“If Clifford goes to bed early the thing can be done,” said Harriet going to the door. “It all depends upon that. Now, Peggy, I will send you up some tea. ’Twill be best for you to remain here; such a distressed damsel should remain in seclusion. I will come back after tattoo.”
In spite of her cousin’s optimistic words Peggy spent the time before her return with much apprehension. It seemed to her that the night was more than half gone ere she appeared. In reality it was but ten o’clock.
“Father thought he had better not go to bed at first,” she said her eyes glowing like stars. “I persuaded him that he ought not to lose his rest—that while with the army he never knew when he might be called upon for service which would not admit of repose. Therefore, ’twas the part of wisdom to get it while he could, and I would see that he was aroused in time to call Clifford. Everything hath gone just as we wished, and what we have to do must be done quickly. I must be back in time to restore the key to Cliff’s pocket, and then to waken father. Help me to undress, Peggy.”
With trembling fingers Peggy unfastened her frock, and soon Harriet stood before her arrayed in the uniform of a British officer.
“Captain Williams, at your service, madam,” she said, bowing low, a cocked beaver held gallantly over her heart. Peggy was amazed at the transformation. Every mannerism of Clifford was reproduced with such faithful exactitude that were it not for her wonderful eyes and brilliant complexion she could pass easily for her brother.
“I did not know that thee was so like him,” murmured Peggy. “But thine eyes, Harriet. Clifford hath never such eyes as thine.”
“’Tis lucky that ’tis dark,” answered Harriet reassuringly. “They will not be noticed in the dark. Besides, the guard will be so thankful for relief that ’twill be a small matter to him what my eyes are like. Come, my cousin.”
With a stride that was in keeping with the character she had assumed Harriet went swiftly down-stairs to the lower story of the dwelling followed by the trembling Peggy, and soon they were outside in the fresh air of the night.
It was dark, as the girl had said. Only the stars kept watch in the sky, and objects were but dimly perceivable. The noises of the great camp were for the most part stilled. The rows and rows of tents lying southward and eastward of the village gleamed white and ghostlike through the clear obscurity. The glimmer of the dying embers of many camp-fires shone ruddily in the distance, while an occasional sentinel could be descried keeping his monotonous vigil. Silently and quickly went the two girls toward the hut where Drayton was. Presently Harriet stopped under the mulberry tree.
“Wait here,” she whispered. Peggy, in a quick gush of tenderness, threw her arms about her.