peril."

"I know it."

Then Charles was silent for a moment, listening to the song of a bird in
its leafy bower. When the feathered songster had warbled forth his lay
and flown to a distant tree on which to try its notes, Charles asked:

"Have you seen your father recently?"

"He was here two months ago."

"Did he want to take you away with him?"

"He did; but I could not go. I promised to remain until your return."

"Cora, may it not be dangerous so far on the frontier?"

"There is danger; but he has secured me a home with the family of Mr.
Dustin, where he thinks I will be safe."

"Is your father's brother with him?"

"He is."

"Did they come here together?"

"Yes; they are inseparable."

"Cora, don't you think there is some mystery about those brothers, which
you do not understand?"

"I know there is."

"Were they both players?"

"I believe they once were."

"Have you told your father of the persecutions of Mr. Parris?"

"Not all."

"Why not?"

"It would have done no good, and would have caused him unnecessary
annoyance," she answered meekly.

"Just like you, Cora, always afraid of making some one trouble."

Her eyes were on the brooklet and filled with tears, as she remembered
how happy Adelpha Leisler had been when at Salem, and how heavily the
hand of affliction had fallen upon her.

"Charles, were you with her when it happened?" she asked.

"I was."

"Did you comfort her?"

"Such poor words of comfort as one can offer on such occasions, I gave
her," he answered.

"It was so sad, and she is so good, so kind and so noble. Did she bear
up well under her great afflictions?"

"As well as one could."

"Alas, the fires of affliction are to try the faithful. God gave her
strength to bear up under her trials and sufferings."

"Her troubles are over, Cora, and ours are but just begun."

"What do you mean?"

"This cloud of superstition which is settling about us may engulf us in
ruin."

She made no answer. Cora was very pretty as she sat on the embankment,
her eyes upon the crystal stream, gliding onward like a gushing,
gleesome child, and he could not but declare her the most beautiful
being he had ever seen. Charles Stevens was no coquette. He was not
trifling with the heart or happiness of either Cora or Adelpha, and he
had never yet spoken a word of love to either. Both had won his
sympathy, his esteem and admiration; but, until he had satisfied himself
which had in realit