"Well," replied the Squire, wavering, "I shall wait for a few days, as you advise. I wonder what Dorinda will say?"
"Don't tell her," said the barrister quickly, for it was difficult enough for him to deal with one honest person without tackling a second. "She will tell her father about the discovered will if you do."
"I don't care if she does. Mallien has to know some time, since he is so deeply concerned in the matter."
"Hendle," said Carrington seriously, "you are a child. Don't say a word to Mallien, or to his daughter, who might tell him, until you have seen your lawyers. That's common sense."
On reflection Rupert was obliged to confess that it was, since his cousin would certainly make trouble straightway. It would be best to have the opinion of the lawyers beforehand, so that the situation might be adjusted so far as possible before the probable inheritor came into the matter. Of course he knew that Dorinda would tell her father nothing if asked to keep silent, but to so ask would be to lay another burden on her. Mallien was suspicious, brooding and pertinacious. If he thought that she was keeping anything from him, he certainly would never rest until he learned what it was.
"I shall not tell Dorinda until I have seen the lawyers," said Rupert.
"In two or three days. Now let us go out for a walk--to the vicarage if you like. I can't stay indoors worrying over things which at present I cannot remedy. Come!"
"Won't it be better for us to have another look at the will before we go?"
"I don't think so. I know the will by heart, and have locked it safely away, Carrington. It disinherits Frederick, from whom I am descended, legally enough; and if the lawyers are of the same opinion with their larger knowledge, why then my cousin must enter into his own."
"There is the Statute of Limitations, you know," hinted Carrington pointedly.
"I shall take advantage of that and of anything else if I can do so consistently with my honor. But what is the use of arguing?" said Hendle with a burst of bitterness, for the position pained him greatly. "We can do nothing just now. Let us go for a walk."
Carrington was too politic to press the matter further, as he saw how the Squire winced. But he had by no means given up the hope of inducing Hendle to refrain from publishing the possible loss of his estates, and intended to talk about the affair when the young man was more off his guard. Now with diplomatic skill bred from years of experience of shady doings, he put on his straw hat and sauntered out of doors along with his host, talking of many matters which had nothing to do with the burning question of the disputed inheritance. But as they walked down the avenue Carrington spoke of a matter which really interested him. And that was of a qualm he felt when passing under the spreading branches of the oaks. He had felt that qualm before when he had first visited Barship, and in the same place.