With the first faint streaks of the dawn sounded the bugle and drum beat of the reveille, and she arose, dressed, and went down to the small portico in front of the house, hoping to hear something which would assure her that Drayton had not been retaken.
The sweet coolness of the early morning came restfully after the excitement of the night, and under its pleasantness Peggy felt all her anxieties fade away, and in their stead there came a deep feeling of peace. Over the world the darkness of the night still brooded, but lightly like a thin curtain whose filmy meshes were even now dissolving under the growing brightness. All the stars save the morning one had been extinguished by the gray dawn, and this first messenger of the day still hung tremblingly in the east, a prophet sign of the light and glory to follow. From the distance came the noises of the great camp, and from a neighboring bush sounded the melody of a mocking-bird. The world was sweet and fair, and life, in spite of dark moments, was well worth while. Peggy had reached this point in her musings when the voice of Colonel Owen startled her:
“You are up early, my little cousin. I feared that you would not sleep.”
There was an unwonted note of solicitude in his tones, and it came to the girl with something of a shock that he was thinking of the execution which was to have taken place at this hour. She opened her lips eagerly to reply, and then there came the thought that not yet could she declare her thankfulness until the escape had become known.
“Sometimes,” continued the colonel coming from the door to her side, “sometimes, Peggy, ’tis wise to move about in sorrow. Action distracts the mind, and anything that draws the thoughts from grief is of benefit. Come, my little cousin! let’s you and I go to see the sun rise over the river. ’Tis said to be wondrously beautiful. Will you come?”
“Yes,” answered she gently, touched by his thought of her.
“We shall have just time to reach the point,” he said leading the way to the gate, “but there will be need for haste.”
The main street of the village faced the river, and this they followed eastward. The way led by the hut where Drayton had been confined, and Peggy glanced quickly at it. It was closed and apparently deserted, with no sign of sentinel, or guard. She gave a sigh of relief. William Owen’s brow contracted in a frown.
“Peggy, I did not think,” he exclaimed with contrition. “I forgot that we should pass by the place.”
“It doth not matter,” she returned so cheerfully that his face brightened. “Shall we go on, Cousin William?”