Most of his time Piers spent in rambling alone about the moorland, for health and for weariness.
When unoccupied, he durst not be physically idle; the passions that ever lurked to frenzy him could only be baffled at such times by vigorous exercise.

His cold bath in the early morning was followed by play of dumb-bells.

He had made a cult of physical soundness; he looked anxiously at his lithe, well-moulded limbs; feebleness, disease, were the menaces of a supreme hope.

Ideal love dwells not in the soul alone, but in every vein and nerve and muscle of a frame strung to perfect service.

Would he win his heart's desire ?--let him be worthy of it in body as in mind.