"What is in your mind, Mrs. Dorriman?" he said, kindly, and putting aside his official air he leaned forward and spoke to her, inviting her to speak her confidence.
Mrs. Dorriman turned red and pale, she was troubled, and her nervousness increased.
"I cannot bear parting with the place for ever," she exclaimed, but in a low voice, "if——" In vain poor Mr. Macfarlane waited, words would not come for some time, then in a hurried way she said, "Could I sell on the understanding that I might buy it back when I chose?"
"Yes, it might be done if the money was in your own hands. Was it bought in your name or in that of Mr. Sandford?"
"Ah!" she exclaimed, "then it is hopeless!" Her countenance fell, and Mr. Macfarlane was more sorry for her than ever.
He was himself a little puzzled and anxious. He did not know how far she could keep things to herself, and he had to think before he could offer any suggestion; it would never do to be involved in an angry discussion and correspondence with Mr. Sandford. Then a certain sense of shame came to him. He hated getting into any trouble; he hated interfering, but he was an upright man. What he knew justified him in guiding her, and he could not be so mean as to let her risk losing everything when a word might help her. He was cautious, but without entering into details he might advise her. He knew that giving up her house at Mr. Sandford's bidding was probably because Mr. Sandford had good reasons for wishing her to be under his own eye, and he had enough knowledge of circumstances to make him confident that she would lose nothing by being bolder, and asserting herself a little.
"Mrs. Dorriman," he said, impressively, "I do not think that you will find it answer, either to sell the place or to make private conditions about a sale unknown to your brother. My advice to you is simply this: refuse to sell, and let the place—so pretty and pleasant a place will easily let—and point out to your brother that after your experience of investments you think it better not to sell, but to keep the rent in your own hands, which will make you independent of his assistance during your stay with him; a lady wants clothes and ... a little money for herself."
Mrs. Dorriman coloured vividly. Now exactly he understood—the remembrance of long ago, when as a girl she had been forced to go to him for every little want, and often and often had gone without things rather than face the taunts and grudging words he showered upon her, came to her now. How well! oh! how well, Mr. Macfarlane understood!
Then that hidden thought came up as it often did when memory went back to those old days, and a flash almost of terror as though she had let her secret escape her shone in her eyes and startled Mr. Macfarlane, who was watching her keenly.
"You are sure that in this instance disobeying my brother will not ... will not do harm?" she said in a faltering voice.