Peggy Owen Patriot Part 30

"No, Cousin William, I did not weep. It mattered not who gave the warning so long as the governor and the brigade received it. It was most fitting that Harriet should have the praise, as that was all she got out of it. 'Twas planned, as thee must know, for her to receive a more substantial reward."

"You have not lost your gift of a sharp tongue, I perceive," he answered a flush mantling his brow. "Have a care to your words, my little cousin.

You are no longer in your home, but in mine."

"I am aware of that, sir. But that I am here is by no will of mine. If I am used despitefully 'tis no more than is to be expected from those who know naught but guile and artifice."

"Have done," he cried, rising from the table. "Am I to be railed at in mine own house? Harriet, show this girl to her chamber."

Nothing loth Peggy followed her cousin to a little room on the second floor, whose one window looked out upon the n.o.ble Hudson and the distant Jersey sh.o.r.e.

"Aren't you going to be friends, Peggy?" questioned Harriet pausing at the door. "I could not do other than I did. Father wished me to bring you here."

"But why?" asked Peggy turning upon her. "Why should he want me here? Is it to flout me?"

"I know not, Peggy. But be friends, won't you? There is much more sport to be had here in the city than in yon camp. You shall share with me in the fun."

"I care not for it," rejoined Peggy coldly. "And I will never forgive thee, Harriet Owen. Never! I see not how thee could act so."

And so saying she turned from her cousin with unmistakable aversion, and walking to the window gazed with aching heart at the Jersey sh.o.r.e line.

Harriet stood for a moment, and then went out, closing the door behind her. Presently Peggy flung herself on the bed and gave way to her bitter woe in a flood of tears. For what lay at the bottom of her bitterness?

It was the sharp knowledge that, with just a little forethought, a little heeding of her mother's and John Drayton's warnings, all this might have been avoided.

Human nature is very weak, and any grief that comes from our own carelessness, or lack of thought is harder to bear than that woe which is caused by untoward circ.u.mstances. But at last tired nature a.s.serted itself, and Peggy fell asleep.

Long hours after she awoke. It was quite dark in the room, and she was stiff with cold. For a moment she fancied herself in her own little room under the eaves at the camp, but soon a realization of where she was came to her. She rose and groped her way to the window. The moon shone upon the river and the Jersey sh.o.r.e. She looked toward the latter yearningly.

"Mother," she whispered with quivering lips, "mother, what would thee have me to do?" And suddenly it seemed to her that she could hear the sweet voice of her mother saying:

"My daughter, thou must bear with meekness the afflictions that are sent upon thee. Hast thou not been taught to do good to them that despitefully use thee?" Peggy uttered a cry of protest.

"I cannot forgive them! They have behaved treacherously toward me. And my country! 'Tis not to be endured that I should be placed in such position toward it. 'Tis not to be endured, I say."

"Thou hast been close to sacred things all thy life, my child," sounded that gentle voice. "Of what avail hath it been if thy actions are no different from those of the world? And thou art not without blame in the matter."

Long Peggy stood at the window. It seemed to her that her mother was very near to her. And so communing with that loved mother the bitterness died out of her heart, and she wept. No longer virulently, but softly, the gentle tears of resignation.

"I will try to bear it," she murmured, as she crept between the covers of the bed. "I will be brave, and as good as thee would have me be, mother. And I will be so truthful in act and word that it may shame them out of deceit. And maybe, maybe if I am good a way will be opened for me to get back to thee."

And so she fell into a restful sleep.

----- [2] Now Governor's Island.

CHAPTER XXIV-THE REASON WHY

"Yet remember this: G.o.d and our good cause fight upon one side."

-"Richard III," Act 5.

It was seven o'clock before Peggy awakened the next morning. With an exclamation at her tardiness in rising she dressed hastily, and went down-stairs. Colonel Owen and Harriet were already in the dining-room at breakfast. They brightened visibly as the maiden returned their greetings serenely, and took her place at the table.

"So you have determined to accept the situation," observed Colonel Owen, giving her a keen glance.

"Until a way is opened for me to leave, sir," replied Peggy.

"Which will be at my pleasure," he rejoined. But to this she made no reply. "I am a.s.sisting Colonel Montressor, who is in charge of the defenses of the city," he remarked presently. "When your horses are well rested you girls shall ride about with me."

