“Sir,” said Peggy with a certain wistfulness in her voice caused by the knowledge of the news she bore, “before thee takes the letters I should like to tell thee how I came by them.”
“Certainly you may,” he said regarding her with a new deference, for the girl’s manner and accents bespoke her gentle breeding.
“YOU ARE WELCOME,” SAID GENERAL GATES
And standing there Peggy told simply the story of how she had become possessed of the despatches. A stillness came upon them as she related the death of the vidette, her tones vibrating with tenderness and feeling.
“He died for his country,” she said, “and, sir, he wished that told to his wife. She was not to grieve; for ’twas for his country. And his horse, General Gates. I promised that I would speak to thee concerning him. We left him guarding the body. Thee will see that he is cared for, will thee not?”
“Yes,” he said, much moved. “So noble an animal should be looked well to. Did you learn the man’s name, mistress?”
“’Twas Trumbull, sir. William Trumbull, of Fairfield, Connecticut.”