The lad smiled at the glance of surprise that Peggy gave at his mode of address, and continued:
“I thought you had deserted me entirely. Was care of me so irksome that you are glad to be rid of me?”
“No, Clifford; but thee had thy sister,” responded Peggy who had in truth left the brother entirely to his sister. “Thee had no need of me longer, as thee is not now an invalid.”
“True, I am no longer an invalid, Cousin Peggy. Still are there not some matters to be settled betwixt us? Why have you not reproached me for my doubt of you?”
“When thee found that I had spoke naught but truth what more was there to be said, my cousin?” queried Peggy seriously. “Thy conscience should do the reproaching.”
“And it hath,” he rejoined. “You have given me no opportunity to ask pardon but I do so now. There were many things that I did not know that Harriet hath told me. There are still many that require explanation in order to have a good understanding of affairs. But this I have gathered; all of us, father, Harriet and I, seem to be under deep obligation to you and your family. And my debt is not the least of the three. I wish to repay you in some measure for your care of me. As my excuse I can only say that while I knew that we had cousins in this country I knew little concerning them. I left home shortly after father came over, and so knew naught of his stay with you. And that captain with the shirt Harriet made——” he paused abruptly and clenched his hands involuntarily. “I thought you were like him and all other Americans I had met,” he continued—“boasting braggarts who had wooed my sister from her true allegiance. I cry your pardon, my cousin. Will you give it me?”
“For all doubt of me, thee has it, Clifford,” responded the girl sweetly, touched by his evident contrition. “But for what thee thinks of Americans, no. There are some among us who are not as we would have them be. Among all peoples the good and bad are mingled. I dare say thee is not proud of all Englishmen. We are not a nation of braggarts, as thee thinks. It hath taken something more than braggadocio to repulse thy soldiers for six long years. It hath taken courage, bravery and a grim resolution to win in spite of famine and the greatest odds that ever an army faced. Those things belong not to boasters, my cousin.”
“A truce, a truce,” he cried. “I am routed completely. I admit that Americans have bravery. Odds life! and tenacity also, when it comes to that. Where get they that obstinacy that enables them to rise after every defeat?”
“Where do they get it?” she asked. “Why, from their English blood, of course. Thee and thy fellows forget that they are of thine own blood. Oh, the pity of it! And see how thy people are treating this state!”
“’Tis fortune of war,” he uttered hastily. “And that brings me to the pith of this interview. I have intelligence that Lord Cornwallis is marching toward Richmond, which he will reach the last of this week. Therefore, I shall escort you and Harriet to Portsmouth to-morrow, and see you aboard the ‘Iris,’ bound for New York. I wish to join the earl at Richmond, and I wish to see you in safety before doing so.”