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ONE:De Boteler, either through anxiety for Edith's arrest, or from an apprehension that Holgrave might oppose it, did indeed approach, and as he advanced, with hasty and agitated steps, and beheld the evidence of resistance in the rent roof and shattered door, his rage was extreme.

TWO:

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THREE:Something tells me I am wanted

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ONE:The baron and his guests then withdrew.

FORE:Reuben looked after her as she went out of the room, then he took a couple of strides and caught her up in the passage.

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FORE:However, everyone viewed with dislike and suspicion his covetous eye cast on the Fair-place. He might have the rest of Boarzell and welcome, for no other man had any use for flints, but the Fair was sacred to them through the generations, and they gauged his sacrilegious desire to rob them of it for his own ends. He might have the Grandturzel inclosure, though all the village sympathised with the beaten Realf��beaten, they said, because he hadn't it in him to be as hard-hearted as the old Gorilla, and sacrifice his wife and children to his farm��but they would far rather see Grandturzel swallowed up than Boarzell Fair.

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FORE:

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THREE:"Aye, aye, so do I," said the young man, evidently agitated; "but��let us talk no more of it."

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THREE:Robert Backfield was a member of Peasmarsh choir. He had a good, ringing bass voice, which had attracted the clerk's notice, and though Reuben disapproved of his son's having any interests outside Odiam, he realised that as a good Tory he ought to support the Church��especially as the hours of the practices did not clash with Robert's more important engagements.

THREE:FOOTNOTES:

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"But can't you see that he's the chief part of the tragedy you're bringing on yourself and everyone?��He's the type, he's the chorus, the commentary on every act. Reuben, can't you see��oh, why won't you see?��he's you, yourself, as you really are!"Chapter 3About ten years before the commencement of our tale, a pale emaciated youth presented himself one morning at Sudley Castle, desiring the hospitality that was never denied to the stranger. Over his dress, which was of the coarse monks' cloth then generally worn by the religious, he wore a tattered cloak of the dark russet peculiar to the peasant. That day he was fed, and that night lodged at the castle; and the next morning, as he stood in a corner of the court-yard, apparently lost in reflection as to the course he should next adopt, the young Roland de Boteler, then a fine boy of fifteen, emerged from the stone arch-way of the stable mounted on a spirited charger. The glow on his cheek, the brightness of his eyes, and the youthful animation playing on his face, and ringing in the joyous tones of his voice, seemed to make the solitary dejected being, who looked as if he could claim neither kindred nor home, appear even more care-worn and friendless. The youth gazed at the young De Boteler, and ran after him as he rode through the gateway followed by two attendants.