CHAPTER XVII--A LETTER AND A SURPRISE
"Oh, never shall we know again A heart so stout and true-- The olden times have passed away, And weary are the new."
--Aytoun.
"Governor Livingston will dine with us to-day, Peggy," remarked Mrs.Owen as Peggy and Harriet came down the stairs equipped for their ride."Be not too long away, for thy father will wish you both here."
"Is he the rebel governor of the Jerseys?" asked Harriet abruptly. "Theone for whom two thousand guineas are offered--for his capture?"
"He is the patriot governor of the state, Harriet," answered Mrs. Owenmildly. "We do not call such rebels. As to the reward I know not. I hadnot heard of such amount being offered, although 'tis well known that heis held in particular abhorrence by both the Tories and thy people.Perhaps David can inform thee concerning the affair."
"'Tis no matter," spoke Harriet hastily. "I dare say that I haveconfused him with another. Peggy, hath my beaver the proper tilt to showthe feather? It should sweep to the right shoulder."
"'Tis most becoming," answered Peggy, after a critical survey. "Theelooks as charming as ever, Harriet."
"Vanity, vanity," laughed her cousin. "Shall we go for the ride now?"
Ensign Drayton rode into the yard just as their horses were brought tothe block for the girls to mount. To Peggy's surprise the same privatesoldier to whom she was to give the note had them in charge. As Harrietvaulted lightly into her saddle he left Fleetwood's head and went roundto the horse's side.
"That will do, sirrah," spoke young Drayton sharply. "I will attend tothe strap."
Peggy glanced at him quickly. "John grows unmannerly," she thought toherself. "Now what did the poor man do amiss? Friend," she called as thesoldier saluted and turned to leave, her voice showing her indignation,"friend, thee shall fix Star's girth if it needs it."
"Thank you, miss," he said, saluting again. He tightened the strapdeftly, and the girl put her hand in her purse for a small coin. As shedid so her fingers touched the note that Harriet had given her, and shebent toward him suddenly.
"Thee was to take a letter, was thee not?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied, a look of astonishment flashing across his face.
"It is here, friend," said she, giving him the missive. "I hope thee canget it through, for my cousin is sore beset with grief for news of herfather. And there is money for thee. Thou art a good man, and hast akind heart."
"Thank you," he said saluting, and Peggy could not have told how heconcealed the note, it was done so adroitly.
"Why did thee speak so sharply to him, John?" she queried when at lengththey had started.
"Those girths should be attended to before bringing the horses round,"he answered. "'Tis done to get money from you girls. He never sees usbut that he comes forward under some pretense of doing a service. I likenot his actions. How doth it come that he is attending the horses? He isnot your father's man."
"I know not," answered Peggy. "Doth it really matter? Fie, fie, John!thee is cross. I never saw thee so before."
"Your pardon," said the lad contritely. "I meant not to be so, but menrequire sharp treatment, and perchance I have brought my parade mannerwith me."
The girls laughed, but a constraint seemed to be over all three. Harrietwas unusually silent, and Peggy, though conscious of no wrong-doing, wasill at ease.
The feeling was intensified as, when they had gone some distance, youngDrayton wheeled his horse suddenly.
"Let us go back," he said abruptly.
"Why?" exclaimed both girls simultaneously, but even as they spoke theysaw the reason. A few rods in front of them, suspended from the limb ofa tree, hung the limp body of a man.
"Is it a spy?" whispered Peggy shudderingly.
"Yes, Mistress Peggy. I knew not that the execution would take place onthis road, else I would have chosen another for the ride. 'Tis not apleasing sight."
"Is thee ill, Harriet?" cried Peggy, all at once happening to glance ather cousin who had no color in her face.
"Ill? No," answered Harriet with an attempt at carelessness. "I amchilled; that is all. Then, too, as the ensign says, yon sight is not apretty one. Methinks such service must be extremely hazardous."
"It is, mistress," said Drayton sternly. "So perilous is it that theman, woman, or girl even who enters upon it does so at the risk of life.No mercy is shown a spy. Nor should there be."
"And yet," she said growing paler still, "spies are used by your owngeneral, sir. It is a parlous mission, but he who enters upon it serveshis country as truly as though"--she laughed, flung up her head andlooked him straight in the face--"as though he were an ensign," shefinished mockingly.
"She has thee, John," cried Peggy gaily. "But a truce to such talk. 'Tisgruesome, is it not? Let us converse upon more pleasing subjects."
"Methinks," said Drayton briefly, "'twould be as well to return,Mistress Peggy. The ride hath been spoiled for the day."
But a shadow seemed over them, and neither girl recovered her accustomedspirits until some hours later when they went into dinner.
