She turned round and looked at him with her veil up, showing a very pretty face, and a pair of bright blue eyes. A fat monk was behind, and a man dressed as a scrivener; but all were intent upon watching the door of the Abbey, as if they expected the royal procession soon to re-appear; and Woodville turned his eyes thither also. The next moment he heard a voice pronounce his own name, and then add, "Beware of Simeon of Roydon; and let not Henry Dacre fight with him." Richard turned sharply round, and gazed at those behind him; but he saw no face that he knew, but those of Ned Dyram and one of his own men. The rest of the group in his immediate neighbourhood was composed of two monks, another nun, a doctor of divinity in his cope, a tall man in a surcoat of arms, and two elderly ladies with portentous headdresses, a full half yard broad and two feet high. It was a woman's voice, however, that he had heard, and he inquired at once of the nearest woman, "Did you speak, lady?" "To be sure I did," answered the good dame, in a sharp tone; "I asked my brother what the hour is. No offence in that, sir, I suppose?" "Oh, none, assuredly," replied Richard of Woodville; "but I thought you mentioned my name." "I do not know it, young sir," replied the lady; "come away, brother, the squire is saucy;" and she and her party moved on, making a complete change in the disposition of the group. In vain Richard of Woodville looked beyond the little circle in which they stood; he could see no face that he knew; and at length, turning to Ned Dyram, he inquired if he had heard any one mention his name. "That good dame, or some one near her certainly did," replied the man; "but I could not see exactly who it was. It might be the other woman." "Was she old, too?" demanded Woodville. "Too old for your wife, and too young for your mother," answered Ned--"somewhat on the touch of forty years." As he spoke, there was a loud "hurrah!" from the ground adjacent to the Abbey door; a true, hearty, English shout, such as no other nation on the earth can give; and the royal procession was seen returning. All pressed as near as they could; and Richard of Woodville gained a place in front, where he waited calmly, uncovered, for the passing of the King. On came the train, bishops and abbots, priests and nobles, the pages, the knights, the bearers of the royal emblems; but all eyes were turned to one person, as--with a step, not haughty, but calm and firm, such as might well accord with a heart fixed and confident to keep the solemn vows so lately made, in scrupulous fidelity; with a brow elevated by high and noble purposes, more than by the splendour of the crown it bore; and with an eye lightening with genius and soul--Henry of Monmouth returned towards his palace, amidst the gratulating acclamations of his people.