Peggy Owen at Yorktown

  CHAPTER XV--PEGGY IS TROUBLED

  "Blow, blow thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind as man's ingratitude."

  --"As You Like It."

  Half hidden by lilac bushes and trellised grape-vines the cottage ofNurse Johnson stood in Nicholson Street. A tiny garden lay on one sideof the house, and back of it a small orchard extended through to PalaceStreet.

  It was a week later, and Peggy stood by the open window of theliving-room of the cottage gazing thoughtfully at the garden. Thesunshine lay warm upon the thick green grass studded with violets.Daffodils flaunted golden cups at their more gorgeous neighbors, thetulips. The lilac bushes were masses of purple and white blossoms. Theapple trees in the orchard were great bouquets of rose and snow. It wasa pleasant place, cool and inviting under the trees.

  But Peggy was looking with eyes that saw not its pleasantness. She wasconsidering the events of the past few days. The matron of the hospitalhad acceded to her desire to assist in the care of her cousin, and shehad devoted herself to him assiduously. But Clifford's manner toward hertroubled her, and there was a pained expression upon her face as shegazed into the pretty garden. Unconsciously she sighed.

  Nurse Johnson threw aside her sewing and came to her side.

  "Child," she said, "what troubles you? Are you homesick?"

  "Friend nurse," answered Peggy abruptly, "my cousin doth not like me."

  "Why do you think so, Peggy?" asked the nurse quietly. "Hath he beenrude?"

  "Rude? Oh, no! I would he were," answered the girl. "Were he rude orcross I should think 'twas merely his illness. Mother says the best ofmen are peevish when convalescing, but my Cousin Clifford is not cross.Yet he is surely getting well. Does thee not think so?"

  "Yes," responded Mrs. Johnson with conviction. "He surely is. He beganto mend from the day you came. The matron, the doctors, the nurses allsay so."

  "And yet," said Peggy sadly, "'tis not because of my coming, nor yet ofmy care that he hath done so. It seems rather as though he were tryingto get well in a spirit of defiance."

  "He is an Englishman, Peggy. Saw you ever one who was not obstinate? Thenurses have remarked the lad's frame of mind, and 'tis commonly thoughtthat he believed that you desired him not to recover."

  "What?" cried Peggy horrified. "Oh, friend nurse, why should he thinksuch a dreadful thing? I desire his death? Why, 'tis monstrous to thinkof."

  "A mere fancy, child; though why any of us should wish any of theEnglish to live is more than I can understand. What with all theravaging and burning that is going on 'twould be small wonder if weshould desire the death of them all. But if he lives, Peggy, as he seemsin a fair way to do, 'twill be owing to your care."

  "Still," said Peggy, "I wish he were not so cold to me. Mother and Icared for Cousin William, his father, when he was wounded, and often hewas irritable and would speak crossly. Yet he always seemed to like itright well that we were with him, and would say sometimes that he knewnot what he would have done without us. And Harriet! why, when Harrietwas ill with fever she was petulant and fretful at times, but there wereother occasions where she was sweet and grateful. But Clifford acceptsmy attentions in a manner which shows plainly that he would preferanother nurse, but that he submits because he cannot help himself. As ofcourse he cannot," she added smiling in spite of herself. "Sometimes Iwould rather he would be cross if he would discover more warmth ofmanner."

  "Don't mind him, child. It is, it must be some vagary of his illness. Ishould not pay much attention to it, and I were you."

  "He does not know that I notice it," the girl told her. "But I cannothelp but think of it, friend nurse. 'Tis strange that he should dislikeme so. 'Twould cause mother much wonder."

  "Have you writ anent the matter to her, Peggy?"

  "No; 'twould worry her. I have told her only of his condition and that Ihope that he will soon be strong enough to start for Philadelphia. Whendoes thee look for Dr. Cochran to come?"

  "About the first of June. Should your cousin be well enough you mightstart north before that time. For my part, while sorry to lose you, Ishall be glad when you are at home with your mother. You have been sooccupied with your cousin that you may not have noticed that the militiaare drilling every evening now."

  "I have seen them on the Market Green," answered Peggy. "Is the factalarming, friend nurse?"

