"Assuredly; unless anything serious prevents me." "Thank you," she murmured gratefully. A kind hand-pressure from all, and Sampayo walked quickly away; while Lianor, her heart somewhat lightened by this news, returned to her father's guests with Satzavan. Savitre would have followed, but Panteleone held her back with a few whispered words, and, nothing loth, the little widow sauntered with him through the shady grounds, apart from the rest. "Savitre," Leone said suddenly, "would you be willing to leave your country--to go with me to Portugal?" Savitre gazed at him in some wonderment. "Surely you are not thinking of leaving India?" she cried, a sudden anxiety dawning in her dark eyes. "Yes; my father wishes me to return, and as soon as Lianor is married we are going." The girl remained silent; only a few pearly tears rolled down her cheeks. "Savitre, dearest one, do not weep! Would it be so dreadful for you to quit the country?" "It is not that," with a stifled sob; "but I had not thought of your leaving us, or the friendship between us being broken." "Nor will it, my darling! Don't you understand? I love you too dearly to give you up; I want you to be my wife, so that none can part us. Say my hopes are not all in vain!" A vivid flush mantled the clear, dark skin, and the lustrous eyes drooped in confusion. "You really mean that? You love me, a girl who is not even of your own kind?" "I love you with all my heart and soul. Ever since the day when It drew you half-fainting from off the already lighted pile, I have felt my affection growing deeper and deeper, until it has absorbed my whole being. My happiness is never complete unless I am near you. Tell me, darling, that you return my love!" "How could I help but love you--you who saved my life? Oh, Leone, you cannot think how proud I am at being chosen by you before all others!" With a joyous exclamation, Panteleone drew her to his breast, pressing passionate kisses on her brow, cheeks, and lips, his heart thrilling with rapture at the realization of his dreams. CHAPTER IV. The next morning a small band of soldiers, headed by Henrique Ferriera, wound their way toward the humble home of Jarima. On arriving, they found to their astonishment the door fastened close, and no one to answer their knock. "Never mind, break it down," Henrique said, roughly. In obedience a few heavy blows fell on the woodwork, which soon gave way beneath their force. Stepping over the scattered splinters, Henrique saw a sight which filled him with horror. Crouching on the bare floor, her hands twined convulsively in her long hair, was a woman, with three sleeping children leaning against her. On a hard straw mattress, almost in shadow, lay Jarima, his face covered with blood, which oozed in streams from his mouth. Henrique gazed for an instant on the awful sight, then turned towards his men.