"That is quite right," said Dorinda, in a tone of satisfaction, patting her lover's hand consolingly. "I daresay my father will fight, but if you have right on your side, you will be sure to win. Money would do my father no good, as he would only waste it in collecting jewels, whereas you make good use of your income. After all the will may not exist. Mr. Leigh may have dreamed that there was such a document."
"He seemed to be very positive that it did exist, dear," said Rupert, with a shrug, "and, although Leigh was a bit of a dreamer, I don't think he would have or could have made up such a fairy tale as this. For my part, I believe that there is such a testament, and that it will come to light sooner or later. I shall make use of the Statute of Limitations, and of any flaw in the will to keep the property, but if everything is legal and shipshape, I shall hand over what I have to your father. As an honest man I can do no less."
"It's very hard on you, dear."
"It is," admitted Rupert quietly; "but I may have to bear harder things."
Dorinda stared. "I don't see anything harder to bear."
"The loss of liberty and, perhaps, of life----"
"Rupert, what are you talking about?"
"Ah!" Rupert rose and stretched himself. "Your father did not tell you all that we spoke about in the Vicarage study. You don't know what he proposes to do, Dorinda, and I don't know if I ought to tell you."
"You must! you must!" She sprang up and laid her two hands on his shoulders with a grasp of which he did not think she was capable. "I share all your troubles--all your sorrows, all--all."
Hendle caught her hands, and holding them to his heart looked into her eyes dimly seen in the light. "Your father declares that I murdered Leigh to get the will," he said quietly; "don't scream."