while a rosy blush mantled her fair cheeks and forehead. ' You pay females generally a bad compliment by praising so highly a proper feeling in one of them." After a little more of this badinage, Hal gave Grace a quantity of kisses, Robin bade her farewell, and they departed on their way to the castle. As they drew near towards it, Hal suddenly exclaimed,"Look there, Robin! There is Little John and Geoffrey Gurthfeld going lovingly up to the castle together."

"Ha!" cried Robin, "that is Little John! this ? What can be the meaning of it ?"

How's

"I'd wager my head Geoffrey has conceived a sudden affection for him, and is taking him up for a drinking bout. Geoffrey is a hearty fellow, but not over prudent. He knows little or nothing of the baron; and if he commences any of his noisy roistering-for he is very uproarious over his cups-he will have the baron at his collar. Now, if this should take place, and my Lord Fitz Alwine, as usual, get in a passion and strike Geoffrey, if Geoffrey is drunk he'll throw my lord the baron out of the window, as sure as my name is Hal."

We Te may rust to Little John to prevent that; he is very prudent when he has anything to do, and he will have need of it all, for the castle is quite strange to him; he will not throw away one grain of caution." "Look, Robin, he's making signals to you-he sees you then ?"

"Ah! I am to wait back-he's going into the castle." Robin exchanged signals with him, and then Little John and Geoffrey having rather increased their pace, arrived at the drawbridge and passed over it. "I have told him that I am going into the castle and will meet him in there," said Robin.

"At what time?" inquired Hal. "That we must leave to chance."

"Very well then. Now you must with me-I can take you into the buttery, and I will ascertain by some means where the prisoners are situated, who has got the care of them, whether we can't steal the keys, and liberate at least Will Scarlet. If we should succeed, we must again thread the subterranean passages, which I know as well, aye, better than the upper part of the castle; and once in the forest-" "I'll give them leave to catch us if they can," said

Robin.

"So I should think," replied Hal with a laugh; then led the way to the drawbridge-it was lowered at his call; he passed over, followed closely by Robin, and once more our hero found himself within the walls of Nottingham Castle.

Little John had done his best to improve the opportunity Geoffrey's company afforded him, and had not been in the castle half an hour ere he found out where some of the prisoners were placed, and he fondly hoped that Will's dungeon might be one of them. Geoffrey was more communicative to him when he was in the castle than he was to his friends in the hostelry, and acknowledged that he had been guarding three that morning.

"One of them is quite a youth, rather a remarkable looking one," said he.

"Indeed!" said Little John, affecting indifference, "in what way?"

"In three things-his light red hair, his large blue eyes, and his sullen temper. The baron has been in his cell, which is on the ramparts, this morning, while I was on duty, but I don't fancy he got a word out of him, for he came away raving, spluttering, and swearing, talking about hanging him on a tall gallows.' "That's poor Will safe enough," muttered Little

John. "Do you know if he's wounded? perhaps that may make him sullen."

"Not a bit-he's as sound as you are; no, it's the temper of the young colt."

"So you keep cells on the ramparts, eh? that is unusual."

"No, not in England; but I have seen dungeons in some of the castles in Normandy which almost make me shudder to think upon."

"I suppose there are cells in the ramparts at each wing ?"

"Yes, but they are not all fit for use now; that youth I was just telling you of, he's got a comfortable cell enough on the western wing."

"Is it possible-on the western wing ?"

tr

Yes, you may see it from this loophole; there, that's it; you see a kind of grated loop to let in light, and a small door beneath it ?"

Ah, I see it! And he's put in there, is he ?" "Yes, he's there, as snug as any one need be." "And no chance of escape, I'll be bound; a barred door, a grated window, and sentries-ah, a strict watch!"

"St. Thomas à Becket direct you, forester! No, you are mistaken; if he had friends outside, he might get out, though I question if he could get away unperceived; the bolt of the door is on the outside and easily drawn, but unless they kept quite away to the eastern wing, they must be discovered." "But why the eastern wing ?"

"Oh! because that is rarely frequented—it is not inhabited; it is haunted, and so nobody goes near it ; therefore it might be well managed that way."