"We have been riding almost every day the past winter with father," said Peggy, trying not to choke over the word. "The weather hath been so pleasant that it hath been most agreeable for riding. There are pretty rides over the hills and dales near the camp."

"You will find them no less beautiful here," he a.s.sured her. "And now I must go. Sir Henry will wish to see you during the day, Harriet."

"Very well," she answered. "And I must see about some new frocks, father. I mis...o...b.. that my boxes will be sent after me from the rebel camp. Mr. Washington will not be so thoughtful anent the matter as Sir Henry was. I shall need a number of new ones."

"More gowns, Harriet!" he exclaimed. "You will ruin me by your extravagance. Haven't you anything that will do?"

"I dare say that I can make shift for a time," she replied. "But la!

what's the use of being in His Majesty's service unless one profits by it?"

"That seems to be the opinion of every one connected with it," he observed grimly.

"Harriet," spoke Peggy timidly, uncertain as to the manner her proposition would be received, "I can sew very well indeed. Let me bring some of thy old frocks up to the mode. 'Twill save thy father money, and in truth things are monstrously high. That was one reason mother and I joined father in camp. Thee admired that cream brocade of mine that was made from mother's wedding gown. Let me see if I cannot do as well with some of thy finery."

"That's all very well for you rebels," spoke Harriet with some scorn, "but when one is with English n.o.bility 'tis another matter. Father, what do you think? They sometimes wore homespun at camp even to the dinners.

They were always busy at something, and now here Peggy wants to get right into sewing. Americans have queer ideas of amus.e.m.e.nt."

"If there is one thing that I admire about the Americans 'tis the manner in which they bring up their daughters," remarked her father with emphasis. "I have yet to see a girl of these colonies who was not proficient in housewifely arts. If Peggy can help you fix over some of your things let her. And do try to pattern after her thrifty ways, Harriet."

"Peggy is quite welcome to fix them for herself," said Harriet with a curl of her lips, and a slight shrug of her shoulders. "I shall get some new ones."

Colonel Owen sighed, but left the room without further protest. The conversation set Peggy to thinking, and observing. There was indeed luxury on every hand, but there was also great waste. Wherever the British army settled they gave themselves up to such amus.e.m.e.nts as the city afforded or they could create. Fear, fraud and incompetence reigned in every branch of the service, and between vandalism and the necessities of war New York suffered all the woes of a besieged city. In the endeavor to keep pace with his spendthrift superiors her cousin's household expenditures had run into useless excess.

Harriet plunged at once into the gaiety of the city with all the abandon of her nature, and Peggy, much against her inclination, was of necessity compelled to enter into it also. There were rides every clear day which revealed the strong defenses of the city. New York was in truth but a fortified camp. A first line of defense extended from the heights of Corlear's Hook across the island to the Hudson. There was still another line further up near the narrow neck of land below Fort Washington, while a strong garrison guarded the outlying post of Kingsbridge. Peggy soon realized that unless she was given wings she could never hope to pa.s.s the sentinels. Every afternoon in the Grand Battery along the bay a German band of hautboys played for the amus.e.m.e.nt of the officers and townspeople, and here Peggy met many of the young "macaroni" officers or feminine "toasts" of the city. She grew weary of the incessant round of entertainments. There had been much social intercourse at the camp, but it had been tempered by sobriety, and life was not wholly given up to it. Peggy resolved that she would have to occupy herself in other ways.

"Cousin William," she said one morning, seeking Colonel Owen in his study, where he sat looking over some papers with a frowning brow, "may I talk with thee a little?"

"Is it anent the matter of home?" he queried. "I can do nothing, Peggy.

You will have to stay here. We can't have a rebel come into our lines and then leave, you know."

"I know," she answered sorrowfully. "I want to go home, but 'twas not of that I came to speak."

"Of what then?" he asked.

"Thee lives so well," she said with a blush at her temerity, "and yet, sir, there is so much waste. Thee could live just as well yet there need be no excess. I wish, Cousin William, that thee would let me look after the household while I am here. I care naught for the pleasurings, and 'twould occupy me until such time as thee would let me go home," she added a trifle wistfully. "I could not do so well as mother, but yet I do feel that I could manage more thriftily than thy servants."

"Peggy," he cried springing to his feet, "I hoped for this. You owe me a great deal, and 'tis as well to begin to pay some of your debt. That is why I brought you here."