Luisa heard not this declaration, but her eye caught the strong beam of Braganza’s, as it flashed an answer to the approving look of Sebastian, and she felt that her husband’s soul dilated with some great resolve. Her heart dared not question him; it dared not question itself:--alas! to imagine for an instant, that he, in whom all joy, all delight, were summed up, that he who was indeed her earthly god, should be ravished from her fond arms, and doomed to the death of a rebel, was to think herself into frenzy. She hastily dismissed the image, and smiling through tears, gave her hand to Pinto, who respectfully kissing it, uttered some inspiriting words, and disappeared. Almost total silence followed the departure of Pinto. At length the clock striking eight, told them that “the work was begun.” Sebastian started up at the first stroke of the bell, but immediately sitting down again, he stroked back his grey hair with a trembling hand, and said, sighing, “These white locks, and this boyish eagerness, are not well-suited, my children! we think our characters changed, when the change is only in our circumstances: for thirty long years, scarcely any event has moved me strongly, and now I am all weak agitation.” “Hurry not yourself, dear father!” said Luisa, “by giving that name to honourable feeling: as the soul draws nearer to her divine source, ought not her powers to brighten, her sensibilities to increase? I see no virtue in apathy.” Sebastian turned on her a grateful and gratified look: Braganza spoke not; his thoughts were so entirely absorbed by one momentous object, that he neither heard nor saw what passed around him. Suddenly confused sounds proceeded from the distant city, shouts, shrieks, the clamour of alarm bells, the trampling of horses, the beat of drums, proclaimed the confusion which reigned throughout Lisbon; amongst the uproar, Braganza listened for the sound of artillery; none was heard; at this circumstance his hopes expanded, and he exclaimed aloud, “All then goes well!” Pale with anxiety, yet bright with heroism, Luisa sat by the side of her venerable grandsire, alternately returning the agitated pressure of his hand, or the inquiring glance of his eye; their beating hearts kept time with each other; but as they looked on the inspiring countenance of Braganza, apprehension gave way to hope, and hope to security. The signal of success at last was heard; a cannon fired from the citadel, announced that Lisbon was in the hands of the patriots, that the Duke of Braganza was proclaimed King. At this welcome sound, the transported Luisa threw herself into the arms of her lord; she intended to salute him by his new title, but love alone spoke, and half fainting with sweet emotion, she could but murmur out, “Juan, my dear, dear husband.”