CHAPTER XXVIII
"HOW COULD SHE KNOW?"
"To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him!"
--"_Measure for Measure._"
Colonel Dayton met them as they reentered the camp. His brow waswrinkled with anxiety, but it cleared as if by magic at sight of them.
"Odds life, captain!" he cried. "I feared lest something had befallenyou. It is long past your usual hour for returning."
"Something did befall, sir," answered Clifford, who had expectedquestioning. "I crave pardon for the delay. We were like not to havecome back at all, but through no fault of ours. In fact, sir, we wereset upon by a party of miscreants in the glen beyond the five knobtree, and captured. At the place to which we were conducted was aperson through whom----" He hesitated unwilling that Harriet shouldbe connected with the affair. "In short, Colonel Dayton," he saidfrankly, "I would prefer that you do not question me concerning themanner of our release. As soon as possible we came back."
"Say no more, sir," exclaimed Colonel Dayton. "That you did come backproves you an honorable gentleman. I might have had to mourn aprisoner, but once more hath martial faith received justification. Itwill give me great pleasure to report your conduct to thecommander-in-chief."
Much relieved that the matter was to be probed no further the cousinsdismounted, and were preparing to retire to their respective domicileswhen the voice of Colonel Dayton arrested them.
"I wonder," he was saying, "if this doth not explain the letter that Ireceived to-day from General Washington?"
"What letter, sir?" asked Clifford quickly. "May I inquire if itcontained any further orders regarding me?"
"Certainly; and I am obliged to answer that it does contain orders.Listen, and you shall hear them, though it gives me great pain toread them. They mean a curtailment of your privileges, captain."
Whereupon he produced the missive, and read as follows: "Sir, I aminformed that Captain Williams is at the camp without a guard, andunder no restraint whatever. This, if true, is certainly wrong; I wishto have the young gentleman treated with all possible tendernessconsistent with his present situation, but considered a close prisonerand kept with the greatest security. It is well to be careful. Thereare many rumors afloat anent a rescue, which may be but idle talk.Still, when dealing with a foe every precaution should be used thatthere is no weakness in our defenses of which he may take advantage."
"So end our rides, Peggy," remarked Clifford, smiling slightly. "'Tisa preliminary to the final order."
"I trust not, captain," exclaimed the officer. "This merely limits youto the confines of the cantonment. I should not like the general toconsider that I was negligent. It would have been the same, sir, hadnot your misadventure of to-day occurred."
"I understand, colonel," answered the youth deferentially. "Iappreciate the courtesy you have ever shown me. I think, on the whole,'tis best. And it might be worse."
"Yes," spoke Peggy. "It might be worse, Clifford."
So there were no more rides; but as the weather began to be very hot,and exceedingly dry, they consoled themselves with the reflection thatriding would be extremely unpleasant under such conditions. Anotherweek glided by, in which there was no sign of Harriet, nor was thereany further order from the commander-in-chief. It seemed as thoughthey had been set down in the midst of the cantonment and forgotten.The strain began to tell upon Clifford.
"Would that it were over," burst from him one morning as he sat withPeggy under the shade of a tree near the quarters of the Daytonfamily. In the distance a company was drilling, and the orders of itsofficer came to them faintly.
Peggy let fall the ox-eyed daisy whose petals she had been counting,and turned toward him in dismay.
"Clifford, thee don't mean that," she cried.
"But I do, Peggy," he answered passionately. "The fluctuations fromhope to despair, and from despondency to hope again are far moretrying than a certain knowledge of death would be. It keeps me ontenter-hooks. So long as the thing is inevitable, I wish it wouldcome."
Peggy looked at him anxiously. His face was pale, and there were deepcircles under his eyes that spoke of wakeful nights. His experiencewith his sister had been far more distressing than she had realized.It came to the girl with a shock just how care-worn he was.
"Would that father were here that he might comfort thee," she criedtearfully. "Thee needs him, my cousin."
"An he were, he would say--'My lad, thy promise was that Peggy shouldnot be saddened by talk of thy woes; yet here thee is dwelling uponthy sorrow both to thy detriment and hers.'"
The transition to David Owen's manner was so abrupt that Peggy smiledthrough her tears.
"I did not know that thee was possessed of the art of mimicry, mycousin," she remarked. "Harriet hath it to perfection, but thee hasnever shown sign of it before."
"'Tis only one whom I know well that I can mimic," he told her."Sometimes, I believe that I know Cousin David better than father."
"And thou shouldst have been my father's son," she cried. "Why, theelooks enough like him to be his son. Then thee would have been mybrother, as thou shouldst have been."
Clifford smiled at her warmth.
"In that case," he said quizzically, "I should have been an American.I wonder if I should have been a Quaker, and a rebel with the rest ofyou? Or should I have been a Tory?"
"Oh, a rebel! A rebel!" she replied promptly, pleased that hismelancholy was vanishing.
"I doubt it. I cannot imagine myself as other than loyal to my kingany more than I can think of myself as a Quaker."
