question was settled, for he gradually became absorbed angry with me, or think me base and pitiful, for in what she said, and stood, cap-in-hand, gazing pas-having thus robbed you of a few sad thoughts ?" sionately upon her who seemed, in the pale moonlight, to be a visitant from heaven rather than a being of earth. "And what to me," she uttered in a low sad tone, "is all this beauty, if only from its presence I can draw addition to my grief? It is wrong to question the dispositions of Him who made us, and dispenses the circumstances which made for us good or ill, yet it seemeth strange, beyond my understanding of justice, why I should be made thus the sport of fortune-I, who have ever bowed meekly to His will, who have worshipped and fulfilled the duties His law imposed on me, cheerfully, devotedly; who never wronged a fellow being in aught; who have ever sought to make in all things those around me happy. Why should this be? Holy Mother! do thou lend me thy blessed aid, and strengthen me to bear, unrepiningly, a lot which seemeth harsh to me, which I feel is wasting me away daily, hourly; from a child my portion has been sad to the dregs of sadness. Bereaved of parents, the dearest, kindest on earth-ever honoured and revered be their memory-I have had none to look up to, to cling unto but Allan, my dear brother, who in all things sought to supply their place to me. Oh! Allan, why have you left me? While you were by my side I could draw some consolation, some hope of future joy, if it had been only in the contemplation of thy anticipated happiness; but that hope is denied { me. Thou, too, art gone from me, perhaps never to return, and I am, indeed, now alone, even unto bitterest loneliness; all around me are kind to a degree which is acutely painful, for I have no means of returning it, or doing aught which can make my situation less dependant on their bounty-and, added to this, comes the painful certainty that my heart is another's. Heaven help me! to whom shall I turn for consolation, for guidance!" and she sobbed aloud as she concluded the sentence. Robin's heart leaped within him, as he heard her say her heart was another's, and then he awoke to the situation in which he stood, as an eaves-dropper; the blood rushed to his brow, and he made her aware of his presence on the instant, by saying to her in a low tone, "Marian, may I crave a few words with you ?" She started, and slightly screamed; on finding it was Robin, she somewhat recovered, bowed her head, but spoke not; she could not-her heart was too full. "I have your pardon to request," proceeded he, addressing her by her name, fulfilling a request she had made that all should call her thus, rather than they should think her birth or previous state above theirs. Robin, with the rest, called her Marian, and it was more grateful to him to be enabled to do so, because it made them more familiar, would assist to make them more on a footing as lovers whenever an opportunity might arrive to declare his passion. "I have your pardon to request for being an eavesdropper," he continued; "I know not how to excuse myself, but by a dislike to interrupt you, and certainly no desire to be guilty of a meanness.' "I then uttered my thoughts aloud, and you overheard them?" faintly demanded Marian, blushing. ""Twas even so, Marian-but be not angry with me, I had no thought to do anything to pain or displease you, the Virgin be my judge!" said Robin earnestly. "I came but to speak a word with you ere I depart on an affair of some importance, and if I spoke not upon my entrance, it was because the sound of your voice chained me to the spot; you will not be "I am not displeased with thee, Robin," said she, half smiling; "I should rather chide my own thoughtlessness, for giving utterance to words which should have never been spoken." "You will not, I trust, feel offended if I refer to those words. You speak of being alone in the world; of being without friends, save those allied by the common ties of humanity. I, who am an orphan-although I have not felt the loss of parents so deeply as you must have done-yet can feel keenly your situation, and I presume upon the little service I was able to show your brother the first two days we were known to each other, to offer to supply his place, now he is away, in all things in which a brother's presence or counsel is needed. Do not deny me this, and you shall find hereafter you have not misplaced confidence in one who would gladly risk limb and life in aught that would render you a good." "You are very kind," murmured Marian. "Nay," he replied, "I would be so-I seek to be so-I would have you think I strive to be so, for indeed there exists not one I would so earnestly endeavour to make happy as yourself; your grief becomes mine, your joy equally so, and no path which would lead to thy bliss should be left untrodden by me. You never had one to sympathise with you; confide in me-I pray, I intreat you. Think not I offer unreflectingly, or without a sincere desire that you will do so, and find in me a friend as a friend should be, in the unpolluted sense of the word. Look you, Marian, I will confess the truth-I will honestly acknowledge I am moved to this by the love I bear you. I do, dear Marian, passionately, devotedly, adore you-have