And there was heavy on him also the great misery of feeling that every thing might depend on own exertions, and that yet he did not know how or where to exert himself.

When he had ridden about all night and discovered nothing, he might just as well have been in bed.
And he was continually riding about all night and discovering nothing.
After leaving the station on the evening of the day on which he had expressed himself to the women so vehemently respecting Medlicot, he met Bates coming home from his day's work.

It was then past eight o'clock, and the old man was sitting wearily on his horse, with his head low down between his shoulders, and the reins hardly held within his grasp.
"You're late, Mr.Bates," said Harry; "you take too much out of yourself this hot weather." "I've got to move slower, Mr.Heathcote, as I grow older.

That's about it.

And the beast I'm on is not much good." Now Mr.Bates was always complaining of his horse, and yet was allowed to choose any on the run for his own use.
"If you don't like him, why don't you take another ?" "There ain't much difference in 'em, Mr.Heathcote.Better the devil you know than the devil you don't.