y won his heart, he would make no avowal to either.
Seeing that what he said was calculated to throw a shade of gloom over
her, he changed the subject by saying:

"Let us not anticipate evil, Cora. Wait until it is upon us."

"Spoken like a philosopher," she answered; "but, Charles, if you see
evil in the future, why not all go away?"

"Where should we go?"

"Far to the north and east. My father has found a home in the heart of a
great, dense forest. There man is as free as the birds of the air, and
nothing can fetter thought or will. No bigoted pastor can say, 'You
shall worship God in this fashion;' but all are permitted to worship God
as they choose. There are only the friendly skies, the grand old forest
and God to judge human actions, instead of narrow-minded people, with
false notions of religion."

"I could not go, Cora."

"Why not?"

"This is my home. I know no other. Over in yonder church-yard, sleeps my
sainted father. He won this pleasant home from the stern, unyielding
wilderness, and I will not be driven from it by a set of false fanatics,
who accuse, or may accuse us of impossible crimes."

"Charles, if my father builds us a home in the great wilderness, won't
you and your mother come and visit with us, until this storm cloud has
blown away? I do not ask you to give up your home. I do not ask you to
shrink from the defence of it; but a short sojourn abroad cannot be
thought to be an abandonment. You should accept our hospitality to
afford us an opportunity to repay the debt of gratitude we owe, as well
as to secure your mother from an annoyance, which is growing painful."

Her argument was very strong and had its weight with Charles.

"When do you expect your father?" he asked.

"Any time, or no time. He knows not himself when he may come. Poor
father; he hath labored arduously to subdue the forest and build us a
home. We had nothing,--we were slaves."

"But slaves no longer, Cora."

"Why not? Our term has not expired."

"King William has pardoned all the participators in Monmouth's
rebellion."

For a moment, she was overwhelmed with joy and, clapping her hands,
gazed toward heaven, murmuring:

"Oh my God, I thank thee!" but, anon, the reaction came. The pardon for
participation in Monmouth's rebellion was granted; but the subsequent
crime--the flight from the master and the slaying of the overseer--could
not be cured by the king's pardon to the Monmouth rebels. With a gasping
sob, she