"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.
Just as she did this she heard Vassalla's foot, and knew he was returning. Pushing all the papers back, she ran noiselessly to the mirror, leaving the portfolio in the same disorder as she had found it, and was arranging her bonnet strings, when Vassalla, dressed to go out, entered the room putting on his gloves.
"Your answer?" he said, sharply.