The interviews of the lovers were now regular, and every interview heightened the young monarch’s passion. His fair mistress stimulated this ardor by just as much condescension as excited without satisfying hope; acquiring at each unexpected act of kindness fresh power over his peace. Sebastian gradually lost that self-command upon which he piqued himself, and often found that he bartered some of his independence for a smile or a kiss: but he had learned the art of silencing his own reproofs; and constantly declared to his cousin that he knew himself beloved to excess, or he would not stoop to acts which otherwise would be mean submissions. At length, the moment so long panted after, arrived; Gonsalva one evening pronounced the tender confession of reciprocal preference, and was rewarded the next instant by an avowal of her lover’s sovereign rank. Confused and agitated, the fair Portuguese half sunk upon her knee, faltering out a few words of humility and gratitude: Sebastian hastened to raise, and clasp her in his arms, while he explained his intention of recalling her father from France in order to witness their immediate marriage. Donna Gonsalva changed colour, averted her eyes, hesitated, panted for breath, and at length apprehensively confessed that she was under engagements to a young nobleman; nay, that her father had given her to him in marriage at the age of seven years. Had the earth opened at the feet of Sebastian, he could not have felt more horror.--Speechless with emotion, his looks only continued to interrogate Gonsalva: she trembled and wept, but conjured him to believe that after the ceremony was performed, she had almost forgotten it, as her bridegroom had gone out to Goa with his grandfather the viceroy of India, and was but lately returned. “And you have seen him Gonsalva?” asked the King mournfully. “Yes, I have seen him thrice, but without giving him the least hope that I would ratify the cruel engagement in which my infant mind had no share.--When he visited me last, you were absent, your love was doubtful, your real rank unknown, I was uncertain whether you might ever return to me, and yet I told him my resolution.” “Then you loved me from the first?” cried the transported Sebastian, “let not my Gonsalva ever again torture me with assumed indifference, when this conduct shews that she preferred the pain of concealment to the hazard of losing me by the early mention of this hateful obstacle. Take courage, dearest! ties like these may be broken without dishonour; and thank God! I am a King.”