AND THEN THE END
"Here the free spirit of mankind, at length,
Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place
A limit to the giant's unchained strength,
Or curb his swiftness in the forest race."
--_Bryant._
A mighty shout went up from the people as they heard the words. It was
followed by another, and still another until the Jersey hills echoed
with the sound. Men flung their hats in the air and were not ashamed
that tears, all unchecked, lay on their cheeks. The extreme youth, the
beauty of the unfortunate young man had gone straight to their hearts.
He was one of the enemy, but his manly bearing in the face of an
ignominious death commanded respect and admiration, and had produced
the stern joy that is felt by warriors toward a foeman worthy of their
steel.
In compliment to the occasion, the band struck up a lively English
air, and in the general enthusiasm which followed there was a rush
for the cart. Clifford was lifted bodily to their shoulders and borne,
amid boisterous acclamations, to his relatives.
A true Briton has an abhorrence of any display of emotion; so now,
although more moved than he had been of the menace of death, the youth
struggled to retain his composure. His features worked convulsively,
and his lips quivered. He could not trust himself to speak, but stood,
white and trembling, endeavoring to maintain an appearance of calm.
Colonel Dayton saw his agitation, and made his way at once to his
side.
"Friends," he said lifting his hand for silence, "we all rejoice at
this most fortunate outcome of a most unfortunate matter. But it hath
been very trying to those deeply concerned, so I would suggest that we
give three cheers for Captain Williams, who hath shown us how
gallantly a brave man may face death, and then leave him with his
friends."
At that the tumultuous concourse stretched their throats and cheered
with all their might. Then followed three cheers for Congress, and
three for the commander-in-chief, General Washington. By this time
Clifford had mastered himself sufficiently to speak, and he said
something in a low tone to Colonel Dayton. Again the officer raised
his hand.
"Captain Williams proposes three cheers for Captain Drayton, who
brought the reprieve," he said.
Then pandemonium broke loose. Cheer after cheer rent the very air.
Hoarse shouts of "Drayton!" "Drayton!" sounded, but no Drayton
appeared. Under the confusion incident to the delivering of the
reprieve he had slipped away to give his well-nigh spent horse the
attention of which the noble animal stood in need. Then, being in want
of rest himself, he had thrown himself prone on the grass under a
tree, and was at that very moment fast asleep. So, finding their calls
for him vain, the crowd finally dispersed in high good humor.
Yet these were Jersey people. People who but a few short months before
had cried to Congress for retaliation for the cruel murder of Fairfax
Johnson. Had Lippencott, the murderer, stood before them to pay the
penalty of his dastardly deed, the situation would have been
different. They were a kindly people as well as a just one; so now
compassion, respect and admiration led them to rejoice that this fair
young life was not to be offered as a sacrifice in a blood reprisal.
At length Clifford was left alone with his relatives. For a time
their hearts were too full to do more than utter ejaculations of
thankfulness, or lavish terms of endearment upon him. When calm
finally prevailed both he and Peggy were eager to know all that
had occurred.
"As ye know, I expected to return in a short time when I left here,"
began David Owen. "When I reached Lancaster, however, I found that the
enemy had been unusually active in the matter of contraband goods, so
that my department was almost overwhelmed with goods to be examined,
seized, or distributed. A soldier's duty comes before everything, and
even though one who is dear should be in peril, he must perform it. I
could have put Drayton in charge had he been there, but it seems that
he felt that he must exert himself in Clifford's behalf, and so had
obtained leave of absence a few days after our departure. Major Dale
had assumed Drayton's duty in addition to his own, but despite that
fact he gave me what assistance he could, so that at last I was able
to leave. I found Harriet at Philadelphia----"
"Found Harriet where?" exclaimed Peggy amazed.
"She must tell how she came to be there," smiled her father. "We
passed through Morristown yesterday, by the west road, on our way to
Pompton, where we expected to see the Marquis de Chastellux; the
reason for this will come in Harriet's narrative. We missed him by a
day, so bode there for the night, expecting to come here to-day. Just
as we were ready to start for this camp this morning Captain Drayton
dashed into the yard, calling for a change of horses. You may imagine
our feelings when he told us that the execution was set for this
morning. Had it not been that he also told us that he held a reprieve
I do not know what Harriet would have done. There was no time to be
lost, if we would reach here in time, so, as soon as his horse was
ready, we were off with what result ye know. Drayton hath worked
tirelessly in the matter. He hath come from headquarters with but
little rest either for himself, or his horses, and was in the saddle
all night after riding all of yesterday."