"Ah! I see you are clever at these things; but with all that, on looking round at this castle, I am sure you could not get them out without passing the drawbridge, and so at last you must be discovered."

"Not I. One unacquainted with the localities like you, for instance, might, but I should not, for there are passages beneath which lead to the forest, tho' I'll honestly acknowledge I don't know my way through them. At the very extreme of the eastern wing, in one of the chambers which are uninhabited, there is a window wide enough for me to creep through; it is a short drop to the water in the moat; beneath it is a buttress which is worn away by age; you might get down that, and in the water at its foot lies a huge block of wood, this you might straddle across and reach the other side safely and unperceived, for none of the look-outs command that spot; once on the other side, of course you must trust to your heels. That's the way an escape might be managed from Nottingham Castle."

"It seems easy," said Little John, musingly.

"And is no harder than it seems,' ,"returned Geoffrey, with a smile. "But, good forester, I must leave you for a time; you will not mind being left here alone; I have a few duties to attend to; I shall be back anon. In the meantime, if you have any wish to stroll about the castle, you may amuse yourself; and, should any one speak to or interrupt you, the pass-word is-Freely and fairly.' You may, therefore, if you like it better than sitting here, stroll about, and do just as you like."

"I am much obliged to you," said Little John, as Geoffery left him.

"And you shall have something to be much obliged for, thou Saxon hound!" muttered Geoffrey, grinding his teeth, as he quitted the room. "The churl thinks me one of his Saxon serfs, I suppose, but he shall find me a true Norman; he shall not walk away and boast that Geoffrey Gurth- Pshaw! I spit at their Saxon name-that Geoffrey Vanterie was foiled and

beaten by a Saxon dog! The fiend's curse upon my failing limbs-to serve me such a trick!-I, that never bent to man before! But I have meshed him as completely as ever fish was. What, my stout forester has come to release his friends, eh? This is one of the knaves, I have no doubt, that attacked the crusaders in the forest. Well, he shall have a voyage in his Majesty's service, if my knife fails to reach him. How eagerly he swallowed the bait! My life on't! we shall find him at the western wing. I am glad, too, I directed him to the eastern wing, for it is quiet there, and he can have my blade in his ribs without much ado. I will let him get a bit of a start, and then I will set the castle dogs on his track; when they have opened and are in full chase, I will stop the game short, and then, Saxon hind, pay you what I owe you. S'death! how sore my limbs are-Satan never spare me if I spare him!"

Mumbling and muttering, he pursued his way, resolving-after a short time had elapsed, and he was quite satisfied that Little John was on his way to the turret on the western wing-to lay the whole of his conversation and his speculations before Baron Fitz Alwine, expecting to be handsomely rewarded, and if not, he should at least have the satisfaction of being revenged.

Little John, when Geoffrey had departed, sat a few minutes and mused; he looked up every now and then to the turret which he understood to contain his cousin Will, and then in the direction Geoffrey had taken.

"I wish," he uttered slowly, among the other things I have practised, I had studied to read men's thoughts in their faces, I should never have exerted it more than just now. This Geoffery may be a honest, well-meaning fellow, but I don't think so; people are not so ready to be bosom friends with those who have foiled them in some favourite quality; for my part, if I didn't quarrel with the man who could beat me at quarter-staff, I shouldn't be over friendly with him, though I wouldn't seek his harm. I don't think this Geoffrey's professions to me are all real; however, I shall see, and if they a'nt, why let him keep free of my arm and staff, for so sure as I am a Saxon, and that is very certain, I'll trounce him in such a way he shall never forget Little John while he lives. I got the situation of Will's prison clearly out of him, and yet I doubt him; he was too eager to describe it to be sincere; still I believe poor Will to be up there, and I may as well let him know I am near him; I am in the cage, and I must do the best to get out of it. Let me see he did not tell me how I was to reach that western wing, but I dare say some of the corridors over head will take me to it-at least, I'll try."

