"He has done nothing. Only his enemies have thrown the suspicion of his having stolen a poignard from Manuel Tonza—a poignard which I know he bought here. It is my fault this has happened. It was to avenge the death of the man I loved—his dearest friend—that he placed his life in peril!"
"I remember well. It is quite true he bought it here, soon after Jarima, the fisherman, had sold it to my grandfather. He, poor dear, is also in sorrow, imprisoned for having received stolen goods, as if he could tell when things are stolen!" indignantly.
"I am very sorry, Miriam; but if you help me, you will help your grandfather also," Lianor urged gently.
"I will!" Miriam cried firmly; "I will never give up until I have them both safely outside that odious prison!"
Lianor gazed with grateful affection at the girl's expressive face, which now wore such a look of determined courage.
"If I can do anything, let me know directly," Lianor said, gently. "Gold may perhaps be useful, and I have much."
"Thank you, but I am rich; and I know grandfather would lose all, rather than his liberty. You are Don Garcia's daughter, are you not?"
"Yes," somewhat sadly. "You know me?"
"By sight, yes."
"I shall see you again, I hope," Lianor said, as Miriam followed her to the door. "You will tell me of your success or failure?"