One of Hendle's last injunctions to the girl was that she should say nothing to her father about her visit to The Big House. He warned her not to repeat what she had heard, and not to question her father in any way regarding his dealings with Carrington. Rupert arranged matters thus because he intended to call on his cousin next day and have a complete understanding with him. Mallien therefore was much annoyed, and very illogically so, when his daughter no longer implored him to be plain with her. On Sunday evening and Monday morning she saw him looking gloomy and disturbed, yet made no effort to cheer him, or, as he put it, to bear his burden. Dorinda laughed outright when her father made this last remark.
"Really, father, you are unreasonable," she observed, when putting on her hat to go shopping in the village. "How can I bear your burden when you won't tell me what it is?"
"I have told you," growled the little man crossly, "that blackguard Carrington dares to accuse me of murdering Leigh."
"Well," said Dorinda lightly, "as you didn't murder him what does it matter?"
"You talk rubbish. Carrington can tell serious lies which may endanger my liberty."
Dorinda shrugged her shoulders and took up her sunshade. "Then how can you expect me to bear your burden, as you put it? You tell me enough to make me anxious, yet not enough to enable me to help you."
"In that case there is no more to be said."
This speech was so unanswerable that Mallien could find no reply and retreated to his own particular room, feeling--rather inconsequently--that he was not receiving the attention and sympathy which was his due. It never seemed to strike him that his daughter could scarcely administer to his comfort while she was ignorant of necessary information. But nothing irritates an unreasonable man more than being treated reasonably, and Mallien scowled blackly when he saw from the window Dorinda tripping lightly in the direction of the village. He was quite sorry for himself.
"I did think that my own daughter had some decent feeling in her," he meditated sadly; "but she's like everyone else--selfish in the extreme. Oh, it's no wonder that I hate everyone. People think only of themselves. Now what the dickens do you want? Hang you!"