So soliloquising, off he started to endeavour to thread his way through the galleries and corridors above. After he had traversed several, he began to grow bewildered, and to fear that he had lost his way. "It is strange," he muttered as he proceeded, endeavouring to imagine the plan of the building, "how nature fits us for some things, others for things quite different; now, place me in a forest, even a strange one, and I'll work a path to the point I want, as true as if one was cut for me, for there are signs and marks by which to guide your steps, and those who have passed their days in the green wood know how to use them; but in a place like this, who's to tell which is the path, or what is to direct you; passages here, rooms there, galleries and stairs in all parts, and yet I dare say there are many now who could go to any part as easy as I could go through Sherwood; well, well, I suppose it's ordered so, or else it would not be."

He had rambled about for some time, now along

a passage, then through a chamber, sometimes upstairs, sometimes down, and as all the rooms were connected with each other by corridors and stairs, in following one passage and its windings he arrived on one flight, then ascended to descend. Shortly atter this he began to be weary of this perambulation, when he passed along a corridor which was terminated by a door. Up he walked to the door, it was just ajar; he opened it, walked in, and beheld himself in the sitting apartment of an elderly man, who was seated in a large chair, busily engaged in arranging some bags in a large box; as he made some noise in his occupation and Little John walked very lightly, his presence remained unnoticed for a short time.

Little John perceived that the little old man was not aware that he had a visitor, and he employed the time until the discovery was made, in speculating who this could be, and whether he should address him. He had the pass word; he could say he was a visitor going to take a stroll upon the ramparts and had lost his way; he had little doubt that he should be directed correctly, and then it rested with him to make such use of the time as to render futile any treachery Geoffery might be guilty of. He had scarely arrived at this conclusion, when the old gentleman raised his head to take one of a pile of money bags resting on the table, in order to deposit it in the chest; the form of Little John as he did this just caught his eye, and then he turned his full gaze upon him; the scrutiny was anything but satisfactory. It would have been unpleasant to any one. He was putting away his money, flattering himself no one was near; had given the strictest orders he should not be disturbed the whole afternoon, when suddenly he observes a tall stout forester-outlaws were a species of forester-armed to the teeth, standing close to him. He started, as might naturally be expected, and opened his eyes as widely as they would go; and then in a voice not very forte, being rather tamed by surprise, he demanded

"Who are you? How came you here? What do you want ?" He perhaps asked this mildly, because at the moment it flashed across his mind, that the ghosts of King Harold and William Rufus, were reported to wander about the world in the garb of foresters, and this stranger had come before him without making the slightest noise, and in defiance of the orders he had given.

"I am a visitor to Geoffrey Gurthfeld; I have lost my way in the passages, and want to go upon the western wing."

"Oh!" returned the little man with a groan of relief. "Harkye, my fine forester, for you are the finest of your breed I ever saw; you're a visitor to Geoffrey Gurthfeld, you tell me, and I dare be sworn are expert at your weapons?"

"As a forester should be," returned Little John, wondering at the turn his speech took.

"Most like you have a mind to change a forest coat for a soldier's accoutrements; I am the Baron Fitz Alwine, and gave orders no soul was to come near me this afternoon, but you have broken in upon me, by accident, it is true; and if you are not a fool it shall be a fortunate accident for you. Will you be a trooper in my service?"

"Oh! you are the Baron Fitz Alwine, are you?" said Little John, suddenly coming to a decision. Walking up to the door, he closed it and shot the bolt; he then drew from his belt a long strip of deer. hide, which he held up to the baron with a quiet laugh and said-" Do you see this ?"

The baron nodded, with something like misgiving in his aspect.

"This is a thong of deer-hide; I am never without it, it always comes in useful. Now I have a favour to ask of you, and if you refuse it me, I'll hang you up by the neck to that piece of furniture, without a moment's hesitation, until you are dead-nothing can save you-I can keep that door against twenty men with these weapons; I don't mind losing my own life, but you shall perish before me.'

have laid to catch him."

"Do you?" said Little John.

"Do you?" repeated the baron, with a suspicious glance at the skean, and a very devout wish that the plan could be speedily accomplished.

"Tell him to come in half an hour," said Little John.

The baron did so. "It will be too late."