loved you with an increasing affec tion from the first hour we met. I do not ask you to return it, nor would I have given utterance to this, for the disclosure might pain you, but that I would shew you how earnest, how devoted a friend I would be. Believe me, I would not presume upon that privilege, for loving you as I do, thy happiness, thy free and unconstrained wish would be my con stant object to effect. I will not deny I heard thee say thy heart was another's. I ask not whose, and shall ever respect thy choice, nor seek by any act, covertly or directly, to transfer thy affection from him on whom it is bestowed, to another, even though that other be myself-thou dost hear me, Marian? and dost believe me, I trust. Do not deny me. I will be thy friend and brother, if thou will it so-a dear and most affectionate brother in all things. Thou hast known me six long years; thou mayst judge of me by my acts. I will not deceive thee; should I, may the Holy Virgin inflict her bitterest punishment on me here and hereafter! You will I shall be thy friend, Marian, wilt thou not? I await thy reply." Marian murmured some words inaudibly, but turned away her head. "You are angry with me-are displeased-I have done wrong!" uttered Robin, hastily. Marian extended her hand to him, and turned her face and eyes upon him; they were suffused with tears. He took her hand, and fancied he felt a gentle pressure upon his as he received it. She remained silent for a moment, and then said "Robin, I do hear you, and with feelings I have no words to describe. I have known you for some years, nor have known during that time one act of thine which should prevent my gladly acknowledging thee as a dearly-prized friend. In the absence of my brother, you have been a brother to me; and it is with a pride and gratification, for which I am most thankful, that I have witnessed thy performance of everything, important or trivial, which might render my residence here a pleasure to myself and less burthensome to the kind-hearted beings in this family. For this I am most grateful, and should regret most deeply if you thought otherwise. If I said I felt alone, it was that I have none near me who should be my guide, to whom I could look up for counsel and for direction. Every one around me have their relatives-even you have your foster-father; I have none, and it was that painful knowledge which made me utter those words. And now, Robin, I do require the aid of thy kind consideration. You heard me say my heart another's, and accompanied it by a generous-most generous sacrifice of feeling. I cannot suffer myself to be outdone in generosity even by you, Robin. Do not think lightly of me, if, in return for all your kindness, I should feel compelled-feel it a duty, to set aside a maiden's bashfulness, and own that thy kind thoughts of me are equalled by mine for thee— that-that my heart is-is thine, Robin. Why should I blush to acknowledge it? I love you even as you love me; and though perhaps I should not confess it so boldly, yet I esteem the truth that should be, even as dear friends, between us, so well, that my heart will not suffer me to be silent." was There are times when we have all felt that the commonest language has borne a powerful influence 66 IST, Maude!-Maude Lindsay, hist!" cried a voice, as that young lady was wandering pensively through a grove of fruit trees, of true love never did run smooth. That such was a looking at the moon, and wondering why the course disagreeable fact she had had painful experience; but the wherefore and because was a tristful mystery; it was an enigma insoluble by her: still she could not help instituting a mental inquiry, in the depths of which she was plunged, when the voice before mentioned broke on her ear. her little difficulty in recognising who was the owner, and somehow or other she was not displeased at the interruption of her meditations, so she stayed her walk, and awaited the arrival of Will Scarlet-for he it was who was the intruder. 'Hist, Maude, hist!" it repeated in tones which left "I am so glad I have found you, Maude, for I want to speak to you," cried he, as he reached her side. "I have been looking every where for you, and at length have found you.' "I am glad you have, if it will please you," replied Maude. "What a lovely over us; and perhaps were we to trace it on paper, would read marvellously dull and spiritless; but it is not the words which make the interest, it is the tone, the accompaniments of eyes and hands, and the time, which make words, comparatively simple, have a passionate effect. Thus was it, in the foregoing colloquy; it was not what was said but what was conveyed, that produced upon their young hearts an effect like pouring oil upon fire. They were warmly, devotedly attached to each other; had been, for some years, but until now each kept the secret in their own breast. Robin's admiration, and eventually love, had been created by the beauty of her form and strengthened by the sweetness of her demeanour and general disposition; while the constant kindness of Robin to Marian, aided by no mean personal qualifications, had produced a like result in her. This feeling on both sides had dually increased, until an opportunity occurring, a mutual avowal was the consequence. We will not