Peggy Owen and Liberty Part 9

CHAPTER VII

DAVID OWEN IS INFORMED OF THE FACTS

"Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth, Unapt to toil, and trouble in the world, But that our soft conditions, and our hearts, Should well agree with our external parts?"

--"_Taming of the Shrew._"

"I didn't mean it, Peggy," sobbed Sally over and over. "Thee knows that I didn't mean it to turn out so. Thee knows that I wouldn't do such a thing, doesn't thee? I said the loom. Truly I said the loom. I ran to the stairway just as quickly as I could after the sheriff said he knew of the closet, and I called to thee to tell him to go to the loom. And thee didn't hear me? Oh, Peggy! Peggy I thee knows that I wouldn't betray thy cousin knowingly. Thee knows it, Peggy?"

"There, Sally," soothed Peggy. "I know that thee would do naught that was not honorable. I see it all. All that was intended. Thee thought that Clifford would go up attic behind the loom, and that by a.s.suming a bold front thee could deceive the sheriff into believing that he was not on the place. Sheriff Will would naturally go to the closet, as he knew of it. I am to blame too, Sally. It was just a miserable misapprehension on both our parts."

"But Clifford will always believe that I betrayed him," said Sally chokingly, lifting her tear-stained face. "And oh, I did like him so much! What will they do with him, Peggy?"

"I don't know," answered Peggy thoughtfully. "Take him back to Lancaster, probably. Father said this morning that the sheriff told him a number of the prisoners had escaped. Clifford, it seems, had stopped at the sheriff's own house to inquire the way to the State House. I told him, I remember, that we lived just across from it. His cloak had fallen apart and disclosed his uniform, and some one suspected that 'twas one of the British prisoners. The sheriff was not at home at the time, but when he came he was told of the occurrence, and at once went in pursuit of him. But now," Peggy concluded soberly, "we must take heed to ourselves. I hope that he believed me when I told him that father had naught to do with the matter. If only the punishment would fall on me, and not on thee, or father, I would not mind what happened."

"Thee must go to him at once and unravel the whole affair," counseled Mrs. Evans who had joined them as soon as the sheriff left. "'Tis best that he should know of it at once. Sally, thee must go with Peggy, and tell of thy share in it."

"Yes, mother," a.s.sented Sally meekly. "Peggy, will thee ever love me again?"

"I haven't stopped yet, Sally," replied Peggy kissing her. "Thee must not feel so bad. After all the sheriff might have found him up attic.

Thee knows how carefully he searches."

"I would not have been to blame for that, Peggy. Now Clifford will always believe that I did it on purpose."

"Perchance there may come a time when thee can explain all to him,"

comforted her friend. "Let us go to father now, Sally. He must know all that hath occurred."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE TWO GIRLS SET FORTH.]

Without further ado the two girls set forth for Peggy's home. The distant hills that ridged the west bank of the Schuylkill stretched a luminous belt in the glistening suns.h.i.+ne. The city was clothed in a garb of pure white, a dazzling garment that was symbolical of the peace with which The Founder desired his beloved city to be filled.

But there was little peace in the hearts of the two maidens who wended their way sadly and silently toward the Owen home in Chestnut Street.

David Owen, his wife, Nurse Johnson, Robert and Fairfax were a.s.sembled in the living-room of the dwelling. They rose with exclamations of dismay at sight of Peggy's pale face, and Sally's red eyes.

"What hath happened, la.s.s?" cried her father. "Thou art in trouble. Is it of a serious nature?"

"Yes, father," answered the girl tremulously. "It may be grave trouble for thee, though it should be for me alone, as I am solely to blame."

She paused for a moment to steady her voice, then continued: "Father, the escaped prisoner whom the sheriff sought was Clifford. He came here yesterday just after dinner asking for shelter. I could not turn him away in such a storm. Indeed, he would not have sought us out at all had it not been for the weather. And--and I hid him in the kitchen chamber."

"Clifford!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed her father. "Thy Cousin Clifford? But where is he now? The kitchen chamber was searched, but we found no one there.

Where is he?"

"The sheriff hath him," Peggy told him chokingly. "Sally took him home with her last night, and I went there to see him this afternoon. I met the sheriff in Fourth Street as I left here, and he must have followed me; for I had scarce begun to talk to Clifford when he came and took my cousin. He talks of an indictment."

