stions
respecting the forest and the forest fetes held upon that day.
Cuthbert had observed an unwonted animation in his eyes as he had
done so; but nothing in the young nobleman's manner had prepared
him for this freak on his part, and he had actually failed at the
first moment to recognize this fanciful figure in its smart
forester's dress when first saluted by the wearer. But he was glad
enough of the meeting, and the proposition of travelling in company
was very welcome, though he still had one qualm to set at rest.

"I only go on foot, my lord. Doubtless you have a horse in waiting,
and will soon outride me."

"A horse! not I. I have neither beast nor man in waiting. I travel
alone and on foot, and for the nonce am no more Lord Culverhouse,
but only Rupert de Grey--thy trusty comrade Rupert--and a would-be
follower of bold Robin Hood, did he but hold his court with his
merry, merry men in the free forest now. See, I wear his livery. I
feel as free as air. I marvel I never thought of such a masquerade
before. We will have a right merry time this joyous springtide. How
long dost thou purpose to remain in the greenwood thyself?"

"I know not," answered Cuthbert, as the pair strode southward
together, quickly leaving behind the last houses of London, and
striking away in the direction of the forest whither both were
bound. It was the last day in April: the soft south wind was
blowing in their faces, the trees were beginning to hang out their
tassels of tender green, the hawthorn was bursting into bloom and
filling the air with its fragrance. It was, in fact, the eve of one
of those old-fashioned May Days which seem utterly to have gone by
now, and all nature was rejoicing in the sweet exaltation of the
happy springtide, full of the promises of the golden summer to
come.

Cuthbert's heart swelled with delight as he looked about him and
felt that the strife and bustle of the great city were at last
shaken off. In spite of the spell exercised upon him by the life of
London, he had for some weeks been pining like a caged bird for the
freedom of the country again, the vault of the sky alone above him,
the songs of the birds in his ears. The spring had brought to him
yearnings and desires which he scarcely understood, and latterly he
had been counting the days which must pass ere he should find
himself in the forest once again.

In his uncle's house matters were growing a little strained. Martin
Holt undoubtedly susp