"I am certain of it," he said firmly, "and it is best to act quite straightforwardly—I mean," he said, hurriedly correcting himself when he saw her wince, "you would find yourself in quite a false position if you had nominally agreed to do what your brother wished and yet reserved a power which virtually neutralised the sale."
She bowed her head, "You are right, Mr. Macfarlane, and yet...."
"It is natural you should shrink from doing anything to displease him," he said, trying to follow her thoughts and fancying he had done so.
"It is not quite that—it is not only that," she murmured in a low voice.
She had purposely left the letter at home; she wanted him to help her, and yet she did not wish to show him all, or to tell him the rough terms her brother had used. Like many another person she quite forgot that a half-confidence is worse than none.
Mr. Macfarlane was more puzzled now than ever. What was really at the bottom of all this; what did she fear?
The pale slight woman before him, who had never known peace till now, had evidently some complex mode of reasoning entirely beyond his powers of divination.
Poor woman! she saw her tranquil life slipping past her beyond recall, and the problem present to her now was, how she could let Mr. Macfarlane know, she was not quite at her brother's mercy, that she held something in reserve, without allowing him to guess what that something was?
The impossibility of doing this was by turns before her with its desirability, then she joined her secret thought to his outspoken words, and said in a firm voice, "I will refuse to sell." Mr. Macfarlane was immensely surprised, but, imagining that she was simply following the advice he had given her, he was also flattered. Asking advice generally meant making up your mind beforehand and going to hear the reason for and against having done so, when it was too late to alter anything.
"I am sure you are right," he said, warming towards her, "and anything I can do——"