_Frederick William Faber_.

"What is the trouble, Friend Reed?" asked Mrs. Owen as she entered the hall.

"I wish you good-morning, Mrs. Owen. It grieves me to enter David Owen's house upon such mission as I must this day perform, but war is no respecter of persons. Were it my own household I still must subject its inmates to a most rigid inquiry." Mr. Reed fumbled nervously with his c.o.c.ked hat as he spoke, and looked the embarra.s.sment that he felt.

"Come in, Friend Reed." Mrs. Owen threw wide the door of the sitting-room with a smile. "Thee may make all the inquiries thee wishes without apology. And what is the trouble?"

"Madam-I need hardly ask, and yet I must-did you know that this girl here had been communicating with the enemy?"

"No; I did not know of it. Harriet, is such the case? Hast thou indeed been guilty of this?"

"Yes," admitted Harriet defiantly. "I did write to Sir Henry Clinton about my brother. If that is communicating with the enemy then I am guilty."

"This then," said Mr. Reed producing a letter from his coat, "this then is yours?"

Harriet took the missive and scanned it quickly.

"Well," she said. "And what then? It is mine, and, as may be seen, 'tis innocent enough. It merely asks the commander to get my brother's exchange as soon as he can. It speaks too of the services our family have rendered to the cause. Why should it not be written? Am I not English? Have I not a right to ask aid from my own people?"

"Undoubtedly, mistress; but in times like these there are regulations to be observed by both sides. One who breaks them does so at his own risk, and subjects himself and those with whom he abides to suspicion. I warned you against this very thing. I promised to attend to any letter you might wish to send to the British commander after we had found an officer who might be exchanged for your brother. That you preferred to risk sending a message through the lines irregularly rather than to benefit by my a.s.sistance doth not speak well for the harmlessness of the letter, however innocent it doth appear on the surface."

"But it contains nothing that can harm any one," she protested. "And you were so long in telling me about the parole. Why, look you! 'Tis all of a month since you promised to get my brother here, and he hath not come yet! Think you I could wait longer? The letter hath not been written five days, and had you obtained my brother's release as you promised 'twould not have been written at all. 'Tis unfair to hold me to account for a matter for which you yourself are to blame."

"Your brother was not at Fredericksburg as you thought he would be, Mistress Harriet," answered he. "I was but seeking to find where he had been taken. The delay was in your service. Why did you not come to me instead of taking matters in your own hands? I would have explained. As the affair now stands you have not only brought punishment upon yourself, but you have subjected these, your cousins, to suspicion."

"As to myself," she said superbly, "it doth not matter. I was right to seek aid of my own people. I would do it again if it were to do over. My brother's welfare merits any risk I might run. As for Peggy and her mother, it is needless to say anything. They are not responsible for any of my doings, and cannot be held for them. 'Tis ridiculous to tell me that I have brought suspicion upon them, and 'tis done merely to fright me."

"You speak that which you know not of," he said soberly. "These be parlous times, mistress. Have you forgot that at Middlebrook you played the spy? Have you forgot that despite that fact you are brought again in our lines on the plea of ill health? Have you forgot that your father is a colonel in the British army, and that you yourself are an English girl? There are those who say that these facts show plainly that your cousins but use their patriotism as a mask to aid the side with which they truly sympathize."

Harriet stared at him in dismay, and turned very pale as a wail broke from Peggy:

"Oh, Harriet, Harriet! why did thee do it? And thee promised."

"No harm shall come to you, Peggy," cried Harriet. "Sir," turning to Mr.

Reed, "believe me when I say that these two had naught to do with either the writing or the sending of the letter. In truth, they knew not when 'twas done, nor how."

"And how shall your word be believed when you think nothing of breaking it?" he questioned. "You promised your cousin, it seems; you also promised me that you would not hold communication with the enemy without first consulting me. We cannot trust you. Beside, the letter was returned with this warning from His Excellency, General Washington:

"'Gentlemen of the Council:

"'Permit no communication whatever between the writer of this letter and the enemy. Young as she is, she hath already shown herself very adept as a spy.'"

"What, what are you going to do to them?" asked the girl, in consternation. "In very truth, sir, they had naught to do with the matter."

"We know it," he made answer. "And yet, despite past services, despite the fact that David is in the field, there were some who whispered against them. The purest patriots in times like these are subjected to suspicion by the least untoward action. A year ago who would have thought that General Arnold would try to betray his country? I, myself, have been approached with offers from an emissary of the king. Because Mrs. Owen and her daughter are so well known for patriotic services, because we know them to be persons of high honor and unquestioned integrity, we have permitted no reflection upon them. But this state of things will not continue if you are allowed to remain with them.

