But the young man's brain declined to interest itself in public doings and, before he knew where he was, Rupert found himself thinking of what had happened in connection with Dorinda. Laying the newspaper on his knee, and placing his hands behind his head, he leaned back to think what was best to be done. He sorely needed a sympathetic soul to converse with, and there was no one so fitted to help him as Dorinda. Carrington's request for a fee had placed him in the position of a business man rather than in that of a friend, so there was nothing to be gained in that quarter. But Dorinda always understood and always gave good advice, and always soothed his feelings. Hendle longed for her looks, and touch and words so much, that he very nearly decided to cross the park and visit the cottage. But two considerations caused him to alter his mind, one was that Mallien, now openly hostile, would be present at the interview; the other was, that he could not speak straightly to the girl, seeing that her father had so much to do with the matter. Dorinda knew that her parent was what is known as a hard case, and had not much respect or affection for him, since he did not deserve the first, nor demand the last. All the same, it was impossible, as Hendle felt, for him to tell the girl frankly that her father was little more than a blackmailer. With such a delicate perception of what was right and just as Rupert possessed, such a course of action was not to be thought of, so he subsided again into his chair, whence he had risen, and determined to carry his heavy burden all by himself. And, considering that the young man had no experience of burdens, he carried it well and bravely. Then Fate, who had interfered so much in his affairs that matters had been brought to this pass, interfered again with a kinder motive. Just as Rupert was wondering how he was to get through the long night without receiving human sympathy, there was a tapping at the right-hand window of the room, which brought him to his feet. In the stillness of the library, the sound was so unexpected and imperative that even Hendle's steady nerves were unstrung for the moment. With an effort he pulled himself together, and went to the window to lift it and see who had made the signal. Through the glass he saw Dorinda standing on the terrace in the luminous summer night, and she nodded smilingly to him when he lifted the sash. "Why didn't you go to the door?" asked Rupert, leaning out, and more astonished by her unexpected appearance than he would admit. "I don't want that prying Mrs. Beatson to see me," replied Miss Mallien, advancing toward the window, the sill of which was so low that she could very easily step over it. "I don't want her to know that I am here. Help me in, Rupert. No!" she suddenly stepped back. "Better come out and join me in the garden. I have much to say to you, and I don't want to risk Mrs. Beatson listening at the door."