With a degree of haste, which was the only sign of emotion he showed, he next saluted Constance, almost in the same words; but then, with a kindly and sincere tone, inquired after her aunt, the abbess, trusting that she had not suffered from the alarm and anxiety she must have felt on the night when he last saw her. He listened too attentively to Constance's reply; but he could not prevent his eyes from wandering for a moment back to the face of Iola; and then, with a sort of start, he turned away, looking round the circle, and exclaimed, "oh, Hungerford, I did not expect to meet you here. When you left me at Leicester, I thought you were bound for London, and believed you, even now, plunged in a sea of green Genoa velvet." "Nay, you forget," replied Sir Edward Hungerford; "summer is coming on. No one could venture to wear velvet for the next eight months, except a lord mayor or an alderman." "Faith, I know not much of such matters," answered Chartley; "but that is the most reasonable piece of tailorism I have heard, which gives us warm clothing for our winter wear and lighter garments for our summer use. However I thought you were in London." "So had I been," answered the young knight; "but I was stopped by a delicate epistle from my friend Lord Fulmer, here, containing an invitation not to be refused." "Let me make you acquainted, any good lords," said Lord Calverly, advancing between the two young noblemen, and presenting them to each other. Each bowed with a stiff and stately air; and Chartley paused for a moment, as if to see whether Fulmer would speak or not; but, finding him silent, he turned on his heel; and, seeing Sir William Arden talking bluffly to Iola, he took his place by the side of Constance, and once more spoke of the night of their meeting.