Peggy Owen at Yorktown

by Lucy Foster Madison

“’Tis not to be considered for an instant, child,” spoke the matron quickly. “After the regular army hath its fill of pillage there always comes the riffraff to gather up what their masters have left. Scoundrels they are; utterly devoid of every instinct of humanity. I would not have you meet with them for the world. Peggy, be advised by me in this, and ride on with your cousin.”

“I must go,” broke from Peggy. “I see that I must. But ’tis bitter to go back; ’tis bitter to be compelled to be with such an enemy as this army; ’tis bitter also to leave thee like this, destitute of everything. How terrible a thing is war,” she cried bursting into sudden weeping. “Oh, will the time never come when nations shall war no more? I long for the day when the sword shall be turned into the ploughshare, and the spear into the pruning-hook.”

“And so do we all,” cried Mrs. Weston taking the girl into a tender embrace, for she perceived that she was near the limit of endurance. “Now mount that little mare of yours, and go right on with your cousin.” She motioned Clifford to approach. “Unless your orders are such that you cannot, young man,” she said, “take your cousin away from here at once.”

“I will do so gladly, madam, if she will but go with me,” he returned. “Will you come, my cousin?”

“I must, Clifford,” answered Peggy, striving for composure. “There seems naught else for me to do. Mrs. Weston thinks it the wisest course.”

“I thank you, madam,” he said bowing courteously. “And I pray you believe me when I say that this plundering and burning are not at all to my liking. ’Tis winked at by the leaders, and for that reason we, who are of minor rank and who do not approve such practices, must bear with them. Come, my cousin.”

“For those words, Clifford, I will forgive thee everything,” exclaimed the overwrought girl.

“There are many who feel as I do,” he said assisting her to mount. “I like army life, my cousin. There is nothing so inspiring to my mind as the blare of bugle, or the beat of drum. The charge, the roar of musketry, the thunder of artillery, all fill me with joy. They are as the breath of life to my nostrils. Glory and honor lie in the field; but this predatory warfare, these incursions that for their end and aim have naught but the destruction of property—Faugh!” he concluded abruptly. “Fame is not to be gained in such fashion.”

In silence they rode down the shaded lane to the road. The main army had long since passed on, but the rear guard and baggage train still filled the cleared stretch of road from which the lane turned. As had been the case in every state that the English had entered, a number of loyalists with their families flocked to the British standard, and traveled with the army. Clifford, who was obliged to rejoin his command, found a place for Peggy among these persons, promising to return as soon as possible.

The company was not at all congenial to the girl. The feeling between loyalist and patriot was not such that either was easy in the presence of the other. Women are ever more intensely partisan than men, and the comments of some of these latter against their own countrymen tried Peggy severely, but she bore it patiently, knowing that this was the best that could be done in the matter. When at last Hanover Court House was reached, Clifford came to see about accommodations for her; and on this, as well as the days that followed, Peggy had no cause to complain of his manner. That little reference concerning the nearer kinship of his father had been productive of good fruit, and he no longer insisted upon his own relationship offensively. So agreeable was his behavior that when, at length, he brought his father to her she said not one word to Colonel Owen about placing herself under his care. The colonel himself seemed in high good humor, and greeted her with something of affection.