“And so we are met again, my little cousin,” he said warmly. “Clifford tells me why you are in this part of the country, and it seems that ’tis to your nursing that he owes his continuance upon this mundane sphere. Harriet hath not yet returned to New York, I understand, so we will be a reunited family. It hath been some years since we have had that pleasure. ’Twill be all the greater for having you with us.”
“I thank thee, Cousin William,” answered Peggy, responding at once to his unexpected graciousness. “And thee will be glad to know that Harriet hath quite recovered from her illness. She grows more beautiful, I think, were that possible.”
“And this son of mine? What think you of him?” asked he. “I had some cause for offense with him, but since he hath shown himself worthy to follow in my footsteps I have forgot displeasure. He looks like David, does he not?”
“So much, my cousin, that I cannot but think that he should be my father’s son instead of thine. How strange that he should look so much like him!”
“Yes. And I’ll warrant because of that you consider him better looking than his father,” said Colonel Owen laughing heartily.
“But father hath uncommon good looks,” answered she. “And thee does resemble him to some extent.”
“Well,” he said laughing again, “I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied with that. Now, Peggy, if this boy does not look well to your comfort, just let me know. I am obliged to be with my regiment, but I shall manage to look in upon you occasionally. Captain Williams,” he made a wry face at the name, “hath somewhat more leisure.”
And so Peggy found herself well cared for, and in truth she needed much comfort in the ensuing days. Of that march when Cornwallis continued his retreat toward tide-water she never willingly spoke. To Point of Fork and then down the river to Richmond the British commander proceeded by leisurely marches, stopping often for rest, and oftener to permit his troops time for depredations. Scene after scene of rapine followed each other so rapidly that the march seemed one long panorama of destruction. She thought that she knew war in all its horrors. Their own farm had been pillaged, their barn burned, and they had suffered much from the inroads of the enemy; but all this was as naught to what Virginia had to endure.
It had come to mean comparatively nothing to these people to see their fruits, fowls and cattle carried away by the light troops. The main army followed, collecting what the vanguard left. Stocks of cattle, sheep and hogs together with what corn was wanted were used for the sustenance of the army. All horses capable of service were carried off; throats of others too young to use were cut ruthlessly. Growing crops of corn and tobacco were burned, together with barns containing the same articles of the preceding year, and all fences of plantations, so as to leave an absolute waste. This hurricane, which destroyed everything in its path, was followed by a scourge yet more terrible—the numerous rabble of refugees which came after, not to assist in the fighting, but to partake of the plunder, to strip the inhabitants of clothes and furniture which was in general the sole booty left to satisfy their avidity. Many of these atrocities came directly under the girl’s vision; there were others of which she was mercifully spared any knowledge.
In ignorance also was she of the fact that hard after them, not twenty miles away, rode Lafayette. His forces augmented by additions from Greene, by the Pennsylvanians under Wayne, by Baron Steuben’s command, and by the militia under General Nelson, he no longer feared to strike a blow, and so became the hunter instead of the hunted. Consequently there was constant skirmishing between the van and the rear of the two armies.