repeat what words on this subject followed those already detailed, for they cannot be invested with the interest, the earnestness, and devotion with which they were given; but it was a sweet sight to see the two fond hearts kneeling down in the bright moonlight-their faces upturned to the clear blue heaven, which glit-hunting?" tered with pale stars, like a diamonded robe-vowing to tell-however, I am going on an expedition in which "Not deer hunting, but-oh, I forgot, I was not to love each other truly and devotedly, and never change { I may get a broken-ob, I forgot-nothing-but I in bright or adverse circumstances, while a pulse continued to beat in their glowing hearts. gra "Of course it will," returned he. night it is, Maude!" "Most beautiful," was the reply. "But is that what you have sought me for? is that what you had to say ?" the night for a stroll-just the night to undertake Oh, Lord, no!" he cried laughingly; “but this is any thing in the woods, eh, Maude ?" "Most like. Are you then going in the woods, deer came to say good bye, dear Maude!" "It is nothing dangerous you are about attempting, I hope-is it ?" "Oh, Lord, no! not while I have a good bow, a stout staff, a strong-oh, I forgot, I musn't say that -it's nothing, Maude!" "Then why must you not speak of it ?" "Oh! of course not; because if it was known, or to get to the ears of any one of the soldiers, you know, it might-oh, I forgot-no, no, it's only a frolic, and I am going out with Robin Hood and Little John, that's all; so before I went I came to say farewell, dear Maude, in case we should never meet-oh, I forgot! no, I mean in case-no, that is, I never like to go any where without bidding you good bye, do I?" "I cannot say you do." "And why do I do it ?" "It is not for me to say. I don't know that I can say it." Will, I must be a stock-a heartless creature, if I could be insensible to your continued kindnesses; they have wrought strongly upon me; and if you will accept a heart divided, such as it is, it shall be {thine." "Oh! can't you? Why, you know, Maude, it is because I love you better than all the world beside, father, mother, and all. I could go out for weeks and never say a word to the old people-except my mother -and I can't go away from you for a few hours, but I must bid you good bye, and yet you don't love me, do you? Ah! but I hope you will some day-I can wait; don't put yourself out of the way, or hurryings in producing an acknowledgment of it. I also yourself to do it, dear Maude, for I would not have anything disturb you; only some day you may say to yourself, 'Well, I love Will a little bit now;' and then bye-and-bye, you will love me a little bit more, and so on until you love me as much as I do you-oh, nopoh! that's impossible; but you may be able to love me a good deal, and then you can say to me, 'Will, I { think I love you now,' and I should say, ha!—aha, { ha, ha, ha!—I don't know what I should say, I should leap over the moon. Oh, Maude! only try, just begin, say that you love me a little bit now, only a little bit; perhaps to-morrow you will love me a great deal, and next day you can perhaps tell me so. What do you say, Maude ?" "And you really love me, Will ?" "How can I prove it, Maude? only tell me how, and I'll show you that I do love you, heart, body, and soul. I'll fight for you, die for you, and happy to get the chance of doing it!" "I believe you love me.' "I believe you, I do." "But supposing I love another!" This was a circumstance which never struck Will as being possible-or rather we should say it never struck him at all, at least until Maude made the supposition, and then it did, like a thunderbolt. He was perfectly stunned; his heart throbbed violently, and putting his fist over it as if to repress its violent pulsation, he said in a faint voice 66 But you don't ?" "Listen to me, Will," said Maude gravely. "I do sincerely credit the truth of your attachment to me, and feel flattered and honoured by it." "Nonsense!" interrupted Will. "Let me proceed!" she exclaimed, raising her hand. "I do honestly believe you love me, and wish I could return it with all the sincerity it deserves; but Will-" "Don't say you can't, Maude-don't say that," again interrupted Will. "I cannot bear it-I could not bear to hear you say it!" "Do not interrupt me; hear all I have to say, and then you shall say whatever you may think right or proper. I know what it is to love without a hope of return; I know its bitter sickening hopelessness, and would not let you suffer one pang of it, were it in my power to prevent it-I say this, meaning it truly and sincerely; but ere I saw you I gave away my heart to one who could not, cannot, will not return it” "He shall, Maude, if you wish it!" burst forth Will, dashing a tear from his eye. "He shall, by the mass! or I'll beat him to a jelly with a quarter-staff; and then he shall, for I'll beat him till he loves you with all his might and main." "Look you, Maude," returned Will, in a low, thick voice, "I was foolish enough to fancy that if you didn't love me you didn't love any one else; that I am grieved to find it otherwise, you may believe, and should be more so if I thought I had hurt your feelknow what the kindness of your disposition would lead you both to say and do; but shame on me were