For John's sake she controlled herself, and sat beside him listening, with an aching heart, to the account of colonial life as Dick had known it; watching also, with a vague uneasiness and dread, John's frequent applications to the spirit with which his brother supplied him. If, in her presence, he so readily yielded to Dick's persuasion to take "just a drop more," what might be the consequence when he was far away from her, and completely under his brother's influence? In one hour all Ruth's bright hopes for the future, and John's well-doing in a distant land, faded; and when she passed out of the reeking atmosphere of the little room into the cool, tranquil moonlight, her heart seemed to have died within her. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER IV. QUITE UNLIKE HIMSELF. "HOW quiet we are, to be sure!" exclaimed John, when he began to observe that Ruth was paying no attention to his noisy talk. "I suppose you're offended with Dick. That's very silly, for he means no harm, and has just been used to say what he likes. He's a good-hearted fellow at bottom." "I don't mind for myself, John; but, oh, I'm sure he won't do you any good. I wish you would go out by yourself, and not depend upon his promises, for I feel he isn't to be trusted." "Rubbish, Ruth; who should I trust if not my own brother? and besides, I've got my eyes open, and am able to look out for myself." "But, John, do forgive me for saying it, you didn't look out for yourself even this evening, for you let Dick give you more brandy than you have ever been in the habit of taking, and it has made you quite unlike yourself, and I cannot help being afraid of what may happen if you go away with him." "I suppose you mean to say I'm drunk," angrily cried John. "No, John, I can't say that; but it wouldn't take much more brandy to make you so." "Then you'd best go home by yourself, for I'm no fit company for you," and John roughly threw Ruth's hand off his arm, and turned back with unsteady footsteps towards the town. The girl stood dismayed. John was indeed quite unlike himself, to leave her in a lonely road to find her way home unattended. She waited for some time, hoping that he would relent, but the last sound of his footsteps died away, and presently she slowly walked on. "Why, where's John?" asked cook, as Ruth entered the kitchen. "Oh, he'll be in directly, I expect. He's just turned back for something. You go off to bed, and I'll see to the fire," carelessly returned Ruth. "Something wrong, I believe," said cook to herself, as she lit her candle, and followed Jane upstairs.