"'Tis just that I should vindicate alone
The broken truce, or for the breach atone."
--Dryden.
"Thee has come at last," cried Peggy, a little catch coming into her
voice. "Oh, Harriet! Harriet! why didn't thee come before? Or write?"
"Why, I came as soon as I could, Peggy. When I knew that the Forty-third
was to be sent down I went to Sir Henry for permission to accompany the
regiment. The colonel's wife bore him company, which made my coming
possible. Oh, the voyage was delightsome! I love the sea. And the
military also. You should have heard the things they said to 'this sweet
creature,' as they styled me. And how is Clifford?"
"He is no longer an invalid, Harriet. He hath quit the hospital, and
taken rooms at the Raleigh Tavern. Thee can see the building from here
if thee will turn thy head. 'Tis the long low building with the row of
dormer windows in the roof. He talks also of returning to the army, but
hath been waiting to hear from thee. He hath worried. I am so glad that
thou hast come, and he will be glad also. I do believe that thee grows
more beautiful all the time."
"Sorry that I can't say the same for you," laughed Harriet, pinching
Peggy's cheek playfully. "What have you been doing to yourself? You are
pale, and thinner than when I saw you last. Mercy! how long ago it
seems, yet 'twas but the first week in last month. I have had such a
good time in New York, Peggy," she ran on without waiting for answers to
her questions. "The routs and the assemblies were vastly entertaining.
And the plays! Oh, Peggy, you should have been there. I thought of you
often, and wished you with me, you little gray mouse of a cousin! Why do
you wear that frock? I like it not."
"Did thee in truth think of me?" asked Peggy wistfully. "With all that
pleasuring I wonder that thee had time."
"Well, I did of a certainty. Particularly after your mother's letter
came telling me about Clifford, and how you had gone down to care for
him. Of course I knew that he was in good hands, so I didn't worry. Is
this the hospital?"
"Yes," answered the Quakeress who had been leading Harriet toward the
spot during the conversation. "I left thy brother in the palace grounds,
and I thought thee would like to be taken directly to him. Hath Captain
Williams come in yet?" she inquired of an attendant.
"Captain Williams," repeated Harriet who seemed to be in high spirits.
"How droll that sounds! Are these the palace grounds?" as Peggy on
receiving the attendant's answer led the way into them. "Oh! there is
Clifford!"
She made a little rush forward with outstretched arms as she caught
sight of her brother, crying joyously:
"Clifford! Clifford!"
The youth rose at her cry. Over his face poured a flood of color.
Incredulity struggled with joy, and was succeeded by a strange
expression. His face grew stern, and his brows knit together in a heavy
frown. He folded his arms across his breast as his sister approached,
and made no motion to embrace her. Peggy was nonplussed at the change.
What did it mean! He had been so anxious for her coming, and so uneasy
about her. She could not understand it. Harriet too seemed astonished at
this strange reception.
"One moment," he said, and Peggy shivered at the coldness of his tones,
"do you come, my sister, as a loyal Englishwoman, or as a rebel?"
"Loyal?" questioned Harriet wonderingly. "Why, of course I'm loyal. What
else could I be?"
"And that Yankee captain? The one to whom you gave that shirt?"
"The Yankee captain?" A puzzled look flashed across Harriet's face. "Oh!
do you mean John Drayton? Well, what about him?"
"Is he not favored by you?" queried Clifford, a light beginning to glow
on his countenance.
"Favored by me? John Drayton!" Harriet's lip curled in disdain. "What
nonsense is this, Cliff? I dislike John Drayton extremely. Didn't Peggy
tell you?"
"Then come," he said opening his arms.
"You silly boy," cried Harriet embracing him. "I am minded not to kiss
you at all. What put such absurd notions in your head? How well you
look! Not nearly so pale as Peggy is. One would think she was the
invalid. Come, Peggy! 'Tis fine here under the trees. Sit down while you
both hear about the gayeties of New York. And the war news! Oh, I have
so much to tell. Sir Henry says the game is up with the colonies this
summer. But oh, Cliff----"
"Have you been in New York?" he interrupted.
