CHAPTER XIV--THE JOURNEY'S END
"Thy love shall chant its own beatitudes After its own life working... A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich; A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong; Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense Of service which thou renderest."
--Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
Late afternoon of the fourth day after leaving Mount Vernon found thelittle party drawing near to the lowland city of Williamsburg. The roadhad no other travelers than themselves. There were no more thick woods,the road running in a blaze of sunshine past clumps of cedars, andwayside tangles of blackberry, sumac and elder bushes.
Presently the spires of churches and the roofs of several largebuildings came into sight, clustered in one small spot, as it seemed toPeggy, until they entered the town itself, when they receded to theirproper distances. The maiden leaned forward eagerly to see the place,for she had heard much of its gayety and fashion.
One broad unpaved street was the main thoroughfare of the town. It wasvery straight, shaded by mulberry and poplar trees, and ran for ameasured mile from the Capitol at one end to the goodly college ofWilliam and Mary at the other. Houses, vine-clad, with wide porticoesand large gardens, bordered it, and two or three narrower streetsdebouched from it.
"This is the Duke of Gloucester Street, my dear," explained NurseJohnson as they entered the broad thoroughfare. "Yonder lies the Capitolwhere the courts convene. Once it was the center of all the legislationof the state, but all that is past since the capital hath been removedto Richmond."
"Hath it?" exclaimed Peggy in surprise. "I did not know it. When was it,friend nurse?"
"'Twas done two years ago," responded the nurse sadly. "Williamsburg wasdeemed too accessible to the enemy, so the government was removed toRichmond. I doubt not that we should be thankful, since the British didmarch for the capital in their late invasion of the state. The worstfeature of the matter is that the traitor, Arnold, led the force thatsacked and burned Richmond in January. No doubt 'twould have been ourfate had the government still been here. Look well at the college,Peggy. It hath sent forth many of the men who are of prominence in thenation."
Peggy regarded the college with great interest, for its fame was farspread, as it was the second university to be founded in the New World,Harvard being the first.
On the right of the large campus was the president's house, built ofbrick alternately dull red and gray, brought over from England. Oppositewas another building of like proportions and architecture known as theBrafferton School, built and endowed as an Indian seminary, a modestantitype of Hampton.
Although there were a number of shops and ordinaries, as the tavernswere called, the town was thinly peopled, and Peggy was conscious of achill of disappointment. Where was the glitter and glamour of pageantryof which she had heard so much?
Was this modest hamlet with its few detached houses with no pretentionsto architectural beauty the gay capital of Virginia? As though diviningher feeling Nurse Johnson spoke.
"Virginia is a state of large plantations and few cities," she said.
"Williamsburg is not like Philadelphia, my dear, and yet it hath had itsshare of gayety. Before the war began 'twas a goodly sight in winter tosee the planters and their families come in for divertisement andenjoyment. 'Twas very gay then. Gloucester Street was filled with theircoaches and the spirited horses of the youths. Those were gladsome timesthat I fear me we shall see no more since the capital hath beenremoved."
She sat for a time lost in thought, and then spoke mournfully:
"Ah, child, 'tis sad to see the passing of greatness. There are manylike me who grieve to see the old town overshadowed. And this," shecontinued as they passed a long low building with a wide portico and arow of dormer windows frowning from the roof, "this is the RaleighTavern. Its Apollo room is a famous place for balls, and meetings ofbelles and beaux. We are entering Palace Street now, Peggy. That largebuilding at the end was formerly the Government Building, or the Palace,as 'tis called, where the royal governors were wont to dwell. The oldpowder magazine yonder held the spark that ignited the wrath ofVirginians to rebel against the king. And this, my dear, is the end ofour journey. 'Twas formerly the barracks of the mansion, but 'tis nowused for a hospital."
Peggy was conscious of quickening heart throbs as she alighted from thecabriolet, and ascended the few steps that led to the door of thebuilding.
The westering sun cast a pleasant glow through the wide hall, for theentrance doors were thrown back, but Peggy had time for only a glance.The nurse led the way at once to one of the rooms which opened from thehall, saying:
"I must give report of the supplies immediately to the storekeeper, mychild. Then I will see the matron and find where your cousin lies. Sityou here for a short time."
Peggy sank obediently into the high-backed chair that the nurse pulledforward, and waited with some trepidation for the summons to go to hercousin. The office was full of business. A large force of storekeeperswere busied in giving bedding and other necessaries to what seemed toPeggy an endless stream of nurses; while a number of clerks bent overtheir books, deep in the accounts of the storekeepers.
The song of birds came through the open window near which the girl sat.A bee hummed drowsily over a budding peach tree that stood just outside,and all at once it came to her that she was a long, long way from home.All her light-heartedness had vanished. The sunshine, the budding trees,the journey with its pleasant companionship, and, above all, her ownyouth, had served to lull into forgetfulness, for the time being, thepurpose of the journey. Now, however, the passing to and fro of thenurses, the coming and going of the doctors with their low-toned orders,all brought a vivid realization of her mission, and Peggy felt suddenlyfaint and weak.
