Peggy Owen and Liberty Part 36

My doom is closed."

--_Count Basil._

Clifford started as Sally uttered the word, "trickery," and a deep flush dyed his face. He threw out his hands in a protesting gesture, and opened his lips to speak, but she was gone before he could say a word. He turned toward Peggy appealingly.

"Will you listen, my cousin?" he queried. "Or are you also shocked?"

"Nay, Clifford; I believe that thee intended naught but to have a little sport," she replied.

"That's just it," he cried eagerly. "Everything hath been so depressing the last few days that a little diversion was welcome. When Major Gordon came in, saying that you wished to see me, and that a friend was with you who feared to come in unless I was bound, I knew at once it was Miss Sally. When the major suggested that 'twould never do for the young lady to find me unbound, the idea appealed to me immediately. It promised some brightness, a little fun which is all my excuse, Peggy. I intended naught else. I thought you both would regard it as a great joke. I see now that I should not have done it. It was caddish."

"I think Sally felt the worst anent thy saying that the cords hurt pretty bad," Peggy told him. "It seemed like an untruth to her."

"'Fore George, Peggy!" cried the youth earnestly, "if she could but know the trouble I had in keeping still so that those ropes would not fall off she would think it was pretty bad."

He laughed at the remembrance, and then became grave.

"I seem to be unfortunate in more respects than one," he said with a sigh. "First, I misjudge you, Peggy. I can only explain that fact by saying that never before had I met any one of like truthfulness and so straightforward. Then, not knowing that your friends had the same attributes, I am guilty of injustice toward Sally. Now she misconstrues what was meant for a jest into a contemptible trick. Oh, it was! I see it now. I' faith! the sooner that execution comes off the better," he ended bitterly.

"Don't speak like that, Clifford," chided Peggy gently. "I'm going to Sally and explain the matter to her. 'Twas all a miserable misapprehension. She will laugh most heartily when she understands it."

"I don't believe she will, Peggy," he answered gloomily. "She feels tricked. She will never forgive me. You Quakers are queer people. I did not dream that words spoken in jest would be taken so seriously."

"Well, my cousin, we have been taught that for every idle word we shall give account. Perchance we do not speak with so much lightness as the world's people."

"'Fore George, you do not," he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "But, Peggy, to a soldier the thought of death becomes familiar. So familiar in fact that even when we are under its dark shadow if there comes a chance for amus.e.m.e.nt of any sort we seize it. I would not for the world offend her, Peggy. Will you try to make peace for me? Tell her," he smiled involuntarily, "that she is the unreasonable one now; that if she will not listen she lays herself open to the charge of being English which would be a most dreadful downfall from the high estate of being an American."

"I'll tell her everything, my cousin. I am sure that all will be well as soon as she understands. And Harriet will come to thee this afternoon. Thee must not let this, or aught else make thee down-hearted, Clifford. I am hoping that something will come up to avert this terrible fate from falling upon thee."

But the youth shook his head.

"I have no hope," he said. "'Tis only to please my sister that I have consented that she should try to get your general to postpone the execution until she can see Sir Guy. It seems but a useless prolongation of anxiety. Now as to this other matter: you will go at once to Sally, will you not, my cousin? Tell her that I am sorry that I lent myself to such deception, and that I wish she would not think hardly of me. I shall never see her again, Peggy, but I like not to think that she thinks ill of me."

"I'll tell her all, my cousin," promised Peggy as she took her leave.

"Oh, dear!" she sighed as she wended her way toward Little Dock Street, where Sally lived. "Oh, dear! will naught ever go right again? Now just as Clifford gets so that he will listen to Sally this had to happen! But Sally ought not to hold it against him. She must not."

Sally was up-stairs, her mother told Peggy, and slowly she went up to her friend's room. A crumpled heap on the bed told where Sally was, but it did not turn as Peggy entered. She went over and put her hand on the head that was buried between two pillows.

"Thee is taking this too seriously, Sally," spoke Peggy. "Don't be too hard on him. After all thee knows that Clifford is just a boy."

Sally turned a reddened, tear-stained face toward her.