"Neither can I think of thee as a Quaker," she said. "Some way theedoesn't fit in with the Society."
At this Clifford laughed outright.
"That is because you know me as I am," he observed. "Now I cannotthink of you as being anything but a little Quakeress. You see, we getour ideas of persons when we first know them, and then we cannotchange."
"'And cannot change,'" she repeated with some amusement. "CliffordOwen, thee didn't like me at all at first."
"No, I did not," he responded, and laughed again. "'Twas because I didnot know you aright. Peggy, see how light-hearted you have made me.Our merriment hath caused Colonel Dayton to give us unusualattention."
Peggy glanced at the officer. He had been watching the drill, butseveral times had turned to look at them. As the drill ended he cameslowly toward them.
"You seem quite happy this morning," he observed. Something in hismanner struck the girl with foreboding.
"Yes, colonel," answered Clifford. "I had an attack of the blues, butmy cousin hath charmed them away. We were trying to imagine me anAmerican."
"We should welcome you, sir," spoke the colonel courteously. "May Ispeak to you a moment, captain?"
Clifford rose instantly.
"It hath come then?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," answered the colonel huskily. "It was hard to break in uponyour mirth, but I thought you would prefer to have me tell you than tohear it from another."
"You are most kind, sir." The youth's voice trembled ever so little."We were too merry, my cousin. 'Against ill chances men are evermerry. But heaviness foreruns the good event.'" His tones were steadyas he finished the quotation, and he added: "I am ready at any time."
But at this Peggy uttered a cry.
"Now? Oh, that would be inhuman! Surely not now?"
"Nay," said Colonel Dayton, alarmed by her paleness. "'Tis not as youthink, child. He goes to the guard-house now. The sentence will not becarried out until to-morrow morning."
"'Tis so sudden," she protested piteously.
"Nay, Peggy, it hath been too long deferred," demurred Clifford. "'Tiswell to have the anxiety and suspense over. You must not give way."
"But what can I do, Clifford? Thee has no one but me to do for thee.How can I comfort thee?"
"Dear little cousin," he said softly, "you have done much already.Think what these last weeks would have been for me had you not stayedhere. Be brav
e a little longer. The colonel will let me see youagain."
"Yes," said Colonel Dayton briefly.
And Peggy was left alone. Alone! With wide, unseeing eyes she staredat a patch of green grass in front of her where ox-eyed daisies grewlike golden stars. Alone! Harriet had not come, as Peggy had beenhoping she would. And her father! Could he not get leave? Alone!Alone! What comfort could she, a mere girl, be to her cousin in thistrying hour?
Far afield the milkweed nodded a soft welcome to the butterflieswinging, like flying flowers, over the fields. A bumblebee droneddrowsily near, humming his song to unheeding ears. Where the tall pinetrees of the forest met the sky argosies of clouds spread theirportly sails along the blue. In the heat of the July morning Peggy satshaking like a leaf.
"I must be brave," she told herself again and again. "He hath no onehere but me. I must be Harriet and Cousin William both to him. I mustbe of comfort to him."
Long she sat there under the tree trying to pull herself together, butafter a while she rose and made her way into the house. It was well ontoward the end of the afternoon when Colonel Dayton came to her.
"Your cousin wishes to see you, child," he said pityingly. "He bearsup well, but I need not say to you that he will need all his fortitudeto go through with this ordeal."
"I shall not fail him, friend," said Peggy with quivering lips. "I amall of kith or kin that is near him. I shall not fail."
But the maiden had need of all her resolution when she entered theguard-house where Clifford was, for he was most despondent.
"I am glad it is ended, Peggy," he said gloomily. "The restlessness ofwaiting is over at last. All the feverish anxiety, the hope, thelonging, are past, and the end hath come. Do you remember last year,when John Drayton, that Yankee captain, was condemned to this samesort of death, what father said? He said, 'The vicissitudes of war aremany, my son. By sad fortune you might find yourself in the samecondition as this young fellow.' And here I am, in very truth,condemned to die on the gallows. I have been thinking of it all day."
"Clifford," she cried in alarm, for there sounded a note of agitationin his words that made her fearful lest he lose his self-control,"thee must not talk like that. Think on something else."
"But to die like this," he cried. "An Owen on the gibbet! 'Tis bitter,bitter! I had planned a different death. 'Twas on the battle-field.Gloriously to fall, fighting for the king and England. I do not feardeath, my cousin. It is not that. 'Tis the awfulness of the mode. Icannot help but think of that other death which I would so gladly die.I have ever loved martial music, and 'twas my thought that at my deaththe muffled drum would beat for a soldier's honorable funeral."
"Clifford! Clifford!" she cried. He was so young, so noble, and yetto die a cruel death on the scaffold! It was hard. What comfort couldshe give him? He was in sore need of it.
"Bear with me for just a little, Peggy," he said. "It hath eaten intomy heart--the manner of this death. I have talked bravely all theselong, weary days of waiting, but oh! if they would just shoot me! Theshamefulness of a gallows!"
