John," he said, "we haven't heard what you think of this
fancy of Ruth's."

"To tell the truth, I don't approve of it, sir. It's as good as saying
that she hasn't any faith in herself, and expected to go to the bad, if
she wasn't bound by a promise she'd put her name to," answered John in a
tone of dissatisfaction.

"My views, exactly, John; besides, it's setting her judgment against
yours, which I wouldn't think of allowing, even at this early juncture,"
said Mr. Groombridge, with a serio-comic expression.

"Oh, father, _you_ wouldn't think of allowing, indeed, when only a few
minutes ago, you declared that mother's judgment was ever so much better
than yours, and that ever since you had known her, you had trusted to it
more than to your own," cried Kate.

"My dear, your remark is quite irrelevant," and Mr. Groombridge
dismissed the inconvenient topic with John and Ruth.

"Don't be angry with me, John; I couldn't do anything else," timidly
said Ruth, as she followed John back to the conservatory.

"I'm not pleased with you, Ruth, I must say. I should like the woman I
have chosen to have so much self respect that she would feel it
impossible to stoop to degrade herself, as you seem to think you could
easily do."

"Oh, John, I thought you would understand me better than that, for you
know so much more than I could tell master and mistress. Why, John,
don't you know how the curse of drink blighted my own home, and made my
early years a misery? Can I ever forget the nightly horror when my
mother staggered home to rouse the neighbourhood with her drunken shouts
and blasphemies? Can I forget the dear little ones I nursed while they
pined away to sink into untimely graves? Can I forget my father's
life-long bitterness and premature end? And if I could forget these
things, how could I forget the dying despair, the loathing of her sin,
and yet the unconquerable craving of disease that held my poor mother
captive through her last hours!"

"Dear Ruthie, hush; don't recall those memories. A brighter life is
before you, and all I blame you for is because you imagine that without
binding yourself you might follow in your mother's footsteps."

"That is where you are wrong, John," said Ruth, looking up at him with
sorrowful eyes: "At my age my mother was no more a slave to drink than I
am. She only took it in moderation, and if any one had suggested to her
that she was in danger of becoming an habitual drinker, she would hav