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"Quick, Savitre; we will drink this draught together, and when they seek you, they will find us both cold in death." "You also, my brother, speak of death! I must escape I cannot sacrifice my life!" "Nor shall you," a gentle voice broke in passionately, and Lianor, her face full of tender compassion, stood before the victim, Panteleone beside her.
To Lianor he was always gentle, trying by soft words and many little attentions to win her regard; a very difficult task. Since her father's conversation, she shrank as much as possible from him, hoping he would understand her studied coldness. "Savitre," she said one evening, as they were dressing for a ball, given in her honor, "that horrid man's attentions are becoming intolerable!
Lianor grew deathly pale. "Dead!" she repeated, clasping her hands despairingly to her throbbing brow. "It cannot be true! My darling dead murdered!" "My poor child, it is only too true! This morning he was found, and brought home, stabbed through the heart!" "But who could have done it?" Savitre asked in a low, hushed whisper. "I wish I knew. But, alas! that is a mystery!"
I am sure if he knew how terribly you were persecuted he would fly to you at once," Savitre whispered softly. "I feel miserable unhappy. Lalli, put away those robes and give me a plain black dress. During Luiz's absence I will put on mourning, so Tonza can read the sorrow I feel in my heart." "But, dear, what will your father say?" Savitre asked anxiously. "He will be angry, I know.
If we had not gone, this poor girl would have been burnt to death," Lianor said, shudderingly, drawing Savitre towards her. "Ah, yes. Poor child!" stroking the young widow's glossy black hair. "Now tell me all about it." "Not yet, papa. Let us go and arrange our dresses; mine is torn completely to pieces," laughingly holding up a fragment of cashmere, which in the struggle had become torn.
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 think, sometimes, he feels lonely. You are bound to him, yet your heart is as unresponsive to his passionate love as if you were strangers," Savitre said, thoughtfully. "Do you think so, Savitre? I am indeed sorry; but you know how impossible it is to forget my first love. I like Manuel, but beyond that, affection except for my darlings is dead; buried in Luiz's grave."
No other man I know has won so large a place in my esteem. But I dare not speak until I know what my daughter thinks. She will answer for herself touching so delicate a subject. Tell Donna Lianor to come here," he said to Toki. After what seemed an anxious age to poor Luiz, Lianor entered, leaning lightly on Savitre, somewhat astonished.
Startled by the sudden apparition, the Indians lost, for a time, their self-control, and the sailors found it easy to subdue them. Luiz had flown at once to Lianor's side, clasping her frail form tightly in his arms, while Panteleone wrenched Savitre from her aunt, as she was about to fling her on the now burning pile.
"Hush! here comes Manuel," Savitre whispered, warningly. It was indeed Manuel, older and graver-looking than of yore, with a deep melancholy in his eyes, brought there only by intense suffering. Savitre, on his entrance, softly glided from the room, leaving husband and wife alone.
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