Within the walls of the castle the grey-headed old boatman spent the long dreary hours of that dreadful day in sore lamentation and weeping for the sovereign he had loved with unflagging loyalty through all the dark struggles of the past, and whose cause he had to the last firmly believed must surely triumph in the end; and by his side, soothing him as well as her own aching heart knew how, sat his granddaughter, longing throughout each weary hour for the safe return of Percival Vere, who had gone forth in the early forenoon on an errand of mercy, at some miles distant beyond the river, and whose homeward journey she feared might be fraught with danger, not so much from the stormy weather as from the lawless crowd, who, collected together by Master Jones from miles around, and incited by himself and his few followers in the village of Cwmfelin, had marched to and fro throughout the day, singing wild songs of vengeance upon the followers of the murdered king, and uttering openly their dark and as yet unfulfilled threats against Master Vere and his Papistical church on the hillside. Scarcely had their hands been restrained from violence, when just after midday, at the hour of the unhappy king's execution, the little building had been filled from end to end with his gallant subjects in the loyal little Welsh village, and its walls had resounded with their unrestrained weeping, as they joined with their beloved vicar and good Master Taylor in prayer and supplication for their murdered monarch. But some remnant of gentleness yet dwelling in Master Jones's lawless heart restrained him from striking a blow against the sacred building whilst the fair river-maiden knelt in prayer within its walls, and though he was capable of inciting any violence towards the person of the pure-hearted young priest whom he hated, he shrank from lifting a finger against him while she who loved him was by his side. So, his turbulent followers being restrained with difficulty from committing their evil deeds until a more convenient season, the little band of Cavaliers were permitted peacefully to join in the prayers offered to God by their vicar for their beloved sovereign and his cruelly bereaved family, and to hearken in quietness of spirit to the beautiful words afterwards spoken to them by Master Taylor from the pulpit, in which he exhorted them not to return "railing for railing," but to "suffer and be still," and prayed them to return quietly to their own homes, remembering the words of Holy Writ: "Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord."