"What! won't you drink to mine?"

"'Twould be a waste of words to drink the health of a man that's going to be hanged," replied Valentine, who at supper had heard the ladies discuss Peyton's intended fate. He thereupon sent a cloud of smoke ceiling-ward for the flying cherubs to rest on.

"The devil! You _are_ economical!"

"Of words, maybe, not of liquor." The octogenarian quaffed deeply from the mug. "They say hanging is an easy death," he went on, being in loquacious mood. "I never saw but one man hanged. He didn't seem to enjoy it." Mr. Valentine puffed slowly, inwardly dwelling on the recollection.

"Oh, didn't he?" said Peyton.

"No, he took it most unpleasant like."

"Did you come in here to cheer me up in my last hours?" queried Harry, putting the empty bowl on the chair by the sofa.

"No," replied the other, ingenuously. "I came in for a smoke while the ladies stayed at the table." He then went back to a subject that seemed to have attractions for him. "I don't know how hanging will go with you. Cunningham will do the work.[5] They say he makes it as disagreeable as may be. I'd come and see you hanged, but it won't be possible."

"Then I suppose I shall have to excuse you," said Peyton, with resignation.

"Yes." The old man had finished his punch and set down his mug, and he now yawned with a completeness that revealed vastly more of red toothless mouth than one might have calculated his face could contain.

"Some take it easier than others," he went on. "It's harder with young men like you." Again he opened his jaws in a gape as whole-souled as that of a house-dog before a kitchen fire. "It must be disagreeable to have a rope tightened around your neck. I don't know." He thrust his pipe-stem absently between his lips, closed his eyes, mumbled absently, "I don't know," and in a few moments was asleep, his pipe hanging from his mouth, his hands folded in his lap.

"A cheerful companion for a man in my situation," thought Peyton. His mind had been brought back to the future. When would this resolute and vengeful Miss Elizabeth fulfil her threat? How would she proceed about it? Had she already taken measures towards his conveyance to the British lines? Should she delay until he should be able to walk, there would be two words about the matter. Meanwhile, he must wait for developments. It was useless to rack his brain with conjectures. His sense of present comfort gradually resumed sway, and he placed his head again on the sofa pillow and closed his eyes.

He was conscious for a time of nothing but his deadened pain, his inward comfort, the breathing of old Mr. Valentine, the intermittent raging of the wind without, and the steady ticking of the clock on the mantel,--which delicately framed timepiece had been started within the hour by Sam, who knew Miss Elizabeth's will for having all things in running order. Peyton's drowsiness wrapped him closer and closer.

Presently he was remotely aware of the opening of the door, the tread of light feet on the floor, the swish of skirts. But he had now reached that lethargic point which involves total indifference to outer things, and he did not even open his eyes.

"Asleep," said Elizabeth, for it was she who had entered with her aunt.

Harry recognized the voice, and knew that he was the subject of her remark; but his feeling towards his contemptuous captor was not such as to make him take the trouble of setting her right. Therefore, he kept his eyes closed, having a kind of satisfaction in her being mistaken.

"How handsome!" whispered Miss Sally, who beamed more bigly and benignly after supper than before.

"Which one, aunty?" said Elizabeth, looking from Peyton to old Valentine.

Her aunt deigned to this levity only a look of hopeless reproof.

Elizabeth sat down on the music-seat before the spinet, and became serious,--or, more accurately, businesslike.

"On second thought," said she, "it won't do to keep him here waiting for one of our patrols to pa.s.s this way. In the meantime some of the rebels might come into the neighborhood and stop here. He must be delivered to the British this very night!"

Peyton gave no outward sign of the momentary heart stoppage he felt within.

"Why," said the aunt, speaking low, and in some alarm, "'twould require Williams and both the blacks to take him, and we should be left alone in the house."

"I sha'n't send him to the troops," said Elizabeth, in her usual tone, not caring whether or not the prisoner should be disturbed,--for in his powerlessness he could not oppose her plans if he did know them, and in her disdain she had no consideration for his feelings.

"The troops shall come for him. Black Sam shall go to the watch-house at King's Bridge with word that there's an important rebel prisoner held here, to be had for the taking."

"Will the troops at King's Bridge heed the story of a black man?" Aunt Sally seemed desirous of interposing objections to immediate action.

"Their officer will heed a written message from me," said the niece.

"Most of the officers know me, and those at King's Bridge are aware I came here to-day."

Thereupon she called in Cuff, and sent him off for Williams, with orders that the steward should bring her pen, ink, paper, and wax.

"Oh, Elizabeth!" cried Miss Sally, looking at the floor. "Here's some of the poor fellow's blood on the carpet."

"Never mind. The blood of an enemy is a sight easily tolerated," said the girl, probably unaware how nearly she had duplicated a famous utterance of a certain King of France, whose remark had borne reference to another sense than that of sight.[6]

Williams soon came in with the writing materials, and placed them, at Elizabeth's direction, on a table that stood between the two eastern windows, and on which was a lighted candelabrum. Elizabeth sat down at the table, her back towards the fireplace and Peyton.

"I wish you to send black Sam to me," said she to the steward, "and to take his place on guard with the gun till he returns from an errand."

Williams departed, and Elizabeth began to make the quill fly over the paper, her aunt looking on from beside the table. Peyton opened his eyes and looked at them.

"It does seem a pity," said Miss Sally at last. "Such a pretty gentleman,--such a gallant soldier!"

"Gentleman?" echoed Elizabeth, writing on. "The fellow is not a gentleman! Nor a gallant soldier!"

Peyton rose to a sitting posture as if stung by a hornet, but was instantly reminded of his wound. But neither Elizabeth nor her aunt saw or heard his movement. The girl, unaware that he was awake, continued:

"Does a gentleman or a gallant soldier desert the army of his king to join that of his king's enemies?"

Quick came the answer,--not from aunt Sally, but from Peyton on the sofa.

"A gallant soldier has the right to choose his side, and a gentleman need not fight against his country!"

Elizabeth did not suffer herself to appear startled at this sudden breaking in. Having finished her note, she quietly folded it, and addressed it, while she said:

"A gallant soldier, having once chosen his side, will be loyal to it; and a gentleman never bore the odious t.i.tle of deserter."

"A gentleman can afford to wear any t.i.tle that is redeemed by a glorious cause and an extraordinary danger. When I took service with the King's army in England, I never dreamt that army would be sent against the King's own colonies; and not till I arrived in Boston did I know the true character of this revolt. We thought we were coming over merely to quell a lawless Boston rabble. I gave in my resignation--"

"But did not wait for it to be accepted," interrupted Elizabeth, quietly, as she applied to the folded paper the wax softened by the flame of a candle.

"I _was_ a little hasty," said Harry.

"The rebel army was the proper place for such fellows," said Elizabeth. "No true British officer would be guilty of such a deed!"

"Probably not! It required exceptional courage!"

Peyton knew, as well as any, that the British were brave enough; but he was in mood for sharp retort.

"That is not the reason," said Elizabeth, coldly, refusing to show wrath. "Your enemies hold such acts as yours in detestation."

"I am not serving in this war for the approbation of my enemies."

At this moment black Sam came in. Elizabeth handed him the letter, and said:

"You are to take my horse Cato, and ride with this message to the British barrier at King's Bridge. It is for the officer in command there. When the sentries challenge you, show this, and say it is of the greatest consequence and must be delivered at once."