"Is it true? I ask you, is it true, this rumour which I hear, that you are engaged to your cousin, Vassalla? Oh, Carmela, why have you trifled with me in this way? You must have seen how I loved you, how I worshipped the very ground you trod on; and now you coldly throw me on one side, and accept the hand of a man whom you do not and cannot care about. Think of how you are ruining two lives--yours and mine--before you take this fatal step; once done, it cannot be recalled. I await your answer, and hope you may be able to deny this cruel lie. Ronald." * * * * * "Poor Ronald," mused Carmela, "I am cruel but only to be kind. He can never--marry into a family like ours, and the greatest kindness I can do him is to refuse him. God knows, I love him well enough, but he could never trust me, once he knows the secret of Leopold Verschoyle's death, and that he does know it I am convinced. He may blame me now, but he will bless me in the future; so I had better write and tell him that it is true, though my heart may break while I pen the words." * * * * * "_Carmela Cotoner to Ronald Monteith_. "It is true! I am the fool of fortune, and this match is not of my own making. Forget that you have ever seen me, and your life's happiness will be the constant prayer of "Carmela." "My life's happiness!" said Ronald, with a sob. "God! She breaks my heart, ruins my life, and talks about praying for my happiness--so like a woman! so like a woman!" CHAPTER XIX. WOMAN AGAINST MAN. Matteo Vassalla was in his sitting-room, walking to and fro with his hands in his pockets. The Maltese gentleman was very well satisfied with himself, as all his plans seemed likely to turn out as he wished. Carmela had promised to marry him, and, as she had plenty of money, this was very satisfactory to the impecunious nobleman. She did not love him, it was true; but then he agreed with Rochefoucauld, that it is best to begin marriage with a little aversion. And then he had the pleasure of taking the prize from under the very nose of his rival; the race had been a long one, and the prize had been awarded, not to the swiftest, but to the most diplomatic. Fate had played into Matteo's hands, and secure in the certainty of his good fortune, he strolled gaily up and down the room, humming to himself.