of penitence, to having _listened_ to
the suggestions of the deceased traitors, and been concerned in "several
riotous disturbances"--professed himself and his friend to be so
abjectly repentant, and so irrevocably faithful for ever henceforward--
that King Richard, as easily deceived as usual, hastened to pardon the
repenting sinners. But there was one man in the world who was not
deceived by Derby's plausible professions. Old Lancaster shook his
white head when he heard that his son was not only pardoned, but
restored to favour.

"'Tis hard matter for father thus to speak of son," he said to his royal
nephew; "nathless, my gracious Lord, I do you to wit that you have done
a fool deed this day. You shall never have peace while Hal is in this
kingdom."

"Fair Uncle, I am sure he will repay me!" was the response of the
warm-hearted Richard.

"Ha!" said John of Gaunt, and sipped his ipocras with a grim smile.
"_Sans doute, Monseigneur, sans doute_!"

Westminster Hall beheld a grand and imposing ceremony on the Michaelmas
Day of 1397. The King sat in state upon his throne at the further end,
the little Queen beside him, and the various members of the royal line
on either side--Princes on the right, Princesses on the left. The
Duchess of Lancaster had the first place; then the Duchess of York,
particularly complacent and resplendent; the Duchess of Gloucester, who
should have sat third, was closely secluded (of her free will) in the
Convent of Bermondsey. Next sat the Countess of March, the elder sister
of the Duchess Joan, and wife of the Lollard heir of England. The
daughters of the Princes followed her. Elizabeth, Countess of
Huntingdon, daughter of the Duke of Lancaster, whom that day was to make
a duchess, and who bore away the palm from the rest as "the best singer
and the best dancer" of all the royal ladies, held her place, beaming
with smiles, and radiant with rubies and crimson velvet. Next, arrayed
in blue velvet, sat the only daughter of York, Constance Lady Le
Despenser. Round the hall sat the nobles of England in their
"Parliament robes," each of the married peers with his lady at his side;
while below came the House of Commons, and lower yet, outside the
railing, the people of England, in the shape of an eager, sight-seeing
mob. There was to be a great creation of peers, and one by one the
names were called. As each of the candidates heard his name, he rose
from his seat, and was led up to th