“Be not so sure of that, Harriet,” spoke her brother. “Lord Cornwallis is not so inclined toward such things as is Sir Henry Clinton. He is chiefly concerned for this business of warfare.”
“On the march, I grant you, Clifford, but when the army camps there are always pleasurings. ’Twas so at Charlestown, and Camden, and ’tis the case in New York. We shall have a gay time, Peggy.”
“Suppose, Harriet, that you begin giving our cousin a good time by taking her to a room where she may rest,” suggested the youth. “Do you not see that she is greatly fatigued? The march hath been a hard one.”
“She does indeed look tired,” remarked Harriet glancing at Peggy critically. “Come on, Peggy. I’ll take you to our room. ’Tis much larger than the one we shared at Nurse Johnson’s.”
And so chatting she conducted the weary girl to a large, airy chamber on the second floor of the dwelling, leaving her with reluctance at length to seek the rest of which Peggy stood so much in need.
Meanwhile, much to the consternation of the citizens of Williamsburg, the entire army marched in and took possession of the little city. Cornwallis seized upon the president’s house at the college for his headquarters, forcing that functionary with his family to seek refuge in the main college building. As the origin of the institution was so thoroughly English, and it had remained in part faithful to the mother country, he caused it to be strenuously guarded from destruction, or injury of any sort. Indeed, this attitude had been maintained toward the college by all the English throughout the war.
Officers of the highest rank followed the example set them by their commander, and seized upon whatever dwelling pleased their fancy, sometimes permitting the rightful owners to reserve a few rooms for their own use; more often turning them out completely to find shelter wherever they could. The men of minor rank took what their superiors left, while the rank and file camped in the open fields surrounding the town. Parties were sent out daily on foraging expeditions, and once more York peninsula was swept by the devastating invader.
Of all that occurred in the five days that succeeded the army’s entry into the city Peggy knew nothing. She was so utterly worn out that she did not leave her room, and alarmed by this unusual lassitude in her Colonel Owen insisted that she should keep to her bed. By the end of the week, however, she felt quite herself again, and resolving to seek Nurse Johnson without delay, she arose and dressed herself.
“I must tell her of Fairfax,” she thought as she went down the stairs to the drawing-room. “It hath been unkind in me to keep the poor woman waiting so for news of her son, but I have in truth been near to illness. I know not when my strength hath been so severely tried. Peggy, thee must display more fortitude. I fear thee has a long wait before thee ere thee shall behold thy home again, and thee must call forth all thy endurance to meet it. Megrims have no place in thy calendar, Peggy.”
Thus chiding herself she reached the drawing-room where Colonel Owen sat with his son and daughter.