"Oh, I don't mind that; Vassalla will be brought to his trial in a few weeks, and then it will be decided one way or another. But, Carmela," taking her hand once more, "when it is all over will you marry me?" She paused a moment, then said simply-- "Yes." Ronald took her in his arms and kissed her. CHAPTER XXVII. EXIT MRS. VERSCHOYLE. Of course it is not to be wondered at that the arrest of Vassalla made a great sensation. True Vassalla was not a very well known man; but then the strangeness of the case, which was reported with numerous embellishments in all the papers, attracted everybody's notice. And then the way the crime had been brought home to him by the divorced wife of the dead man--in fact, it was quite a romance. The curious part of the whole case was that Vassalla obstinately refused to say anything in his own defence, and his persistent silence was taken as an acknowledgment of his guilt. But the Marchese only smiled grimly when spoken to, and said he could defend himself well enough when the time came, and, moreover, would be in a position to punish Mrs. Verschoyle. As for that lady, she was quite the heroine of the hour--not exactly in a complimentary sense, perhaps--but everybody wanted to see a woman with such an exciting history, who had divorced her husband, and then accused her cousin of being his murderer. Plenty of papers wanted to interview her, but she declined to allow herself to be seen, and generally sat at home in a quiet, private hotel off the Strand, where she exulted over the downfall of Vassalla. "He wouldn't marry me," she said to herself, vindictively; "well, we'll see how he likes being in prison for murder." Carmela came up to town, and had an interview with her, in which Mrs. Verschoyle lost her temper, as usual. "He wanted to marry you--he wanted to marry you," she hissed repeatedly. "I couldn't help that," retorted Carmela, angrily; "I certainly did not want to marry him, and would never have become engaged to him if it had not been to save you." "Ha! ha! to save me from the gallows, I suppose--bah. I do not believe it? he would have accused me of the murder of my husband, the Maltese dog; but he shall die for it--yes, he shall die." "Are you sure he committed this--this crime?" said Carmela, hesitatingly. "Yes, I am sure. Did I not meet him coming out of the cabin on that night; was the stiletto in the dead man's breast not the one you gave him years ago? am I sure--bah! if he is innocent, let him prove it." There was nothing to be got out of Mrs. Verschoyle, who was simply mad with anger, and grew purple in the face, till Carmela thought she would break a blood-vessel. "You ought to be grateful to me," she said, furiously; "but for me you would have married Vassalla, and then what of your Australian lover?" "You can leave my Australian lover out of the question," said Carmela, with great spirit. "I am only waiting for this unhappy affair to be settled, in order to marry him."