"He is to die," she murmured in shocked tones, "yet he jested. He jested, Peggy."

"Sally, 'tis naught to make such a pother about. Men, especially soldiers, regard death differently from the way we look at it. Let me tell thee about the matter."

"I don't care to hear any explanation," answered Sally shortly.

"Sally, Sally, is thee going to be unreasonable and obstinate now?

'Tis as Clifford said: 'Thee should say naught against the English for perverseness. Thee isn't much better.'"

"Did Clifford Owen say that?" demanded Sally, sitting up with flaming cheeks.

"Nay; but something like it. How can I tell thee what he said if thee will not listen? Or has thee made up thy mind not to listen to Clifford's explanation in revenge for the time that he was in listening to thine?" concluded Peggy artfully.

"Peggy! thee knows better than that. Of course, if there is an explanation I will hear it. It did not occur to me that there could be one."

"Now that is my own Sally," cried Peggy kissing her. She sat down on the side of the bed, and began earnestly: "Sally, we must not forget that my cousin belongs to the world's people. Many things which to us are of gravity are not so to them, and our belief is as naught if it doth not make us regard their feelings with charity. Clifford feels sorrow now for the joke, and grieves because thee is inclined to think hardly of him." Forthwith she told Sally how the jest had come about, ending with:

"So thee sees, Sally, that thou art somewhat in fault thyself, insomuch as thee said that thee would not venture in unless he were bound."

"I see," remarked Sally thoughtfully. "I see, Peggy. Well, 'tis all right, of course; but oh, Peggy! If--if he had not made me feel so sorry for him. If I had not cried because I thought those ropes hurt him I would not mind so much; though it was in truth ill to jest when he is to die."

"But I cried too," soothed Peggy. "Any one would who had the least bit of sensibility."

"Does thee really think so, Peggy?"

"Yes, I do," answered Peggy. "'Twas all in fun, and done on the impulse of the moment. But he says now that he sees 'twas wrong, and that he is sorry. Thee must forgive him, Sally."

"Of course if he is sorry it makes a difference," said Sally.

"Somehow, Peggy, I am disappointed in him. Harriet always spoke so highly of him, and I liked him so much when he was with us, that it pains me to find him lacking in any respect. Well, if he is sorry, 'tis all right."

"And I may tell him so?" asked Peggy eagerly. "I don't want the poor fellow to have aught to wherrit him. He hath enough as it is."

"Yes; thee may tell him, Peggy." Sally slipped from the bed as she spoke and buried her face in the washing bowl. "After all, as thee said, 'tis naught to make such a pother about."

"Will thee come home with me to see Harriet, Sally?"

"Not to-day, Peggy." Sally began to brush her hair vigorously. "I will come in the morning. I want to think things over. Thee doesn't mind?"

"No," Peggy answered more troubled than she cared to admit over Sally.

"Well, I shall see thee to-morrow then."

Harriet and her father were awaiting her when she returned home.

Harriet looked weary and a little pale.

"We could not see the Congress, Peggy," said she in answer to Peggy's eager queries. "Cousin David could not obtain an audience for me; but the Minister of War, in whose charge Clifford now is, consented that we should accompany him to the New Jersey cantonment. He said that 'twas General Washington's desire that Clifford should be given every indulgence suitable to his rank and condition that would be consistent with the security of his person. He said too that the execution would take place pursuant to the general's orders, and therefore 'twas proper that all pleas should be made to him. We start with the dragoons and officers who guard my brother to-morrow."

It was early the next morning when the start for New Jersey was made.

Early as it was, however, Sally was down to see them off. She hovered around Peggy, finally saying, with a fine air of carelessness:

"I had a short letter from thy Cousin Clifford, Peggy. If he should speak of the matter, I dare say he will not, thee may say that 'tis all right. That I have no hard feelings toward him."

Peggy caught her suddenly, and held her fast.

"Is that all I am to say, Sally? Is there naught else? Couldn't thee give me one little kind word for him? He is to die, Sally."

Sally struggled to free herself, then unexpectedly hid her face on Peggy's shoulder, and burst into tears.