London's Heart: A Novel

by B. L. Farjeon

"I don't want to, I'm sure," he replied gloomily; "I want to make you happy. I've got no one else to sympathise with me but you. I can't tell Lizzie all these things. It would make me look small, and no man likes to look so in the eyes of the girl he's fond of. Supposing you were me, Lil, how would you feel?"

Terribly perplexed at these alternations of feeling, Lily said whatever she could to comfort him.

"Tell me what I can do, Alfred?" she implored. "A good deal depends upon me, you say. If it does, dear, although I cannot see the meaning of your words, you may be sure that you will get comfortably through all your difficulties. We have been everything to each other all our lives. Do you think there is anything you would ask me to do for you that I would refuse?"

"No," replied Alfred triumphantly, "I am sure there is not. It is ungrateful of me to doubt you even for a moment. Everything will come right--you'll see! Why Lily--look yonder! Is not that Mr. Sheldrake coming along? Yes, it is, by Jove! Almost the best friend I have in the world. How strange, now, that he should appear just as we have been talking of him!"

With perfect trustfulness, Lily said, "Yes, it was strange;" and if her eyes sought the ground, and a troubled feeling took possession of her breast, it was not because she doubted the brother whom she loved with all her heart. Doubt him! No. She was too guileless, too unsuspicious, too simple in her nature, to doubt where she gave her love. But she could not banish the feeling of uneasiness that stole upon her when Mr. Sheldrake came in view, and she could not help hoping he might turn away before he noticed them. But her hope was not to be fulfilled. Mr. Sheldrake, walking in the centre of a broad patch of sunlight, strolled leisurely towards them; apparently he was in an idle mood, for he stopped every two minutes, and gazed about him with a bright look and with the air of one who was gratefully enjoying the beauty of the scene. It was singular that he never once looked before him, and he must therefore have been unconscious of the presence of Lily and Alfred. His grateful mood took a benevolent turn presently, for observing an old woman humbly dressed walking in the shadow of the trees, he called to her, and gave her a small piece of silver. Truly we are a nation of beggars. Strictly speaking this old woman was not a beggar, but she accepted the money with a thankful curtsey. Then Mr. Sheldrake paused before a couple of birds which were hopping about on the ground, contemplating them as though he derived pleasure in all such pretty things, and when they left the ground, he followed their flight with a pleasant smile. In this manner, giving full play to his benevolent instincts, only because he was conscious that he was not being observed, Mr. Sheldrake approached Lily and Alfred. He was quite close to them before he looked up and recognised them.

"What--Alfred! Miss Lily!" he exclaimed. "This is indeed a surprise! and a pleasure," he added, as he raised his hat and bowed to Lily, and shook hands with her and Alfred; then asked of Alfred gaily, "What brings you into the woods? You ought to be reckoning up six-and-eightpence! This is not a fit place for lawyers, is it, Miss Lily? They're not in keeping with birds, and trees, and blue clouds. They ought to be locked up in offices filled with cobwebs. But I never thought Alfred was cut out for a lawyer--did you?"

He addressed Lily, and she, having in her mind Alfred's description of his employer, Mr. Flint, replied, "No, indeed!" and looked at her brother affectionately. Alfred, however, was not quite at his ease; he appeared to be a little disturbed by Mr. Sheldrake's expressions of surprise at seeing them.

"If anything could have given me an additional pleasure," continued Mr. Sheldrake, with a warning look at Alfred, "the height of pleasure, I may say, it is the surprise of coming upon: you both so unexpectedly--in such a totally unexpected manner. I am an idle dog, Miss Lily, and I often take it in my head to run into the country for a day's quiet ramble. There is so much to enjoy in the country; it is so much better than the smoke and whirl of London. Don't you think so?"

Lily could not help agreeing with him, and she said as much.

"Here we are agreeing upon almost everything," he said, with another of his pleasant smiles; "agreeing that Alfred is not cut out for a lawyer; agreeing that the country is so much better than London. That we have something in unison is, believe me, an honour I appreciate."