Stooping, she spoke gently to the little things, and won from them the tale of their excessive poverty, which she promised to relieve if they would take her to their mother. This they willingly did, and Miriam found a pale, delicate-looking woman, who, notwithstanding the raggedness of her dress, still bore traces of having been at one time different to a poor fisherman's wife. Encouraged by the soft tones of her mysterious visitor, the woman gradually unburdened her troubled heart by telling her the history of her wretched life; how she had been doomed to follow her husband, an Indian chief, to death; but, loving life better, she escaped with her little children, but would have died of hunger on the seashore if Jarima, her second husband, had not rescued her and offered her his name and home. "He is very good to me and my children; the past seems but a dream now. If only we had money, all would be well." Miriam, with a few gentle, consoling words, slipped a few bright coins into the tiny brown hands of the astonished babies; then, with a sigh, she bade the grateful mother adieu and went out to where Diniz was waiting. He read by her face that she had no better tidings, and, drawing her hand through his arm, he turned away. "Will it never come--the proof I want?" he said, half bitterly. Scarcely had the words left his lips when a glad cry of "Father!" rent the air, and three small forms bounded over the white shingle towards a tall man, dressed in white linen. Almost convulsively Miriam pressed Sampayo's arm to arrest his hasty steps. "We need go no farther," she whispered. "That is the man you want; and if he is that woman's husband, his name is Jarima." "Thank Heaven! To-morrow he will be arrested and the truth discovered," Diniz muttered. Silently they watched the man walk towards his humble home, the children clinging lovingly to his hands. The woman came forward with a bright smile, holding up her face to receive his caress. "There can be no doubt. It is Jarima, and the man who sold the poignard." "Luiz's murderer," Diniz added between his set teeth. Almost feverishly Sampayo hurried Miriam away. He was anxious to tell Lianor of his success, and bring the assassin to justice. Some distance from the Jew's shop he bade Miriam adieu, promising to call and let her know the result. On reaching Don Garcia's palace Diniz was surprised at the sounds of bright music, mingled with happy voices, that floated on the air. Satzavan was the first to meet him, and he went forward with a welcoming smile. "Where is Lianor?" Diniz asked anxiously, glancing round the deserted halls. "In the grounds. Don Garcia has his home full of guests in honor of his daughter's betrothal with Manuel Tonza." "Lianor betrothed, and to him!" in consternation. "Yes," sadly; "her father has commanded her to accept him, and, since she lost poor Falcam, she is indifferent whom she weds." "But Tonza above all other men!" bitterly.