"I will guard Mistress Fitzwalter from all harm, rely upon me. And go, since you must. Here is our Master Gilbert—Gilbert no more. I should scarcely have known her."
Marian entered from the other end of the hall. The maids had found her a dress, grey-blue as her eyes. She bloomed like an early rose on this sweet spring morning.
"And you are going to leave me, Robin?" she said, mournfully.
The Squire had disappeared. Robin, approaching, took her hand. He looked up from it, and saw the golden arrow gleaming in her hair—that arrow which had so strangely marked the beginning of his troubles. Marian smiled, and her eyes invited him.
And so these two kissed each other frankly, mouth to mouth.
A little later Robin was speeding through the forest. His feet were light, and he sang softly to himself as he trod the springy grass.
Suddenly a sad song broke upon his ear. 'Twas a doleful song, full of tears; and Robin, in consternation, stopped short.
Along the woodland path there came towards him a minstrel carrying a harp and trailing a rope. "Marry, friend, but your harp is out of all harmony!" began Robin.
"I do not play upon it," retorted the minstrel.