"I am sorry that your father told you," said Rupert at last.
"Why?" Dorinda turned her thoughtful face toward him, and saw his white shirt-front glimmer in the half-light.
"Because I did not intend to tell you myself."
"Why?" she asked again, and very calmly--even wonderingly.
"Is there any need to worry you?" fenced the young man evasively.
"If you are worried, as you are, it is only fair that I should be worried also, which I am. We are not yet married, dear; all the same, we are as perfectly of one mind as any two people can be. And, if I am to be your wife, I must naturally share your burdens; it is easier for two to bear them than one. You understand?"
Hendle took her hand, which lay lightly on her lap, and pressed it in token of thanks. "I understand that you are a staunch and true woman," he said, in a soft voice, "how you came to have such a father----?"
"Oh, don't let us speak of him," interrupted Dorinda impatiently.
"My dear, we must speak of him, as he is part and parcel of the affairs which we must discuss. Yet, had he not spoken to you, I should have held my peace, although I was sorely tempted to come to you for sympathy no later than a few minutes before you tapped at the window."
"I knew, from what my father said, that you were in trouble, Rupert, and I felt that you needed me. For that reason I flung a cloak over my dinner-dress and came on here. Mrs. Beatson would be very shocked if she knew that I was sitting alone with you in the garden in this hour."
"Mrs. Beatson is the kind of woman who would be shocked, however innocent the thing that startled her might be. So your father told you of our interview in Leigh's study?"
"Yes. That is, he told me about the missing will, and how Mrs. Beatson overheard what poor Mr. Leigh had to say on the matter."
"What else did he tell you?" asked Hendle anxiously.
"My dear," Dorinda's eyes opened widely, "what else was there to tell?"
"Hum!" murmured the Squire doubtfully. "Your father let out just as much as suited him. Let us talk of what he did tell you to begin with; afterward, we can talk of what he did not tell you. Yet"--Rupert tugged at his moustache nervously--"I am not quite sure if I should speak frankly."
"I am," retorted Dorinda, giving his hand a squeeze, "if I am to help you, I must know everything."