But each day that passed left Michael more in doubt. For what had become of the hornet's nest they left behind---Earl Arthur dead at Lord Purceville's hand, Purceville himself murdered by a subordinate, and Stephen half mad with rage---he could not imagine. Surely after a time a new Governor would be appointed, and some kind of stability return. But where that left his mother..... It was beyond contemplation, almost beyond hope. And this was what galled him. He had done all that a man could do, winning freedom for himself, and for the chosen of his heart. And yet he could not think of joining her life to his own, because the other half of his devotion remained imprisoned and destitute. . .for the crime of loving her children. Try as he might, he could not swallow this last bitterness, nor put it from his mind. The cottage door opened suddenly and in burst the girl, breathless and in tears. He tried to ask her what was wrong, as dark fears of pursuit and capture raced through him. But she shook her head emphatically, unable yet to speak. "You must come with me," she finally managed. "Put on your coat; something wonderful has happened." He did as she asked, wrapping himself warmly, then walked with her out into the bracing, December morning. And as he took those first steps along the path, it occurred to him that he had not seen the sun, nor felt the free wind across his face, for what seemed an eternity. The brisk Fall air was invigorating, the long sweep of rocky hillside magnificent. He thought he had never seen a sky so deep and blue. Real hope stirred in him, tormented him. He tried to stay the girl and make her speak. But she only clutched his hand more tightly, and urged him down the broadening track toward the sea. Looking out across the blinding sparkle of blue-green waters, he saw a single sail approaching the tiny harbor. Shading his eyes he made out a smallish vessel, with a weathered pilot standing at the wheel. And beside him stood another, a woman..... He fell to his knees, unable for a time to continue. At length he rose, and walked with his beloved the remaining distance to the landing. There, drawing nearer, the fisherman met his gaze with a smile that seemed to melt away the years, and make them both children again. The older man threw the mooring line to his friend, who tied it to the dock with a trembling but joyous hand. Anne Scott stepped off the boat, and mother and son embraced. * * * Mr. and Mrs. Michael Scott stood aboard the deck of the merchant brig `Dauntless', watching with deep emotion the nearing coastline. It was now nearly June, and they had been at sea for two months. A single word resounded in both their hearts, as the burly captain approached them, and clapped his fellow Highlander on the back. "America," he said to them, "and God bless her. America."