I to take advantage of it. No, Maude, I scorn it. If I had known this, I would not have troubled you as I have done; but you will forgive me, for I knew it not. I don't say I am not cut to the heart by what I have heard; but I will say, if you can bear that feeling as you have done so patiently, so gently, so uncomplainingly, it would be worse than villanous of me to make an outcry. Although you offer me your heart, yet I can well see the motive which impels you to do so, and a pestilence on me! if I wrong you by accepting it, when I can see you would do it with pain and a self sacrifice, rather than you should think suffered on your account." I Maude was about to explain that he mistook her in supposing her consent was extorted from her by such a supposition, and to give him a more flattering view of the offer of her heart, when a voice, which sounded loudly in the air, cried— "Will Scarlet! Will Scarlet! hillioh-hoh!" "I am called, Maude. Good bye, God bless you! may you be as happy as I can wish you. If we should not meet again, think sometimes kindly of poor Will Scarlet." So saying, he pressed her hand passionately to his lips, waved his hand, dashed amid the trees, and was out of sight in a moment. Maude felt vexed that he should have gone away labouring under such a mistake, and fully determined that to-morrow should explain it all. To-morrow-ah! Assembled beneath the broad boughs of an oak tree were twenty stout vassals, armed with spears, swords, and bows and arrows; a short distance from them, in a little circle, stood six of the Gamwells, Little John, and Gilbert Hood. ' "Where can Robin be loitering ?" exclaimed Gilbert, impatiently; "it is unlike him to be a laggard where his presence is needed." c Nay, you are too impatient," returned Little John; "I warrant me there is cause for his stay; and besides, there is still a short time for grace, he is not the only loiterer, too; there is young Will absent yet." "He can be done without," returned Hood, hastily; "if he comes not at all, it matters not; but Robin is sworn to his duty, and should be foremost in it." "He will, in its execution," said Little John. "I know so," replied Little John. "Hark, a footstep! 'tis Robin's-two-Will and he are together." Robin and Will evidenced the truth of his words by appearing at that moment. "How now, Robin; you lag, boy. We have waited for you some time," cried Gilbert. "Have you so ? returned he; "I am sorry for that; but we will make it up in the expedition. I will not be backward, when the time arrives, for forwardness." "I said so but now," said Little John. "Ha," replied Robin, "Little John, you are always my friend, back and edge, foot to branch, nock to nock. I thank you for it, worthy John, and when the opportunity occurs, will repay it to the best of my ability." Little John laughed. You make a mountain of a mole-hill," he said; "you overrate my liking for you." "Let us on at once," interrupted Gilbert Hood; "Little John, your friends know our errand." 66 Aye, and will do your bidding manfully." "We may depend upon them?" "As upon myself." "Enough! we will proceed. Our enemy come through Mansfield, on their way to Nottingham. They will proceed along the roadway, and, at a post I will point out, we can easily intercept and make them prisoners, were there treble our number. You know the rest ?" "I do," replied Little John; "now, lads-now, Saxon churls-hounds that ye be, see if you can't find a hold for your fangs in these Norman wolves. On! lads-on! we must have no shirking or shrinking. If we shew the broad of our backs to aught, it must be to the green grass, and then our faces must front the sky. On, lads!" The men gave a shout and obeyed, Little John taking the lead, while Gilbert and the six Gamwells followed; and Robin, with Will Scarlet, brought up the rear. "How is it, Will," said Robin, "you look dullthere's a shade upon the bonnie Will Scarlet! What's come to thee, lad-do you not like your trip ?" "That's a strange question to ask of me," replied Will, rousing himself from the abstraction into which he had fallen. "Does a hound like following a deer -a hawk its prey? Why do you ask me if I like my trip ?" "Oh! merely because you, who always throw life and spirit into the party which you join-the most light-hearted, boisterous, and merry being among them-should now draw your bonnet over your eyes, drop your hands to your legs, and lag a-foot without a word; 'tis so unnatural to thee, Will, I can't but ask, what ails thee? Something, I am sure, hath damped thee mightily." 