Peggy Owen and Liberty Part 35

Quickly they made themselves ready, and then proceeded to the Bunch of Grapes Tavern in Third Street. Sally alternated between timidity and a.s.surance.

"With the shadow of death upon him he ought to wish to right every injustice that he hath done," she remarked as they reached the inn.

Peggy caught sight of Major Gordon just then, and did not reply.

Instead she called to the British officer. He came to them instantly.

"May we see Captain Williams for a few moments, sir?" she asked.

"I'll see, Miss Peggy," he answered. "You know, of course, that he is guarded more stringently here than he was on the road, but I think there can be no objection to his friends seeing him."

"Tell him 'tis his cousin, Margaret, and----"

"Don't thee tell him who is with thee, Peggy." Sally's whispered admonition was plainly audible. She had all at once become fearful.

"If he were not bound I would not dare venture in."

A puzzled look crossed Major Gordon's face. He turned to her quickly.

"May I ask why you would not venture in unless he were bound?" he asked.

"Because," uttered Sally blus.h.i.+ng, "if he isn't bound he will not listen to what I have to say. I want to explain something that he ought to know. He would never listen before; now he cannot help himself."

A violent fit of coughing seized the officer, preventing him from replying. Presently recovering he cleared his throat, and left them precipitantly. He was gone but a few moments.

"You may see him for a short time, ladies," he reported. "This way."

They followed him into a large room situated at the end of a long hall. The first thing the girls saw was Clifford, who was half sitting, half reclining in a chair. And his feet and hands were wound about with cords. Peggy felt a catch in her throat as she saw it, while Sally turned white to the lips. The room was scantily furnished, and several dragoons lounged about, but for all their apparent negligence they never for one moment ceased to regard their prisoner.

The youth himself looked wan and haggard. He greeted Peggy with marked pleasure.

"And where is Harriet, my cousin?" he asked.

"She hath gone with father to see the Congress," replied Peggy. "And here is Sally, Clifford. 'Tis for her sake that we have come. She wishes to speak with thee."

"You wish speech with me, Mistress Sally?" questioned he coldly.

"Wherefore?"

"Thee is to die," burst from Sally with emotion. "I could not bear for thee to die believing that I had betrayed thee."

"I am to die, yes," he said with settled calm. "What have such things to do with me?"

"Everything," she answered shrilly. "If I had to die, Clifford Owen, I should want to right whatever of injustice I had done, were it possible to do so. And thee has been unjust to me. I have come hoping that now thee will listen to my explanation. Thee wouldn't hear Peggy, thee wouldn't hear Mr. Owen, but now thee will listen to me, won't thee?"

"I don't see how I can help myself, mistress," he responded grimly.

"Seeing that my hands are bound, I cannot stop my ears."

And at this Peggy marveled anew. Closely guarded the youth had been all the way into Philadelphia. Major Gordon had spoken of an increase in vigilance since entering the city, but to bind him! Americans were not usually so unkind. The change in treatment puzzled her.

"Why should they bind thee?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Sally in reply to Clifford.

"'Tis cruel!"

"I thought that you wished me bound, Miss Sally," he observed gravely.

"We-ell! I don't wish thee bound, Friend Clifford, but thee would not listen to me unless thee were. Do--do the thongs hurt thee very much?"

Now when an exceedingly pretty girl pities a man for any discomfort he is undergoing it would be an abnormal being who did not get out of it all that he could. And Sally, with her hair escaping from under her cap in soft little tendrils, her blue eyes wet with tears of compa.s.sion like violets drenched with dew, made a bewitching picture.

So Clifford pulled a long face, and said lugubriously:

"It's pretty bad, mistress."

"Oh!" she cried. "I wish I could help thee. 'Tis monstrously cruel to use thee so! Yet thee would not listen to me if thee were not bound; would thee?"

"Perchance 'twould be best to take advantage of the fact, and tell me what you have come to say," he suggested with the hint of a smile.

And rapidly Sally told him how the wretched mistake had occurred which led him to disbelieve her truthfulness. She told also of the Council and what had happened before it. All this part he had heard from Mr.

Owen, though he did not tell her.

"And now," she ended with a deep sigh of relief, "thee knows at last just how the matter was."

"Well? And what then?" Clifford was smiling now. "Now you wish me to acknowledge how wrong I was, I suppose?"

"Nay," spoke Sally rising. "I did not want anything except for thee to hear the facts. 'Twould be too much to ask of an Englishman to admit that he was wrong. 'Tis a national characteristic to persist in wrong-doing, and wrong believing even when the right is made plain.

Had this not been the case we should not have had to go through all these weary years of fighting."

"'Fore George, Mistress Sally, but you hit from the shoulder! Now here is one Englishman who is going to prove that you are mistaken. It was unjust of me to believe that you could be capable of treachery. I crave your pardon most humbly. I believe that you did your best to help me last spring. These past few days, since I have known that death is so close, have made me look differently at many things. If you think of me at all in future, Miss Sally, let it be as gently as you can."

He rose as he finished speaking, lightly throwing aside the cords that confined his wrists and ankles, and held out his hand to her with his most winning smile. Much moved Sally placed her hand within his; then, with an exclamation, she withdrew it suddenly.

"Why!" she cried. "Why, thee isn't bound at all!"

"No? Well, you see I understood that you would not dare to come in unless I was bound. Of course, rather than cause you annoyance I had to pretend to be so."

The youth was laughing now, and Peggy, mightily relieved to find that such harsh treatment was not to be accorded him, laughed also. Not so Sally. She stood regarding him with eyes in which slowly grew an expression of pain and scorn.

"Now you aren't going to hold it against me, are you, Miss Sally?" he pleaded.

"When I asked thee if the bonds hurt, thee said, 'Pretty bad,'" stated Sally, her manner full of accusation.

"I did," he admitted.

"It was not true," she cried. "And thee is to die! To die, and yet thee could stoop to trickery! Oh, how could thee do it? Thou art under the shadow of death. I would rather a thousand times that thee would have remained the obstinate Englishman that I deemed thee than to know that thee could do this."

With that she flung up her head, and without another glance in his direction went swiftly out of the room.

CHAPTER XXIV

"THEE MAY TELL HIM AT THE LAST"

"A hopeless darkness settles o'er my fate; I've seen the last look of her heavenly eyes,-- I've heard the last sound of her blessed voice,-- I've seen her fair form from my sight depart!