"How dreadful a thing war is!" sighed Peggy. "The poor fellow! to be ill and weak yet to stay on because of the need the country hath of men.

'Tis heroic, friend nurse."

"Ah, child, 'tis little a mother cares for heroics when her only son is suffering for lack of care. Sick and starving also, it may be."

"I have been selfish," broke from the girl remorsefully. "I have been so full of my woe that I had forgot how our poor soldiers are in want of everything. It hath seemed to me at times that I could not bear to stay down here longer. Thee knows I have not heard from mother at all. I know she must be worried if she hath not heard from me."

"Your being here is cause for worry," said the nurse soberly.

"Williamsburg is in the path of the armies, though it does seem as though we had been visited enough by them. Would that you were home, Peggy, but I see no way of your getting there. The expresses can scarce get through."

"Thee said that General Wayne was to join the Marquis," spoke the girl eagerly. "He is from my own state, friend nurse. I make no doubt but that he would help me could I but reach his lines. And the Marquis--Why, Robert Dale is with the Marquis' forces! I remember now that Betty told me he had been placed there for valor. Thee sees that I have plenty of friends could I but reach our own lines unmolested."

"'Tis not to be thought of," said Nurse Johnson shaking her head decidedly. "No, Peggy; 'tis irksome to stay here under the conditions of things, but I see not how it can be helped. Ah! here is your cousin. How beautiful she is!"

"Where are you going, Peggy?" asked Harriet as she entered the room, her wonderful gray eyes lighting into a smile at Nurse Johnson's last words.

"I am going to the college to see the museum of natural history, Harriet. Will thee come with me?"

"Not I, Peggy. Such things are too tiresome," yawned Harriet. "And Clifford won't go for a ride. He said that he had something to attend to to-day. 'Tis no use to tease Cliff when he makes up his mind. He is worse than father."

"Well, if thee won't come," and Peggy tied the ribbons of her leghorn hat under her chin, "thee must not mind if I go."

"I wish I were back in New York," pouted her cousin. "'Tis slow down here. Had I known that Clifford was so well I would not have come.

However, there will be some amus.e.m.e.nt when the army under Lord Cornwallis gets into quarters. I dare say father will take a house then.

Of course he will want us to look after it."

"Is thy father with Lord Cornwallis?" asked Peggy quickly.

"Of course, Peggy. The Welsh Fusileers always stay with him. When we left him at Camden he was to join Cornwallis, you remember."

"Yes," a.s.sented Peggy absently, "but I had forgot for the moment."

In thoughtful mood she left the cottage. It seemed to her as though she were caught in the meshes of a web from which there was no escape. Here were Clifford and Harriet with the possibility of Colonel Owen appearing upon the scene at any moment. When he came Peggy knew that she would be unable to do anything. If only she could reach the American lines, she thought, a way would be opened for her to proceed to Philadelphia.

The air was rife with rumors concerning the capture and narrow escapes of the postriders. It seemed almost next to impossible for them to get through to Philadelphia! How then could she, a mere girl, hope to accomplish what they could not?

"And yet," Peggy mused, "I must try. I dare not wait until Cousin William comes for he will take Harriet and me with him wherever he goes.

I know not how it will end."

She had reached the college campus by this time, and now paused thoughtfully looking up at the statue of Norborne Berkeley, Lord Botetourt,-most beloved of all the royal governors,-which had been erected on the green.

"I bid you good-morrow, little cousin," spoke a voice pleasantly, and Peggy started to find Clifford beside her.

The lad smiled at the glance of surprise that Peggy gave at his mode of address, and continued:

"I thought you had deserted me entirely. Was care of me so irksome that you are glad to be rid of me?"

"No, Clifford; but thee had thy sister," responded Peggy who had in truth left the brother entirely to his sister. "Thee had no need of me longer, as thee is not now an invalid."

"True, I am no longer an invalid, Cousin Peggy. Still are there not some matters to be settled betwixt us? Why have you not reproached me for my doubt of you?"

"When thee found that I had spoke naught but truth what more was there to be said, my cousin?" queried Peggy seriously. "Thy conscience should do the reproaching."

