l about at night?" he inquired curiously.

"No, indeed. And I have been so terrified that I am sure I will never do
it again. I am very sorry, but I will tell auntie all about it
to-morrow," she said, taking her candle and moving towards the stairs.

"Ruth," said Gerald, in an agitated whisper, "wait a minute."

She turned so that the light fell full upon his face, and saw that he
looked white and anxious.

"May I ask you, as a favour, not to mention your adventure with the
burglar? Perhaps it would be better for both of us to be silent about
to-night's occurrence."

"Why? Where have you been, Gerald? You went to bed before ten o'clock,
and"--a thought struck her--"how came the door to be unbolted?"

"Now, Ruth," he said coaxingly, "I know you are a good-natured little
thing, and I don't believe you would do me a bad turn. You know the
governor is always down upon me, won't let me have a latch-key, and says
I must be in by half-past ten. A fellow can't live without a little
pleasure, and if the governor won't let me have it I must take it. But
don't say a word, there's a dear, or you will get me into an awful row."

"But it is so wrong to deceive your father and mother," urged Ruth,
thinking that after all Gerald was not so "grown-up" as he seemed. "Do
you often go out at night?"

"No, very seldom."

It was not true, but he was anxious to conciliate her.

"Well, Ruth, shall we promise each other that we won't say a word about
to-night?"

"I don't know. I don't mind telling auntie what I have done, though I
know it was wrong and foolish, but, of course, I don't want to get you
into trouble. Yet--I can't tell lies----"

"Of course not; I wouldn't wish it. But you can be silent--yes, I
believe you can--and I want you to promise me on your word as a good
little cousin, that you will not mention what has happened to any one."

"Very well," she said, turning away slowly.

"Gerald, will you promise me something?"

"Anything you like."

They were almost upstairs now, and he was anxious for her to be silent.

"Promise that you won't go out at night again without letting your
father know."

"I'll promise," was his whispered reply; and they separated.

Another moment, and Ruth was in her own room, but without the books for
which she had gone downstairs. She had forgotten them and the
translation in her astonishment about Gerald, and when she lay in bed
once more her mind was full of her strange adventure, an