"Oh, but 'twas shrewdly planned,—Peggy and I—"
"Peggy!"
Romney could have bitten his tongue out. The mischief was done. He halted, stammered, and finally resolved to throw himself on his mother's mercy, which he might better have done in the beginning.
"Yes, Peggy!—the sweetest name for the sweetest girl in the colonies. When thou dost know her better, Mother, thou wilt say so too."
"Thou dost not seem to have needed long knowledge to find it out; but thou must needs remember that all thou hast told me of her so far is that she is sister to a murderer."
"Mother!" cried Romney, flinging off his mother's hand and jumping up to pace the floor.
"It was thou who didst say the word."
"Not I. Am I like to speak such a foul falsehood of the man I honor most in the world, next to my father! I said accused of murder,—a mighty different thing, as any but a woman would know."
It is a great relief to a man to vent upon the sex a charge which courtesy and respect forbid his laying at the door of the individual.