A graceful disorder appeared on the face of the stranger, as with deepened colour and a fluttering voice, he replied that she was even then near St. Lucar. Kara Aziek clasped her hands together in an ecstasy of gratitude: but the emotion of the stranger did not escape her; and his menial habit so ill suited to the elegance of his air, made her attach an agitating meaning to the emotion he betrayed. “I do not see a domestic of the Duchess Sidonia’s?” “No, Madam--you behold her son.” Don Hyppolito now put into her hands a letter from his mother, which Kara Aziek eagerly read. It informed her that Hyppolito was zealous in the cause of Don Sebastian, though wholly ignorant of their lovely ward’s connexion with his fate; that the Duchess was eager to afford the parents a sight of their daughter; and that the Duke having been fortunately importuned by all the Spanish grandees around, to visit the newly arrived galley, in which the King of Portugal was confined, in order to disprove the impostor from his personal knowledge of the true Sebastian, he had seized the opportunity of yielding to his own earnest desire, and was come openly to St. Lucar for the avowed purpose. Desirous of bringing the mother and child to an immediate meeting, the good Duchess had sent her son (disguised thus to prevent observation) with orders to attend Kara Aziek to their dwelling near the town. Hyppolito (thus ended the letter) has no suspicion of the relationship we so religiously conceal, it will depend on yourself and the royal Sebastian, whether he may ever be so greatly trusted. But Hyppolito scarcely needed to be now informed of the momentous secret; the likeness to Blanche, which a lover’s eye directly discovered, together with a recollection of Blanche’s distracted sympathy with the sufferings of the King and Queen of Portugal, and now the wild joy of Kara Aziek, all united to shew him the fact. Trouble and apprehension succeeded to his lively enthusiasm; and a multitude of strange pangs seized his young heart, as he prepared to lead forth the trembling mother. During their hasty, and rather long walk, no words were exchanged between them; Hyppolito stopped under the high wall of a garden, and opening a small door concealed by trees, conducted Kara Aziek in. The next moment brought them to a pavilion, where he would have left his companion to enter alone, (so his mother had instructed him) but detaining him by the arm, she exclaimed in a low voice, “O no--leave me not--I owe you the reward of seeing how happy you have made me.” Hyppolito caught at the permission; he pushed open the door, and the next moment beheld the mother and the daughter senseless in each other’s arms. Joy and grief so blended, were too powerful for their hearts: nature sunk under such a meeting, and it was long ere the Duchess and her son succeeded in restoring them to life.