The door was shut upon tales of injury and revenge.

Between boy and man, he lay in a yearning stillness, colors and sounds and dim poetic strains his ministers of grace.

This lasted for a time, then he rose, first to a sitting posture, then to his feet.

Crows flew through the wood; he had a glimpse of yellow fields and purple heath.

He set forth upon one of the long rambles which were a prized part of life.
An hour or so later he stopped at a cotter's, some miles from home.