a half circle; he then thrust his body up, edging his The sun brightly smiled on sweet flowers, From the leafiest dell e'er could be: Heigho! well-a-day! Soft fingers will mingle, Here he heard the soldier rub his hands and cough, depart a few steps and then return,--he wondered how long the fellow meant to stop there. If there was always a guard on that spot, he must give up all hopes of escape that way; yet, if he could only lull any suspicion the fellow might have, he perhaps would not, after leaving, return so near but that he might have a chance to get out without being seen by him. The soldier was still listening-he went on with his song Kind glances that maiden was stealing, At the youth who breathed passionate sighs; Ah kind ears will listen, He stopped-all was quiet; was the soldier gone? He listened intensely, not a sound met his ear-he thought he'd have a peep; he cautiously mounted his bench and stool, and sprung up to the bars again; he edged forward, got his head through, and looked beneath. What was his consternation on perceiving two soldiers listening at his door; and who should come up at this precise moment, but the pretty Maude, the warder's daughter; of course she turned her eyes at once full upon poor Robin, started, and made an exclamation, while he dropped like a shot upon the floor, without stopping to get down by means of his artificial ladder. He heard a talking outside, and could very plainly distinguish the voice of Maude chattering volubly; in a fit of desperation he proceeded with his song, hoping that it might drown the explanation of why she had started and half screamed, which he fancied she was giving. { The ivy the oak is entwining Gentle clouds are embracing the sky, When faint words breathe consent, He ceased, for he had come to the end of his song, and he waited with some anxiety to see what was to be the result of the deliberations of the party outside. He thought it advisable to remove his stool and bench from beneath the window, and had scarce accomplished it, when he heard the door unlock, and Maude entered, bearing some refreshment. She set it down, and telling the man who unlocked the door that she wished to exchange a few words with the prisoner, requested his absence for a short period. He hesitated; but Maude murmuring something about having nothing to say to him again if he did not, he took the hint, and made himself scarce. Well, young forester, you are in a pretty hobble," she said to Robin when the door had closed upon the gaoler; "here you are, and here you are likely to stop, like a bird in a cage. The baron is in a towering fury, storming and stalking about like one of the great horrid infidel Moors he said he killed so many of. Well, you must make yourself comfortable." "If I thought you would keep me company, my charming Maude, I should be happy enough," cried Robin, snatching a kiss from her lips, which he had several times that day saluted. "You are a forward boy, and require teaching," observed Maude, with a most wicked smile, disengaging herself from his embrace. "I am sure under your tuition I should improve," laughed Robin. "But to be serious, know ye what has become of Allan Clare?" "Yes," replied she; "he is safely chained in a dungeon far more wretched than this, and I am very much afraid he will be cut off in an untimely manner very soon, and very suddenly. It was foolish of him to tell our lord the baron to his teeth that he was a hoary villain, and that he would marry his daughter, the Lady Christabel, in spite of him. I happened to be attending my lady, and we entered the room just as he made the speech. Directly he saw my lady, he called her by name, rushed and caught her in his arms; she shrieked and fainted. The baron tore them asunder. I carried her to her chamber, and when she got there I recovered her, left her weeping, and arrived in time to meet you and the friar, jovial Giles, in the larder. Now you know the whole true and faithful history." Supposing, by any chance, I should find my way out of this cell," said Robin; "how may I avoid detection, and get safely away? Should I meet jovial Giles,' as you call him, I may be able to assist in some way Allan Clare." "Ah!" said Maude," but how are you to find your way out ?" "Never mind how--perhaps you can guess. At all events, do as I ask you, and I will some day return the obligation. Where's Friar Tuck?" "In the larder," said Maude, slightly blushing. "I have told my lady where her lover is, and trust her she will set her true knight free. But the friar's service may be needed, so you must not expect to see him just yet. If you succeed in getting out without being seen-and I doubt it-steal round the ramparts to the left. The first door you come to in the next turret you will find open; enter, and keep to the left, down the stairs, along the corridor, antechambers, galleries, until you come to the larder. If you hear no sound from it, enter, and hide yourself somewhere until I come; I will then contrive some means to get you outside the castle." "A thousand thanks, my pretty Maude," said Robin, joyously; "I shall not forget this kindness, believe me;" and he looked in her eyes with an expression which said more plainly than even words could, "I should like to have another kiss." Maude perfectly understood the look, and laughingly throwing up her head, her long black curls dancing about, returned his look with a glance which said as plainly { in