"I wish mother were here," she thought, a great wave of longing sweepingover her. "Oh, I do wish that mother were here, or else that everythingwas done that must be done so that I could go back."
At this point in her musings Nurse Johnson returned, and it was wellthat she did so, for Peggy was getting very close to the point ofbreaking down.
"You are tired," exclaimed the nurse at sight of her face. "Child, giveo'er the meeting until to-morrow. You would be more fit then."
"'Tis naught, friend nurse," said Peggy rousing herself resolutely. "Ifear me I was getting just a little homesick. And how is my cousin? Ishe--is he----"
"He is better," the nurse hastened to tell her. "Much better, the matronsays, and longing for his sister. You are to go to him at once, but hemust not do much talking as he is still very weak. With careful nursinghe may pull through. And now come, but be careful."
Peggy arose and followed her across the hall into a large room,scrupulously clean, and bare of furniture save the rows of beds, somesmall tables and a few chairs.
On one of the beds in the far corner of the room lay a youth so like herfather that Peggy could not repress an exclamation. His eyes wereclosed; his face very pale, and serene in its repose. His hair was lightbrown in color, with auburn lights in it that fell low over hisforehead. Peggy drew near and looked at him with full heart.
"How like he is to father," she murmured with a quick intake of herbreath. "He doth not look like either Cousin William, or Harriet. Oh, heshould have been my brother!"
The nurse bent over the lad, and touched him gently.
"Captain Williams," she said. "Here is some one to see you."
His eyes opened, and Peggy almost gasped, so like were they to DavidOwen's.
"Harriet," whispered the youth making a weak attempt to rise. "Hath shecome at last?"
"It is not Harriet," said Peggy touching his forehead gently, "butPeggy, my cousin."
The young fellow turned a wondering look upon her.
"But Harriet, Harriet?" he murmured. "Why do you call me cousin?"
"Thee is not to talk," cried Peggy quickly, as the nurse shook a warningfinger. "I call
thee cousin because thou art my Cousin Clifford. Harrietcould not come because she had been sent to New York. I am Peggy. PeggyOwen, thy very own cousin. I have come to care for thee, and to takethee home when thou art strong enough. And that is all," she endedbreathlessly as the nurse again nodded a warning.
"I want Harriet," reiterated the youth turning away from her. "Why haveyou come? I want you not."
This was more than the girl could stand. She had been on the road forten long days and was fatigued almost beyond the point of endurance. Andwhen Clifford, who was so like her father that she had been stirred tothe very depths of her being, said:
"I want you not. Why have you come?" she could no longer control herfeelings but burst into tears.
"I came because thy sister was sent on to New York and could not come,"she sobbed.
"WHY HAVE YOU COME?"]
"Because thee said in thy letter that thee didn't want to die with noneof thy kin near. And I have come all the way from Philadelphia to bewith thee if thou shouldst die, and to take thy last messages."
"I am not going to die," said he in an obstinate voice. "And I shallsave my last messages for my sister."
At that Peggy looked up in blank amazement, thinking she had not heardaright. She had made no small sacrifice to come to Virginia to ministerto him on his death-bed, if need be; or to bring him to health bycareful nursing. And now for that cousin to tell her that he would giveher none of his messages was unsettling to say the least.
And so the girl looked up, and met the lad's eyes, which held a queerlook of defiance. His lips were bloodless, but they were set in astraight line of determination. He looked so like a great big spoiledchild that Peggy's tears vanished as if by magic, and she gave vent to alow laugh. A laugh so sweet and girlish that many who heard it smiled insympathy, and turned to get a glimpse of the maiden.
"Thee is a great big goose," she cried wiping her eyes. "And I amanother. I shall hold thee to thy words as a promise. Thee is to savethy last messages for thy sister. And until she comes, which, I make nodoubt, will be soon, I shall care for thee whether thee likes or not.And I shall begin right now by fixing that pillow. Thee is notcomfortable. Nurse, please may I have some vinegar? My cousin's head isso hot. There! Sleep now, and to-morrow thee may talk some more. Sleep,my cousin."
And Peggy, mistress of herself once more, firmly checked the feebleremonstrances of the youth and began stroking his forehead with soft,soothing touches. Finding his protests of no avail her cousin submittedto her ministration, and soon, in spite of his efforts to keep awake,his eyelids drooped, the drawn look of his face relaxed, and he slept.
"And now you too must rest," said the nurse. "Come, my child, to myhome."
"But these other poor fellows," said Peggy. "Can we not make themcomfortable first?"
"We will let the others attend to it for to-night, Peggy. The first dutyin nursing is to keep one's self in trim, otherwise the nurse herselfbecomes a patient. Come."
And nothing loth Peggy followed her.