"Now by my life, David," cried William Livingston, the great wargovernor of New Jersey, as the maidens were presented. "Now by my life,these girls take not after you, else they would not be such beauties.They must meet with my daughters. I had three," he said turning toPeggy. "The Livingston Graces, some called them, but one grew tired ofbeing a nymph and so became a bird. Nay; be not alarmed," he added as apuzzled look flashed across Peggy's face, "she but married John Jay.'Tis a joke of mine. And this is the cousin from across the sea who bidsfair to become our more than sympathizer? Wilt pardon me if I say thatwere I British I'd never relinquished to the rebels so fair acompatriot?"
"Perchance, sir," replied Harriet, sweeping him an elaborate curtsey,and assuming the gracious manner which was one of her charms, "perchanceif you were on the other side I would not wish to be relinquished."
"That is apt," he responded with a hearty laugh. "What think you, David?Are not the honors evenly divided betwixt this young lady and myself? Imust be wary in my speech."
"And are you at Liberty Hall this winter?" she asked him presently.
"Yes; thanks to Maxwell's brigade, I am permitted this enjoyment. Werehe not stationed at Elizabethtown, however, I could not be with my dearones. 'Tis the first time in three years that I have had the privilege.Hath General Washington returned from Philadelphia, David?"
"He hath been back for some time," answered Mr. Owen. "Since the firstof the month, in fact. 'Twas dull here without him."
"I like him better than any other one of your people whom I have met, mycousin," declared Harriet after the governor had taken his departure. "Ihave heard much of Liberty Hall, Cousin David. I am curious anent it.Where is it?"
"'Tis a mile northwest of Elizabethtown, Harriet," answered he. "Awonderful place it is. The governor hath sent abroad and obtainedhundreds of trees to adorn the grounds. 'Tis his lament, however, thathe will not live to see them grown. He is a wonderful man also. 'Tis nomarvel that thee is pleased with him. His daughters are most charming,and will be agreeable acquaintances for thee and Peggy. We will go theresoon."
"But tell me how to get to the Hall, please," she teased. "I want toknow exactly."
"Exactly," he laughed. "Well, well, Harriet, I will do my best; thoughwhy thee should want to know exactly is beyond me."
"'Tis fancy," she said laughing also. "And thee always indulges myfancies, Cousin David. Doesn't thee now?"
"Whenever thee uses that speech, my child, I cannot resist thee," heanswered. And forthwith sat down by the table and drew for her a mapshowing just where the road to Liberty Hall turned from the Morristurnpike.
"Drayton and I are both on duty to-day," announced Mr. Owen the nextmorning. "If you ride, lassies, it must be without escort, unless I canfind some one to go with you."
"Oh, do let us go
alone, Cousin David," pleaded Harriet. "Peggy and Ihave gone so a few times. There is nothing to harm us."
"I see not how harm could befall you so long as you stay within thelines," said Mr. Owen indulgently. "But it shall be as Lowry says."
"And what say you, madam my cousin?" The girl turned toward the ladywith pretty deference.
"Could not the ride go over for one day?" asked she. "I like not for youto ride alone."
"'Twill be good for Peggy," spoke Harriet with an air of concern. "Sheis not well to-day."
"Is thee not, my daughter?" asked Mrs. Owen. "Thee is pale."
"'Tis nothing to wherrit over, mother," spoke Peggy cheerfully. "I didnot sleep well, that is all. Almost do I believe with Doctor Franklinthat the windows should be raised in a sleeping-room, though none but headvocates such a thing."
"Doctor Franklin advocates naught but what he hath proved by experienceto be good," declared Mr. Owen, rising. "He is a philosopher who profitsby his own teaching. I think 'twould be best for the girls to go, wife."
"Then, by all means, go," decided Mrs. Owen. "But start earlier thanusual, so as to be back long before the retreat sounds; else I shall beuneasy."
"We will do that, mother," promised Peggy. And as soon as the morningtasks were finished the maidens set forth.
"Are you not glad that we are alone to-day?" asked Harriet, when theyhad ridden a while. "I tire of even Cousin David. Do you not?"
"Why, no!" exclaimed Peggy in surprise. "I would rather have father withus. I do not see how any one could tire of him."
Harriet made no reply to this speech, and the two rode for some distancein silence. The February day was chill and gray, the roads slushy, butthe outdoor life they had led rendered the maidens hardy, and they didnot mind the dampness.
"Why!" ejaculated Harriet suddenly. "Aren't we on the Elizabethtownturnpike?"
"Yes," said Peggy glancing about. "I knew not that we had come so far.We must turn back, Harriet. Mother said that she would be uneasy if wewere not there before the sounding of the retreat, and the afternoonsare so short. 'Twill be time for it before we know it."
"I'll tell you what, Peggy," cried her cousin. "Let's go by LibertyHall."
"It is too late," answered Peggy. "Thee must know that it is all oftwenty miles to Elizabethtown, and though we have ridden a goodly partof the distance 'twould be more than we could do to-day. There and back,Harriet, is not to be thought of."
"Well, I am going, anyway," exclaimed Harriet with more petulance thanPeggy had ever seen her exhibit. "So there!"