  "The cause of such frequent drill is quite alarming, child. The British,under General Arnold, have come out of their quarters at Portsmouth, andhave started up the James on another ravaging expedition. GeneralPhillips hath joined the traitor and hath sent a large force againstRichmond again. They are plundering and destroying every plantation andtown on the south side of the river. 'Tis wonder they have not come toWilliamsburg ere this. I fear that they will soon. Would there were away for you to go home, Peggy."

  "If it were not for Clifford I could go on Star," mused Peggy.

  "Alone? Why, child, I should not be easy one moment if you were to starton that journey all by yourself. Ten days on that lonely road? 'Tis notto be thought of."

  "No," sighed the girl. "I suppose not, friend nurse. There is but onething to do at present, and that is to care for my cousin. And thatreminds me that 'tis time to go to him now."

  Throwing aside all her melancholy, for Peggy had been taught that gloomhad no place near the sick, she went into the kitchen, took from itsplace on the dresser a salver which she covered with a napkin, placedthereon a bowl of steaming broth, for Peggy permitted no one to preparehis food but herself, and then regarded it thoughtfully.

  "There should be some brightness," she mused. "'Tis passing hard to lieall day in bed with no hint of the spring time. I have it."

  She ran out to the empurpled grass where the violets grew thickest, andgathered a small nosegay of the largest blossoms. These she brought inand laid daintily on the salver beside the bowl of broth.

  "As thee cannot go to the blossoms I have brought the blossoms to thee,"said she brightly when she reached her cousin's bedside. "See, mycousin, 'tis a bit of the May, as thee calls it, although May hath notyet come in truth; but 'tis very near. Friends say Fifth month, though'tis not so pretty a name as thine. Thou canst hold them if thouwishest. 'Tis so small a bunch that it will not tire thy poor, weakfingers."

  "I thank you," said the lad coldly. "I fear me that you put yourself totoo much trouble for me." He took the violets listlessly, nevervouchsafing them so much as a glance.

  "And how does thee do this morning, my cousin?" The girl shook up thepillows, then slipped them under his head so that he half sat, halfreclined in the bed, cheerfully ignoring the chilly reception that thepoor violets received. "I think thee looks brighter."

  "I rested well, Mistress Peggy," he answered briefly, and then hedropped the blossoms, and taking the spoon from her, added: "I will nottrouble you to feed me this morning. I am quite strong enough to feedmyself."

  "Very well," assented Peggy with becoming meekness, quietly arrangingthe salver in front of him.

  The lad began strongly enough, but soon his hand began to tremble. Theperspiration stood on his forehead in great drops as he continued tomake the effort, and presently the spoon fell with a clatter from hisnerveless fingers. He sank back, panting and exhausted, on his pillows.

  "Thou foolish boy," rebuked Peggy gently wiping the perspiration fromhis brow. "Thee must not waste thy strength if thee wishes to get wellsoon. Thee must be patient a little longer, my cousin."

  "Would I had died," broke from him passionately, tears of humiliation inhis eyes, "ere I was brought to lie here like a baby compelled to acceptservices that I wish not."

  A deep flush dyed the girl's face, and she choked. For a moment shefeared lest she should lose her self-control, then masteringherself--Peggy had been well schooled in self-repression--she saidmournfully:

  "Thee must not excite thyself, Cousin Clifford. Suffer me to care forthee a little longer. If it can be arranged so that another
may takecharge of thee, it shall be done. I knew not that thou didst dislike meso much."

  He made no reply, but partook of the broth she gave him without protest.Then, because it was part of her duty to wait beside him until themorning visit of the surgeon, she picked up the little bunch of violetsand sat down quietly.

  Her heart was very full. She could not understand the youth's aversion.It was as though he held something against her that she had done; theresentment of an injury. In wondering perplexity she fondled theviolets, and with unconscious yearning her thoughts flew back to far-offPhiladelphia, and the long ago time when there was no war, and she hadnot known these troublesome cousins.

  What times she, and Sally, and Betty, and all the girls of The SocialSelect Circle had had gathering the wild flowers in the great woods!When was it they had gone there last? It came to her suddenly that ithad been six long years before, just after the battle of Lexington. Theyhad made wreaths for their hair, she remembered. Was it violets thatmade Sally's, she wondered, the blue of the flowers she held stirringher memories vaguely. No; it was quaker-ladies, and they were blue asSally's eyes. They never would go to the great woods again because theBritish had felled the trees.

