“Peggy!” Harriet stretched out her arms to her cousin with a cry of bitterness. “What shall I do? What shall I do?”
But Peggy shook her head sorrowfully as she drew the girl into her arms. What could be done? She knew of nothing. That the safety of American prisoners might be assured Congress had decreed the death of a British officer to retaliate upon a lawless act of the enemy. That the officer chosen chanced to be her cousin did not change the justice of the act. Fairfax Johnson’s death had been too recent, too near to Peggy for her not to see the fairness of retribution. And yet, and yet! that it should prove to be Clifford. It seemed so hopeless, so dark, Peggy could only shake her head while her tears fell fast.
“We must go home, lass,” spoke David Owen. There were tears in his eyes, and he patted Harriet’s shoulder with infinite tenderness. He was deeply moved by what had taken place, for Clifford had become dear to him; yet the boy’s conduct under the trying circumstances filled him with pride. Now he patted the girl’s shoulder, saying, “’Twill be far better for us to be at home than here. Come, Harriet! Perchance something will occur to us now that we have time to think.”
“Yes, Cousin David.” The girl wiped her eyes and rose obediently as though where she was made no difference. As she did so her glance fell upon Captain Drayton and Major Dale. The two young men had lingered, loth to leave them in their trouble. “Are you not coming too?” she asked.
“We do not wish to intrude, Miss Harriet,” answered Robert Dale, speaking for both.
“But you will not,” she replied. “I want you to come. Both of you. You are of the army, and may be able to suggest something. Come, and let us talk it over.”
So, accompanied by the two youths, they went slowly back to the house. The news had spread throughout the town, and the people, knowing that the unfortunate victim was a relative, respectfully made way for them. The young English captain had become a well-known figure during the time he was on parole, and his youth, manliness, and unfailing courtesy caused every one to deplore the fact that such a doom should have fallen upon one who so little deserved it. Mrs. Owen met them at the door, and her manner told them that she had heard what had resulted from the meeting. She took Harriet at once in her motherly arms.
“I shall take thee right up-stairs to bed, my child,” she said. “This hath been very trying for thee.”
“Nay, madam my cousin,” said the girl, smiling wanly. “’Tis no time for coddling. I shall have all the rest of life to lie in bed; now I must try to find some way to save my brother.”
“Mistress Harriet!” Drayton, who had been unusually thoughtful, now spoke abruptly. “What I am about to suggest may not be of worth, but it can be tried. Why not go to General Washington and plead for your brother? If that fails, and fail it may because retaliation is demanded as the only safeguard Americans have for their countrymen who are prisoners, then go on to your own commander. He may be able to arrange matters with our general.”