During the examination of these chests, Aziek remained leaning on Sebastian, lost in painful conjectures upon his mysterious disguise: alas! was he a prisoner also! yet, how then could he have power to succour her? She turned her eyes on his countenance; the sunny look that met hers, the smoothed brow, and entrancing smile, promised permanent protection. What could she dread, when the looks of him she loved bade her dismiss apprehension? Satisfied with a casket of jewels and several purses of gold coin, the mercenary seaman shut the boxes; “We shall leave you and the lady to yourselves,” said the captain, “that you may try to reconcile her to a voyage to Brazil; if she don’t like that, she may go to Portugal in the prize: settle that as she pleases. “Whoever you are, friend, with your coarse doublet, you’re a strange brave fellow, and have a right to share our gains, and so if you like women better than money, there’s a whole lot of ’em for you.” “I take you at your word,” interrupted the King, “these are my prizes.” The men withdrew laughing, and Sebastian again alone with Kara Aziek, (her women having retired into the inner chamber,) proceeded to satisfy those anxious inquiries which her eloquent eyes had so long been making. He briefly detailed the circumstances of his return to Portugal, the conduct of his supposed friends, the intentions with which he was leaving it when he read her farewel letter; he painted the emotions that letter excited, with all the force of tender gratitude. “Such were, such are my feelings, Kara Aziek;” he added, throwing himself at her feet, “I am again what I was when your generous pity first succoured me--a beggar, and a fugitive--one who must soon be every thing or nothing:--it remains for you to decide on the dearest part of my destiny. Speak your wishes, and they shall be obeyed; if they be to fulfil your engagement with the Basha, I will myself conduct you to him; but if a friendship more sacred even than love--a gratitude exalted to adoration--every sentiment in short, except passion itself; if these may touch you--if you can condescend to accept a heart yet smarting with a former wound--a heart that shudders at love, yet where your image is worshipped and cherished--” “O say no more!--no more, beloved Sebastian!” interrupted Kara Aziek, hiding her blushes and tears on his shoulder, “thou knowest too well, that to be permitted to dwell but on the threshold of that noble heart, is happiness to Kara Aziek.” How eloquent was the silence which followed these few words! how did the blissful sighs breathed by each, seem to incorporate their souls, and blend their destinies for ever!