“Then I would throw myself at your feet, as I do now,” cried Philip, kneeling as he spoke. “I would press your hand to my lips, and assure you of my unalterable love and fidelity. I would tell you how I have burned with impatience to behold you—how I have counted the hours of my long voyage, and have rejoiced as each day brought me nearer to you. In the strongest terms I could employ I would express my sense of the honour you have conferred upon me in choosing me for your husband, and I would endeavour to convince you that it will be the chief business of my life to increase your felicity and to extend your power. Not a cloud shall overshadow your future existence if I can drive it away—but all shall be serenity and sunshine. This is what I would say to the Queen,” he added, rising. “Your language is so impassioned, Prince,” she returned, “that I am almost as much moved as her Majesty could be by your words. For the moment, I will suppose myself the Queen——” “It is so understood,” interrupted Philip. “I fear you feign this passion, Prince,” she continued. “To love one unknown, unseen, with the ardour you profess, is impossible, and yet I ought not to say so, for though I have never beheld you till now, your image has long occupied my breast. I hope you may not be disappointed in me. It shall be my anxious study to win your affection by entire devotion and submission to your will, and I trust, with Heaven’s grace, to succeed.” “Doubt it not,” replied the Prince, fervently. “You are sole mistress of my heart, and will ever maintain paramount sway over it.” “I am foolish to ask it,” she said, “yet I would fain have your assurance that it is not my crown that has enticed you hither?” “Rest easy on that score,” rejoined the Prince. “You yourself are the magnet that has attracted me. You would have been as much prized without your kingdom as with it.” “I cannot believe you; yet the assurance is so sweet, that I will yield to the delusion,” she rejoined. “But I must listen to these honeyed words no longer. Once more I must become the abbess.” “To others, but not to me,” rejoined Philip. On this, they left the recess, and returned to where Constance was standing. “What shall be done for this damsel?” said Philip. “It pains me that I cannot grant her request.” “Her request is most unreasonable. Still, she has a great claim upon you,” replied the abbess. “I make no promise, but order the prisoner to be brought here for examination, and I will consider what can be done.” Thanking her with a smile, Philip instantly summoned Osbert Clinton, and bade him bring Derrick Carver before him with all possible dispatch. He likewise ordered the immediate attendance of the Bishop of Cuença and Father de Castro. With a profound obeisance, Osbert departed on his mission.