But the farmer cowered before her.
“How shall I tell you, Hannah?” he cried piteously. “How shall I tell you?”
“It is about my son,” she said quickly. “Tell me instantly.” As Thomas Ashley continued unable to speak she added with passion: “Don’t keep me waiting. Am I not his mother? Who hath a better right to know if aught hath befallen him?”
“No one,” he answered her. “No one, Hannah. I would rather die than tell you, yet I must. Hannah! Hannah!” Sobs burst from him that racked his body. “They hanged him this morning.”
A cry of horror broke from Sally and Peggy, but Nurse Johnson stood as though turned to stone.
“Hanged?” she said. “My boy! What are you saying, Tom Ashley?”
“The truth,” he cried with bitter grief. “The truth, God help us, Hannah. The loyalists took him from prison, and brought him to Gravelly Point, where they hanged him this morning. ’Twas because of Edwards, they said. An express brought the news into Freehold. That boy, that noble, gallant boy hath been hanged like a criminal!”
“But of what was he guilty? What crime did he commit?” Her calm was terrible to see, and Peggy involuntarily took a step toward her, but Sally stayed her quickly.
“Of what was he guilty, Hannah? Why, of repelling the invader. Of trying to stay the ravages of the enemy. He committed the crime of which Washington, and Jefferson, and Franklin, and John Adams are guilty: the crime of patriotism.”