Therefore, we have decided that your punishment shall be--"

"What?" she cried anxiously. "Oh, I pray 'tis not arrest."

"Wait," he said. "The arrest was thought of, but the council consented to give it o'er on condition that you withdraw immediately into the enemy's lines. In short, mistress, you are to be sent to New York."

"Banished to New York?" she repeated in amazement. "Why, that is where I want to be. Good sir," sweeping him an elaborate courtesy, "I thank you and the excellent gentlemen of the council. The punishment is most agreeable to my liking."

"And to ours," he answered her sternly, offended by her levity. "Be ready, therefore, to go to-morrow morning. In company with a number of other women, Tories and wives of Tories guilty of the same misdemeanor as yourself, you will be sent under escort to the British. Mistress Owen, you have my sympathy and congratulation also that the matter is no worse. I will bid you all a very good day."

Harriet sank down on the settle as the door closed upon the gentleman, and looked expectantly at the other two. But neither Mrs. Owen nor Peggy spoke. The matron quietly resumed her sewing, while Peggy stared at her as though this new breach of trust was more than she could believe.

"Say something, one of you," cried the girl suddenly. "I'd rather you would be angry than to sit there like that."

"How could thee do it?" came from Peggy. "Oh, Harriet! doesn't thee ever keep thy word?"

"Well, I promised not to bring any harm upon you, and I didn't; did I?

Mr. Reed tried to scare us anent that, but he soon told the truth of the matter."

"It was not owing to thee that harm did not result to us, Harriet," said Mrs. Owen in a serious tone. "I dare not think what would have happened had we not been in our own city, and have given proof many times of our patriotism. I am not going to rail at thee, child; for I believe that thee did not wittingly try to injure us. But reflect on this: here were we all, Mr. Reed, Peggy and myself, who were trying to aid thee in getting a release for thy brother. We did all that could be done, and cautioned thee against trying to do anything without our help. We had thy best interests at heart, Harriet. Now, dear child, doth it not seem that something was owing to those whose hospitality thou wert enjoying?

Was not the letter inexcusable as a breach of hospitality?"

"Oh," cried the girl bursting into tears. "I see now that it was. I did not mean to bring harm to you, madam my cousin. Oh, I was wrong in doing it. I am sorry now."

"Then we will dwell no longer upon that feature of it," remarked the lady. "The thing now is to see what good can be got out of it. Thou wilt see about thy brother's exchange, wilt thou not? He should be there with thee."

"Yes," a.s.sented the girl miserably. "I will go to Sir Henry at once anent it. In that way 'tis much better to be where I can see him. Still, while I am glad to go I shall miss you both. You have been very good to me, but it will be gayer there. We British know better than you how to make merry. But if I were to be ill again I know of no place that I would rather be than here."

"If thee only cares for us when thee is ill or in trouble, thee can just stay with the British," cried Peggy indignantly. "Thy family seem to think that we live for naught else than to do you service. I wonder if the day will ever come when one of you will meet favors with aught but trickery?"

"Peggy," chided her mother sharply.

"I can't help it, mother. I am sick and tired of deceit and falsehood, and the knavery that makes us appear like traitors to the country. I am glad that she is going." With this pa.s.sionate outbreak Peggy burst into tears.

Harriet looked at her for a moment unable to make any reply, but presently she spoke in tones that were unusually gentle for her:

"Peggy, the day will come when you shall see what I will do. We are not all bad, if we are English."

"Don't ever promise about anything any more," sobbed Peggy. "I can never believe thee again."

But all of her resentment vanished the next morning as a hay cart drew up before the door under escort of a guard. There were a few women in the cart, and a number of people, men and boys mostly, had collected to view the departure.

"Oh, Harriet," she sobbed putting her arms about her, "since thee must go I wish the mode was different."

For an instant Harriet's lips quivered. She grew very pale and clung to Peggy convulsively. It was only for an instant, however, that she displayed any emotion.

"Oh, well," she said with a toss of her head. "The mode is well enough, I dare say, since 'twill convey me to New York. And Fleetwood is to go with one of the men."

But Peggy knew that in spite of her brave front the girl was humiliated at the manner of her departure. Without a glance at the surrounding crowd of curious ones Harriet took her place in the cart, and settled herself comfortably.

"If a letter should come from Clifford, madam my cousin," she said leaning forward to speak to Mrs. Owen, "I pray you to read it. Then write him in answer what hath befallen me. Tell him I will spare no effort to have him join me soon in New York. And so farewell!"

She smiled brightly at them, and waved her hand repeatedly as the cart drove off. Peggy and her mother stood watching it as long as it was in sight.