"You asked me to give you my hand a little while ago, my dear. I give it to you now in the way that you wished." There was something solemn in the manner in which he held out his hand to her; and something altogether so new and earnest in him, that it stirred her to deeper feeling, as his hand closed over hers. "Now for Alfred," he said; "do you know if he bets in his own name?" "He has never told me." "You have some letters of his?" "Yes, daddy." "It is time for you to go to bed, my dear. I want to see Alfred's writing. I will come up with you, and you will give me one or two of his letters. Trust me, child, I have a good reason for what I am doing. So now, kiss me, and let us go upstairs." He kissed her at her bedroom door again, when she gave him the letters. "We'll try and be a match for this enemy of ours, Lizzie." "O daddy," she answered, with a bright look, "you have made my heart light!" CHAPTER XXXIV. GOOD COUNSEL. The cab was turning the corner of the little street in Soho in which Lily lived, and Lily was about to ring the door-bell, when Mr. Sheldrake laid his hand on her wrist, and said: "Let me have a few minutes' conversation with you to-night. I beg it as a favour." Not daring for Alfred's sake to refuse, Lily tremblingly suggested that they should go indoors and talk; but Mr. Sheldrake said, in a tone that was half decided and half imploring: "I cannot speak to you in the house." She raised her eyes to his face for an explanation, and he answered the look. "Your grandfather is not my friend." "But that is not grandfather's fault," she said loyally. "I do not say it is; it is my misfortune, perhaps. He is not so much a friend of Alfred's as he should be." "How can you say that?" asked Lily, with a beating heart. "You are wrong--very wrong; grandfather loves Alfred." "I only judge from what Alfred has told me. So far as regards myself, of course, I can see that your grandfather is not over cordial to me. He has no right to be otherwise; I have been a good friend to his grandson, and I deserve some better return." "I know, I know, Mr. Sheldrake," said Lily earnestly. "Alfred has told me of your kindness to him. I am very grateful to you for it, believe me." "Well, then," rejoined Mr. Sheldrake briskly, "you can scarcely refuse me the small favour of a few minutes' quiet conversation with you--although I accept it as a great favour. It is a fine night, and after the heat of the theatre, the air will do you no harm." She had no power to refuse, and they turned slowly from the door. Near to the house was an arched avenue which led to one of the larger thoroughfares. Not many persons were stirring in this quiet courtway, and thither Mr. Sheldrake led Lily. "If we walk up and down slowly," he said, "our talking together at this time of night will not attract attention. Pray take my arm."