"And it hath," he rejoined. "You have given me no opportunity to ask pardon but I do so now. There were many things that I did not know that Harriet hath told me. There are still many that require explanation in order to have a good understanding of affairs. But this I have gathered; all of us, father, Harriet and I, seem to be under deep obligation to you and your family. And my debt is not the least of the three. I wish to repay you in some measure for your care of me. As my excuse I can only say that while I knew that we had cousins in this country I knew little concerning them. I left home shortly after father came over, and so knew naught of his stay with you. And that captain with the shirt Harriet made--" he paused abruptly and clenched his hands involuntarily.

"I thought you were like him and all other Americans I had met," he continued-"boasting braggarts who had wooed my sister from her true allegiance. I cry your pardon, my cousin. Will you give it me?"

"For all doubt of me, thee has it, Clifford," responded the girl sweetly, touched by his evident contrition. "But for what thee thinks of Americans, no. There are some among us who are not as we would have them be. Among all peoples the good and bad are mingled. I dare say thee is not proud of all Englishmen. We are not a nation of braggarts, as thee thinks. It hath taken something more than braggadocio to repulse thy soldiers for six long years. It hath taken courage, bravery and a grim resolution to win in spite of famine and the greatest odds that ever an army faced. Those things belong not to boasters, my cousin."

"A truce, a truce," he cried. "I am routed completely. I admit that Americans have bravery. Odds life! and tenacity also, when it comes to that. Where get they that obstinacy that enables them to rise after every defeat?"

"Where do they get it?" she asked. "Why, from their English blood, of course. Thee and thy fellows forget that they are of thine own blood.

Oh, the pity of it! And see how thy people are treating this state!"

"'Tis fortune of war," he uttered hastily. "And that brings me to the pith of this interview. I have intelligence that Lord Cornwallis is marching toward Richmond, which he will reach the last of this week.

Therefore, I shall escort you and Harriet to Portsmouth to-morrow, and see you aboard the 'Iris,' bound for New York. I wish to join the earl at Richmond, and I wish to see you in safety before doing so."

"Thee must leave me out of such a plan, Clifford," spoke Peggy quietly.

"I am not going to New York. When I was there before only the river lay betwixt my mother and me, yet I was not permitted to cross it. I should be a prisoner as thee would be in Philadelphia. I could not bear it."

"But you cannot remain here, Peggy," he remonstrated. "I am doing what seems to me the best that can be done for you. The country is overrun by soldiers of both sides. Were you able to get through the British lines there still remain the rebels."

"Thee has no need to trouble concerning me at all, my cousin," spoke Peggy with some heat. "If I can reach the rebel lines, as thee calls them, I shall be sent through. I am not going to New York in any event."

"I shall not permit you to remain here," he said, determination written on every feature. "I am your nearest male relative in this part of the country, and as such I shall do what I think is best for you. Come, little cousin, be reasonable. Harriet shall use her influence, once New York is reached, to see that you go to your mother. Will not that content you?"

"It doth not content me," replied the girl, her whole nature roused to resistance. Too well she knew what Harriet's promises were to rely upon them. "I am grateful to thee, Clifford, for thy thought of me; but thee must give o'er anything that hath New York for its end and aim."

"But I cannot let you stay here," he cried again. "The game is up as far as these people are concerned. I cannot let you remain to be a sharer in their miseries and distresses. Be reasonable, Peggy."

"I am reasonable, Clifford. Reasonable with the reason born of experience. These people are my people. If I cannot get home I prefer to share their misery, rather than to be at ease among the British. Attend to thy sister, but leave me to do as I think best, I beg."

"'Tis futile to talk further concerning the matter," he said. "You must be made to do what is best for you." With this he left her.

"I can tarry here no longer," Peggy told herself as she watched Clifford's retreating figure. "My cousin is sincere in the belief that it is the best thing to do. Were Harriet to be relied upon--But no; too many promises have been broken to trust her now. I must try to get to our lines. I will go in the morning."

The light was just breaking in the east the next morning when Peggy softly stole into the stable where Star was, and deftly saddled and bridled the little mare.

"We are going home, Star," she whispered as she led the pony out of the stable and yard to the road. "It will all depend on thee, thou dear thing! Do thy very best, for thee will have to get us there."

CHAPTER XXII-FOR LOVE OF COUNTRY

"Our country's welfare is our first concern: He who promotes that best, best proves his duty."

-Harvard's Regulus.