“Here’s to freedom and principle!” said Watson, lifting his glass, after having filled his own and Barclay’s.

“And here’s to the same high moral (sic) atributes which should ever be man’s distinguishing characteristics,” responded Barclay, lifting his own glass, and touching with it the brim of that held in the hand of his friend.  Both then emptied their glasses at a draught.

“Really, that is delicious!” Barclay said, smacking his lips, as the rich flavour of the wine lingered on his palate with a sensation of exquisite delight.

“It’s a pretty fair article,” was the indifferent reply of Watson—­“though I have tasted better in my time.  Long abstinence has made its flavour peculiarly pleasant.  Here, let me fill your glass again.”

Without hesitating, Barclay presented his glass, which was again filled to the brim.  In the next moment it was empty.  So eager was he to get it to his lips, that he even spilled a portion of the wine in lifting it hurriedly.  Suddenly his old, and as he had thought, extinguished desires, came back upon him, roused into vigorous activity, like a giant awakening refreshed by a long repose.  So keen was his appetite for wine, and stimulating drinks, thus suddenly restored, that he could no more have withstood its influence than he could have borne up against the current of a mighty river.

“Help yourself,” said his friend, ere another minute had elapsed, as Barclay took up the bottle to fill his glass for the third time.  “Long-abstinence has no doubt made you keen.”

“It certainly has, or else this is the finest article of wine that has ever passed my lips.”

’It’s not the best quality by a good deal; still it is pretty fair.  But won’t you try a mint-julep, or a punch, by way of variety?”

“No objection,” was the brief response.

“Which will you choose?”

“I’ll take a julep.”

“Two juleps,” said Watson to the waiter who entered immediately afterwards.

The juleps were soon ready, each furnished with a long straw.

“Delicious!” was Barclay’s low, and delighted ejaculation, as he bent to the table, and “imbibed” through the straw a portion of the liquid.

“Our friend R—­understands his business,” was Watson’s brief reply.

A silence of some moments ensued, during which a painful consciousness of danger rushed through the mind of Barclay.  But with an effort he dismissed it.  He did not intend to drink beyond the bounds of moderation, and why should he permit his mind to be disturbed by idle fears?

* * * * *

“It is time that brother was here,” Alice said to Helen Weston, as the two maidens sat alone, near a window in Helen’s chamber, the evening twilight falling gently and with a soothing influence.

“Yes.  I expected him earlier,” was the reply, in a low tone, while Helen’s bosom heaved with a new, and exquisitely pleasurable emotion.  “What can keep him?”