"Yes, you will, my Matteo. Think of the love I have for you. You will disappoint this bloodhound, when he thinks his game sure, and you will marry me. We will go back to our beautiful Malta, and there be happy." This woman wooed with all the caressing fierceness of the South, her harsh voice sank to a liquid murmur, and her wonderful eyes lost their savage gleam, and became melting and tender. "You will marry me," she whispered, softly. Vassalla sneered to himself, then rising suddenly, removed her arms from around his neck. "Impossible," he said, coldly; "I am engaged to Carmela." Mrs. Verschoyle sprang back, her eyes blazing with anger, and dashed the fragments of her glove in his face. "Ingrate! Traitor! Scoundrel! You shall suffer for this." "Not at your hands," with a soft laugh. "Yes! at my hands. I have your letters, written when you truly loved me. When you said you would kill----" "Silence, devil!" and Matteo, his face set and stern, caught her arm. "I will not be silent!" screamed Mrs. Verschoyle, struggling to get free. "You shall not marry Carmela." "I shall; it is the price of your safety." "My safety?" and she suddenly grew calm. "Yes, Carmela would have married the Australian. I hated him, and wanted her. He has been searching for the person who killed Leopold Verschoyle, and the evidence all points to you. He asked me if you were on board that night? I said 'No.' I showed your letter. He asked Carmela? She said 'Yes.'" "The fool!" "I made her write a letter denying it. She will keep silent for your sake. No one but I can prove it. I will keep silent on condition that I marry Carmela. She has accepted me, and you will not refuse your consent." "I will." "You will not." "Dog, let me go!" "Not till you consent." "No!" Vassalla released her, and went to the door of his room. "I will be back in a few moments," he said, coldly. "If you consent, and promise not to trouble me, I will save you; if not, you must take the consequences," and he went into his bedroom, and shut the door. Mrs. Verschoyle recovered herself by a strong effort, and going to the sideboard, poured out half a glass of brandy, which she drank off. This seemed to do her good, for she put her bonnet straight, smoothed her hair, and producing another pair of gloves from her pocket, put them on. Then she went round the room looking at things until she came to the table, whereon lay Vassalla's portfolio. She saw Carmela's letter, and first glancing towards the door to make sure he was safe, snatched it up, and devoured every word of it. Then, throwing it down, she ransacked the portfolio with nimble fingers, evidently to see if there were more. "It is here! it is here!" she muttered, glancing rapidly over the papers. "Ah!" and with a cry of delight she picked up a letter and slipped it into her pocket.