When the baffled hunting party finally gave up the chase and returned to Cosser’s, partly with the hope of being commended for their zeal, which they felt must have atoned for all previous errors, partly to see how the forsaken bride bore herself, they found that damsel in her working dress, “salting down” a fine piece of beef. “There’ll be a terr’ble lot o’ waste over this ’ere job,” she remarked, “but we must do our best to save all what we can.” “We couldn’t find en nowheres, Phœbe,” cried Dick. “Abel here d’ say he’s very like drownded; serve en right if he be.” Phœbe paused in her labours to cast a reflective glance at the horizon. “I’ll go warrant he bain’t drownded,” she said. “He don’t want to marry I, that’s what ’tis. He wouldn’t ha’ married I a bit the more if you’d ha’ catched en.” “But what’s the meanin’ of it,” thundered Mr. Cosser from his corner, “what’s the meanin’ on’t, I want to know. He did seem to know his own mind afore--very well he did.” “I think he was gallied like,” said Phœbe. “E-es, I d’ ’low that’s what he wer’.” Abel and Jarge began to edge away from the group, but Phœbe went on without seeming to notice them. “When Parson did ax en the question straight-out like, I d’ ’low he felt ’fraid. That’s what ’twas, he was ’fraid.” Withdrawing her gaze from the distant hills and heaving a gentle sigh she carried away her beef; and as there was no indication that any outsider was expected to join the family circle, or indeed to partake of any refreshment, the bystanders walked slowly away, and the Cosser family proceeded gloomily to divest themselves of their holiday clothes. It was quite dark when Daniel rose from his cramped and exceedingly moist hiding-place in the sedges by the river, and slowly betook himself homewards. During the many hours he had lain cowering there, listening to the voices of his pursuers, he had had leisure to repent of and marvel at the senseless impulse which had brought him to his present plight. “Well, I be a stunpoll!” he had said to himself over and over again. “I be a dalled stunpoll! What the mischief did I do it for? Whatever will the poor maid think of I? She’ll never look at I again--she’ll never take the leastest notice of me.” More than once he had been half-inclined to rush out of his lair and give himself up to justice, but how could he face that grinning multitude? If they had made fun of him before, what would they do now? Besides her family were furious, and the rustic mind loves justice of a certain rough kind. Daniel was not more of a coward than another, but he had a wholesome dread of broken bones. No, he dursn’t show his face for a long time, that was certain; and as for ever making up with Phœbe again, it was out of the question--no woman could forgive such treatment.