The man styled Robin, who had so opportunely saved his life, now approached from the shadow of a wall, beneath which he had watched Marmaduke's movements.

He neared the door of the house, and cried, in a sharp, clear voice, "Open, for the love of Christ!" A head was now thrust from the lattice, the light vanished; a minute more, the door opened; and Robin, as if satisfied, drew hastily back, and vanished, saying to himself, as he strode along, "A young man's life must needs be dear to him; yet had the lad been a lord, methinks I should have cared little to have saved for the people one tyrant more." After a long interval, Marmaduke again recovered, and his eyes turned with pain from the glare of a light held to his face.
"He wakes, Father,--he will live!" cried a sweet voice.

"Ay, he will live, child!" answered a deeper tone; and the young man muttered to himself, half audibly, as in a dream, "Holy Mother be blessed! it is sweet to live." The room in which the sufferer lay rather exhibited the remains of better fortunes than testified to the solid means of the present possessor.

The ceiling was high and groined, and some tints of faded but once gaudy painting blazoned its compartments and hanging pendants.

The walls had been rudely painted (for arras [Mr.Hallam ("History of the Middle Ages," chap.ix.part 2) implies a doubt whether great houses were furnished with hangings so soon as the reign of Edward IV.; but there is abundant evidence to satisfy our learned historian upon that head.