over now."

Chester loosened her hands from his neck and shook his head sadly.

"No, Laury," he said, "it is not all over now."

"What!" she cried quickly. "You will not--you cannot go back now."

"Yes," he said, "even if you do not forgive me, I must."

"Fred!"

"Look here, little one," he said wearily; "you have grown to think and
act like a woman, and you complain that I do not confide in you. Well,
I will be frank with you to some extent. Laura dear, I am not my own
master. I cannot do as you wish."

"Fred, you must."

"Say that to some poor creature who is smitten with a terrible mental
complaint; tell him he must be ill no longer, but cast off the ailment.
What will he reply?"

He paused for an answer, but his sister stood gazing at him without a
word.

"He will tell you that he would do so gladly, but that it is
impossible."

"But this is not impossible, Fred," cried Laura; "and you are again
treating me like a child. Yes, I have begun to think like a woman, and
though it may sound shameless I will speak out. Do you think that we do
not know that all this is wicked dissipation?"

He laughed bitterly, as he pressed his hand to his weary head.

"You do not know--you do not know."

"Yes," cried Laura, embracing him again; "I know that my poor brother
has yielded to some temptation, but I know, too, that it only needs a
strong, brave, manly effort to throw it all off; and then we might be
happy once more."

He took her face between his hands and looked down at her lovingly for a
few minutes, then kissed her brow tenderly.

"No," he said; "you do not understand, my child. I am not master of my
actions now."

He hurried from the room. Then she heard the door close, and his
footsteps hurrying up the stairs followed by the banging of his door.

"Lost, lost!" she wailed; and she threw herself sobbing upon the couch.

"Well!" said a sharp voice, and the girl started up and tried hard to
remove all traces of her tears.

"I did not hear you come in, aunt dear."

"Perhaps not, my love, but I have been waiting and listening. Well,
what does he say about coming home in that state last night? I'm sure,
my dear, that was wine! Is he going to be a good boy now?"

Laura uttered a passionate sob.

"Oh no, aunt, oh no!" she cried.

"Because if he is and will repent very seriously, I may some day,
perhaps, forgive him. But I must have full assurance that he is really
sorry for all his wicke