against
his.

"Oh, Uncle John! Uncle John!" she gasped, "it is not what you think."

"I pray God it may not be what I suppose," he said, sadly, stroking her
head. "One is too ready to think evil, I know. God forgive me if I have
judged him harshly. But go in, my dear;" and he pushed her gently
towards the drawing-room.

She went in and closed the door quietly behind her.

Dare was leaning against the mantle-piece, which was draped in Mrs.
Alwynn's best manner, with Oriental hangings having bits of glass woven
in them. He was looking into the curtained fire, and did not turn when
she entered. Even at that moment she noticed, as she went towards him,
that his elbow had displaced the little family of china hares on a plush
stand which Mrs. Alwynn had lately added to her other treasures.

"I think you wished to see me," she said, as calmly as she could.

He faced suddenly round, his eyes wild, his face quivering, and coming
close up to her, caught her hand and grasped it so tightly that the pain
was almost more than she could bear.

"Are you going to give me up?" he asked, hoarsely.

"I don't know," she said; "it depends on yourself, on what you are, and
what you have been. You say she is not your wife?"

"I swear it."

"You need not do so. Your word is enough."

"I swear she is not my wife."

"One question remains," said Ruth, firmly, a flame of color mounting to
her neck and face. "You say she is not your wife. Ought you to make her
so?"

"No," said Dare, passionately; "I owe her nothing. She has no claim upon
me. I swear--"

"Don't swear. I said your word was enough."

But Dare preferred to embellish his speech with divers weighty
expressions, feeling that a simple affirmation would never carry so much
conviction to his own mind, or, consequently, to another, as an oath.

A momentary silence followed.

"You believe what I say, Ruth?"

"Yes," with an effort.

"And you won't give me up because evil is spoken against me?"

"No."

"And all is the same as before between us?"

"Yes."

Dare burst into a torrent of gratitude, but she broke suddenly away from
him, and went swiftly up-stairs again to her own room.

The release had not come. She laid her head down upon the table, and
Hope, which had ventured back to her for one moment, took her lamp and
went quite away, leaving the world very dark.

There are turning-points in life when a natural instinct is a surer
guide than noble motive or high