“If being cross and hungry are encouraging symptoms,” he said somewhat grimly, “I think I ought to get up right now. I’d like to tear this bed to pieces, I am so tired of it; and as for hunger——” He paused as though words failed to express his feelings.
“Then thee had better fall to at once,” suggested Peggy. “And thee is talking too much, I fear.”
“No,” he said. “The coming of the army hath put new life into me. I am no longer a prisoner, Mistress Peggy. That in itself is enough to cure one of any malady. Think! ’twill not be long ere I shall come and go at pleasure. Nor shall I be bound by a parole.”
“But thee must be patient a little longer,” advised the maiden, as he resigned the tray to her with a sigh of content. “Thee must not overdo just at this time, else thee will tax thy new-found strength too much. And I wish to thank thee again, my cousin, for thy kindness yesterday. Thy people have not molested us in any way, and thy friend, the officer who spoke with thee, hath placed a guard about our house to ensure our safety. Both Nurse Johnson and I appreciate thy thoughtfulness. We might have fared ill had it not been for thee.”
“I like not to be beholden to any,” he remarked. “’Twill serve to repay in part for your nursing. I see not yet why you should journey so far to care for an unknown kinsman.”
“Thee did not seem unknown to me, my cousin,” returned Peggy quietly. “Thy father stayed with us for nearly a year when he was upon parole in Philadelphia. And I have been with Harriet for two years almost constantly. Then, too, the dictates of humanity would scarce let us leave thee down here without any of thy kin near. That is all, Clifford.”
And Peggy would discuss the matter no further. Her heart was very warm toward her cousin, and she did not wish a repetition of the conversation of the day before. Seeing that he was inclined to converse too much she quietly withdrew, and busied herself in other parts of the hospital, winding bandages for the surgeons, or reading to the sick. She feared to return to the cottage lest she should again meet with General Arnold; and that, Peggy told herself, she could not bear. At length, however, just about sunset, which was her usual time for returning, she ventured forth.
The evening was a lovely one. The sun had sunk beyond the belts of forest lying to the westward of the town, leaving the sky rosy and brilliant. The street was deserted, and breathing a sigh of relief the maiden hastened to the cottage. She found Mrs. Johnson awaiting her.
“You are late, child,” she said with so distraught an air that Peggy looked up quickly. “I was beginning to fear that some ill might have befallen you. What kept you so?”
“Friend nurse,” answered Peggy with some agitation, “General Arnold stopped me this morning when I went to the hospital with my cousin’s breakfast. I feared lest I should meet with him again, so I waited until the street was clear.”