Don Emanuel required some days to consider of his proposition: the consideration cost him much disquiet. To separate Blanche from parents to whom she was everything, seemed an act of absolute barbarity; yet to lose the only rational and substantial prospect of regaining her rights, by a want of firmness to endure unavoidable privations, appeared equally criminal. It is true, Elizabeth had proposed the pleasing expedient of leaving the pretty hostage still in her parents’ hands: but then those parents must come with her to England, and accept an asylum there. De Castro’s blood ran cold, when the dismal fate of Mary Stuart crossed his memory: she too, had come for succour and for comfort; she too, had been invited, caressed, and outwardly commiserated; but she had languished out her youth in a prison, and terminated her sorrows on a scaffold. It was evident to him, from the looks and language of Essex, that his thoughts had been similar, at this part of their discourse; and De Castro therefore decided, that if policy enjoined Elizabeth to secure a hostage for the fidelity of Sebastian, the same prudence required him to preserve the father of Blanche, in order that his existence might act as a check upon Elizabeth’s selfish views. These reflections determined him; and he was on the point of hastening to inform her majesty that he would signify her desire to his royal master, when he heard that Sir Anthony Shirley was returned from Persia. Taking this event as a favorable omen, the zealous De Castro lost not a moment in procuring admission to him. The ring confided to him at Cachoeira, was his passport: Shirley saw it again, with an emotion of joy, honourable to his character. “Then I hear of him at last!” he exclaimed, “where is he? what fortunes have befallen him since we parted at the court of Schah Abbas?--how many times have thoughts of him kept these eyes from sleep!” “If I am to answer any, or all of these questions,” replied Don Emanuel, with his usual stately yet sweet seriousness, “you must first assure me Sir Anthony that the fortunes of my noble friend are sufficiently interesting to you, to make you chearfully assist in repairing them?--at this moment he claims, and I demand for him, the support of every loyal heart.” “He may command mine to the gates of death,” exclaimed Shirley: Don Emanuel resumed. “In those sleepless nights you speak of, did your thoughts never conjecture who the Knight of the Cross might be?--did your thoughts never start at your own imagination, deeming that suspicion romantic which this period will shew to have been correct?--Surely Sir Anthony, your eyes, accustomed to see the brightness of majesty--” Shirley interrupted him: “Almighty God! then it is the King of Portugal of whom we talk.”