When Cornelia and Eli go to find the foreign man’s carriage, they discover the body of his pregnant wife and their trembling, hidden younger daughter.

As Cornelia embraces the girl tightly, Eli emerges with the newly baby in his arms.

When they later take rest, he tells her to breastfeed the child. She adamantly refuses. She is a mother, she says, but she could not be their mother.

Her maternal instincts are obvious, but her unwillingness to take up the mantle of motherhood again is strong. Not when she still has work to do to avenge her own son.

Eli tells her about his time in the American Cavalry, and Cornelia talks about her father, who was also a soldier.

There is a feeling that both of these travellers are unsettled with their past. What’s more, it seems as though there is something else beneath both of their stubborn exteriors. But somehow, it no longer matters. That it does not define them.

Whoever they once were ⁠— a mother, a war hero — is rendered meaningless. Now, everything in their beings can only be diluted down to their singular goals. For Eli, a few acres of land. For Cornelia, revenge. This is all that matters.

Between our goals, our purpose, and our exteriors that the outside world bases their judgements upon, what truly defines us? When it comes to Cornelia and Eli, their titles hardly seem to be their sole meaning. Especially when Cornelia has travelled across the world in the unpredictable quest for vengeance and Eli, despite all hesitations, has chosen to help her.

For them, it is their actions that strike the most true.

Why the violent second episode of BBC Two’s The English is a poignant exploration of self-worth