e of the little room into the cool, tranquil moonlight,
her heart seemed to have died within her.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IV.

QUITE UNLIKE HIMSELF.

"HOW quiet we are, to be sure!" exclaimed John, when he began to observe
that Ruth was paying no attention to his noisy talk. "I suppose you're
offended with Dick. That's very silly, for he means no harm, and has
just been used to say what he likes. He's a good-hearted fellow at
bottom."

"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 he