Lord. I'm just a
poor, heart-broken wife!"

Through six days of terror and excitement, of surging crowds and
marching soldiers, the shivering figure watched through her window--and
silently prayed. A guard had been set at her house to catch her husband
if he dared to return. She laughed softly.

He would not return! She had asked God not to let him. She was asking
him now with every breath she breathed. God would not forget her. He
would answer her prayers. She knew it. God is love.

She had begun to sleep again at night. Her man was safe in the mountains
of Pennsylvania. The Governor of Virginia had set a price on his head.
Men were scouring the hills hunting, as they hunt wild beasts, but God
would save him. She had seen His shining face in prayer and He had
promised.

And then the blow fell.

Far down the street she caught the roar of a mob. Its cries came faintly
at first and then they grew to fierce oaths and brutal shouts.

A man stopped in front of her house and spoke to the guard.

"They've got him!"

"Who?"

"Cook!"

"The damned beast, the spy, the traitor!"

"Where are they takin' him?"

"To the jail at Charlestown."

She had no time to lose. She must see him. Bareheaded she rushed into
the street and fought her way to his side. His hands were manacled but
his fair head was held erect until he saw the white face of his bride.
And then his eyes fell.

Would she, too, turn and curse him?

He asked himself the hideous question once and dared not lift his head.
He felt her coming nearer. The guard halted. His eyes were blurred. He
could see nothing.

He only felt two soft arms slip round his neck. His own moved
instinctively to clasp her but the manacles held them. She kissed his
lips before the staring crowd and murmured inarticulate sounds of love
and tenderness. She smoothed his blond hair back from his forehead and
crooned over him as a mother over a babe.

"My little wife--my poor little girlie--my baby!" he murmured. "Forgive
me--I tried to save you from this. But I couldn't. Love would have it
so. Now you can forget me!"

The arms tightened about his neck, and gave the answer lips could not
frame.

When his trial came she moved to Charlestown to sit by his side in the
prison dock, touch his manacled hands and look into his eyes.

The trial moved to its certain end with remorseless certainty. Cook's
sister, the wife of Governor Willard, sat beside her doomed brother, and
cheered