As Arnold was in a short time highly exhilarated by the contents of
the table, he became very communicative, and as his conversation was
not such as would be under the head of pure language, we will leave
him to make merry with his set of jovial companions.

Hubert Tracy was calm and self-possessed. He was too much intent
upon some plans to allow himself to become incapable. He had
"another iron in the fire," to quote his expression as he thought
the matter over to himself, and called upon all the powers unknown
to come to his aid.

It was within a short time that Hubert Tracy had become vitiated in
his moral nature. He had hitherto been known as a good-living young
man--one that respected what was good and pure; but the old, old
story--he fell in with bad company, and almost fell beyond reprieve.

You ask, "Had he a home?" He had, indeed, a home, where all that was
good and pure was daily practised--loving, warm-hearted sisters, and
a fond trusting mother had not the power to drag him back from the
tempting gulf of dissipation and allurement. But we will not say
that their prayers were lost. There was yet a small, still voice,
that would intrude itself upon the young man, and despite his
attempts to silence it forever, would steal upon him in the silent
hour of midnight, and haunt him in the noisy abodes of revelry and
carousal. It even forces itself upon him now as he sits planning a
scheme to outwit his rival. The voice is repeating over and over
again the words "Lawson is a good young man," and they are re-echoed
until Hubert Tracy raises his head and glances around as if to
convince himself of the reality. "A good young man," he murmurs