"Don't!" she cried suddenly. "I--I cannot bear it."
The boy pulled himself together sharply.
"Forgive me," he said speaking more calmly. "I'll be good now, mycousin, but 'tis enough to make a man rave to contrast the death hewould die with the one he must. I'll think of it no more."
"Thee must not," she said faintly. "What--what can I do for thee,Clifford?"
"I have writ some letters," he said picking them up from the table."Will you see that they are sent? I need not ask. I know you will. Oneis for Harriet; I was too hard on her, Peggy. I see it now. One is forfather, and one for your father and mother. Had I been their own sonthey could not have treated me with more tenderness. And, Peggy----"
"Yes, my cousin?"
"There is one for Miss Sally," he said with slight hesitation. Hisface flushed and he busied himself among the papers on the table."'Fore George," he cried with an abrupt change of manner, "I can'tforget that look of scorn in her blue eyes! It haunts me. I writbefore, you remember? She did not reply, but sent word that she had nohard feelings. 'Twas all I had a right to expect, but somehow---- Ihave writ again, Peggy, to tell her---- Well, you know I don't wanther to think me altogether contemptible."
It was such a youthful outburst, and so natural that Peggy had hardwork to retain her self-control. Then, like a flash, she knew thecomfort she could give him. Leaning toward him with brightening eyesshe said softly:
"Sally doesn't think thee so, Clifford. She hath a high opinion ofthee. She told me to tell thee something at the very last---- And thatwould be now, would it not?"
"Now, or never, Peggy. What did she say?" He listened eagerly.
"She said that she considered thee the finest gentleman that she everknew."
"She said that?" The youth caught his breath quickly.
"Just that, Clifford. The finest gentleman that she ever knew,"repeated the maiden impressively. "Was not that much to say?"
"It was, my cousin. It overwhelms me." His eyes were misty, and inthem there was wonder too. "It is the highest praise that she couldhave spoken. 'Tis strange that she should so speak; because, Peggy, Ihave always wanted to be a gentleman. Oh, I am by birth, I know. Idon't mean that. I mean just and honorable, chivalrous and gallant,performing heroic deeds, and--and all the rest of it," he finishedboyishly.
"And thee is all that, Clifford," said Peggy gently.
"No," he said with unwonted humility. "I would like to be, but I am,in truth, a pretty stiff, stubborn, unreasonable sort of fellow. Youhave had cause to know that, Peggy. And so hath Sally. If life were,by any chance, given me I should try to be all that she thinks me;but I am to die. To die----" He stopped suddenly, and his eyes beganto glow. "'Fore George!" he cried, "if I cannot live I can die as shewould have the 'finest gentleman' to die! What if it is on thescaffold, and not the battle-field? Though it be not a glorious death,it can be glorified! How could she know that that was just what Iwould need to put me on my mettle? How could she know?"
"Then it hath helped thee, Clifford?" spoke Peggy, marveling at thetransformation in him.
"Helped me? It hath put new life into me. It hath given me courage.Why, do you know the shame of the thing had almost prostrated me? AnOwen on the gallows, Peggy. I would not have minded so much if theexecution had taken place right after we left Lancaster, but to haveit hanging over me day after day for so long. Peggy, it hath eateninto my heart."
"Oh, Clifford!" she cried pityingly. "I did not dream thee felt itso!"
"I did not want you to know, little cousin. I would not tell you now,but that you have brought me the cheer that I need. How good you havealways been to me, Peggy. I wonder if the world holds anything sweeterthan a Quaker maid! That one should so highly esteem me----" He smiledat her with sudden radiance. "I shall have pleasant thoughts to gowith me now, Peggy. You will tell her?"
"Yes," she answered, and added chokingly: "I wish father were here."
"And so do I. I hoped that he would be with me at the end; I believethat he would be here if he could."
"Thee shall not be alone, Clifford. I am going to be with thee." Peggyspoke bravely enough, but her eyes grew dark at the very thought, andshe began to tremble.
"Not for the world, Peggy!" he cried, horrified. "I would like to haveCousin David with me, but not you. Oh, not you! I can suffer firmlywhat 'twould kill you to see."
"But to be alone, Clifford?"
"It can't be helped, Peggy. I won't have you there. Promise me thatyou won't go."
"I will do as thee wishes, my cousin," she answered tremulously."But--but I will be here at the door as thee comes out. I could notbear to have thee without a glimpse of a friend, or----" She could notfinish.
"Be at the door if you wish, little cousin. I should like that, but gono further." He arose and held out his hands. "It's good-bye now,Peggy."
A sense of suffocation overwhelmed Peggy, and she could not speak. Hewas so young, so noble, so m
anly in meeting his untoward fate, and yethe must suffer this ignominious death without the comfort of afriend's face near him. As she found her way blindly out of the room apassionate prayer rose insistently through all her being:
"Oh, that father would come! That father would come!"
Peggy Owen and Liberty Page 30