"But why, why?" asked Clifford bewildered. "Why should Drayton so
concern himself about me?"
"And now 'tis my turn to explain," broke in Harriet. She did not tell
him that Drayton had been actuated by gratitude toward her because she
had assisted him in escaping from a similar plight at Yorktown. She
did not wish her brother to know the part she had taken in that
affair, so now she ignored his question, and began her explanation. "I
gave up hope that day you and Peggy left me at the inn, my brother. I
knew of nothing more that could be done, so resolved to go back to
father. Judge of my surprise when, a few miles beyond Morristown,
Captain Drayton overtook me. He was on his way to headquarters then. I
told him all that had occurred, and the exact state of affairs. He
advised me to go back to Philadelphia to try to enlist Count de
Rochambeau's aid. The Congress and General Washington held their
French allies in high esteem, he said. If their sympathies could be
enlisted it would have great weight. He had been in Philadelphia
himself seeing gentlemen whose standing was such as might be expected
to exert influence. He was urging that memorials and petitions should
be sent Congress in such numbers that their appeal could not be
overlooked. At the Highlands he intended seeing the principal men of
the army, and last of all General Washington, to relate how I had----"
She checked herself quickly, and bit her lip. After a moment she
continued:
"Of course I went to Philadelphia. There was no one at the house but
the servants, so I asked Sally Evans to stay with me. Peggy," turning
toward her cousin suddenly, "I never can tell you what a help she was.
That I had been a spy at Middlebrook was against me. That I had been
banished the city just the year before militated against anything that
I undertook. I realized keenly the difference in being there with my
kindred, and then without them. I almost despaired of doing anything,
but Sally would not let me give up. She was full of suggestions. The
gentlemen of Congress would not see me, so Sally cornered Mr. Jacob
Deering, and coaxed, and pleaded until, for very peace, the poor man
told her that he would do what he could for us. Through him I got a
letter before the Congress.
"Then Sally went to see Betty Williams. Betty's Frenchman, it seems,
is an attache to the French Minister. This gave us access to both the
Minister and Count de Rochambeau. Meantime, Captain Drayton's work
began to take effect, and letters poured in upon the Congress urging
clemency. The French gentlemen advised seeing the Marquis de
Chastellux, who is a great favorite with your general; so, as Cousin
David had come by this time we set out for Pompton, where we expected
to find him. 'Twas there that we met Captain Drayton, of which Cousin
David hath told you. Clifford," speaking with impressiveness, "'tis
thought that you will be sent to Philadelphia to be under the eye of
the Congress while the matter receives due deliberation. If you are, I
want you to go to Sally Evans, and thank her for what she hath done."
"It will give me great pleasure, my sister," he answered. A smile,
winsome in its radiance, parted his lips, and he gazed across the
valley at the distant hills. At the hills? Or did he see instead a
pair of blue eyes swimming in tears through which divinest pity shone?
Did he see a saucy, piquant face framed in ringlets that escaped in
bewitching wilfulness from under the dainty cap of a Quakeress? Did
he see---- Harriet's voice, tremulous from a mist of tears in its
laughter, broke in upon his musings.
"And oh, John Drayton's hat," she was saying. "You should have seen
it, Peggy. When we started this morning 'twas nearly straight. Oh, not
entirely! That would be impossible. Somehow I could not take my eyes
from it. The harder he rode the further on the side it got. I
remembered that Cousin David had said that all through the battle of
Hobkirk's Hill he had fought with it on his ear, and had been made a
captain for valor. Peggy, it came to me that with him it meant
confidence, and a determination to succeed. I knew that he would reach
here in time so long as that hat was at a perilous angle. If he had
put it straight I should have died."
"Harriet," said Clifford in determined tones, "I want to know why
Captain Drayton was so interested? Why should he exert himself to
avert an untoward fate from me?"
"Because," answered Harriet. "Oh, because, Clifford. He did it for me.
Now don't ask questions, there's a good fellow!"
Clifford's face became thoughtful.
"I see, my sister," he said gently. Harriet flashed a glance at Peggy,
then laughed. Her brother's inference was plain.
"I wonder where John is?" cried Peggy.
"He hath been asleep under a tree, my dear," spoke the colonel's wife.
"And 'tis time for dinner. Will you ask him to come in?"
"Let me go, Peggy," said Clifford hastily. "I would like to speak with
him." And knowing that her cousin would prefer to see Drayton alone,
Peggy assented.
