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!"