"Never mind, knave, begone, I am busy; in half an hour, I tell thee," repeated the baron after Little John, feeling as if he would have given worlds to have the aid of stout Geoffrey at that moment; but there was such steady determination in the eyes of Little John, that the desire was hopeless, and every step which Geoffery took, as he went grumbling away, seemed to fall heavy on his heart, for he was again alone with the terrible forester. When the sound of the footsteps had died away, Little John said

"Now, sir baron, I wish, and will have the release of six prisoners taken by your vassals a few nights since in the forest,; I take neither refusal nor equivocation; I demand their unconditional discharge and their departure, as well as my own, to be free and unwatched."

66 Why, I would consent, but-" "But me no buts! Give me at once the means to set them free, or you perish on the spot, without a chance of escape. Consent, or die!"

"The alternative is not to be thought of, and therefore, since I must do so, being in fear of my life, why, I consent; and here's my signet, which if you give to one of the sentries, and tell him the purport for which it was given you, he will direct you to the fellow who has the charge of them; show him also this, and he will immediately release them."

"Inasmuch as you are a Norman mongrel, I will not trust you. But, to set aside any doubts of the faith of your word I might hold-and, believe me, they are neither slight nor unfounded-I will keep close to your side; the first symptom of treachery I perceive on your part, I will bury my skean in your heart; for, look you, sir baron, in order that you may have no doubts of my word, we Saxons hold you Normans of no account than wolves, or any wild beasts which we may think it a duty and a pleasure to destroy; therefore, rest assured, should a necessity arise, I shall not have the slightest hesitation in keeping my promise." The baron was in an awkward predicament.

more

He was perfectly aware of the full amount of danger of the position in which he was placed; he was a rank coward, who had blustered and swaggered | through life, so as to give himself the appearance of a redoubtable knight; he had been in many battles, but generally as a commander. In the melée, his voice might be heard shouting and encouraging the men, at the same time he took every precaution for personal safety of which his situation would admit ; and, in battles, the nature of which involved so much handto-hand fighting, every one was too much engaged to { notice what he was about; they heard his voice, and that was sufficient; he had policy and the fear of contumely strong enough to prevent him refusing to take any post in time of war, and he trusted to a sharp sight, a good suit of mail, and a stalwart warhorse, to keep him from danger.

Thus he had obtained the reputation of a brave and puissant soldier abroad, and at home his swearing, blustering, tyrannous conduct to his retainers and vassals, had kept up the delusion; all matters of personal conflict he begged leave to eschew, and took every care not to be drawn into them, if they could in any way be avoided, in consequence of this there was always a party of his men who served him as a bodyguard, and were usually within call, but on this particular afternoon, when he was looking over his coffers, for in those days bankers did not exist, to see that during his absence no one had made free with a private store, to prevent any greedy eye being fastened upon his gold, so as to create unlawful intentions, he gave orders of the strictest nature that he should not be disturbed or interrupted. To provide, as well as he could, for the observance of this command, he had sent his body-guard away, so that he was quite aware that if he were to summon assistance, Little John would be well able to prevent its being of the slightest service when it did arrive, by sending him on a visit to his ancestors, a journey he soon had a right to expect, but one which he had no desire of performing. Being choleric himself, knowing that when he imagined he had achieved an object, if he found something had occurred completely to defeat it, there arose within him such a storm of fury and blind passion, that, whatever the impulse, he acted upon it; regardless of all consequences, he judged others in the same light, and in consideration of this did not think it politic to tell Little John that the six prisoners, including Will Scarlet, were already out of his keeping, on their way to London, whither they were to be sent to be first

punished, and then made to serve in the army, the ranks having been thinned terribly by the wars in Normandy. Henry II., although at this time enjoying a profound peace, deemed it advisable to recruit his shattered forces with the stoutest men that could be obtained, and intimated as much to the different nobles who sent their vassals to the field, by offering a gratuity for the finest men, and for all additional to the number which each was bound to furnish. It was this object, principally, which brought Fitz Alwine to Nottingham, and which induced him, instead of punishing the prisoners, to send them as well looking as possible to London, and likewise to conciliate Little John upon their first meeting, with the hopes of sending him after them, willingly, if he could, if not, by compulsion; but the tables were turned, and he found himself as completely in our worthy friend's power, as he fondly anticipated to have had him in his. He thought it would, under all circumstances, be the best to temporize, and, if possible, get Little John in a quarter of the castle where speedy and efficacious aid could be obtained, and then he would teach my gentleman, he thought, what it was to offer alternatives to a baron. It occupied him a very much shorter time to consider this, than we have taken to explain it, or the reader to peruse it. When we had come to the conclusion, he said—

