"Really, Ruth, that is too much to expect. It isn't manly to be bound by a pledge, and it makes a fellow look as if he hadn't any pluck or self-confidence to be afraid of a glass. Why, I believe Dick would have nothing to do with me if I took your advice." "So much the better, then," was the decided answer; "Dick will be your ruin if you depend on him. Do give him up and go out by yourself. Master would give you testimonials to his friends in Melbourne, and you could be quite independent of your brother." "I'm not going to depend on Dick; I've got myself to look to. All I want from Dick is a start, and I'll take care he doesn't lead me into harm's way. If not for my own sake, for yours, Ruthie, dear, I will be careful." It was hard for Ruth to utter her determination after John's tender words; but the bitter past had been too vividly before her all the morning to allow her to falter in her purpose for more than a passing moment. "John," she said, "I've quite made up my mind that I cannot follow you to Australia unless you take the pledge first, or at least promise that you will not take intoxicants; for, unless you do so, I know that with the many temptations you will meet, especially if you persist in going with Dick, that all hope of a happy home will be at an end, and I will never risk passing through what I once did." "What on earth are you saying, Ruth? Why, you've promised and can't break your word. I'm going for your sake, and here you say you won't come out to me," cried John, scarce believing his ears. "No, John, I can't, unless you promise what I wish. When I passed my word to you I didn't know what I know now, and I'm quite justified in recalling my promise." "You're a cruel, hard-hearted girl, and I don't believe you care a straw for me, or you wouldn't make a hindrance out of such a paltry thing. I only made a slip yesterday evening, and I vow it shall be for the last time." Deeply pained, Ruth only shook her head. "So you won't believe me! Well, I'll promise no such thing as you ask. I won't be tied to any woman's apron strings," and in extreme irritation, John flung himself out of the kitchen. "This is too hard!" exclaimed Ruth despairingly. Poor girl! the only earthly brightness that had ever come to her was soon quenched in gloom, and she knew nothing of the comfort and peace which faith in the protection and love of a Heavenly Father can afford in the darkest hour. No wonder that courage and hope nearly died out of her stricken heart. The days went by, and John made no attempt to bridge the chasm between himself and Ruth. She knew he was making preparations for speedily leaving England. She also knew that whenever he returned from visiting his father's home, he was more or less the worse for drink. As usual, she stayed up for him, and kept her knowledge of his condition from her fellow-servants, though she could not hide from them that the relationship between them had changed.