Both girls were crying by this time, and with an exclamation of concern Mrs. Owen hastened to them, and drew them into an embrace.

"There! There!" she said soothingly. "David will manage it somehow.

Don't sob so, Sally. After all thee is not so much to blame. Perchance the Council will excuse what thee did, as 'twas to help Peggy."

"I don't care for the old Council," flashed Sally through her tears.

"'Tis that Peggy's cousin thinks that I betrayed him. I thought he was up attic, and he wasn't. I told Peggy to tell him to go there, but she did not hear me. Thee knows my fault, Mrs. Owen," she wailed in an agony of self-reproach. "Thee knows just how froward and saucy I can be, and I was just that way with the sheriff, and--and pert. He spoke of the closet, showing that he knew of it, and I was so sure that Clifford was up attic that I asked the sheriff if I should open the door for him. I did, and there was Clifford," she ended with a fresh burst of tears.

"I know just how you feel," interposed Nurse Johnson sympathetically.

"And so the prisoner was Clifford? Well, I am sorry that he was taken.

Tell us all about it, Peggy."

"Yes, la.s.s," spoke David Owen. "Calm thyself as soon as may be, and let me know the matter in detail. I must know all concerning it."

Mr. Owen spoke gravely. Well he knew what the feeling was toward those who a.s.sisted prisoners of war in escaping. Aiding or abetting the enemy in any way was not tolerated, either in the city or the country at large. The systematic cruelties practiced toward the American prisoners both in the dreadful prison s.h.i.+ps and the jails, the barbarities perpetrated toward their countrymen in the South, the hara.s.sing of the coasts, the raids of the refugees, the capture of their merchantmen by British privateers; all these things and many others served to keep the hearts of Americans inflamed with rancor toward the English. They were not disposed to overlook any indulgence displayed toward such an enemy.

Presently Peggy had so far recovered her usual composure that she was able to relate succinctly all that had occurred. Her father listened attentively.

"Why did thee not come to me for aid, la.s.s?" he asked when she had finished the recital.

"Why, father, 'twould go hard with thee were it to become known that thee had given aid to a prisoner," answered Peggy. "I wished to keep thee clear of it. Then, too, thee might have deemed it duty to give up my cousin, and I could not bear that; yet I should want thee to do what was right."

"I think I understand, la.s.s," he said, "'Twas most ingenious to think of having him come to the door as Sally's escort. I knew not that thou hadst so much of daring in thee to originate such a plan."

Peggy flushed scarlet at this. She had suppressed all mention of Fairfax's connection with the matter, wis.h.i.+ng not to implicate him. So she stared at her father in an embarra.s.sed silence, uneasy at the praise she did not merit.

"But why was he not discovered?" went on David Owen musingly. "The room was searched twice. By the way," turning suddenly toward Fairfax Johnson, "captain, was it not thee who went up there first?"

"It was, sir," answered the young man promptly. "I stumbled over Clifford, who was lying wrapped up in a fur rug. He chuckled as I did so, and I knew at once who it was. I had known him in Williamsburgh, you remember."

"Why didst thou not cry out? Thou wert taken unawares, as it were. I marvel at thy command," and Mr. Owen regarded him keenly.

"Well," hesitated the youth, "I went up there because I suspected that Miss Peggy had some one hidden there, and I wanted to help her."

"Thou knew of it? But how?"

"Because she was out of the room longer than any one after dinner, and had time to make arrangements of that nature if she so desired, sir.

Then too she did not reply when the sheriff asked us all to say whether we had seen anything of a British prisoner."

"All this went on, and I saw naught of it!" exclaimed Mr. Owen. "Why!

where were my eyes? I would have affirmed that I could account for every action of every member of the household."

"We younger people were together a great deal yesterday, sir. We had more opportunities for observing if anything was amiss with one of our number than you would have."

"Was it thou who wast responsible for the plan of getting away?"

questioned Mr. Owen. "Methought 'twas too daring to have originated with Peggy."

"Well, yes," acknowledged Fairfax flus.h.i.+ng. "The daring lay only in the execution of it. The girls and Clifford furnished that."

"But to risk thy liberty for such a thing, lad! Was it worth while to jeopardize thy new commission to aid Peggy with her cousin?"

Fairfax stirred restlessly.

"But I was under great obligations to Clifford too, sir," he made answer presently. "He kept my mother from molestation in Williamsburgh when the enemy was in possession of the place. I was in duty bound to help him."