“You shall have just one hour,” said the youth, unlocking the door. “I shall call when ’tis time.”
Peggy could not reply. In a tumult of emotion she stepped into the one room of the hut. The air was close and the heat almost intolerable after the freshness of the sea breeze outside. Coming from the dazzling glare of the sun into the darkened interior she could not see for a moment, so stopped just beyond the door, half stifled by the closeness of the atmosphere. When the mist cleared from her eyes she saw a small room whose only furniture consisted of a pine table and two chairs. Drayton was seated with his back toward the entrance, his head resting upon his arms, which were outstretched upon the table. The maiden advanced toward him timidly.
“John,” she uttered softly.
The youth sprang to his feet with an exclamation of gladness.
“Peggy,” he cried. “Oh, I did not hope for this.”
“I had to see thee,” she cried sobbing. “Oh, John, John! thee was loyal all the time, and I doubted thee. All these weeks I doubted thee.”
“’Tis not to be wondered at, Peggy,” he said soothingly, seeing how distressed she was. “Appearances were against me. But why should you think that General Arnold had aught to do with it? I could not understand that.”
“He had asked for thy address, John,” she told him through her tears. “And he said that thee would be fighting with him before two months had passed. When I saw thee in that uniform I thought at once that he had succeeded in wooing thee from thy duty.” In a few words she related all that had passed between her and the traitor. “Can thee ever forgive me?” she concluded. “And did I hurt thee much, John?”
“It’s all right now, Peggy,” he said with a boyish laugh. “But I would rather go through a battle than to face it again.”
“Why didn’t thee tell me, John?”