striking. Ruth's inward comment was not complimentary, but she struggled with herself, and when John said by way of introduction, "Dick, I've brought Ruthie to see you," she stretched out her hand with no hesitation of manner.

"Glad to see you, my lass. Jack's a more knowing dog than I thought for, I declare," he exclaimed, looking at Ruth's sweet, upturned face with such coarse approbation, that the girl's eyes fell under his scrutiny.

"Guess I may claim a brother's right a little beforehand," continued Dick, trying to draw Ruth to him.

Ruth's eyes flashed, and she started back indignantly, saying: "Indeed, you shall do no such thing, Mr. Richard."

"Come, come, Dick, Ruth isn't the girl to allow any liberty," interposed John, putting Ruth into a chair.

"Prudish, eh? Ah, well, colonial life will soon knock that rubbish out of her," returned Dick, in an unpleasant tone.

"So you're really bent on going as well, John?" asked his mother, anxiously.

"Well, yes, mother; Ruth says she'll come after me, and I quite agree with Dick in thinking I ought to be doing better for myself."

"It's hard to bring up children, and then see them go off to foreign parts so easily," murmured the poor mother.

"Why, mother, you've got Susan, and Tom, and Bess all settled near, and I'll come over and pay you a visit when I've made my fortune; and you may be sure I'll never forget the dear old folks at home;" and John laid his hand affectionately upon his mother's shoulder.

"I say, can't you stop your sentimental rubbish, and get to business?" cried Dick.

The mother sighed, and knowing well what Dick would consider a necessary prelude and accompaniment to business arrangements, brought out a bottle of spirits, some hot water, and glasses.

"Come, my dear, I'll just mix you a glass, and we'll make up our quarrel and be friends," said Dick graciously to Ruth.

"Pray don't trouble, for I never take anything of the kind," replied Ruth, very stiffly.

"Mean to say that you belong to the teetotal set!"

"I do."

"Well, I'm glad Jack's got better sense than to follow your example," answered Dick; and from that time he treated Ruth with open disdain.

For John's sake she controlled herself, and sat beside him listening, with an aching heart, to the account of colonial life as Dick had known it; watching also, with a vague uneasiness and dread, John's frequent applications to the spirit with which his brother supplied him. If, in her presence, he so readily yielded to Dick's persuasion to take "just a drop more," what might be the consequence when he was far away from her, and completely under his brother's influence?

In one hour all Ruth's bright hopes for the future, and John's well-doing in a distant land, faded; and when she passed out of the reeking atmosphere of the little room into the cool, tranquil moonlight, her heart seemed to have died within her.

CHAPTER IV.

QUITE UNLIKE HIMSELF.

"I don't mind for myself, John; but, oh, I'm sure he won't do you any good. I wish you would go out by yourself, and not depend upon his promises, for I feel he isn't to be trusted."

"Rubbish, Ruth; who should I trust if not my own brother? and besides, I've got my eyes open, and am able to look out for myself."

"But, John, do forgive me for saying it, you didn't look out for yourself even this evening, for you let Dick give you more brandy than you have ever been in the habit of taking, and it has made you quite unlike yourself, and I cannot help being afraid of what may happen if you go away with him."

"I suppose you mean to say I'm drunk," angrily cried John.

"No, John, I can't say that; but it wouldn't take much more brandy to make you so."

"Then you'd best go home by yourself, for I'm no fit company for you," and John roughly threw Ruth's hand off his arm, and turned back with unsteady footsteps towards the town. The girl stood dismayed. John was indeed quite unlike himself, to leave her in a lonely road to find her way home unattended. She waited for some time, hoping that he would relent, but the last sound of his footsteps died away, and presently she slowly walked on.

"Why, where's John?" asked cook, as Ruth entered the kitchen.

"Oh, he'll be in directly, I expect. He's just turned back for something. You go off to bed, and I'll see to the fire," carelessly returned Ruth.

"Something wrong, I believe," said cook to herself, as she lit her candle, and followed Jane upstairs.

For an hour Ruth waited, and then, unable to bear the suspense, she threw a shawl over her head, and slipped down to the garden gate to watch for John. At length, shivering with cold, she was about to return to the house, when she heard in the distance the noisy snatch of a song. "It can't be John, of course; but I'll just hide behind the laurels till the drunken fellow has passed," thought Ruth. Nearer and nearer came the sound, till, with beating heart, Ruth stepped into the moonlight, and laid her hand on the lips that were profaning the stillness of the midnight air.

"Oh, John; hush, hush! If master should hear you! Oh, what have you been doing, my poor boy?" John made but a feeble resistance to the strong loving hands that drew him into the house.

"Well, I've had a spree, and why mayn't I, with my own brother?" he said, with an inane smile on his face, as he sank into a chair. Ruth made no answer, but wrung a towel out of cold water, and bound it around John's throbbing temples. Then she put the remains of some strong coffee, which had been sent down from the drawing-room, over the fire.

"Drink it," she said, offering it to him when it was sufficiently heated.

"It's horrid," said John, shuddering as he tasted the unmilked, sugarless liquid.

"It will do you good; drink it at once." John obeyed, and Ruth stood watching the effect of ministrations such as she had so often rendered in the past to her drinking mother. In a few minutes John rose to his feet with a sigh.

"I've been a fool to-night, Ruth; but I'll go off to bed, and by morning I'll be in my right senses," he said.

She lit his candle, and carried it for him to the foot of the attic stairs, then went to her own room, and till morning light dawned, resolved endless schemes for preventing the carrying out of John's plans to go abroad with the brother whose influence had already been so powerful for evil. Finally, she determined to speak plainly to John, and tell him she could never consent to follow him if he had anything to do with Dick, unless he promised to sign the pledge before going away. Then she fell into a troubled sleep, until it was time to commence another day's duties.

"I'm desperately ashamed of myself," said John, when alone