By this time Gabriel had recovered his senses, and the sight of the Malvern Hills roused him to the remembrance that he was near Bosbury; with a vague idea of getting Hilary to bind up his wounds for him, and then of somehow reaching his father, he staggered to his feet, hoping to find Harkaway at no great distance. The horse, however, was nowhere to be seen, and, with faltering steps, he made his way with great difficulty across the field to a gap which he saw in the hedge. The children’s voices reached him, and helped him to persevere. “Here each bachelor may choose One that will not faith abuse, Nor repay with coy disdain Love that should be loved again.” It was the same maypole song that he had listened to years ago at Bosbury just after their betrothal. Utterly spent with pain and loss of blood, the effort of making his way through the gap in the hedge proved more than flesh could bear. “’Tis no use--no use!” he thought, despairingly as he entered the orchard. “I can’t go another step! My God! Must I be so near to Hilary, and yet die like a dog in a ditch?” He reeled back, and, with a groan, fell senseless to the ground, to the horror and dismay of the children, who dropped their skipping-ropes and fled in terror. “The Puritan!” they screamed; “he has fallen down dead!” But before very long curiosity conquered terror; they stole back hand-in-hand, and gazed at him with awe-struck faces. “He looks as if he were asleep,” said little Meg. “That’s how folks do look,” explained Nan, “just asleep, you know. But all the time they’re really awake up in the sky.” “Wondering, perhaps, why we don’t understand,” said Meg, dreamily. “Oh, see!” cried Nan, in great excitement, “he’s down here still, he’s not dead. His hand is moving!” Gabriel tried to get up, but fell back again. “Oh! what hellish pain!” he moaned. “What can we do for you, sir?” said Nan. “Who is it?” he asked, looking up in a dazed way. “Where?” “We be Farmer Chadd’s children, sir, and this is our orchard nigh to Bosbury,” replied the little girl. “How far from Bosbury?” “’Tis but a little way across the hop-yards, sir.” “If I could see Hilary before I die!” he muttered. “I _will_ see her! I _will_ see her! What became of Harkaway? Children, do you see a riderless horse near?” They ran off and soon returned with beaming faces. “There be a strange horse down by the brook,” said Nan. “A bay with two white feet.” “He is gentle enough; could you bring him here for me? I am sorely hurt.” They gladly promised and ran down the sloping field, leaving Gabriel in a curious borderland of semi-consciousness.