She struck Fleetwood a sharp blow with her riding crop as she spoke, andset off at speed down the road. Too much surprised to do more than callafter her, Peggy drew rein, undecided what course to pursue. As she didso her eye was caught by a folded paper lying in the roadway. Now thishad fallen from Harriet's person as her horse started off unnoticed byeither girl.
"That's a letter!" exclaimed Peggy as she saw it. "Some one must havedropped it. Could it have been Harriet? I'll get it and tease her anentthe matter."
Smiling roguishly she dismounted and picked up the missive. Somewhat toher amazement there was no address, and opening the epistle she foundneither address nor signature.
"How monstrously queer!" she cried, turning it about. "Why, why," as herglance rested almost unconsciously upon the writing, "what does itmean?" For with deepening amazement this is what she read:
"Your information opportune. An attempt will be made on the night of thetwenty-fourth to surprise brigade at Elizabethtown, and to take the oldrebel at L---- H----. Reward will be yours if successful. Can you be near athand so as to be taken yourself?"
"The brigade at Elizabethtown is General Maxwell's," mused Peggythoughtfully. "Then the old rebel must be Governor Livingston of LibertyHall. The twenty-fourth? Why, 'tis to-day!" she cried in consternation."Oh! what must I do? 'Tis past four of the clock now."
She looked about dazedly as though seeking guidance. But with Peggy aneed of decision usually brought quick result, and it was so in thisinstance. It was but a moment before her resolve was taken.
"I must just ride there and tell him, and then warn the garrison," shesaid aloud. "'Tis the only thing to do."
Mounting Star, she shook the reins and started. Before she had gone adozen rods, however, here came Harriet riding back full tilt.
"Where are you going?" she called. "That is not the way to Bound Brook."
"I know, Harriet," replied Peggy without stopping. "I am going toLiberty Hall. An attempt will be made to-night to capture the governor.He must be warned."
"How know you that such attempt will be made?" asked her cousin, ridingup beside her. "Are you daft, Peggy?"
"Nay; I found a letter in the road saying so," explained Peggy. "Willthee come too, Harriet? And there is no time for chat. We must hasten.Perhaps though thee would better ride back to tell mother."
"'Tis indelicate for females to meddle in such matters," cried Harrietexcitedly. "Think how froward your father will think you, Peggy. Wait!we will go back to camp, and send relief from there, as doth becomemaidens."
"It could not reach the garrison in time, as thee knows," returnedPeggy, keeping steadily on her way. "Do not talk, Harriet. We must ridefast." The letter was still in her hand.
"Let me see the letter," said Harriet. "Where did you get it? It couldnot have been long in the road, for 'tis not muddy. Who could havedropped it?"
"Harriet, thee is detaining me with thy clatter," spoke Peggy with somesharpness. "Thee has seen the letter, and know now the need for action.Either come with me or ride back to camp. We must act."
"You shall not go," exclaimed Harriet reaching over, and catching holdof Star's bridle. "'Tis some joke, and beside, your mother will bewaiting for us. Come back!"
Peggy drew rein and faced her cousin with sudden suspicion. "Harriet,"she said, "is that letter thine?"
"Mine?" Harriet laughed shrilly. "How could it be mine? I was notanywhere near when you found it. Besides, I never saw the governor untilyesterday. How could I be concerned in his capture then?"
"True," said Peggy with brightening face. "Thy pardon, my cousin. Thyactions were so queer that for a moment I could but wonder."
"And now we are going right back to the camp," cried Harriet gaily."That will show that you are sorry for such thoughts. Why, Peggy, youare getting as bad as John Drayton."
"Nay," said Peggy drawing her rein from her cousin's clasp. "I am sorrythat I wronged thee, Harriet, but neither thee nor any one shall detainme from going to Governor Livingston and the garrison. Do as thou wiltin the matter. I am going."
For the second time in her life she struck her pony sharply. The littlemare reared, and then settling, dashed off in a gallop. She did not lookto see whether her cousin was following her or not. On she rode. TheFebruary slush spattered from Star's flying hoofs, and covered her fromhead to foot, but she did not notice. The daily rides had familiarizedher with the road to Elizabethtown, and the minute description given byher father to Harriet the night before now enabled her to headunerringly for the governor's mansion. The short winter day was drawingto a close when all at once she became aware that there was the sound ofhoofs behind her.
The sound increased. Presently she felt the hot breath of a horse uponher face, and just as she turned from the Morris turnpike intoLivingston Lane, at the end of which stood the governor's country seat,Fleetwood, running as a deer runs in leaps and bounds, dashed past her,with Harriet urging him to greater endeavor.
Before Peggy was half-way down the lane Harriet had reached the greathouse, sprung from her saddle and was pounding vigorously upon itsportals.
"Fly, fly," she cried, as the governor himself came to the door. "TheBritish are coming to take you. Peggy will tell you all. I must warn thegarrison."
She was on Fleetwood's back again by the time she had finished speaking,and was off before either the astonished governor or the dumbfoundedPeggy could utter a word.
Peggy Owen, Patriot: A Story for Girls Page 19