The hall was as light as day; for Lord Calverly was fond of a glare. The feast was as delicate as he could have desired, and even the critical taste of Sir Edward Hungerford found nothing to criticise. The arrangement of the guests, however, was not altogether that which best suited their several inclinations. There were many, with whom we have little or nothing to do, who might, or might not, be placed as they would have placed themselves; but, certainly, with regard to Iola and Chartley, such was not the case; for she was seated between her uncle and Lord Fulmer, while Chartley was at some distance from her, on the opposite side of the table. Let the mind say what it would, the heart told her she would rather have had him near. Her ear thirsted for the tones of his voice, and her eye wandered for a moment, from time to time, to his face, with a glance withdrawn as soon as given, but with an impulse she could not controul. She was very young, and very inexperienced, and some excuse must be made for her. She wished to do all that was right, to avoid all that was wrong; but the heart was rebellious, and would have its own way. Constance, too, could have wished something changed in her position. Sir William Arden, it is true, had contrived to place himself on her left; and with that part of the arrangement she was very well satisfied; but Sir Edward Hungerford occupied the other side, and there was hardly any one in all the hall whom she would not have preferred. "Be merry, be merry, my friends," said excellent Lord Calverly, who perceived that, for some reason or another, his guests were not as cheerful as they might have been. "Let us all be gay; for in these troublous times, when one sits down to the merry evening meal, with friendly faces round us, it is never possible to tell when we shall all meet again." "By St. Paul, that's a topic well calculated to promote hilarity!" said Sir William Arden in a low voice to Constance; "and, to say truth, dear lady, the castle hall does not seem to me so gay a place as the abbey refectory." "I begin to think," said Constance, "that the calm shade of the cloister may, upon the whole, contain more cheerfulness than the laughter-loving world." "Pooh! We must not let you think so," said Sir William Arden. "Cannot Sir Edward Hungerford persuade you of the contrary? He has been trying, I think." He spoke in a whisper, and his words produced a slight smile, but no blush, upon Constance's face, and her only reply was: "Hush, hush!" "Nay, then, if he can't succeed, I must try," continued Sir William; "though, to say truth, it would be somewhat like an old suit of armour dancing a quick step. But why should you not be happy in the world, as well as your fair cousin?" "Is she happy?" asked Constance, with a sigh.