ly asked:

"By the bye, Ruth, when did you last hear from John?" Ruth turned away
to hide the painful flushing of her face.

"I--I--what did you say, ma'am?"

"When did John last write to you?"

A silence ensued, and then Ruth said: "He's written to his parents,
ma'am, and not to me."

"Why, how is that, Ruth? Surely you expected to hear from him."

"Not much, ma'am," Ruth forced herself to say.

"But, Ruth, if you are going out to marry him, he ought to write to you,
and you ought to expect him to do so." Ruth's apparent apathy gave way
as the remembrance of all her happy dreaming swept over her at her
mistress's words. She buried her face in her hands and wept bitterly.
Mrs. Groombridge laid a kindly hand upon her shoulder. "Sit down, my
poor child, and tell me all about your trouble. Something is wrong
between you and John, and perhaps I can help to make it right."

"Oh, no, no, ma'am, it's past any one's help," sobbed Ruth, and by
degrees her sorrowful story was told. "And, ma'am, I know that his
brother will be the ruin of John; he'll go downhill fast, as many a fine
young fellow has done."

Mrs. Groombridge looked grave. She was no abstainer, as we know; but she
could not help seeing the danger that menaced John, if he could be so
easily persuaded to overstep the limits of prudence and sobriety.

"Yes, Ruth, I think there is cause for anxiety about John, but you must
not lose heart. I think you acted unwisely in letting him go as you did;
at least you might have gone out to him if you knew he was keeping sober
and doing well, and the very anticipation of your coming might have
given him a motive and impetus that nothing else could. Men dislike to
be forced into anything, and have a great objection to be bound by a
pledge. You should have been more careful in urging that."

"But, ma'am, John was one of those who needed to promise, for he's
good-tempered and obliging, and doesn't know how to refuse a friend."

"Still, I think you were too hasty in cutting away the hope he had of
your going out to him. What has he to look forward to?"

"Perhaps you are right, ma'am. I might have waited; but I was frightened
to think of what might lie before me. I know the misery of a home cursed
by drink."

"Ruth, will you write and say as much to John? Tell him you'll come out
to him as soon as he has a home ready for you, and he can assure you
that he is leading a sober life."

A hard, almost defiant look passed i