He had no real hope, and admitted that he had continued his spasmodic efforts because he could not face defeat.
For all that, he had not been fighting entirely for his farm.

He wanted to keep his freedom; to break through trammels that were getting tighter, and try to regain something that he had lost.

Sometimes he felt desperate, but now and then saw an elusive ray of hope.

If he could hold out until harvest and reap a record crop---- Then his hired man, driving the other plow, waved his arm, and Charnock saw a rig lurch across a rise amidst a cloud of sand.

It was the mail-carrier going his round, but he would not have come that way unless he had letters, and Charnock waited until the man arrived.
"Here's your lot," he said, taking out three or four envelopes.
Charnock's hand shook as he opened the first, it was large and had an official look, and he found a number of unpaid accounts inside.