His manner was perfectly respectful, and Lily's first feeling of discomfort at his appearance was wearing away. Everything was in his favour. He was Alfred's friend, and must be really attached to her brother, as was proved by his acts; he had given money to a poor woman, and the manner in which he regarded the birds was unmistakable evidence that he possessed a kindly nature. Then the stories which Alfred had told her of Mr. Sheldrake's benevolence recurred to her, and she was disposed to be angry with herself for being uncharitably disposed towards him. Certainly she had done him an injustice; certainly she owed him reparation. And so she spoke to him in such tones as thrilled him to hear. She told him of Alfred's kindness, of how she had enjoyed herself; how much she loved the country, and how she would like to live in it always.
"But then we have everything we wish for," she said sweetly.
"You ought to have," said Mr. Sheldrake gallantly, "your wishes are so simple. It is only a question of money."
"But what a teasing question that is!" she remarked, thinking of Alfred's troubles.
Mr. Sheldrake replied warmly that it was a burning shame (Lily was accustomed to hear such phrases from Alfred's lips, and therefore they did not sound strange to her coming from Mr. Sheldrake); if he had his way, he would take from those who had too much to give to those who had too little; things were unequal, that's what they were. Why should people be condemned to wish, when their wishes were reasonable and good, as Lily's wishes were? If there was one thing that would delight him more than another, it would be to be allowed the privilege of helping her to what she most desired. But that, of course, could not be; the conventionalities of society stepped in and said, "You must not." Was that not so? Lily said, "Yes, it was so," without at all understanding what he meant by his rodomontade.
"O, by-the-way, Alfred," said Mr. Sheldrake, after a few minutes' conversation of this description, "I have a note for you."
Alfred started like a guilty thing, for in his excited state every little unexpected event brought alarm with it. He crushed the note in his hand without looking at it, without daring to look at it. What could it contain? Was it from Con Staveley, reminding him of the acceptance so nearly due, and which he had not the means of paying? Or was it from Mr. Sheldrake himself, reminding him of his obligation to that gentleman? He was in such distress and trouble that he could not conceive it could contain any good news.
"Why don't you read it?" asked Mr. Sheldrake, with a smile. "We'll excuse you."
Alfred stepped behind a tree, so that he might hide his agitation. His heart beat wildly as he looked at the writing on the envelope--beat wildly, not with distress, but with surprise and pleasure. Opening the note hastily, he read, "Dear Alfred,--I am waiting for you. Mr. Sheldrake will tell you where I am.--Your own Lizzie." And then of course came a postscript: "What a kind good friend Mr. Sheldrake is!" Alfred read the note twice, and with a beaming face came towards Mr. Sheldrake.
"Well!" said that kind good friend. "Alfred seems pleased at something, doesn't he, Miss Lily? Good news in the note, Alf?"