me happy if you will grant my
request."

"We shall see. Tell me first what it is."

Lianor briefly related her wish to visit the old temple which lay
beyond Goa, to search with Panteleone the curious old ruins she had so
often read of in her studies.

Don Gracia looked grave; evidently this project did not find much
favor in his eyes.

A Portuguese by birth, but sent to Goa as Viceroy, Don Garcia de Sa
had lived there long enough to know the treacherous natures of the
Brahmins who dwelt near, and feared to let his child run the risk of
being found and captured.

But as Lianor had truly remarked, he loved his daughter so
passionately that he very rarely refused her anything, even though he
doubted the wisdom of complying with her wishes.

"Papa"--the sweet voice was very coaxing, and the red lips close to
his cheek--"say yes, darling; it will make me so happy."

"But suppose any danger should threaten you?"

"I should be there to defend my cousin with my life!" Leone cried,
fervently.

Don Gracia smiled.

"You speak bravely, my boy; but as yet you are very young. However, as
Lianor has set her heart upon this expedition, I suppose I must say
yes. In case of danger, I will send some soldiers to escort you."

"Oh, thank you, papa! I am so glad! Come, Leone, we will make haste, so
as to set off ere the day gets more advanced."

And warmly embracing her father, the girl sped swiftly away, followed
by her cousin.

In half an hour the cortege was ready, and, after some little
hesitation on Don Garcia's part, they started.

Lianor, with her two favorite maids, Lalli and Tolla, were cosily
seated in a palanquin carried by four strong men. Before, clearing her
path from all difficulties, went a body of twenty-five soldiers.
Beside her, Panteleone kept up a cheerful conversation, pointing out
the beauties of the palaces through which they passed. Some twenty
natives, armed with poignards, brought up the rear.

Toki, a native who had grown old in the Viceroy's palace, led the way
toward one of the ruined temples--that erected to Siva, the God of
Destruction.

Lianor gazed with awed eyes at the magnificent palace, still bearing
traces of former beauty.

"How wonderful! I must stay here, Leone, and sketch those old statues.
We need go no farther."

The day was beginning to get intensely hot, so the men were nothing
loth to seek shelter in the cool temple, to sleep away the sunny
hours.

Sketch-book in han