"Take your hand from my throat and sheathe your weapon; I will consider of your request!"

"There requires no consideration," uttered Little John, removing his hand as requested: "I am satisfied you have no wish to pay Satan the visit you owe him, for he has been at your elbow long enough; but if you refuse me, you certainly will, as you will go unshrived. Now, baron, we will on at once; and, remember, one effort to deceive me or play me false, shall be met with instant destruction; I strike home and sure when I do strike. I bid you recollect this for your own sake, because if you do any little thing which I may even deem suspicious, I will act as though I was certain of your treachery-therefore beware! Ere we go, however, I have another request to make which I expect you will answer truly; I shall ascertain if you do not, and provided you mislead me in that also, I will pay you another visit on the discovery, which shall not take so long a time as the present, inasmuch as there will be no words and one deed. So answer truly, as God hears you!"

"Give me your question."
"Where is your daughter ?"

The baron started, and opened his eyes with a marvellous expression of wonder.

66

My daughter!" he faintly echoed. "Aye, your daughter, the Lady Christabel ?" "Why do you ask it ?"

"I do not choose to tell you; besides, I ask you to reply to my question, not question me. I repeat, where is your daughter ?"

"It is a very strange question."

"I care not what it seemeth, answer me quickly; time wears, and I am in no humour to be trifled with. Where is she?"

"In Normandy." "What part ?"

"Why are you so particular in your inquiries ?" "In what part ?"-'sdeath, answer!"

"Liar!" exclaimed Little John, growing rather excited, "thou dost know, and shall tell me. He has been away from us nearly six years, in quest of Lady Christabel, and I am satisfied thou knowest much more of him than any one else, therefore I am determined thou shalt give me up what thou dost know, if it be only to quiet the mind of a gentle one, who has day by day for years wept his absence. Thou hast seen him within six years?"

"Yes," muttered the baron, reluctantly. "Under what circumstances ?"

"Thou art not my confessor!" cried Fitz Alwine, chafing and straining his sense of hearing with the hope of catching the sound of approaching footsteps, but in vain "I will no-that is, I cannot tell thee."

I

"I'll beat thee to a jelly if thou dost not tell me. am thy confessor at present; therefore keep me no longer dallying here, if thou dost not wish sore bones. I am a rude forester, and always keep my word, particularly when I promise a beating."

"Thou art a rude forester-that is, art unacquainted with gentle society; thou shouldst understand that { barons—”

"Are men in form like myself, but in bearing, upstart and arrogant, like thee; and being Normans, are tyrranous, treacherous, grasping villains. But that has nought to do with my question; proceed with your answer."

"I have seen the stubborn, evil-minded-" "No names but his own-you have seen Allan Clare ?"

"Twice!" and the baron stopped as if he had finished the subject, but if he fancied he had, his questioner did not, and after awaiting a few seconds, exclaimed

"Go on! When, and what were the results of your meeting ?"

"First, I caught him in my daughter's chamber, in Normandy, persuading her to disobey me and fly with him, but I stopped that, and he had to thank his nimbleness for an escape. I placed my daughter in a convent with those whom I was satisfied would keep her out of his reach, and then I had a visit from him, which was the second time of my seeing him. He well timed it, as you have done; he caught me alone, and the insolent knave dared to threaten me, if I did not give up my daughter to him to wife. I laughed his proposition to scorn, and after this he entered the service of Louis, King of France. I have seen no more of him."

"How came he to enter Louis' service ?"
"By an agreement between us."
"What were the terms of it ?"