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 into Ruth's eyes for a moment. She thought how cruelly John had left her, without a word of tenderness, and she said coldly: "Oh, no, ma'am, I couldn't do that; if John would write and ask me, I might; but I will never humble myself to him, for he has been wrong and unkind all through, and I dare say he's glad to be free." She had said the same to herself many a time since the morning when John had said good-bye to her with as much composure as if he were going to return in a few hours, and she had almost grown to believe they must be true. Nevertheless, her heart leaped to hear her mistress say: "You should not try to think that, Ruth, for I believe you wrong John by doing so; he is true and manly, and probably he would be only too happy to receive a letter from you." "Well, ma'am, I don't feel as if I could write first," was the obstinate reply; and Ruth presently left the room with a still heavier heart than she had entered it. "It's a sad case, George, and my conscience is not at rest about the part we have played in it," was Mrs. Groombridge's remark to her husband, after retailing her conversation with Ruth. "How are we to blame, my dear?" was the surprised question. "I can't help remembering how we laughed at Ruth for her fanatical whims as we called them, and encouraged John to do the same. Events have proved she was right. Perhaps if we had taken another stand, John might have followed Ruth's example, and all this unhappiness been spared to both." "Perhaps," was the curt response.