"It is a hard case," said the forester, "and I grieve for you deeply; but there is a harder case still than it,--that of her father, I mean. To you, she can be nothing more--she has severed the tie that bound you together; but she is still his daughter, and nothing can cut that bond asunder, though fallen and dishonoured.--It were well if we could separate her from her seducer, Ralph, and give her back to her father's care. This is all, I fear, that now remains for us to do.--Had I known this two hours earlier," he continued, "the nose and ears of Richard de Ashby would by this time have been nailed to the post where the four roads meet; but the runner Scathelock sent me last night, fell lame on the other side of the abbey, and I did not get the news till about an hour before you came. The scoundrel, in the meanwhile, skirted the forest by Southwell at ten o'clock this morning, so that it is all too late. The time of punishment for his crimes, however, will come: we need not doubt that; but the time for preventing this one, I fear, is past."
"But how--but how can we punish him?" cried Ralph Harland, eagerly; "if he be in Nottingham town, how can we reach him there? How can we even make him give up the wretched girl, and send her back to her father!"
"We cannot do it ourselves," replied the forester, "but we can make others do it. Did you not hear the message I sent to the good old Lord of Monthermer?"
Ralph Harland bent down his eyes with a look of bitter disappointment. "If that be your only hope, it is all in vain," he said; "the Monthermer is linked to the Earl of Ashby by a common cause; and in the great movements of people such as these, the feelings, and even the rights of us lesser men are never heeded. The old Earl, good as he is, will not quarrel with Richard de Ashby for John Greenly's daughter, lest it breed a feud between him and the other Lord. There is but cold hope to be found there."
His companion heard him to an end, but with a faint smile upon his countenance. "I asked the Earl of Ashby, too," he said; "perhaps we may do something more with him."
Ralph Harland shook his head. "Not till you have got his neck under your baldrick," he said.
"Perhaps I may have by that time," replied the forester; "I mean," he continued, in a serious tone, "that I may by that time have a hold upon him which will make him use his power to send back this light-o'-love girl to her father's house. I know old John Greenly well, and grieve for him. Once I found shelter with him when I was under the ban of a tyrant, and no one else would give me refuge.--I never forget such things. He is somewhat worldly, it is true; but what host is not? It is a part of their trade; they draw their ale and affection for every guest that comes, the one as readily as another, so that he pay his score. But still the man has not a bad heart, and it will be well-nigh broken by his daughter's shame."
"She has broken mine," said Ralph Harland.
"Nay--nay!" replied his companion; "you must think better of all this. You loved her--she has proved false. Forget her--seek another. You will find many as fair."
"Ay," replied Harland, "I shall find many as fair, perhaps fairer; but I shall find none that had my first love--none with whom all the thoughts of my early years were in common--none with whom I have wandered about the fields in boyhood, and gathered spring flowers for our May-day games--none with whom I have listened to the singing of the birds when my own heart was as light and tuneful as theirs--none for whom I have felt all those things which I cannot describe, which are like the dawning of love's morning, and which I am sure can never be felt twice over. No--no! those times are past; and I must think of such things no more!"