young Jewess was waiting, and after tenderly
embracing Phenee, and smiling softly at Diniz, she turned to Vincent
and placed a bag of gold in his hand.

"This is your reward. May you and your little ones live in happiness!"
she said earnestly.

"We leave Goa to-night, senora. My life would be worth nothing if I
stayed here after this. Good-by, and thank you for your generosity."

Miriam hastened her grandfather to the ship, shocked at his
feebleness; but for Sampayo he would scarcely have been able to get
there.

Only once he spoke to the girl ere he retired to his cabin for the
night.

"The money and jewels, Miriam--what have you done with them?"

"They are here, grandfather. I brought everything of value away with
me."

"That is right, child. You are a good girl!"

Miriam stood rather sadly beside the bulwarks, gazing at the land in
which she had been born, and which she was now leaving forever.

A low sigh broke from her lips.

"Why do you sigh? Are you sorry to quit your native land?" a voice
whispered in her ear.

"Yes; though for my grandfather's sake I cannot deeply regret it,"
Miriam answered, gazing at Diniz with tear-dimmed eyes.

"I have not thanked you yet for having released me from that dreadful
place, or even a worse doom. I am still scarcely able to realize my
good fortune. What made you, a stranger, think of one whom all others
had forgotten?"

"Not all. It was Donna Lianor who told me where you were, and asked me
to help you," Miriam said, blushing beneath his tender, grateful gaze.
"Besides, I looked upon you as a friend," almost inaudibly.

"That is what I want to be--your friend. And Lianor--how is she?--
well?"

"As well as it is possible to be under the heavy trial she went
through this morning. She was married to Manuel Tonza," sadly.

"Poor girl! Poor Lianor! Hers is indeed an unhappy lot!" Diniz
murmured pityingly.

CHAPTER V.

In a large, handsome room, overlooking a shining river, now ablaze
with sunshine, sat a beautiful woman, wearing on her face unmistakable
signs of sadness.

She scarcely heeded the opening door, until two pretty children came
bounding to her side, clambering onto her chair and lap.

Then her face changed, and a sweet, tender smile chased away all
gloom; the idle hands were busy now stroking the curly heads pressed
so close against her.

"I would have brought them to you before, but their father wished to
keep them; he is always so h