"Because I want you all to myself, and I think Mr. Carrington is not a good friend for you."
"Jealous."
"Sensible. There, Rupert, don't worry me." She slipped out of his arms, much to his surprise, and he showed his feelings so visibly that she colored. "I am rather out of sorts this morning," she said hurriedly. "Father has been rather trying."
"Never mind, dear; in a month you will be with me forever."
"I hope so," sighed Dorinda, "but somehow this death of the vicar suggests to me the possibility that something will occur to prevent our marriage."
"Oh, nonsense!" Rupert stared. "What could prevent our marriage?"
"It's only a feeling," persisted Dorinda, "and I dare say it is a foolish, silly feeling; but it's here for all that," and she laid her hand on her heart.
Rupert took as much pains to argue away this fancy as he had done to argue away the fancy of Titus Ark. But Dorinda was quite as stubborn in her belief that evil fortune was coming to prevent the marriage, as the sexton was that Leigh was alive. Finally, because Rupert laughed at her, she parted from him rather irritated at the corner, where he branched off to the station road. She would not even look back when her lover went away, and Rupert walked on to meet Carrington with the reflection that women were kittle cattle, as the Scotch say. As a rule, Dorinda was amiable and calm, so it seemed strange that she should be so easily annoyed this morning. But there was a reasonable excuse after all, as Hendle concluded, since the girl, always having been markedly friendly with the vicar, the poor man's violent death naturally shocked and upset her greatly. Moreover, the heartless comments which Mallien the cynic was more than likely to make, assuredly would add to Dorinda's distress. By the time he reached the station, Rupert had explained away to his own satisfaction the unusual emotion of the girl.
True to his promise Carrington arrived by the midday train and hopped out onto the platform as lively as a cricket. In gray flannels, a straw hat and brown shoes, the barrister looked handsome, well-bred and very much alive. The sight of his keen face and intelligent dark eyes comforted Hendle, as he knew that Carrington, if anyone, would be helpful in the matter of the vicar's mysterious murder.
"Here you are and here I am, Hendle," cried the new arrival briskly, as he gave up his ticket and walked out of the station along with the Squire. "I say, old chap, you're worrying considerably over this will business. There's a drawn, tired look on your face, which shows that you haven't slept a wink."