here:
for you must know that Rob did not visit her at the castle. His father
and her father were enemies. Some people whispered that Hugh Fitzooth
was the rightful Earl of Huntingdon, but that he had been defrauded out
of his lands by Fitzwalter, who had won the King's favor by a crusade to
the Holy Land. But little cared Rob or Marian for this enmity, however
it had arisen. They knew that the great green--wood was open to them,
and that the wide, wide world was full of the scent of flowers and the
song of birds.

Days of youth speed all too swiftly, and troubled skies come all too
soon. Rob's father had two other enemies besides Fitzwalter, in
the persons of the lean Sheriff of Nottingham and the fat Bishop of
Hereford. These three enemies one day got possession of the King's ear
and whispered therein to such good--or evil--purpose that Hugh Fitzooth
was removed from his post of King's Forester. He and his wife and Rob,
then a youth of nineteen, were descended upon, during a cold winter's
evening, and dispossessed without warning. The Sheriff arrested the
Forester for treason--of which, poor man, he was as guiltless as you or
I--and carried him to Nottingham jail. Rob and his mother were sheltered
over night in the jail, also, but next morning were roughly bade to go
about their business. Thereupon they turned for succor to their only
kinsman, Squire George of Gamewell, who sheltered them in all kindness.

But the shock, and the winter night's journey, proved too much for
Dame Fitzooth. She had not been strong for some time before leaving the
forest. In less than two months she was no more. Rob felt as though his
heart was broken at this loss. But scarcely had the first spring flowers
begun to blossom upon her grave, when he met another crushing blow in
the loss of his father. That stern man had died in prison before his
accusers could agree upon the charges by which he was to be brought to
trial.

Two years passed by. Rob's cousin Will was away at school; and Marian's
father, who had learned of her friendship with Rob, had sent his
daughter to the court of Queen Eleanor. So these years were lonely ones
to the orphaned lad. The bluff old Squire was kind to him, but secretly
could make nothing of one who went about brooding and as though seeking
for something he had lost. The truth is that Rob missed his old life
in the forest no less than his mother's gentleness, and his father's
companionship. Every time he twanged