66 Nay; 'tis nought; you shall find me first in the fray and last to leave it, this night, Robin." now. "So you ever were, Will, where danger existed; but it was not with such a face and air as you wear I am satisfied something has occurred to deaden your spirits. Let me but know if I can serve you in aught which may restore you to yourself; espouse your quarrel, if quarrel it be, or do anything which may again make you bonnie, frolicksome Will Scarlet. I'll do it, spite of the Evil one! Yet, Will, think not I would pry into your secrets; if you would not wish to speak the cause of your dullness, do not let thy friendliness for me, or my seeming importunities, draw it from thee. I shall not think it unlike a friend of thee, for do I not know, Will, that where a friend's aid was warmly needed, thou would'st come to me; and now I but seek to know the cause of thy sadness, in hopes that I might advise or suggest something to restore to thee thy peace of mind." "Tis not so much a secret, Robin, that I should deny thee the knowledge of it, nor is't so much that I should hang my head thus; for if I had troubled my head to think about the matter, I might have expected the upshot; still I have a strange feeling upon me, which makes me dislike mentioning the matter even to you." "Then do not," interrupted Robin, warmly but kindly. "Nay," continued Will, "it is but right you should know it, and I will conquer the weakness which would induce me to keep it from thee; yet it so far masters me as to make me request of thee that none else should know what I am to tell you." "Thou need'st not fear that from me; and even now, if one thought lurks in thy mind that at a future time you may regret having disclosed that which you are now on the eve of putting in my possession, I would sincerely wish thee to take the benefit of it, and say nothing of this matter to me." "No, Robin, I had determined to tell thee, and therefore there is no likelihood of my repenting, at any future- time, that I had made thee acquainted with it. Besides, can I forget, Robin, we were little children together? and long ere we knew we were relatives, we were fast friends. When did we ever quarrel Rob.? Never. If one bigger than myself struck me, did you not always beat him for me? Did we not always fight side by side and back to back? Did we not together o'ertop every lad in the village in all sports? Who was there among them could swim, hunt, fish, play at staff, or draw a shaft with truer aim than thou? And was I not next to thee? And did we not go together, hand in hand, heart to heart, like dear brothers? Hang it! I never loved my brothers, any of 'em, half like to thee. And when we made love to the little village girls, would they not come to thou and I, one and all, when we wooed them to a dance round the May-pole-or on Sundays in the dale-or to walk in the quiet green lanes-or in the moaning old wood by moonlightand in all these times, in all these things, when were the thoughts of each hidden from the other? And why should I now keep from thee, my old friend, that which in other times I should have told to thee, and felt a duty performed when I had done so ?" 66 "Thou hast spoken truth, Will," said Robin, affected by what Will had uttered, we were more than brothers. Oh! those happy, happy hours! Shall ever meet a time of such unmixed, griefless pleasure again? Never, never!" I "You may, Robin, most like will; but I never shall," continued Wiil, mournfully. "You know I have loved Maude Lindsay, how I-I haven't a word strong enough to express how much I loved her, and she—Ĭ find-" "Well ?" cried Robin, impatiently, a strange misgiving crossing his mind, as Will hesitated. "I told her to-night, just as you called me, that I loved her very dearly, and I asked her if she would not try and love me some day; but she told me she loved another before she saw me, and so all my hopes are dashed to the ground. My disappointment is more than I can express." "Did she tell you who it was she loved first ?" asked Robin, thoughtfully. "No," replied Will, "nor did I ask her; but she told me he did not love her. I, thinking him a stone, a brute, said I would make him, if I beat him to it; but it seems that they had all been playing at cross purposes, for she said he loved another before he saw her, but he behaved very kind, and very handsomely, and all that. She said something about my having done so to her too, and for that, if I would accept her hand, she would give it me. Now, Robin, I would scorn myself for ever if I had taken advantage of her offer, and I told her as much, because I could see she did it to repay me for some good nature I had shown her; as if, loving her, I should not have done all in my power to please and make her happy. Just as I had told her this, you called me, and so I bid her a hasty good bye, and came away at once. Ever since I left her, I have had such a lump in my throat, such a weight in my chest, that I have felt as-I can't describe it-but I have never felt so before, until to-night, and I am sure I never shall feel again as I have done." you do, because I can judge it better, not loving her-" "Not loving her, but somebody else," interrupted Will, with something approaching a smile. "Be it so," replied Robin, returning the smile. "Take my word that Maude is a kind, warm-hearted, affectionate little thing, and worthy of all your love, were it thrice as much as you bear her-" "I am sure of that," cried Will, fervently. "Very well. Now I am sure that Maude, if she has met with one disappointment, deep as it may have been, and I can't think that it is so deep as she has led you to believe-I am satisfied, I say, that next to her first love, she loves you." "No-do you think so-eh?" exclaimed Will, grasping with avidity at anything which afforded him a little hope. "I do. Only just oblige me by letting me say what I have to utter without so many interruptions. I repeat she is very much attached to you; and it was an honesty, a brightness of feeling which you ought most |