“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.”