“What is thy need then?” said Ralph, “if perchance I might amend it.”  And as he looked on her he deemed her yet fairer than he had done at first.  But she stayed her weeping and sobbing and said:  “Sir, I fear me that I have lost a dear friend.”  “How then,” said he, “why fearest thou, and knowest not? doth thy friend lie sick between life and death?” “O Sir,” she said, “it is the Wood which is the evil and disease.”

“What wood is that?” said he.

She said:  “The Wood Perilous, that lieth betwixt us and the Burg of the Four Friths, and all about the Burg.  And, Sir, if ye be minded to ride to the Burg to-day, do it not, for through the wood must thou wend thereto; and ye are young and lovely.  Therefore take my rede, and abide till the Chapmen wend thither from Higham, who ride many in company.  For, look you, fair lord, ye have asked of my grief, and this it is and nought else; that my very earthly love and speech-friend rode five days ago toward the Burg of the Four Friths all alone through the Wood Perilous, and he has not come back, though we looked to see him in three days’ wearing:  but his horse has come back, and the reins and the saddle all bloody.”

And she fell a-weeping with the telling of the tale.  But Ralph said (for he knew not what to say):  “Keep a good heart, maiden; maybe he is safe and sound; oft are young men fond to wander wide, even as I myself.”

She looked at him hard and said:  “If thou hast stolen thyself away from them that love thee, thou hast done amiss.  Though thou art a lord, and so fair as I see thee, yet will I tell thee so much.”

Ralph reddened and answered nought; but deemed the maiden both fair and sweet.  But she said:  “Whether thou hast done well or ill, do no worse; but abide till the Chapmen come from Higham, on their way to the Burg of the Four Friths.  Here mayst thou lodge well and safely if thou wilt.  Or if our hall be not dainty enough for thee, then go back to Higham:  I warrant me the monks will give thee good guesting as long as thou wilt.”

“Thou art kind, maiden,” said Ralph, “but why should I tarry for an host? and what should I fear in the Wood, as evil as it may be?  One man journeying with little wealth, and unknown, and he no weakling, but bearing good weapons, hath nought to dread of strong-thieves, who ever rob where it is easiest and gainfullest.  And what worse may I meet than strong-thieves?”

“But thou mayest meet worse,” she said; and therewith fell a-weeping again, and said amidst her tears:  “O weary on my life!  And why should I heed thee when nought heedeth me, neither the Saints of God’s House, nor the Master of it; nor the father and the mother that were once so piteous kind to me?  O if I might but drink a draught from the well at the world’s end!”

He turned about on her hastily at that word; for he had risen to depart; being grieved at her grief and wishful to be away from it, since he might not amend it.  But now he said eagerly: