"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!"
A vivid flush mantled the clear, dark skin, and the lustrous eyes
drooped in confusion.
"You really mean that? You love me, a girl who is not even of your own
kind?"
"I love you with all my heart and soul. Ever since the day when It
drew you half-fainting from off the already lighted pile, I have felt
my affection growing deeper and deeper, until it has absorbed my whole
being.
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