answer, "There, take one." Robin instantly availed himself of this tacit permission, and gave her a hearty kiss, which the young lady by no means resisted-and perhaps, to say truth, rather liked. It was very agreeable for the second it lasted, but it was disagreeably interrupted by the harsh voice of a soldier who entered, exclaiming "So ho! my sprightly damsel, this is your exchange of words with the prisoner, is it? This is bringing refreshment, eh?"Tis fit honest Herbert knows how his daughter cheers the hard fate of the captives. Truly it must be no unpleasant thing to be one." Maude started and half-screamed as his voice broke on her ear; but as he approached to lead her from the cell, she recovered herself, and dealing him a smack on the face that made it tingle again, ran laughing from the cell. The fellow looked after her, rubbing his cheek, and then bestowed a glance and an epithet by no means affectionate upon Robin ere he passed through the doorway, carefully locking the door after him. When he was gone, Robin sat himself contented down, and partook of some bread and ale that Maude had brought him, determining to wait patiently until the moon was up before he attempted an escape. He heard the sentinel pace backwards and forwards before his door; he heartily wished him in the bosom of his ancestors, but not wishing to show his concern, he kept singing at the top of his voice snatches of all the ballads he was master of. He had for some time indulged himself in this fashion, when he heard the voice of the sentry in harsh tones bidding him be less noisy, telling him it better became his situation to be a trifle less merry. Robin thanked him for his advice, and in a jeering tone wished him a very good night. The man made no reply, but walked on, and Robin kept very quiet. He could tell by the decreasing light the sun was fast sinking, and at the lapse of another hour the moon was high in the heavens, without a cloud to dim its brilliancy. Listening with an anxiety and an attention quite intense, he waited in expectation of hearing the constant, heavy tread of the sentinel, but all was still as death-no sound met his ear save the dull dreamy hum of the night air. He believed the time had now arrived to attempt his meditated escape, and his heart beat short and fast as he placed his stool upon the bench beneath the barred opening. He mounted it, and thrust his head between the bars, turning his anxious eyes in earnest search for his guard. He saw him leaning on his pike, watching something in the valley with breathless attention; he stood so still, so motionless, that he looked like a statue. Robin saw at a glance that, if he wished to escape, now was his time. He looked at the depth, and found it too great to drop without making a noise, which must lead to his discovery, unless he had the assistance of something to lower himself by. He paused for a moment to think what he could employ for the purpose, and bethought himself of his swordbelt. Although his weapons had been taken from him, his belt still remained, and he lost no time in taking it off, looping it tightly round one of the bars, and then proceeded to put it into use. He gave another look at the sentry, and found him unchanged, still gazing upon what Robin discovered to be a troop of horsemen winding along the vale beneath the castle. The man's mind seemed fully occupied by what he was so earnestly watching; and Robin, breathing a short prayer to the Holy Virgin, squeezed himself between the bars, feet first. Lying upon his stomach, he kept firm hold of his belt, lowered himself, steadying his descent with his feet until near the bottom; then he dropped, and alighted on a trap-door, which instantly, to his alarm, gave forth a hollow sound. He turned the corner of the tower like lightning, and hid himself behind a buttress, which fortunately happened to be in deep shade. He heard an exclamation from the sentry, and peeping round the corner of the buttress, saw him approach; the man just gave a hasty glance round, but noticed not the belt hanging from the window; he then turned back, and renewed his scrutiny of the party in the vale. Robin waited till all was still; he then stole from his hiding-place, ran swiftly round to the left, according to Maude's direction, and soon found the door named. He opened it, entered, and descended a flight of steps into a small room, so dark he could not distinguish his hand before him. He proceeded cautiously along to find the door through which he was to pass. After groping about, and stumbling over some furniture, he found it, and entered a passage; he remembered the injunction. to keep to the left, and it led him into some strange dilemmas; for every hollow place let into wall or passage did he grope his way round. He found himself in a long corridor; he proceeded carefully, and then descended stairs, until he thought he should never stop, but continue until he reached the domains of a monarch, whose realms are more famed for their warmth than for any par ticular advantage they possess. But this idea, although somewhat justified in holding from the depth of his descent, was not realised, for at length he found himself in a stone passage. He still kept to the left, walking in and out, and carefully round every pillar and abutment, heartily wishing architects had never thought of such things; but was eventually stayed by a flight of stairs leading upwards, and he began to have some shrewd