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raged through the colony. She had no funds with which to rebuild. All British holdings of colonials, including their bank accounts, had been taken over by the British crown. She was penniless. Despite her best efforts to convince Gordon that she would have it no other way, he could not help but question his own unwitting involvement in this loss of Nicole’s wealth.
    Gordon saluted the final cadre of harbor soldiers, thanked them in his best quarterdeck voice, then turned his face directly into the rain-drenched wind. His papers and instruments had already been sent back to his quarters. Scheduled to leave at dawn, his own men were busy with last-minute duties. Soon he would be standing upon the heaving deck of a ship under sail. He was engaged to the love of his life. He had every reason to be happy.
    Gordon was expected at the seminary for a last meal with Nicole and Pastor Collins. But his feet took him in the opposite direction. Gordon pulled the gold chain attached to his pocket watch. As soon as he opened the latch the face was spattered by the whipping rain. He wiped the face clean and shut the case without taking note of the time. In truth, he was not going to take his present anxiety to dinner with Nicole. If need be, he would make his apologies on the morn.
    His thoughts drummed out a dirge in time to his footsteps. She is losing everything—because of me . He had fought all his life to rise from humble beginnings and live according to a code of honor. It did not matter to him that Nicole was willingly giving it all up. Were it not for him, what reason would she have for giving herself to the American cause? None. It was that simple.
    Gordon found himself standing near the same point they had passed that morning on the way to Merchant’s Row. But now something else snagged his attention. Across the North Square from where he stood rose Christ Church, renamed by its parishioners the Old North Church. It was from this whitecapped steeple that the sexton had placed two lanterns to warn the Charlestown garrison that the British were marching on Lexington and Concord.
    Gordon crossed in front of Paul Revere’s silversmith shop and climbed the church’s steps. To his great relief, the doors were unlocked. He entered the sanctuary and seated himself midway down the central aisle. A number of others were there, scattered about the hall in silent communion. He studied a few of the faces and wondered at what struggles might be hidden behind closed eyes.
    He found it not enough to sit. Gordon slipped to his knees on the scratched wooden floor. He rested his forehead upon the pew before him and closed his eyes. Suddenly he found himself sensing a clarity of thought, and words formed of their own accord.
    I beg you, Lord, give me the vision to properly understand. Strengthen me so that I might see with the wisdom of heaven and not of men. Hold me to the passage of your choosing. Chart my course through the storms and torment of this life, and let neither pride nor my past come between me and your divine plan .
    Gordon went on with his prayer, asking for direction concerning his marriage to Nicole and their future together.
    He lifted his eyes to the cross hanging above the nave and said aloud, “Amen.”
    He knelt there for a time longer, though there seemed no need for further words. A deep sense of harmony filled the silence within and without.
    Eventually he pulled out his pocket watch and now made careful note of the time. If he hurried, he might still make the evening meal.
    As he rose to his feet and started back down the aisle, he spotted a familiar figure kneeling in the back pew. The face was so unexpected in this place and time it was not until the man rose to his feet that Gordon recognized him. “My good fellow!” Gordon exclaimed. When a score of faces turned their way, Gordon raised his own hand to his lips and ushered the man from the sanctuary. Once they stood upon the front steps, Gordon wrung the man’s