The knight quitted his presence in no happy mood, perceiving right well that the monarch's favour, on which he had counted much, had been lost and not regained. He hated him for the clear sighted penetration which had seen through his art; and he only doubted whether there was or was not a chance of still deceiving his sovereign, and recovering his good graces, by an appearance of zeal and devotion in obeying his commands.
"It is worth the trial," he thought; "and it shall be tried; but I shall soon find whether he continues to nourish such ill-will towards me; and if he do, my course must be shaped accordingly. Curses upon these beggarly vagrants! Who ever heard of King before who troubled his nobility about minstrels and tomblesteres? This smacks of the early tastes of our magnanimous monarch, whose sole delight, within these two months, was in pot-house tipplers, and losel gamesters. He may assume a royal port and solemn manner, if he will; but the habit of years is not so easily conquered; and if he trip now, he is lost. Men were tired enough of his usurping father. A new prince carries the ever-changing multitude at his heels; but time will bring weariness, and weariness is soon changed into disgust. We shall see; we shall see; and the day of vengeance may come. In the meantime, of one, at least, I have had retribution; and this other shall not long escape--a rude, ballad-singing peasant, only fit for the brute sports of the bull-baiting, or the fair--a very franklin in spirit, and a yeoman in heart."
With thoughts,--which, as the reader may have perceived, had deviated from the King to Richard of Woodville,--with thoughts wavering with a strong inclination to bold evil, but chained down to mere knavery, for the time, by some remaining chances of success--for strange as it may seem, as many men are rendered cowards by hope as by fear--Sir Simeon of Roydon pursued his way to the hospital of St. James, on foot, having hastened to the presence of the King without waiting for his horses. As, still in deep and angry thought, he approached the gate and the old lodge, he raised his eyes somewhat suddenly at an advancing step, and beheld the form of a young girl, with her long dark eyelashes bent down till they rested on her cheek. He caught but a momentary glance as she hurried by; but Simeon of Roydon was quick and eager in his examination of all that is beautiful in mere form; and that glance was sufficient to rouse no very holy feelings. The rounded limbs, the small and delicate foot and ankle, the fine chiseled features, the graceful easy movements, the exquisite neck and bosom half hidden by the folds of the grey hood, were all marked in an instant; and as she seemed alone, without defence or protection, he hesitated for a moment whether to stop and speak to her; but while he paused, she was gone with a quick step; the gate of the convent was near, and, resisting the passing temptation, he walked on and rang the bell.
The porter slowly opened the gate; and, with the tone of careless and haughty indifference which has always marked the inferior personages of a court--I mean the inferior in mind, more than the inferior in rank or station--the knight said, "There was an old man killed near this spot last night, I think?"
"There was, noble sir," answered the porter, with a low reverence to his air of superiority; "the body has been moved to the chapel."
"I care nought about the body," rejoined Roydon. "He had a daughter or grand-daughter or something with him; where is she?"
"She has just gone forth, noble sir," replied the porter; "you must have passed her at the gate."
"Ha! what! a girl with a grey hood and a white coat, with some gold at the edge?" asked the knight.
"The same, noble sir," said the old man; "poor thing, she is sadly afflicted."
"Send her to me when she comes back, and I will comfort her," answered the visitor in a light tone.