"Stay," cried Manners, "we will settle this between ourselves"; and without waiting for assistance he dashed forward at De la Zouch, and made a furious onslaught upon him. It was no tournament now; it was a struggle for life itself! And whilst Dorothy's lover was animated by a stern resolve to punish his foe, at whatever the cost, De la Zouch fought like a madman, because he fought with a halter round his neck. As for the latter's followers, at the first charge, with one accord they turned, and leaving their lord, for whom they had little love, to meet his fate, they tried to save themselves by flight. The struggle was not prolonged. Manners was by far the better swordsman of the two, and De la Zouch, disheartened at the flight of his followers gradually weakened in his attack, and at length fell mortally wounded, leaving no one now to hinder them from marching victoriously on to Ashby. CHAPTER XXVI. A DISGUISED LOVER. Imperious beauty, Treading upon the neck of understanding, Compelled me to put off my natural shape Of loyal duty, to disguise myself. MASSINGER The autumn winds were howling among the trees and scattering the later leaves in all directions, when, with the fall of twilight, a gentle knock was heard at the door of the hut of the chief forester of Haddon. A lonely traveller stood outside, shivering in his rough and scanty garments as he stood in the still evening breeze, and as he waited expectantly at the unopened door he heard a gruff voice inside the cottage trolling forth a simple ballad of the chase. He waited patiently until the song was finished, and then, taking courage, he tapped again much louder than before, and was rewarded by hearing footsteps advance towards the threshold, and a moment later the crazy portal was standing open, and the unkempt head of the forester peered inquiringly out. "What now, what now," he inquired, as his eye lighted upon the strange figure before him; "who and what art thou?" "Art thou Roger the forester?" asked the wanderer in reply. "Roger Morton, at your service, yes." "Then, by the love of heaven, I beseech thee let me in." "Well, there are few ask that favour off me, but none shall ever say I turned an empty mouth away at night, e'en though it were a beggar's. Come in." Thankful indeed to receive so ready an invitation, the traveller entered the hospitable cottage. "I am not a beggar, though, forsooth," he began, as he seated himself upon the log which did duty for a seat. "You do not recognise me, Roger, I perceive." "Roger Morton, I repeat it, at your service." "Well, then, Roger Morton, be it so, but yet you seem to know me not." "Odds, troth," ejaculated the forester, "I seem to know thee somewhat; we have met before." "A many times, Roger." "Roger Morton." "Well, well, Roger Morton, I am apt to forget myself." "Ha! you are Nathan Grene," interrupted the man, as he laid before his guest some cheese and a mug of new milk. "I know your voice."