"I would fain have you wean yourself from those remembrances," said his friend. "Nay, shake not your head, I know that it can only be done by banishing all those sights and sounds that are the watchwords of memory, and by seeking other matter for thought. Ay, even matter that will force your mind away from the subject that it clings to, and occupy you whether you will or not. There are stirring times before us, Ralph,--times when the great interests of the state,--when dangers to our liberties and rights may well divide men's attention with private griefs. What say you; will you come with me to the west, and take a part in the struggle that I see approaching?"
"I will follow you right willingly, my lord," replied Ralph Harland, "though I cannot well go with you. I must not forget, in my selfish sorrow, that I have a father who loves me; and whose life and happiness rests upon mine, as I have seen an old wall held up by the ivy which it first raised from the ground. I must speak with him before I go--must bid him adieu, and do what I can to comfort and console him. He will not seek to make me stay, and I will soon follow you; but it shall not be alone, for I can bring you many a heart right willing to fight under the same banner with yourself. Where shall I find you, my good lord?"
"As soon as I have taken this fair lady's orders," said Hugh de Monthermer, "and conducted her whither she is pleased to go, I shall turn my steps direct to Hereford by the way of Gloucester, hoping to overtake my uncle and the good Earl of Ashby, and should I find with him his cousin Richard, he shall render to me no light account of more than one base act."
"Nay, my lord, nay," replied the young franklin, "I do beseech you, quarrel not for me. I know, or at least guess, what dear interests you may peril. But, moreover, though I be neither knight nor noble, there are some wrongs that set aside all vain distinctions, and I do not despair of the time coming when I shall find that base traitor alone to give me an answer. When that moment arrives, it will be a solemn one; but I would not part with the hope thereof for a king's crown. But now, my lord, let me not keep you from the lady of your love. Go to her; let her know she is free to come and go, as far as I at least am concerned; but tell her, my lord, I charge you, why she was brought here, that she may be aware of what a serpent her father and her brother cherish."
"Ay, tell her--tell her," said Robin Hood--"tell her, for her own sake; for there is something that makes me fear--I know not why--that the day will come when that knowledge may be to her a safeguard and a shield against one who now seems powerless. Scoff not at it, my lord, as if he were too pitiful to give cause for alarm. The scorpion is a small, petty-looking insect, but yet there is death in his sting. And now, good night; when you have spent another hour in the sweet dreams that lovers like, betake you to repose, and early to-morrow you shall have some one to guide you on your way."
CHAPTER XIV.
There are some days of life when everything appears to combine to heighten the hues of happiness, when not only the sensations in our own bosoms, and the circumstances of our fate are all bright and cheerful, but when every external object, every feature in Nature's face seems to smile, and every sound to be in harmony with our feelings. But such hours are too precious to be many; blessed is that life which can count two or three of them; and it has been often remarked, that as at some seasons of the year, a peculiarly fine day generally announces the approach of storm and tempest, so do one of these bright intervals in our cloudy existence precede a period of sorrow, trouble, and disaster.
An hour after daybreak, on as sweet a morning as ever dawned, in the midst of the magnificent scenery of the forest, Hugh de Monthermer and Lucy de Ashby stood by the side of their horses, ready to mount and depart. Love gave its sunshine to each heart. Lucy's bosom beat high at her deliverance by her lover. The assurance of her affection--the delight of her presence--the increased hope of obtaining her, rendered his sensations not less joyful. The yellow morning light spread sweetly overhead; the old grey Saxon building rested calm in its ivy robe behind them: every blade of grass was sparkling with a thousand diamonds; every air wafted the breath of the sweet forest flowers; every tree was tuneful with the song of the birds. It was like some happy dream, when imagination, stripping life of its stern realities, revels supreme, and decks the brief moments of sleep with all the boundless treasures of her airy kingdom.
A step nearer to the lodge stood the bold forester; his fine, muscular limbs clear and defined in his tight-fitting garb, and his nut brown hair curling round his thoughtful forehead. A faint smile hung upon his lip as he watched the two lovers, leaving them to proceed as they would, without interrupting them with courtesies. It seemed as if he was reading a pleasant book, of the truth of which he might have some doubt, but which yet interested and amused him; for Robin knew the world too well to suppose that such happiness could last long, but yet his mind was of that firm and hardy nature which clouds not the present with cares and fears of the future, but extracts from every hour its honey, and leaves the rest to fate.
When Hugh de Monthermer had placed Lucy on her horse, he turned to bid their host good bye, frankly holding out his hand.