"Of course. Didn't Peggy tell you how the Most Honorable Council of the
revolted colony of Pennsylvania," and Harriet's voice grew sarcastic,
"banished me to that city because I tried to get a letter to Sir Henry
Clinton concerning your exchange? It hath afforded much amusement at the
dinners when I would take off Mr. Reed's solemn manner. 'Tis strange
that Peggy did not tell you."
"She did," he replied, and turning he looked at Peggy as though seeing
her for the first time. A gaze that embraced the gray gown that clung
close to her slender figure; the snowy whiteness of her apron, the full
fichu fastened firmly about the round girlish throat; and the simple cap
of fine muslin that rested upon her dark tresses. "She did," he
repeated, and paused expectantly as though for her to speak.
But she made no comment. It was enough that she was vindicated at last.
It had hurt Peggy that her cousin should doubt her word, and now her
sole feeling was one of content that he should know that she had indeed
spoken naught but truth.
"Then if Peggy told you that I was sent there I see not why you should
ask if I came from there," spoke Harriet in perplexity. "Clifford, have
you seen father?"
"No," his face clouding. "I dread meeting him, Harriet. You know that he
left you and the home in my charge. Had I known that you would not
remain I would never have left you. And why did you not stay there, my
sister?"
"Alone, Clifford? Did you not know me better than that? Know then,
brother mine, that if you can serve your country, Mistress Harriet Owen
can also. Oh, I have seen service, sir. I was a spy in the rebel
headquarters at Middlebrook, in the Jerseys, for nearly a whole winter."
"You, Harriet! A spy?" he cried aghast. "Not you, Harriet?"
"Don't get wrought up, Cliff. Father knew it, and consented. We were
well paid for it. Didn't Peggy tell you about it?" Harriet turned a
smiling countenance upon Peggy. "She knew all about it. I stayed with
our cousins while there."
"I think there is much that Cousin Peggy hath not told me," he remarked,
and again he looked at the girl with a curious intent glance. Peggy felt
her color rise under his searching gaze. "I will depend upon you for
enlightenment as to several things."
The shadows lengthened and crept close to the little group under the
trees. Fireflies sparkled in the dusk of the twilight. A large white
moth sailed out of the obscurity toward the lights which had begun to
glimmer in the hospital windows. An owl hooted in a near-by walnut tree.
Peggy rose suddenly.
"We should not stay here," she said. "Clifford is no longer an invalid,
'tis true; still he should not remain out in the dew."
"I have scarcely begun to talk," demurred Harriet. "I think I should
know what will suit my own brother, Peggy."
"Our Cousin Peggy is right, Harriet," observed Clifford in an unusually
docile mood. "I should not be out in the dew, and neither should you.
To-morrow there will be ample opportunity to converse. I confess that I
do feel a little tired. Then too there are matters to ponder."
"Of course if you are tired," said his sister rising, "we must go in.
To-morrow, Peggy, you will find yourself like Othello--your occupation
gone."
"I shall not mind," Peggy hastened to assure her. "Thy brother hath
desired thy coming so much that I make no doubt that he will enjoy the
companionship."
"I dare say he did want me," was Harriet's self-complacent remark.
"Still, Peggy, there's no denying the fact that you are a good nurse. Is
it not strange, Clifford, that she hath nursed all three of us? Father
when he was wounded in a skirmish at their house; me when I was ill of a
fever, and now you."
"No; she hath not told me," he answered. "She hath been remiss in this
at least, Harriet. Now----"
"I think mother did the most of the nursing," interrupted Peggy hastily.
"And after all, 'tis over now. There is no necessity to dwell upon what
is past. We will bid thee good-night, my cousin."
"And where do you stay?" inquired Harriet as Clifford left them at the
cottage gate. "Is this the place? How small it is! Will there be room
for me, Peggy?"
"Thee can share my room, Harriet. Mother made arrangements with Nurse
Johnson, with whom I came to Williamsburg, that I was to stay with her.
She is most kind, and will gladly receive thee."
"Let's hurry to bed," pleaded Harriet. "I do want to tell you about
Major Greyling, and--well, some others. We can talk in bed."
"Very well," was Peggy's amused response. "But I have somewhat to tell
thee also. Wilt promise to let me talk part of the time?"
"Don't be a goose," said Harriet giving her a little squeeze. "I have
something important to tell you."
"Then come in," said Peggy, opening the door.