suspicions that he had lost his way. "I shall go walking into the arms of some of the fiery old baron's bloodthirsty retainers, if I am not careful," he muttered; "however, it's of no use to go back; I have reached so far unmolested, perhaps I shall get to the remainder of my journey as safely: here goes." He mounted the stairs lightly and swiftly until he reached the top, but thinking he had another stair to ascend, which was not the case, he brought his foot to the ground with a bang, that made the place ring with its noise. He felt the blood rush into his face and ears, and was by no means restored on hearing a voice close to him exclaim, "S'death! who's there? what is that ?" He did not see any necessity to answer either question; so, sinking against the wall, he stood perfectly still, scarce breathing. He heard the questions repeated, and likewise had the satisfaction of hearing a sword unsheathed and scrape along the ground in search of him. He hesitated whether to retreat or remain still; he decided on the latter, but edged himself as close to the wall as he could possibly get; he soon found his resolution a wise one, for he heard the voice mutter, ""Twas some door, I suppose; yet 'twas strangely close." Then the stranger, with footsteps as stealthy as his own, proceeded along the very way he himself intended to pursue. This was rather awkward, but Robin instantly determined to follow, though at a respectful distance, as he concluded that the person preceding him might unconsciously show him a way to escape: he followed, but, as though the stranger heard his footsteps, he suddenly stopped; Robin did so also: the stranger went on; so did Robin: again he stopped, Robin doing the like a pause of a minute of breathless anxiety to Robin ensued. The stranger proceeded, and Robin followed as cautiously and lightly as he possibly could; but the boards would creak, and the stranger would hear it, for again he came to a dead stand, and muttered; ""Tis very strange; there must be some one on my track." He remained silent for a few seconds, and then called out in a low voice, "Who is it who thus follows me? Speak, what is thy purpose? if aught human, face me; if otherwise, in the name of the Holy Jesus, state thy reason for thus hovering round my footsteps?" Robin acknowledged to himself that the stranger could not be revelling in the most agreeable sensations in his state of incertitude; but as our hero felt himself quite as well off as there was a chance of being, in his present situation, he thought he'd better say nothing, No. 5. and so remained silent. The stranger, who waited a reply in vain, then hurried on, as if impelled by some sudden thought, and Robin, making a shrewd guess AUTHOR'S OWN EDITION at it, followed him with all the speed his caution would permit; so nimbly did he manage it, that, before he was aware of it, he found himself at the very shoulders of the stranger. He checked himself, or he would have run over him—an act he certainly had no intention of performing. However, he kept close to his elbow, and they reached the end of the passage, and passed through a doorway almost together. Robin had barely glided through, when the stranger closed the door, and fastened it with massive bolts, at the same time giving utterance to a faint laugh, in { which Robin, with the greatest goodwill, noiselessly joined, believing that he had quite as good reason to laugh as the other. The stranger now proceeded with less caution, for his footsteps made a louder ring upon the stone pavement than heretofore; but Robin, for a time, preserved his caution. Suddenly, in spite of every hazard, he felt an irrepressible inclination to let the { stranger know he was still followed. He chuckled at the idea-he could not resist it-and he gave utterance to a short cough, suffered his footsteps to sound, and then bounded on one side, awaiting, in complete stillness, the result. As he expected, the stranger stopped short, evidently in a perplexed state; then he hastily retraced his steps, waving his sword in all directions, but Robin, ensconced behind a pillar, eluded his search, and at length, in a state of desperation, he pursued his path without stopping, closely followed by Robin. The corridor they were pursuing led them into the chapel; the moon was throwing a bright light into it, and our hero saw that he must now be more than usually cautious in his proceedings, or nothing could prevent his being discovered. He therefore waited until he saw the figure of him he was following emerge into the light: to his surprise, when this had taken place, he perceived that he was habited as a Benedictine monk. It surely was not Tuck? No; there was none of his portly bearing. However, Robin thought he would pursue this friar, and see who he was-whether likely to prove a friend or enemy: he did not approve of his wearing a sword; there was nothing priestly in that, and he could only come to the conclusion that he was some one in disguise. was more than usually exquisite-the solemnity of the hour-the solitude of the place-and the solemn stillness reigning around, lending a beauty indescribable, while the profound devotion of that lovely lady made her seem like an angel worshipping the Great Supreme. Robin gazed on her in long and earnest admiration; she looked so calm, so holily lovely. The stranger still continued a short distance behind her, standing motionless as a statue. Robin began to wonder if he meant well, and determined to stay. He had no weapon; but still he felt he should be some slight protection in case of danger. The lady's orisons were long and fervent; and while Robin was wondering what would be the result of her discovering the stranger behind, he observed her prepare to rise, having completed her prayers. The voice of the stranger, in a low tone, then rose on the air, uttering the word, "Christabel!" The lady half shrieked, and turned hastily round, and Robin, with surprise, saw and knew who stood before him, ere the lady, sinking into his arms, murmured, “Allan, dear Allan Clare!" CHAPTER VII. "And from afar he heard a screaming sound, Thus furnished for offence, he cross'd the way THEODORE AND HONORIA.