"Be careful, and not glance behind or down, or you will lose your
balance and fall."

Lianor, who, by her husband's wish, had given her child to one of the
men, followed closely behind Manuel, who held his boy in his arms.

Silently, without daring to murmur one word, the men walked bravely
onward.

They were nearly half way across.

Manuel had indeed touched firm ground, when a sudden cry from her
little girl made Lianor turn in affright to see what ailed her.

That move was fatal; the next instant she had lost her footing and
fallen into the dashing torrent.

With a despairing shriek Manuel stopped, and had not some one held him
back, would have dashed in after his wife. Panteleone, who saw a
chance of saving her, quickly slipped over the side, caught her in his
aims as she was about to sink, then bore her to land.

Forgetful of all others, Manuel threw himself beside her still form,
from which all life seemed to have fled, calling wildly on her name,
pressing passionate kisses on her cold face, hoping by the warmth of
his caresses to bring back the color to her cheeks.

But it was useless; Lianor was dead; her head having struck against a
rock, caused instant unconsciousness, from which they could not rouse
her.

When Tonza realized the awful truth he rose to his feet, pale and
haggard, his eyes full of despairing anguish.

"It is just; my sin is punished. My wife, the only thing I loved on
earth, for whose sake I committed crime, is taken from me! She alone
had power to make me happy; without her I cannot live. It is time I
confessed all, and you shall be my judges. It was I who caused the
death of Luiz Falcam, that I might win his betrothed; and when I heard
that Diniz Sampayo had discovered partly the truth, I had him thrown
into prison on suspicion of having stolen the very poignard with which
Luiz had met his death--one that I myself had placed in the assassin's
hand! You all know how he escaped, but he is an exile for my fault. If
ever you should see him, tell him his innocence is established; he can
return to India in peace. You have heard my story, now judge me;" and
with arms crossed over his breast, his head bowed in deepest grief and
humility, he waited his sentence.

A dead hush fell over the group, broken only by the suppressed sobs of
Savitre, who was crouching beside Lianor, and the pitiful moans of the
little girl dying in one of the rough seamen's arms.

At last Pantaleone, a look of