stened into the front apartment, saying:

"I am here. Is it me you want to see?"

"Yes, Charles Stevens, I arrest you in the king's name."

"Arrest me? Marry! what offence have I done that I should be arrested by
the king's officers?"

"It is murder!" he answered.

"Murder!" shrieked both the mother and son.

"Verily, it is," answered the sheriff. Then he produced a warrant issued
on the complaint of Sarah Williams, charging Charles Stevens with the
murder of one Samuel Williams.

Charles could scarcely believe his ears, when he heard the warrant read.
He had for a long time known Sarah Williams to be a bold, scheming
woman; but that she would proceed to such a bold, desperate measure as
this seemed impossible.

"I am innocent!" he declared, while his mother sank into a chair and
buried her face in her hands.

"It is ever thus. The most guilty wretch on earth is innocent according
to his tell," the sheriff answered.

Charles Stevens besought the man not to confine him in jail, but was
told there was no help for it, and he was hurried away to prison,
leaving his mother overcome with grief in her chair.

* * * * * * *

It was some days before the news of Charles Stevens' arrest reached
Boston. The prosecution was interested in keeping the matter from the
friends of the accused, for the Stevens family were known to have many
friends in high places in the colonies, and they might interfere in the
coming trial.

Cora Waters lived for weeks in ignorance of the peril of the man she
loved. Her father had come home, her uncle was with them again, and she
was almost happy. Poor child of misfortune, she had never known real
happiness.

Bleak winter was taking his departure and a smiling spring promised to
be New England's guest. Hope and peace and newness of life always come
with spring. Spring gladdens the heart and rejuvenates the aged.

One morning, while the frosty breath of winter yet lingered on the air,
Cora Waters, who was an early riser, saw a large ship entering the
harbor. The wind was dead against the vessel; but she was skillfully
handled and tacked this way and that and gradually worked her way into
the harbor. A wreath of smoke from one of her ports was followed by the
heavy report of a cannon, which salute was answered by a shot from the
shore.

"The ship will soon be in," the girl declared. "I will go and see it."

In small seaport towns, such as Boston was at t