-DRYDEN. "He chose a farm in Deva's vale, THOMSON. had passed away, Gilbert descended slowly and sadly to the apartments beneath. He communicated to Margaret the decease of her brother, and in as brief a manner as might be, the story he had learned relative to the parentage and connection of Robin, as well as the gloomier portion relating to the murder of his own sister. Margaret burst into tears, upon hearing Gilbert's narrative; wicked as she knew her brother to have been, still he was her mother's child, and she retired to her room, to offer up sincere prayers for the repose of his soul. The worthy priest accompanied Gilbert to the chamber where the miserable Ritson lay stretched in death, and Marian, calling Lance to her side, took her way 'mid the shades of the forest trees. There was also another motive equally strong in-PON ascertaining that the spirit of Ritson ducing him to follow him up, which was, although he saw that it was the chapel into which the friar had entered, yet he was as lost here as if he had been in the remotest part, for he had no idea whether he was entering by a private passage, or whether 'twas the public one. The friar had disappeared; and he cautiously followed until he got to the corner, and then he peeped round it, and saw a female, partly shrouded in a veil, kneeling at the foot of a tomb, repeating her rosary; a few paces behind her, with his cowl thrown back, stood the stranger he had followed. He was gazing upon the lady, with an intense desire to speak exhibiting itself by a certain impatience in his manner, but respect for her devotions withheld him. Robin turned from him, although he longed to get a view of his countenance, to the lady. He was struck by the appearance of the light thrown upon her. She was habited in pure white, and the moon shining full through the stained window, tinted her with many soft hues "As down she knelt, for Heaven's grace and boon, Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst." There is something touchingly beautiful in the sight presented by gentle and frail mortality humbling itself in pure sincerity of heart before the Great Architect of the universe; and on this occasion, it She felt a heaviness upon her spirits, for which she could not well account. The intelligence of the death of the brother of Margaret, although of a nature to shock, still would not have communicated the feeling-the weight at her heart under which she laboured; she felt an indefinable dread of something about to happen, accompanied by a strange sensation of desolateness, which she never before remembered to have experienced; it would have been a pleasure to her to weep, and yet she knew not why: she was an orphan, with no relative in the wide world to cling to but her brother, whom she loved most devotedly. This was a fact of which she had been painfully aware for a few years; then why should it come upon her now, with all the force as though she had but that moment learned the sad truth? Why should she feel so alone at this moment, when time had materially softened the grief she had endured for the loss of parents whom she had adored with the most perfect enthusiasm ? It was a question she could not answer, but the influence of the feeling was on her, like a load of lead upon her brow and bosom. for reflection; the sun was dropping rapidly behind the trees, and the forest was growing proportionably dark; she knew it was only left her now to take one, right or wrong, and endeavour to leave the forest, studded as it was, she was well aware, with outlaws and wolves. With a sort of desperate determination, she chose the path she thought most likely to have been the one she had taken hither, and followed by old Lance, who seemed in no way affected by the alarm she felt, she hurried on with the hope that she might attain some place which would guide her, e'er the sun had quite sunk to his destination. She hastened on, fancying that she recognised in some of the old trees objects which she had seen as she came, but instantly some new combination of trees would come upon her sight to dispel the illusion, and throw her into greater doubt than ever. Her sadness now gave way to the alarm she naturally experienced in being placed in such an awkward situation, which was by no means lessened on hearing Lance give utterance to a succes She wandered on-the thought of her brother, her dear kind Allan, who since he had been left her only support, had never let her feel the loss of their parents, so far as lay in his power to supply their place; who had ever shown her every little kindness and affection which her wants demanded, or his own delicacy deemed she needed. She thought of him, to breathe a blessing on his name and a prayer