Peggy Owen and Liberty

by Lucy Foster Madison

  CHAPTER XVIII

  HEROD OUT HERODED

  "But what is life? 'Tis not to stalk about, and draw fresh air, From time to time, or gaze upon the sun; 'Tis to be Free. When Liberty is gone, Life grows insipid and has lost its relish."

  --_Addison's "Cato."_

  "Is thee nearly ready, Peggy? Robert should be here soon with thewagons."

  "Yes, mother." Peggy ran to the head of the broad staircase to answerMrs. Owen's call. "There are but few more things to pack. Sally ishelping me."

  "That is well, my daughter. Only----"

  "Only let our fingers work while our tongues fly?" completed the girlmerrily. "We will, mother dear. Does thee hear, Sally?"

  "I hear," laughed Sally as Peggy reentered the chamber. "I think theeis the one to heed, miss. I am as busy as can be." She workedindustriously on the portmanteau for a few moments, and then looked upto say, "I am glad that thee is going to ride Star, Peggy."

  "So am I," answered Peggy as she donned her riding habit. "Fatherwrote that there are some excellent roads about Lancaster, and that,as he had a good mount, we might have some fine rides together. Itwill be quite like old times. I wish thee was going, Sally."

  "Well," hesitated Sally, "I would like to be with thee, Peggy, but Ishould not like to leave mother again. I am glad to be home, and quitecontent to stay here for a time. But I shall miss thee, Peggy.Particularly as Betty is to leave so soon."

  "Betty to leave? Why, where is she going? I had not heard. She washere yesterday, and she said not a word anent going away." Peggypaused in her dressing, and regarded Sally inquiringly.

  "She told me to tell thee, because she could not bear to," repliedSally, her tears beginning to fall. "Oh, Peggy, our Social SelectCircle will soon be no more. Betty is going to marry her Frenchman,and go to France. She said that she would write thee all theparticulars."

  "Oh, Sally, Sally! How we shall miss her! Why, how can we get alongwithout her?"

  "We can't." Sally closed the portmanteau with a vicious snap. "I neverdid care much for the French alliance, and I think less of it thanever now."

  "Sally, thee won't do anything of the kind, will thee?" asked Peggytearfully. "I could not bear for thee to go away."

  "I? Oh, I shall never leave Philadelphia, Peggy. I shall always stayright here, and be a nurse."

  "Dear me! there's mother calling again," cried Peggy in dismay. "Wehave been talking in very truth instead of working. There is so muchthat I should like to hear about Betty. I think she might have toldme. What a belle she hath become, and how pretty she is! So all thyplans for her and Fairfax would have gone awry, had the poor fellowlived!"

  "Peggy, does thee think that he really cared for her?"

  Peggy's brows contracted into a thoughtful look.

  "I don't know," she responded. "He was of a truth much interested whenhe saw her. She was very sweet that day. It was when Clifford washere, thee remembers?"

  "I remember, Peggy. If thee sees thy cousin will thee tell him allabout how I came to show Sheriff Will the closet?"

  "Yes, Sally. I will."

  "And if thee gets into trouble, and can't get home, if thee will letme know I'll come for thee," said Sally impressively.

  Peggy laughed.

  "There won't be any trouble about it this time, Sally. Father andmother are with me, and they will arrange everything."

  "Thy mother is calling again, Peggy. We will have to go down. Be sureto write, and I will keep a journal for thee of Betty's doings. She isto have so many things from France. Would thee were to be here!"

  "I should like to be," answered Peggy opening the door. "We are comingat last, mother."

  Quite a caravan awaited Peggy's coming. There were a number of wagons,some containing Continental stores for the military at Lancaster;others filled with private property belonging to citizens, and stillothers which contained household articles which Mrs. Owen was takingfor her use. All were under a strong guard. A roomy and comfortablecalash had been provided for the lady, in which Peggy was to ride alsowhen she should become tired of the saddle. Robert Dale, with thereins of his own horse thrown over his arm, stood waiting by Star'sside to help Peggy mount.

  "We were thinking that we should have to become brigands and carry youoff, Peggy," he remarked as the girls joined them.

  "Thee will not wonder that I was delayed when I tell thee the news,Robert," answered Peggy as, with the youth's assistance, she vaultedlightly into the saddle. "Oh, Sally, I do wish thee was going!"

  "And so do I, Sally," spoke Robert.

  "I should like to be with both of you, but I am glad to be inPhiladelphia for a time," replied Sally. "Tell him about Betty,Peggy."

  They were off at length, going by way of High Street across the MiddleFerry into the Great Lancaster Road. The distance was something morethan sixty-five miles, and it was the intention to make it by briefstages. The road had formerly been known as the King's Highway, andwas famed for the number of its taverns, which were jestingly said tobe as many as its mile-stones. There was, therefore, no difficulty inmaking each day's journey as long or short as might be desired.

