mrs. Backfield grew more and more silent and unreceptive, and her neighbours were not of her mould. They would tell each other everything ... she had dreams of an impossible little pink-and-white girl like a doll, with golden curls and blue eyes and a white muslin frock. In her dreams she would stretch out her arms to this ached-for child, and would wake sobbing, with the tears running down her face.
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