“Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth,
Unapt to toil, and trouble in the world,
But that our soft conditions, and our hearts,
Should well agree with our external parts?”
—“Taming of the Shrew.”
“I didn’t mean it, Peggy,” sobbed Sally over and over. “Thee knows that I didn’t mean it to turn out so. Thee knows that I wouldn’t do such a thing, doesn’t thee? I said the loom. Truly I said the loom. I ran to the stairway just as quickly as I could after the sheriff said he knew of the closet, and I called to thee to tell him to go to the loom. And thee didn’t hear me? Oh, Peggy! Peggy I thee knows that I wouldn’t betray thy cousin knowingly. Thee knows it, Peggy?”
“There, Sally,” soothed Peggy. “I know that thee would do naught that was not honorable. I see it all. All that was intended. Thee thought that Clifford would go up attic behind the loom, and that by assuming a bold front thee could deceive the sheriff into believing that he was not on the place. Sheriff Will would naturally go to the closet, as he knew of it. I am to blame too, Sally. It was just a miserable misapprehension on both our parts.”
“But Clifford will always believe that I betrayed him,” said Sally chokingly, lifting her tear-stained face. “And oh, I did like him so much! What will they do with him, Peggy?”
“I don’t know,” answered Peggy thoughtfully. “Take him back to Lancaster, probably. Father said this morning that the sheriff told him a number of the prisoners had escaped. Clifford, it seems, had stopped at the sheriff’s own house to inquire the way to the State House. I told him, I remember, that we lived just across from it. His cloak had fallen apart and disclosed his uniform, and some one suspected that ’twas one of the British prisoners. The sheriff was not at home at the time, but when he came he was told of the occurrence, and at once went in pursuit of him. But now,” Peggy concluded soberly, “we must take heed to ourselves. I hope that he believed me when I told him that father had naught to do with the matter. If only the punishment would fall on me, and not on thee, or father, I would not mind what happened.”
“Thee must go to him at once and unravel the whole affair,” counseled Mrs. Evans who had joined them as soon as the sheriff left. “’Tis best that he should know of it at once. Sally, thee must go with Peggy, and tell of thy share in it.”
“Yes, mother,” assented Sally meekly. “Peggy, will thee ever love me again?”
“I haven’t stopped yet, Sally,” replied Peggy kissing her. “Thee must not feel so bad. After all the sheriff might have found him up attic. Thee knows how carefully he searches.”
“I would not have been to blame for that, Peggy. Now Clifford will always believe that I did it on purpose.”