When they reached the store door, Wilkins rapped before entering, and Guly, remembering that Quirk was within, and not wishing to meet that young gentleman, told Wilkins he would go to his own room by the alley-way. He had the pass-key for the small door; so they shook hands and parted, just as the front door was being opened.

In a few moments Guly stood in the large old room, which was the only spot he could look upon as home.

All that surrounded him was darkness and gloom; for he had no lamp, and the night-light of heaven never entered there. But Guly was happy, and the bare floor had lost its hardness to him as he knelt to pour out the fervent prayer of gratitude gushing from his heart.

He had forgotten to listen for his brother's breathing, from the lowly bed in the corner; the throbbing of his own glad heart was all he heard, and for once in his life Guly was selfishly happy.

But when he threw himself upon his pillow, he became conscious that he was alone; there was no gentle hand, half-roused from slumber, to creep about him with a brother's love, and there was no half-escaped sigh or murmured word of half-awakened welcome. Arthur's pillow was cold, his place deserted.

As soon as he became conscious of this fact, the glow of happiness and delight went out in his heart, like a suddenly smothered lamp. He had expected Arthur would return as soon as he left him, but he had not done so, and Guly grew restless and anxious in wondering where he could have gone, and in what way he might be occupied.

Never in all the hurry and excitement in which he had been thrown, never in all the trouble and apprehension which had so early burdened his young heart, had Guly forgotten his mother's parting injunctions, her tears, her sorrow, or her counsel. Their memory had burned in his bosom with a steady beacon blaze, and he had watched and guarded the flame even as did the ancients their sacred fires.

Now, as he lay pondering on his brother's danger, he felt that he could not sleep happily, conscious of a duty unperformed, and he determined to rise and go in search of him. As he crossed the floor to find his clothes, he struck his foot against some light object, which went half way across the room with the strong and sudden impetus he had given it. He remembered that the lamp they had used the night before was left upon the floor beside the bed, and had probably not been removed. Glad to gain a light, he groped about until he found it, struck a match, and the lamp's feeble blaze illuminated some portion of the surrounding gloom. He was partially dressed when he paused to listen, sure that he heard the murmur of excited voices coming from the store below.

He threw a white flannel dressing gown about him with facings of pale blue silk, and cord and tassel of the same delicate hue, bearing evidence of its being a relic of better days. Scarce knowing what he did, the boy took the lamp in one hand and his Bible in the other, and passed forth from the room; the door, covered with its gay advertisements, swinging solemnly, shut behind him, as if it partook of the anxious sorrow of that youthful breast.

With firm step Guly went down the winding stairs. He descended slowly, and the voices he heard grew more distinct with every step. As he gained the last turn in the staircase, he stood in view of the whole main part of the store, and stopped, looking at the scene before him in sad astonishment.

Between the counters, about half way through the store, was a small deal table, containing a lamp, four hands of cards just dealt, and several wine glasses partially emptied of their contents. On one of the counters stood a number of bottles; some empty, some half filled, and one as yet unopened. Arthur was seated at the head of the table with a small pile of gold beside him, and his face flushed and excited. Quirk was opposite him, and two other clerks made up the party. Wilkins was standing behind Arthur, attempting with earnest tone and warm entreaties to draw him away; but with every sentence Arthur answered him insolently, and rudely shook the pleading hand from his shoulder.

"Your conduct shall be reported, sir, to-morrow," at last said Wilkins, hoping to move Arthur by his pride.

"Report it then if you choose; don't you see I'm trying to win enough to pay that d——d debt of mine?"

"How much have you won already?"

"One hundred and eleven dollars."

"One hundred and eleven dollars! well, boys, you must be staking your salaries to-night, I should think; but, come, Arthur, if you have won that much, stop now; for you won't win much longer, and if you'll give up this kind of business, I'll make up the rest for you, and your debt shall be canceled. Come, I can't bear to see a young man of your abilities, and one who has a mother with a heart to break, beginning this practice. It's awful!"

At any other moment an appeal of this kind might have touched Arthur's heart; but he had drained his wine cup several times, and the exciting draughts had already exerted their powerful influence over his young frame to a degree which rendered him deaf to everything beyond the prospect of regaining that sum which he had so unluckily, as he declared, lost.

"You are altogether too good, Mr. Wilkins, but I don't need any assistance when I am prospering as I now am."

"That's right, Pratt!" exclaimed Quirk, with an encouraging wink; "pick up your cards, and show 'em you ain't to be nosed around by anybody, and that you didn't come so many hundred miles from home tied fast by your mammy's long apron-string."

"Had I known this was your intention, Mr. Quirk, when you asked me for the key, you would never have got it I assure you," said Wilkins, coldly. "Isn't it enough for you to be bad and unprincipled, without dragging those who might do better, if let alone, with you into the pit?"