  At this point in her meditation Peggy looked up with a start to find hercousin regarding her with such an intent look that the color mantled hercheek and brow. He seemed as though he was about to speak, and, fearfulthat there would be another outbreak which would agitate him, she beganspeaking hurriedly:

  "I am thinking of the great wood, cousin, which used to lie along thebanks of the Schuylkill River at home. We went there in spring time forviolets, and all the wildings of the forest. Thee should have seen thegreat trees when they were newly leaved, and again in the autumn whenthey were clothed in scarlet and gold; and----"

  "What have you done with Harriet?" interrupted he in a tense tone.

  "What have I done with Harriet?" repeated Peggy so surprised by thequestion that she let the violets fall to the floor unheeded. Cliffordhad not mentioned his sister's name since the first day she came. "Itold thee, my cousin, that the council had sent her to New York, becauseshe communicated with Sir Henry Clinton which is not allowed. She hadbeen warned, but she heeded it not. Does thee not remember?"

  "I know what you told me," he made answer. "Think you that I believe it?Nay; I know that your people have prevented her from coming to me."

  For a moment Peggy was so amazed that she could only stare at him. Whenshe had recovered sufficiently to speak she said clearly:

  "I think thee must be out of thy mind, cousin. I spoke naught but truthwhen I told thee of Harriet. I should not know how to speak otherwise.Why should we hinder thy sister from coming to thee? There would be noreason."

  "At one of the taverns where we stopped on the way down here, a captain,a whipper-snapper Yankee, flaunted a shirt in my face made by mysister." The boy's eyes flashed at the recollection. "I wrote herpraying her to tell me that he did it but to flout me. I prayed her towrite that she was still loyal to her king and country. And she answerednot. I sent another letter, and still there was no reply. Then I triedto escape to get to her, and I was wounded in the attempt. The directorof the hospital here promised, to quiet me, that he would see that shereceived a letter, and I wrote for her to come. Harriet would have comehad she not been prevented."

  "But why should she be prevented?" demanded the astounded Peggy.

  "Because 'twas feared that once she was with me she would return to herallegiance. That my influence would make her remember that ColonelOwen's daughter could show no favors to a Yankee captain; that----"

  "Clifford Owen," interrupted the girl sternly, "listen to me. Thou artexciting thyself needlessly. Thy sister likes the Yankee captain, asthee calls him, no more than thee does. She did make that shirt; but'twas done because she was as full of idle fancies as thou art, andmother sought by some task to rid her of the megrims. She gave it toJohn hoping to flout him, thinking that he would not wear a garmentbearing the inscription embroidered, in perversity, upon it. She didwrite to thee. Not once but several times. That thee did not receive theletters is to be deplored, but not to be wondered at, considering thestate of the country. She exerted herself on thy behalf to procure aparole, and 'twas near accomplishment when, impatient at the delay, shewrote to Sir Henry Clinton imploring him to ask thy exchange. As I havetold thee, 'tis not permitted for any to communicate with the enemy, andso she was sent to New York. And now thee has the gist of the wholematter," concluded Peggy with dignity.

  "And why is she not here?" he asked obstinately.

  The girl rose quickly.

  "I have told thee," she said quietly. "I will say no more. If theechooses to doubt my word then thee must do so. I have spoke naught buttruth. My cousin, thee will have to get another nurse. I am going backto my mother. 'Twas a mistake to come. I but did so because mother and Ifelt sorrow for thee alone down here with none of thy kin near, andperchance dying. 'Twas a mistake, I say, to have come, but I willtrouble thee no longer. I shall start home to-day on my pony. The way islong, and lonely; but better loneliness and fatigue than suspicion andcoldness. I hope thee will recover, my cousin. Farewell!"

  She turned, standing very erectly, and started to leave the room. Beforeshe had taken a half dozen steps, however, there came the quick beat ofthe mustering drum from the Market Green, and a hoarse shout fromwithout:

  "The British! The British are coming!"