was fresh and pure looking, but the man who had returned in his place was bloated and pimpled, and his once frank eyes now wandered furtively about.

"John's grown a fine fellow, hasn't he, Dick?" asked the mother, proudly.

"He ain't bad-looking, if that's what you mean, but he don't look up to snuff. No offence, Jack. I'll teach you a few wrinkles. Have a pipe, boy."

"Thanks," said John, replenishing his own.

"Take a glass," and Dick made a bumper of hot spirit and pushed it towards his brother.

"I don't take spirit, Dick. A glass of ale now and then is enough for me."

"Stuff and nonsense, Jack. Take it like a man. There's nothing like a glass of brandy and water for putting life into a fellow."

John took the glass, with a twinge of conscience as he thought of Ruth. But in the excitement of his brother's stirring accounts of bush life everything else was forgotten, and he not only drained the spirit before him, but finished a second glass with which Dick slyly supplied him.

"I tell you, Jack," said his brother, at the close of the evening, "life in England is a slow-going, humbugging sort of thing; hard work and little pay; you've got to bow and scrape to those who've got the brass, and they lord it over you as they don't dare to do anywhere else. Now, where I've come from, Jack's as good as his master, and in as fair a way of making his fortune too. Take my advice, boy, and come back with me. In a year or two you'll have made a home for that bonny lass I've been hearing of, and you can send for her. What do you say, eh?"

For a minute John was too surprised to speak. "Really, Dick, you've taken me unawares. I'd like to get on faster than I have been doing, and make a better home for my little woman than I've any prospect of doing here; but for all that, what you propose is too serious a step to think of taking without a deal of thought, and I don't know what Ruth would say."

"If the girl's got any grit in her, she'll say, 'go, by all means, and send for me as quick as you can.' You can work your passage out, and I could get you into a store at Melbourne, and you're such a sticker, you'd be sure to get on. Now I never expect to be a rich man; I can't plod, and I must have change; but you're different, and would soon make your fortune."

John bade his parents and brother good-night, and walked home revolving the new idea. It was surrounded by a halo of romance that rendered it increasingly attractive to him. Success and happiness seemed to lay within his easy reach, and by the time that he arrived at his master's house he had quite decided to accompany his brother back to Australia, if Ruth would only consent to follow him.

"And she's such a loving, sensible little thing; she wouldn't wish to stand in my way for a moment, especially when she knows it is for her own sake I want to go."

So thinking, John let himself in through the garden door, and was not surprised to find a dark figure, with white cap and apron, standing on the kitchen doorstep waiting for him.

"You are late, John; cook and Jane have gone to bed."

"Well, Ruthie, I'm glad of that, because if you're not too tired, I want a chat with you."

Too tired, indeed! When all the evening Ruth had been looking forward to that few minutes as her ample compensation for the disappointments and worries she had borne so patiently.

CHAPTER III.

HOPES AND FEARS.

"Why, yes, dear, I believe so; but Dick put so many new ideas into my head that I didn't know how the time passed," replied John, wondering how he should speak of his new plans to Ruth.

"What sort of ideas, John?"

"He's been talking of Australia, and saying there's no place like it for getting on in the world, and, of course, he's likely to know; and, Ruthie, dear, he said if I would go back with him, he'd put me in the way of making money, and getting a home ready for you in no time."

Ruth took her hand out of John's, and stared fixedly into the fire.

"Can't you say something, Ruth?" asked John, after waiting several minutes. Ruth breathed hard.

"What do you say, John? Do you want to go?"

"I don't want to leave you, darling, but if you'd promise to come out to me, I think it would be a good thing for both of us. I could get on so much better, and we could marry so much quicker than if I plodded on at the rate I'm going now."

"Then," said Ruth, looking up with a brave smile upon her white face, "you must go, John, and when you send for me I'll come out to you."

"Bless you, my dear, brave girl, you shall never repent your decision," cried John. "I'll work harder than ever, and we'll soon be together again, never to say good-bye."

But at that dread word, Ruth's composure gave way, and she hid her face.

"Don't take on so, Ruthie. It will only be a short separation, and we're bound to each other for life," said John, trying to soothe her.

"I've no fear in letting you go from me, John," answered Ruth, proudly, through her tears; "and after you're once gone, I shall look forward to seeing you again." And the lump in Ruth's throat was choked back, and she sat up with an air that was plainly intended to carry a warning to any rebellious tears that might threaten.

"And now, John, tell me about your brother. Is he like you?"

John laughed.

"I'm afraid you wouldn't think so, Ruthie, and I can't say Australia has much improved him. However, you must judge for yourself, for I shall take you to see him soon. He sent kind messages to you, and is anxious to make your acquaintance."

But Dick was soon dismissed from the conversation, for Ruth and John had much to talk over that was of far more interest even than a brother newly arrived from the other side of the world. Before they parted that night, John had succeeded in imparting to Ruth a little of his own enthusiasm in view of the new life he was about to enter upon, though her last thought before closing her weary eyes in sleep was: "Women feel so differently from men, and I must try and not discourage John by any of my fears, poor boy!"

A few days later she accompanied John to his home.

"Dick's out, my dear, but he'll be in directly, as he knew you were coming," said Mrs. Greenwood, affectionately greeting Ruth.

"He don't care to spend much of his time with his old father and mother, Dick don't," complained Mr. Greenwood.

"We can hardly expect he'd settle down to our quiet ways, father, such a boy for company as he is. John's different now, and he'll be sure to make a comfortable stay-at-home husband; but then he hasn't the go in him that my Dick has."

"He's quite sufficient, anyhow," said Ruth quickly, with an instinctive feeling of dislike towards the brother who she felt must be so different to John. Truly, as the door opened just then, and Dick's ungainly figure appeared, the contrast between the brothers was