"Lianor," he began, a bright smile lighting up his face as he bent to kiss her fair brow, "I have been thinking, and am resolved to quit India and return to Portugal. I have been here long enough. Don't you think that will be pleasant, dearest?" "Nothing would please me more," Lianor cried, delightedly. "The greatest wish of my life is to see Portugal once more, to show our country to our children," bending to kiss her tiny daughter's face. "Then it will be granted. Prepare to start as soon as possible. Now, I am determined to leave here. Something seems to urge me to go at once." Only too anxious, Lianor began her arrangements. Savitre, who had never cared to leave her friend before, even to become Panteleone's bride, entered into the preparations with unconcealed eagerness. She had faithfully promised her lover that, once in Portugal, she would, with his father's approval, marry him. Lianor felt no regret at leaving India, except for a loved grave--her father's--which she had so carefully tended. Not many days after, Manuel Tonza, his wife, children, Panteleone, and Savitre, accompanied by several faithful servants, including Lalli and Tolla, embarked in a fine stately ship, which was to bear them in safety to their home. Tonza seemed full of joy as he saw the last lines of the Indian coast disappear. He had rarely appeared so happy since his marriage with Lianor five years before. For several days the good ship went steadily on her way, until one night a terrific storm arose, and the vessel, heedless of the human cargo it was bearing, drifted onward at the mercy of the tempest. Tonza, holding Lianor and his children closely to him, stood silently dismayed, scarcely able to realize the awful danger which lay before him and those he loved. Still onward, through the almost impenetrable darkness, went the doomed ship, until, as the dense shadows began to clear and the storm to cease, a sudden shock was felt by all--she had struck against some rocks and was slowly sinking! "We must be somewhere near land," the captain cried, his voice sounding above the roaring waters. By aid of the fast-breaking dawn, they could see the line of high, dark rocks, upon which the ship had met her fate. With much difficulty and peril, under the captain's cool directions, the crew managed at last to leave the sinking vessel, not without much loss of life. Out of nearly five hundred only a few arrived in safety, amongst whom were Tonza, his wife, children, Savitre, and Panteleone. When the day broke in calm splendor, the sun shown upon a mournful sight--a group of shipwrecked men and women. No sign of habitation met their view; only a weary waste of bare land, sheltered by a few trees, from whose branches hung a goodly supply of fruit. "If we go farther inland, we are sure to find some natives, if only savages," Tonza remarked gravely; and followed by the men, he commenced the long, weary way.