Drayton lay on the grass, lazily stretching himself, as Clifford
approached. He rose and began to brush off his dusty uniform.
"I'd be sent to the guard-house if this uniform were to make its
appearance on parade, wouldn't I, captain?" he asked easily.
"Captain Drayton," said Clifford huskily, "you have given me no chance
to thank you for the service you rendered me. I want to do so now----"
"Don't," said Drayton. "It gave me great pleasure to be of service.
Why need we speak of it further?"
"But I owe you my life, sir," cried Clifford.
"Nay," smiled Drayton. "You owe it to your sister. I did it for
Harriet."
Clifford winced perceptibly as John Drayton used his sister's name
without the usual prefix. It had been unconsciously done, but this of
course he could not know. He started to speak, but before he could do
so, Drayton was speaking:
"You need not fear a repetition of to-day, Captain Williams. Anxiety
and suspense are not pleasant companions, and I'd like to tell you
just how things are. The temper of the people all over the nation hath
changed regarding this affair. 'Tis beginning to be openly talked that
mercy should supersede the necessity for retaliation. Then too a
letter hath come to General Washington from your own general in which
he deplores the action of Lippencott. He asks for further time for
investigation, and promises that no more such atrocities shall be
perpetrated upon American prisoners, which was our chief motive for
reprisal. And your father, Colonel Owen, hath protested strongly
against thus using a prisoner of the Capitulation of Yorktown,
claiming that such an one cannot be used as hostage in any manner. Our
chief, sir, is exceedingly jealous of his honor. He would do naught
that would savor of a breach of faith with the enemy. For this reason,
and others, he hath consented that more time shall be taken by all
parties for deliberation. In fact, Captain Williams, everything points
to a pleasant termination of the matter; although you may find the
waiting necessary for deliberation long and irksome."
"Sir," spoke Clifford with emotion, "you have made me twice your
debtor: First, in bringing the reprieve; and now, by relieving me of
anxiety. A man may meet death with fortitude; no man can bear an
indefinite suspense which may have the gallows for its termination. I
cannot thank you as I would wish. Words cannot express my gratitude.
But, sir, I believe that I can contribute toward promoting your
happiness. You have said that you did this for my sister; Harriet
acknowledges that it was for her. I have always been persuaded that a
deeper feeling existed between you than either would confess. Our
first altercation was, I believe, regarding this very fact. That I
have been prejudiced, I'll admit frankly. But now, sir, I want to tell
you that any objection that I may have had against your suit to my
sister is withdrawn. More, I will use whatever of influence I may have
with my father to advance your happiness."
"Eh! What?" stammered Drayton in confusion. His face had been a study
with its varying expressions as Clifford talked. "Er--a---- Well, you
see----"
"Do you mean that your feelings have changed, sir?" demanded Clifford
his brow darkening.
"On the contrary," exclaimed Drayton settling his neck ruffles
hastily, "my esteem for Miss Harriet hath increased. But, captain, in
America 'tis customary to consult the lady before such matters are
arranged. I shouldn't like anything done until her wishes are
expressed."
"Your delicacy does you great credit, sir," spoke Clifford holding out
his hand. "I have been wrong in my estimation of you."
"And I appreciate your offer of assistance, Captain Williams." Drayton
shook his hand warmly, sincere admiration in his eyes. "'Twas
handsomely done."
"And now," exclaimed Clifford almost gaily, "as our little affairs are
settled, I must bring you in to dinner. The colonel's wife hath
commissioned me to do so."
"I am not up to it yet, captain. I shall find a bed somewhere, and
sleep a while longer. Odds life! how seedy lack of sleep doth make a
man! Present my compliments to the ladies, will you?" Drayton sank
back on the grass as he spoke.
"With pleasure, sir," answered the other.
Punctiliously they saluted, and Clifford strode back to the house.
John Drayton laughed softly.
"Now that," he said, apostrophizing the tree, "that is what might be
called an amende honorable. Whew! wouldn't I like to see Harriet's
face when he tells her!"
Some hours later, having slept off fatigue, washed, and freshened
himself from top to toe, Drayton approached the colonel's quarters. On
the piazza sat David Owen, with Peggy on one side of him, and Clifford
on the other. His arm was about his daughter; his other hand rested on
the younger man's knee. It was a pretty picture; full of affection and
quiet happiness. John Drayton stopped short at sight of it. His face
whitened, and a look of consternation flashed into his eyes. Crushing
his beaver over his eyes he wheeled, then strode away. The three had
been so absorbed that they had not seen him, but Harriet came upon the
piazza in time to catch his expression.