for his safety, for she knew the errand upon which he had departed was one of danger and difficulty; and although she knew he could not reach the cottage of Gilbert Hood until the sun had sunk below the horizon, still shesion of short, low growls; at the same time she fancied grew anxious for his return. With thoughts of her brother, the form of Robin continually intruded upon her vision-a pleasing, but unbidden spectre, who uncalled and unexpected would make his presence palpable; all the while she was speculating upon her brother's safe return, she could not separate the unharmed accompaniment of Robin with him. Did she think of her brother's features, the clear bright eye of Robin also shone brightly on her imagination, and { his musical voice and laugh rung in her ear; she was really glad to hear that he was so well born; she had heard the whole of Gilbert's communication, and hoped that he would be reinstated in his possessions without opposition; there was also a sudden thought arose accompanying that hope, but it gave birth to a blush, a half angry smile, and so was dismissed. She wandered on, the old dog at her heels. The sun was touching the tree tops, and the bright daylight was merging fast into the softer twilight; the foliage began to assume a rich purple hue; the shades of the huge trees grew longer, more decided, and deeper; no sound, save occasionally a sigh, breathed by the wind through the leaves: there was a grand solemnity in the scene peculiarly calculated to act upon the spirits-particularly where there already existed a tendency to sadness. Marian felt her despondency increase, and those recollections bearing the impress of misery upon them were the only ones which now fast thronged upon her. Her life had not been a long one, truly, but it bore more than its share { of the ills which blight and break a young spirit; and she tinctured the future anticipations with the hue of the past, until at length they were too heavy to bear unmovedly, and so she seated herself beneath a tree amid the young flowers, and placing her face upon her hands and knees, she wept long and deeply. For some time she remained in this sad mood, until at length the increasing gloom warned her to return to the cottage for the first time she recollected that she had taken no notice whatever of the way she had come, merely wandering on as her fancy had led her, following the mazes and winding in the intricacies of the forest, without a thought arising respecting her return. She arose from her seat and looked around her, but without being able to decide among the paths diverging right, left, and before her, which to take for the right; neither could she, from the position in which she stood, remember the situation of the cottage, that she might at least take some path leading in its direction. There was little time left her she heard footsteps behind her; she immediately began to entertain a series of horrible fancies, and accordingly increased her speed. She turned down a pathway which she was certain she had passed along as she came, by a curious knot of pine trees which grew there; she darted down it, making her walk a run, for she had come to a positive conclusion that there were footsteps coming rapidly after her, and it was no friend. or Lance would not have commenced barking so furiously. To her dissatisfaction she perceived that this pathway led through a vista of trees, so thick and so short a distance apart, that with the little of the sunlight left, it was almost as dark as though a moonless night had suddenly enshrouded her: disagreeable as this was, she had no alternative but to proceed, and recommending herself to the protection of the Virgin, she flew along it with all the speed nature had given her. Some parts of the path were so dark that she could scarce see her way; then an opening in the trees would show a sudden gleam of twilight, acquainting her that it was not yet night. The barks of Lance grew fiercer and more continued, and the alarm this circumstance engendered, induced her to use every exertion to keep up her pace. The pathway now began to widen, and she began to hope; suddenly it diverged into two tracks, one of them she must take, and one of them she did-to find in a very short time that she had chosen the wrong one, for the path which had widened-had been only like a sudden gleam of sunshine on a stormy day, to be as speedily cloudednarrowed and ended in a thicket. Her heart died within her as she discovered this, for she knew she was at the mercy of her pursuer, who, had he intended well, on seeing her fly evidently in alarm, would have called to her in a friendly manner, and offered her assistance to escape from the unfortunate dilemma in which she was placed. He had observed strict silence, and had kept at a certain distance, probably awed by Lance, who showed no amicable feeling towards him. {But who was he? Was it a he? She had not even during her flight turned her head to look; now that no chance of escape existed, she drew a long breath, and resolved to turn boldly round to face the coming danger with as much firmness as she could call into action. Lance was with her, that was something; and she could tell by his demeanour that he would not suffer her to be molested without a sturdy effort on his part to prevent it. Trying to re-assure herself in this way, she stopped and turned resolutely round. She saw a fellow stealing along, with about the same |