Then Arthur's father ceased. But once more he looked up in the boy's face— "My friend told me to warn all, all, against this awful curse of drink. "I have told you all this, Arthur, that I may warn you, my son. May God bless you and keep you." Could Arthur forget this scene? Was not the memory of this crushed, wasted life sufficient to help him to keep his resolve? * * * * * * * When they returned home from the Zoological Gardens that evening, Arthur was very silent. Frank rallied him several times on his moroseness, but somehow felt it was a different sort of quiet from any of his previous fits of depression. When tea was done, Arthur sought for his mother, and found her resting on the sofa in her room. "May I come in and have a little talk with you, mother?" "Oh yes, dear!" Arthur sat down by her side and was silent. "Well, my dear?" she said at last. "Mamma, dear, I have something to tell you, and I don't know how to say it." Mrs. Arundel put her soft hand into his, and with the greatest tenderness said, "What is it, my dear boy?" "Mamma, I have been on the verge of—of—being tempted into actual sin. Oh, mamma, I thought I was strong! But—but—I did not know there could be so much wickedness." "My child," said Mrs. Arundel, in a whisper of terrible fear, "What is it? What has tempted you?" "It is nothing particular, dear mamma; it has been things Frank has told me of—things they do and say on board ship. Till to-day, I hardly guessed that he was trying to undermine my faith in you, and papa, and Ada; but this afternoon, a conversation we had put things in their true light. Oh, mamma, when I tell you that to-night we had arranged to go for a short time to the theatre!" "My poor boy." "We should not have been late. He promised to come away in an hour; but he said it was the late hours you and papa objected to; and somehow or other he made me feel it was only a lark, and not wrong. But I see it now; and think—just think!—if I had deceived you." Mrs. Arundel pressed his hand closely, and he went on— "Then he was always bringing up my love for you, and for Nellie and Ada, and making out it was 'petticoat government;' and I have been so cross and unhappy." "Have you told me all the worst, dearest?" said Mrs. Arundel, very softly. "Yes, mamma; the theatre was the worst. But somehow the stories he told me seem to feel the worst to me; and though I kept on telling him, I didn't want to hear, he only laughed and went on." Mrs. Arundel laid her face on her boy's hand, and warm tears and kisses fell upon it. "My dear, dear boy!" she said. "Do you think you will ever trust me again?" he asked, clasping her round the neck, and weeping. "Indeed, indeed I shall." "You must tell papa," said Arthur, in a low tone. "I do not think I can. But, oh, mamma, I am so very thankful I woke up in time." "What made you think, dearest?"