Harriet and her father were awaiting her when she returned home. Harriet looked weary and a little pale.
“We could not see the Congress, Peggy,” said she in answer to Peggy’s eager queries. “Cousin David could not obtain an audience for me; but the Minister of War, in whose charge Clifford now is, consented that we should accompany him to the New Jersey cantonment. He said that ’twas General Washington’s desire that Clifford should be given every indulgence suitable to his rank and condition that would be consistent with the security of his person. He said too that the execution would take place pursuant to the general’s orders, and therefore ’twas proper that all pleas should be made to him. We start with the dragoons and officers who guard my brother to-morrow.”
It was early the next morning when the start for New Jersey was made. Early as it was, however, Sally was down to see them off. She hovered around Peggy, finally saying, with a fine air of carelessness:
“I had a short letter from thy Cousin Clifford, Peggy. If he should speak of the matter, I dare say he will not, thee may say that ’tis all right. That I have no hard feelings toward him.”
Peggy caught her suddenly, and held her fast.
“Is that all I am to say, Sally? Is there naught else? Couldn’t thee give me one little kind word for him? He is to die, Sally.”
Sally struggled to free herself, then unexpectedly hid her face on Peggy’s shoulder, and burst into tears.
“Tell him,” she sobbed, then looked up at Peggy wrathfully: “If thee tells him anything until the very last, Peggy Owen, I will never forgive thee. Never!”
“I understand, Sally,” encouraged Peggy. “Tell me.”
“Thee may tell him, at the very last, at the very last, Peggy.”