  Peggy felt her spirits rise under the influence of the sunshine, therefreshing fragrance of the morning air, and the ride among scenes ofromance and beauty. It was a country of rolling hills and gentlysloping vales through which they passed, with occasional rocky dellsand low cascades. A country of orchards, meadows, and woodlands; acountry of flowing water, salubrious, fertile and wealthy; dotted witha few villages and many fine farms. The road ran incessantly up anddown hill through dense woods of oak, hickory, and chestnut. The faceof the country seemed like a great rolling sea, and it was no wonderthat the girl's heart grew light as the ride unfolded the pleasing andpicturesque landscape to view.

  On the afternoon of the third day Peggy and Robert cantered ahead ofthe party for a short dash, but the road becoming hilly and steep theywere obliged to slow their horses down to a walk. The road ascendedthe North Mountain here rising by three ridges, each steeper than theformer. Below them lay the valley, enclosed on the left by the ValleyMountain with all its garland of woods; and by the Welsh mountains onthe right. Hills and rocks, waving with the forests of oak andchestnut, bordered the road and, as their leaves rustled to the windand twinkled in the sun, gave to the depth of solitude a sort of lifeand vivacity. Peggy had been telling Robert Dale about the attack onTom's River, and all the sad details of Fairfax's death. Following thenarrative a silence had fallen between them which was broken abruptlyby Peggy.

  "Look yonder, Robert! Something hath befallen a wagon, and there seemsto be no one near it. To thy right. Does thee not see?"

  Major Dale uttered an exclamation as his glance followed Peggy's indexfinger.

  "You are right, Peggy," he cried. "Something is amiss there. The wheelhath been broken, and the wagon abandoned, yet 'tis full ofmerchandise. This must be looked into."

  He gave spur to his horse, and dashed forward followed closely byPeggy. A wagon, one of the Conestoga sort, was drawn to one side ofthe road, and left under a tree. One of the wheels was broken, butthere was no sign of horse or driver to be seen, though in truth thevehicle was filled with goods.

  "Well, this is a strange proceeding," mused the young man. "Here wemust needs have an armed guard for the safe arrival of our goods, yetthis wagon stands on the broad highway unmolested. I'll take a look atthese goods. It may be----"

  "Good-morrow, friends," spoke a soft voice, and from behind somebushes a feminine form arose, whether maid or matron could not bedetermined at once, so voluminous were her wrappings. Her wholeexterior, as well as her speech, showed that she belonged to theSociety of Friends.

  A long cloak of dark-gray superfine cloth enveloped her formcompletely. A small bonnet of gray taffeta silk was tied primly witha demure bow under her chin. It left not a wisp of hair visible. Ariding mask covered her face so that only a finely turned chin was tobe seen. So suddenly did she appear tha
t both Robert and Peggy wereguilty of staring. The youth was the first to recover himself.

  "I cry you pardon, mistress," he said springing from the saddle, andapproaching the newcomer. "If this be your wagon, you are in trouble.Are you all alone?"

  "And if I am, friend, what is it to thee?" The words as well as themanner of the questioner caused the young man to flush, but heanswered promptly:

  "A great deal. You are in trouble, and alone upon the highway. Irepeat, 'tis a great deal to me, as it would be to any man to find awoman so situated."

  "Thee must give me thy pardon, friend. Methought the query wasprompted by idle curiosity. By a great oversight my driver forgot toput his box of tools in the wagon, so that when the accident occurredhe was obliged to ride on to the next tavern for help. I doubt not butthat he will return soon."

  "But the distance to the next tavern is six miles. It was unwise toleave you here alone upon the road. Do you not know that thesehighways are not safe?"

  "I have seen no one; nor hath any spoke with me before this. I fearnaught."

  "But it should not be," he said with decision. "Peggy, do you thinkthat your mother----"

  "Mother would be pleased to offer the friend a seat in the calash,Robert." Peggy unfastened her riding mask as she spoke, and turnedtoward the Quakeress warmly. "I am Margaret Owen," she said. "And thisis Major Dale, of the army. My mother is just beyond yon bend of theroad in her coach. She will be charmed to have thy company to the nextinn, and farther if thee wishes."

  "And I am Truelove Davis," returned the other, acknowledging theintroductions with the briefest of bows. She did not remove her mask,Peggy noted with surprise, but she was conscious that the girl wasregarding her intently. "Perchance," continued the newcomer,"perchance it would not be agreeable to thy mother to do thischarity."

  "Nay, it is thou, friend, that dost lack charity, to suppose any oneunwilling to do so simple a kindness." Peggy's voice reflected herpained amazement. Friends usually accepted such favors with the samesimplicity of spirit in which they were offered.

  "Nay, I meant no offense, Margaret, I think thee called thyself so. Imake no doubt but that thy mother is most gracious."

  "Indeed she is," said Robert Dale warmly. "I will ride back andexplain the matter to her. The wagons should be hurried up a bit,also. I will see to the mending of this wheel, mistress, and send thewagon along with ours. It is most unwise to leave it here with itscontents unprotected. Will you come, Peggy?"

