"Thank you; and if I can aid, rely on my help," Lianor murmured, bravely. Then, bending reverently to press a last kiss on the pallid brow, she allowed Diniz to lead her from the room to her own home. In the hall they were met by Don Garcia, in a terrible state of anxiety for his daughter. "Where have you been, Lianor? What is the matter? You look ill! And what is that?" pointing to a vivid red stain which marred the white purity of her dress. A low, delirious laugh broke from the girl's pale lips, and, stretching out her arms, she waved Don Garcia back. "Do not touch me!" she cried, hoarsely. "He--my love, my darling--is dead! See, his life-blood stains my hands--my robe! Oh, heavens, that I should have lived to know such agony!" She stopped; the outstretched arms fell inertly down, the graceful head drooped, and without one cry or moan, Lianor fell heavily to the ground--unconscious. "Explain, Savitre--Sampayo, what means this strange raving? Who is dead?" Don Garcia said, fearfully. "It means that Luiz Falcam was found murdered this morning! Your daughter went to see him for the last time, and returns, overcome with grief and sorrow." Without a word, but very white, the viceroy carried his child to her room, and left her in the care of Savitre and her two attendants, while he went to find the particulars of Falcam's tragic end. For days and weeks Lianor kept to her rooms, seeing no one except her father and Sampayo, whom she looked upon as the avenger of Luiz. Long and tenderly was her lover's memory sorrowed over, until the once beautiful girl was but a mere wraith. A few weeks later Don Garcia himself was taken ill, and one day, feeling slightly better, he sent for his daughter, to whom he wished to speak on important business. He was not kept long waiting. Lianor soon appeared, looking like a crushed flower in her somber robes. "You wished to see me, papa?" "Yes, Lianor; but you can almost guess for what. You know how much I desire to see you wedded to my friend; a man who loves you and will make you happy. I shall not live long, of that I feel sure. Manuel Tonza has waited patiently, and I think it is only right you give him hope. To-day you will accept his hand, and in another week, with my consent, you will become his wife." Lianor reeled against the bed, and held firmly to the silken curtains to prevent herself falling. "Do you mean this, father? His wife--when he murdered Luiz?" "What nonsense are you saying, child? Do not let me hear you speak like this again. What motive could a wealthy man like Tonza have in getting rid of one of his own employes? Grief has turned your brain. Cast aside those weird garments, and in three hours be ready to receive your future husband." A low, gasping cry fell on his ears as he finished speaking, and he turned in time to see the slight figure sway to and fro, then fall heavily to the ground. But what use was her feeble strength against the powerful wills of two determined men?