"'Taint my fault if he can't resist temptation," replied the other, doggedly. "Come, Pratt, it's your play."

"Arthur, don't throw another card!" exclaimed Wilkins, at the same time arresting the uplifted hand.

Arthur struggled to release it, but Wilkins held it firmly, and drew him back from the table as he sat in his chair, and held him fixedly there in his grasp.

"Arthur, I treat you as I would a younger brother; an eye experienced in such matters shows me the danger you are in; stop now, in mercy to yourself and all who love you."

"Release me, Mr. Wilkins; you have no right to act in this manner to me, sir."

"Yes!" shouted Quirk, seizing an empty bottle with a dreadful imprecation, and levelling it at Wilkins' head, "release him this minute if you don't want this through your skull!"

At this instant one of the other clerks caught sight of Guly, who had stood where he stopped, as if spell-bound, through all this scene.

"Look there!" cried the young man, pointing toward the staircase, and dropping the cards he held.

They all turned their heads and looked toward Guly, who seemed, standing there in his white robe, with the lamp elevated just in front of his forehead, not unlike some spiritual visitant bearing a star on his brow.

The attention which had been called to him, seemed in a measure to rouse Guly, for he came on slowly down the stairs, but with his blue eyes open and fixed like one walking in his sleep.

Not one of the startled group before him moved a muscle or dropped an eye as he advanced, but gazed upon him like persons under the influence of magnetism.

He approached the table, put his lamp upon it, and laid his Bible down beside it. He turned his eyes upon Arthur, and stood with his hands clasped, looking at him as Wilkins still held him drawn back from the table in his chair.

Still no eye was turned, no lip moved, not a word was uttered. There was something to awe the stoutest soul in the almost unearthly expression of the boy's face, as he gazed upon his brother with an unutterable hopelessness shining from his eyes. Never, in all his fears for Arthur's erring steps, had Guly thought of this. Never had the idea of gambling crossed his mind; and now, as he saw him engaged in it, his heart seemed to grow cold, and he stood looking at him as if he felt the future was but a wild abyss, into which he must inevitably fall, and near the brink of which he had too closely approached ever to escape.

All his hopes, his aspirations, and ambition for that brother fell on the instant from their throne, and, as they vanished, gave back but the one sad echo—"Lost! lost! lost!"

Arthur had looked up, and met the light of those sad eyes but for an instant, then dropped his head, and sat, with changing cheek, nervously fingering the cards which, at Quirk's suggestion, he had picked up from the table.

The silence which had fallen upon the party was abruptly broken by Quirk, who suddenly bent forward and read the title of the book which Guly had laid upon their card-table.

"H—ll!" he muttered between his short teeth; "what the devil did you lay that right in the midst of our cards for? that's no place for it. Who ever heard of cards and Bible keeping company on the same board?"

"Had you never neglected the one, you would not now be engaged with the other," returned Guly, speaking in a soft but impressive voice; and turning his eyes for an instant from Arthur to Quirk, but immediately reverting them.

Arthur flung his cards upon the table, but without once lifting his eyes. He seemed to feel all that his brother looked, without meeting that full, sad gaze of hopeless sorrow.

"Come, now, Arthur," said Guly, at last, laying his small, girlish hand upon his brother's brow; "you are tired and excited. It is late, too—come with me to our own room."

Arthur was ashamed to show any heed of his brother's words before his present companions, and he drew his head away from the gentle touch of that kindly hand, and remarked that he would go when he chose—not before; that he was used to late hours, and he'd run the risk of all deleterious effects.

"That's it—I like your pluck!" shouted Quirk, too excited by the wine he had drank to heed the presence of the head clerk. "Don't let's be scared out of our rubber by a baby-faced boy, and a big Bible—'hanged if we will."

"You shall not play another round beneath this roof to-night," said Wilkins, resolutely. "If you do not vacate this place within five minutes, I will turn every one of you out of doors by main force."

"I'd like to see you try that game once," replied Quirk, instantly, bending suddenly forward, as if to grasp the book upon the table.

Before he could touch it, Guly had caught it in his own hands.

"This was my mother's Bible. Never shall a defiling finger touch its sacred pages. Oh! Arthur, if there is any brotherly love left in your heart for me, go with me to-night. You well know there is no fear of reproof from me—I could not give it, if I would."

Arthur rose resolutely, swept the gold into his pocket, and took his brother's hand.

"Zounds, Pratt! you won't leave us so!"

"Your five minutes are up," said Wilkins, firmly, lifting his foot and turning the table, with its contents, over upon the floor.

"Ten thousand devils!" shouted Quirk, madly; and catching up the neck of a broken bottle, he hurled it fiercely at Wilkins, who was approaching him.

It glanced—turned aside by the head-clerk's self-defending hand—and struck Guly upon the temple. With a faint moan he sank bleeding to the floor, clasping his mother's Bible to his breast.