"Peggy," she called.
"Yes?" Peggy went to her quickly alarmed by the insistence of her
tone.
"Go to that captain of yours at once. He is troubled."
"John troubled, Harriet? Why----"
"'Tis naught but what you can remedy, you little goose," cried Harriet
shaking her. "Don't you dare come back into the house until you have
corrected his misapprehension. I won't have John Drayton made unhappy
to-day!"
"But----"
"Oh, go!" She caught Peggy suddenly and kissed her. "Go!"
And wondering much Peggy sped down the path after Drayton. He heard
her light footsteps, and waited for her.
"Why, how tired thee looks, John," she exclaimed startled by his
appearance. "I thought thee had a good sleep. Thee has worn thyself
out by thy exertions. And all for us. Yet thee hath given us no chance
to thank thee."
"I was glad to do it, Peggy. Clifford is--Yes; he's a fine fellow," he
said as though he were obliged to acknowledge the fact. "He is well
worth saving. I was glad to do it. Yet--yet I am thankful that I did
not know----"
"Know what?" she asked as he came to a pause.
He did not answer, and the girl looked at him in perplexity. Presently
she spoke:
"I think I never saw thee with thy hat on straight before, John. I
like it not."
"I did not know." He touched it indifferently. "I always find it so
when I am discouraged, or hopeless."
"But why should thee be discouraged or hopeless now?" she queried
amazed.
"How shall I bear it when you are in England, Peggy?" he cried
suddenly, and turned from her.
Peggy saw a great light. When she spoke it was with sweet authority:
"Put thy hat as thee always wears it, John. Then let me tell thee
about Clifford and Sally."
"About whom?" Drayton swung about with precipitation.
"About Sally and my cousin, Clifford. I want to tell thee how a
message from her cheered his dark hours; I want to tell thee how she
helped Harriet; and I want to tell thee, most of all, John, what I am
hoping will happen if Clifford is sent to Philadelphia. Dear Sally!"
"Dear Sally!" he echoed fervently, settling his hat in its accustomed
place with the jaunty gesture that she loved. "Dear, dear Sally," he
added with growing enthusiasm as he met her laughing eyes. "I shall
like to hear about Sally. Tell me, Peggy."
* * * * *
It was three months later. Congress had recognized the altered
sentiments of the country regarding the case of retaliation, and
Clifford was set unconditionally at liberty. England had advised that
hostilities be suspended, so that--while the two armies retained their
respective positions, one in New York, the other in the Highlands--it
was only as a precautionary measure. The prospects for peace were at
last assuming reality. There were yet many months to come before the
terms would be agreed upon, and the treaty signed; but American
Independence was not only achieved, but recognized at last by England.
It was a bright October day. Peggy sat with her mother in the
sitting-room of the dwelling in Chestnut Street. The air was just
chill enough to warrant a fire, and the two were deep in conversation
before its pleasant warmth. The door opened hastily, and Harriet,
looking marvelously beautiful in a new riding habit, stood on the
threshold.
"I am going for a ride with Robert, madam my cousin," she said, and
the rich color flooded her cheeks as she pronounced the young man's
name. "We may be a little late. You will not mind?"
"Nay, Harriet." Mrs. Owen smiled at her fondly. "I hope that thy ride
will be a pleasant one."
"Mother," spoke Peggy as Harriet closed the door, "how this terrible
contagion of domesticity, as General Washington puts it, hath seized
everybody! Here Betty hath married her Frenchman and gone to France;
Clifford is to come for Sally before he sails for England; and now
there is Robert and Harriet. What does thee think of them?"
"I am much pleased," answered the lady. "It will be the making of
Harriet. Robert is of a strong, true nature which will command her
respect. He hath invested her with every noble quality, believing her
to be as lovely in character as she is beautiful in person. Harriet
likes to be so considered. Peggy, rather than fall below his ideal she
will become all that his fancy paints her."
"I am so glad that we are not to lose her, mother. Harriet hath
become very dear to me."
"And mother is glad that thou art not to go across the seas, Peggy. At
one time I feared that perchance Clifford----"
"And so did John," laughed Peggy.
* * * * *
Other Stories in this Series are:
PEGGY OWEN
PEGGY OWEN, PATRIOT
PEGGY OWEN AT YORKTOWN
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors;
otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's
words and intent.
End of Project Gutenberg's Peggy Owen and Liberty, by Lucy Foster Madison