a slight
noise, and seeing a bright light shining under the door of the little
study, she turned the handle and opened the door to enter, but stepped
back, half-blinded by the cloud of smoke which immediately enveloped
her. The next moment she discovered the form of Gerald, who was
evidently asleep in his chair, bending over the table, upon which were
some blazing papers. The table itself was on fire, and the cloth that
covered it was smouldering and giving forth volumes of smoke.

[Illustration: ruth-26.jpg]

Ruth gave a piercing scream, which alarmed the household, rushed into
the room, caught up the heavy rug and threw it over the table, seized
her cousin by the arm, and tried with all her might to drag him from the
room.

Before she succeeded in arousing him her aunt and uncle came to her
relief, drawn thither by her cry of alarm. They were soon followed by
the terrified servants, who, under Mr. Woburn's direction, quickly
extinguished the fire and removed Gerald.

The young man was soon restored to consciousness, and started up with a
bewildered look, but his face assumed an expression of fear and horror
as he gradually realized how narrowly he had escaped from a dreadful
death.

"Oh, Gerald! How did it occur?" asked his mother, giving utterance to
the question which had been uppermost in the minds of all.

"Don't ask," he almost groaned; "and yet you must know it, sooner or
later."

"Do tell everything, Gerald," implored Ruth, who, now that the terror
and excitement were over, stood pale and shivering. "It was partly my
fault, you know; I ought not to have made that promise."

Thus entreated, Gerald told them the story of his faults and follies; of
his midnight carousals and their discovery by Ruth, of his overwhelming
love of pleasure, of half-hours stolen from the office during his
father's absence and of work neglected. He went on to say that the chief
clerk had told him, a few days before, that he really must inform Mr.
Woburn how shamefully neglected were the books under his son's care;
that he dreaded his father's anger, and promised to write up the books
and finish his work before the end of January. For this purpose he had
brought home the books and worked at them stealthily by night until
drowsiness overtook him, and he probably knocked over the candle which
had done the mischief.

Mr. Woburn felt more anger than he dared to show at such a time, just
after his son's deliverance from a horribl