An uncertain path of light lay across the face of the far-off tide-way--broken by a narrow strip of darkness and renewed again close at hand across the wide river almost to the sea-wall beneath the window.

From this window no house could be seen by day--nothing but a vast expanse of water and land hardly less level and unbroken.

No light was visible on sea or land now, nothing but the waning moon in a cold clear sky.
Miriam threw herself, all dressed, on her bed with the abandonment of one who is worn out by some great effort, and buried her face in the pillow.
Barebone's way lay to the left along the river-wall by the side of the creek.

Turner had gone to the right, taking the path that led down the river to the old quay and the village.

Whereas Barebone must turn his back on Farlingford to reach the farm which still crouches behind a shelter of twisted oaks and still bears the name of Maiden's Grave; though the name is now nothing but a word.