With saddened hearts the people turned away, and continued their
journey, praying they might ere long find help and shelter.

Before the day had closed another soul had winged its flight to
Heaven, and the tiny waxen form of Lianor's baby-girl left in its last
resting-place in the golden sand.

A small wooden house, surrounded by sweet-scented flowers of brightest
hue, amongst which a beautiful, dark-eyed woman was softly gliding,
culling large clusters of the delicate blossoms.

As she stopped to gather a few rich carnations, singing in a low,
musical voice, a man, young and handsome, slipped from beneath the
pretty porch, and walking noiselessly behind her, suddenly lifted her
in his strong arms, pressing the slight form tenderly to his breast.

"Take care, Diniz," she cried, warningly, a ring of deepest joy
thrilling her clear voice. "You will spoil all my flowers!"

"Except the fairest of all--yourself. Ah, Miriam, my darling! how
happy we have been since that day when you so generously saved me from
a felon's doom!" rapturously kissing the beautiful, dark face so near
his own.

Their bliss was broken by a crowd of brown-skinned people, moving
toward the cottage, seemingly acting under some emotion.

"What has happened? What is it?" husband and wife cried
simultaneously.