Peggy Owen and Liberty

by Lucy Foster Madison

The daylight faded. Twilight melted into darkness. From the camp the voices of the soldiers in song or story floated in to her. Peggy went to the casement window and stood staring out into the night. Tattoo sounded. The noises of the camp died away, for the soldiers’ day was ended. Would there never be another day for Clifford? How was he bearing it out there alone in the guard-house? Would his high courage remain with him to the end? That he would die bravely she did not doubt; but to die!

For what was she watching and waiting? She did not know. She was hoping against hope that something would happen to prevent her cousin’s death. It was the night which had brought rescue to John Drayton at Yorktown the year before. Would it not be as kind to Clifford? So Peggy kept her vigil, and the hours passed. Once, the room grew close, and, faint from watching and grief, she slipped out under the trees. There was no moon, but the stars kept watch in the sky, twinkling down at her with quiet friendliness.

In the valley the placid river murmured softly. The hills in the distance seemed but a darker, lower sky lost in the obscurity of the night. From out of the gloom the tents gleamed ghostly white. It was so still that she could hear the footsteps of the sentries as they made their rounds. With the faint streaking of the dawn came a sound that caused her to flee, horror-stricken, to her room. For the sound was that of hammering. The gallows was being erected.

And at that awful sound hope fled from the girl’s heart. All night she had waited, hoping, believing, that something would come to prevent the execution. Now she felt that all was over. Clifford must die.

Calmness settled upon her. For with absolute despair came a peace—a numbness that left her insensible to anything save the fact that she must be brave for Clifford’s sake—that he was alone, and she of all his kindred was there to give him comfort. So Peggy prepared for the ordeal before her.

The execution was to take place at nine o’clock. Long before that hour the people from the countryside gathered. A great concourse of farmers, and citizens from the near-by farms and villages, all conversant with the details of the affair, came to see the unfortunate victim.

Peggy saw none of them as she went with leaden feet to the guard-house. No one said her nay as she took her position by the door. The guards glanced at her compassionately, awed by the whiteness of her face, and the awful calmness of her manner. The cousins had come to be well known in the camp, and there was not a soldier who did not commiserate the youth’s fate.

How fast the moments go when one is expecting a dread event! It seemed that it could not be time when the drums beat assembly, and the soldiers filed into place. A squadron of dragoons and a battalion of soldiers formed in a hollow square. Within their ranks was a cart in which the prisoner was to be taken to the place of execution. The bitterness of death fell upon her as she watched for Clifford’s coming. She must be brave. Of all his kindred she alone was there to bid him a last farewell. That was all of which Peggy was conscious. She did not know that the military band had taken its position in the procession, and that the entire Jersey line was forming as for parade.

A stir at the door betokened the coming of the prisoner. The door opened, and two guards appeared. Behind them, with a guard on either side, came the unfortunate young man who was to pay the penalty of another’s crime. He was very white, but composed. As the morning sunlight fell upon him he looked so young, so handsome in his scarlet uniform, that a murmur of pity rose, and spread among the people. A mist dimmed the youth’s eyes as he caught sight of the little figure standing by the door. He spoke to one of the guards, then stepped quickly to her side, stooped, and kissed her.