“Peggy,” cried Clifford in astonishment. “Such words from you who are the soul of honor? You would not ask me to do this.”
“No; but ’tis because of my upbringing, Clifford. I have been taught that a word once passed must be kept. That a promise must not be broken. Therefore, I understand why thee would prefer death to the breaking of thy parole. I am proud that thee feels as thee does about it. I am prouder still that even thy sister cannot tempt thee to break thy word great as is thy love for her. Yet underneath it all I have a heart of a woman, and that heart aches for thy sister.”
“’Fore George!” murmured the youth gazing from one to the other in perplexity. “I never dreamed of this. I thought of course that such things were regarded alike by both sexes. I——” He passed his hand over his brow thoughtfully. Then his expression softened. “I have much to learn. Harriet!” And he opened his arms.
“My brother,” she cried. “My wonderful brother! And you will go with me?”
“No,” he answered while he kissed her. “No, Harriet. However such things may appear to you, for me there is but one course: I must return. But come with us.”
“I cannot, Clifford. I must go back to father.”
“Then I must leave you, because we have been long, too long away from camp. And now good-bye!”
“Something may yet come up to save him, Harriet,” whispered Peggy as Harriet followed them weeping to the piazza.
“No,” she said disconsolately. “This was the only hope, Peggy. Everything hath been done that can be done. I shall never see him again.”