ble.

Another gentleman rode up at this moment and they were civil enough to
dismount and carry Mr. Tebrick into the cottage, where they were met by
old Nanny who kept wringing her hands and told them Mr. Tebrick's wife
had run away and she was a vixen, and that was the cause that Mr.
Tebrick had run out and assaulted them.

The two gentlemen could not help laughing at this; and mounting their
horses rode on without delay, after telling each other that Mr. Tebrick,
whoever he was, was certainly a madman, and the old woman seemed as mad
as her master.

This story, however, went the rounds of the gentry in those parts and
perfectly confirmed everyone in their previous opinion, namely that Mr.
Tebrick was mad and his wife had run away from him. The part about her
being a vixen was laughed at by the few that heard it, but was soon left
out as immaterial to the story, and incredible in itself, though
afterwards it came to be remembered and its significance to be
understood. When Mr. Tebrick came to himself it was past noon, and his
head was aching so painfully that he could only call to mind in a
confused way what had happened.

However, he sent off Mrs. Cork's son directly on one of his horses to
enquire about the hunt.

At the same time he gave orders to old Nanny that she was to put out
food and water for her mistress, on the chance that she might yet be in
the neighbourhood.

By nightfall Simon was back with the news that the hunt had had a very
long run but had lost one fox, then, drawing a covert, had chopped an
old dog fox, and so ended the day's sport.

This put poor Mr. Tebrick in some hopes again, and he rose at once from
his bed, and went out to the wood and began calling his wife, but was
overcome with faintness, and lay down and so passed the night in the
open, from mere weakness.

In the morning he got back again to the cottage but he had taken a
chill, and so had to keep his bed for three or four days after.

All this time he had food put out for her every night, but though rats
came to it and ate of it, there were never any prints of a fox.

At last his anxiety began working another way, that is he came to think
it possible that his vixen would have gone back to Stokoe, so he had his
horses harnessed in the dogcart and brought to the door and then drove
over to Rylands, though he was still in a fever, and with a heavy cold
upon him. After that he lived always solitary, keeping away from his
fello