  "Nay, let the damsel abide with me until thy return," spoke TrueloveDavis quickly.

  Robert glanced at Peggy questioningly.

  "I will stay, Robert, if the friend wishes it," said Peggy.

  He saluted and remounting his horse sped back down the road. TheQuakeress turned toward Peggy mildly.

  "Did not the son of Belial call thee Peggy?" she asked.

  Peggy felt the slight irritation that had assailed her but a momentsince return at this remark, so she answered with dignity:

  "Major Dale so called me. All my friends speak of me as Peggy."

  "'Tis pity to spoil so fine a name as Margaret by substituting Peggyfor it. I much mislike the practice."

  "I do not," responded Peggy briefly.

  "I fear thee is frivolous, Margaret," chided the other serenely.

  All in a moment Peggy was amused. She reflected that this Friend mustcome from one of the country districts where observances as todemeanor and dress were much stricter than in the cities. She was, nodoubt, conducting herself according to the light that was in her, andwith this view of the situation Peggy's ruffled feelings were soothed.

  "I fear so too, Truelove," she said laughingly. "Quite frivolous. Nowthine own name: Did none ever term thee True, or Love? Either would besweet."

  "Thee must not utter such things," reproved the other in a shockedvoice. "'Tis indelicate for maidens to even speak the word love. Whereis thee going?"

  "To Lancaster, to be with my father, who is stationed there."

  "Stationed there? Is not thy father of the sect of Friends? Thou artusing the speech."

  "Yes; but he is in the patriot army, Truelove."

  "Defying those who are set to rule over us? Hath he not been taught tobear meekly that which Providence hath called us to suffer? Where didhe learn of Fox to retort violence for violence, or that shedding ofblood was justifiable? And does thee hold with these misguided Whigs,Margaret?"

  "I do," answered Peggy shortly. She had dismounted, and was lettingher pony graze while she awaited Robert's return. A slight regretthat she had offered to let this Quakeress be her mother's companionassailed her.

  "WHERE IS THEE GOING?"]

  "And was thee not punished for it?" Truelove Davis was regarding herwith a curious steadiness of gaze that Peggy found extremely irksome.If she would but remove that riding mask, she thought, she could talkto her better. "Did the friends bear in silence that thee and thineshould depart from their peaceful practices?"

  "They read us out of meeting," replied Peggy controlling herself withdifficulty. "Father, nor any of us, did not embrace the Cause ofLiberty without due thought. It did seem to us that life was not ofworth unless it were accompanied by Freedom. To be free to worship Godin our own fashion was the reason that the Great Founder built ourcity on the Delaware. England would have taken religious freedom fromus also had not her oppression with regard to political rights beenchecked. It was not without the guidance of the inward light that wearrayed ourselves with Liberty, Truelove."

  "Sometimes what one thinks is the leading of the inward light is butthe old Adam that is within us tempting to strife," remarked Trueloveprovokingly. "I greatly fear 'tis so in thy case, Margaret. 'Tiseasily seen that thou art of a froward and perverse nature. Come! sitby me, Margaret, while I read thy duty to thee. Thou art in need of alesson."

  "Not from thee." Peggy's eyes were sparkling now, and she spoke withsome heat. "Who art thou that 'tis thy duty to read me a lesson? Thouart a stranger, met but a moment since. I listen to no lesson fromthee, Truelove Davis."

  "And there spoke the Owen temper," came from the other severely.

  Peggy turned toward her quickly.

  "What know thee of the Owen temper?" she asked in amazement.

  "Everything, Margaret. How hot and unruly it is. I well know how itdoth refuse advice, howsoever well meant. Thee should be sweet andamiable, like me."

  "Like thee?" Puzzled, perplexed, and withal indignant, Peggy could nothelp retorting. "Will thee pardon me, Truelove, if I say that thyamiability lacks somewhat of sweetness?"

  "Nay; I will not pardon thee. Lack somewhat of sweetness indeed,Mistress Margaret Owen! Does thee think thee has all the sweetness inthe family? Obstinate, perverse Peggy!"

  With a cry Peggy sprang toward her.

  "Thy face!" she cried. "Let me see thy face. 'Tis Harriet's voice, butHarriet----"

  "Is before you." The girl unclasped the mask and revealed thelaughing, beautiful face of Harriet Owen. "Oh, Peggy! Peggy! for aQuakeress you did not show much meekness. So you would not take alesson from a stranger, eh? You should have seen your face when Iproposed it."

  "But how did thee come here, Harriet? And why did thee assume thisdress?"

  "Come sit down, and I'll tell you all about it," said Harriet, givingher cousin a squeeze. "Don't be afraid, Peggy. I promise not to teachany lesson. I should not dare to. But oh!" she laughed gleefully. "Ishall never forget how you looked. You'll be the death of me yet,little cousin."