“Clifford Owen,” retorted the maiden so bitterly angry that she could scarcely speak, “were it not for those friends who have been so kind to me, I would die rather than accept aught from thy hands. But because of them I will take whatever of favor thee can obtain for us. But ’tis under protest. Under strong protest, I would have thee understand.”
“So?” he said. “That is quite as it should be.”
For one long instant the two gazed at each other. The lad’s whole appearance betokened the keenest enjoyment of the situation. He looked as though he had received a draught of an elixir of life, so animated and strong did he appear.
Peggy, on the contrary, found no pleasure in the state of things. She was as near blind, unreasoning wrath as her gentle nature ever came. Had it not been for Nurse Johnson and her son, she would have left her cousin’s bedside forthwith. As it was she sat down beside him in anything but a meek frame of mind.
The streets of the little city thronged with the red coats of the British, and they took possession of public buildings, dwellings, and shops as though they were masters returning to their own.
It was not long before several soldiers under the leadership of an officer made their appearance in the hospital. Rapidly they went through the rooms searching for British prisoners among the wounded and sick inmates. There was no rudeness nor annoyance of any sort offered to either the American sick, or their white-faced nurses. As they approached his bed Clifford sat up stiffly, and gave the officer’s salute.
“Ha!” cried the English officer. “What have we here?” and he paused beside him.
“I am Captain Williams, of the Forty-eighth Regiment, sir,” declared Clifford with another salute. “I have been a prisoner with the enemy since the last week of February.”
“Ha! yes; I remember. Taken at Westchester while on private business for Sir Henry Clinton,” said the other.
“The very same, sir. And this,” indicating Peggy, “is my cousin, Mistress Margaret Owen, of Philadelphia, who hath been put to no small inconvenience by my illness. She hath nursed me back to health, or at least until I am on the road to recovery. For the sake of whatever service I have been able to render General Sir Henry Clinton, I beg you to see that neither she, nor any of the inmates of the house where she dwells, be subjected to annoyance. She hath also a pony, I believe, of which she is very fond. Wilt see that it is exempted from impressment? It is needless to say that any favor rendered me in the matter will not go without recompense.”