CHAPTER XXXIV--HOME
"The bugles sound the swift recall; Cling, clang! backward all! Home, and good-night!"
--E. C. Stedman.
Each day Peggy was taken to Colonel Tarleton to attend his wound. It wasin truth painful, and often her tears fell fast upon the inflamedsurface when she saw the suffering he endured, and knew that it had beencaused by her hand. But it was healed at last, and when she told himjoyfully that he had no further need of bandages or treatment, he lookedat her with some amusement.
"And now for the punishment," he observed. "What do you deserve,mistress?"
"I don't know," said Peggy, growing pale.
"I leave for the southern part of the state to-morrow," he said. "Thematter must be decided to-day. What say you to a parole?"
"Nay," and the girl shook her head. "My father doth not believe in them,and neither do I. I want to be free to help the cause in any way that Ican."
"Well, upon my word!" he cried. "You are pleased to be frank."
"Would you not rather have me so, sir?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered. "I would. Then what are we to do? Ah! I have it. Ishall banish you."
"Banish me?" repeated she with quivering lips. "To--to what place, sir?"
"A distant place called Philadelphia," he answered. "Think you that youcan bear such exile?"
"Sir," she faltered, trembling excessively, "do not jest, I pray thee.I--I cannot bear it."
"Child," he said dropping the banter, "I jest not. I am going to takeyou to Georgetown and put you aboard ship for the North. I am sincere, Iassure you."
"Thee will do this?" she cried not daring to credit her senses.
"Yes; and for this reason: In all this land, ay! and in England also, noone hath ever before shed a tear when aught of ill hath befallenBanastre Tarleton. Had any other woman, or girl, or man in this entireSouthland wounded me there would have been rejoicing instead of sorrow.Had you not been sincere I would have made you repent bitterly. As itis, this is my punishment: that you proceed to your mother as fast assail can carry you."
"And they call thee cruel?" cried the girl catching his hand. "Sir, noneshall ever do so again in my presence."
"Come," he said. "I will go with you to your cousins. You must be readyfor an early start to-morrow. A number of loyalists are going toGeorgetown to take ship for other ports, so there will be a numerouscompany."
But Harriet received the news with dismay.
"What shall I do?" she cried, the tears streaming from her eyes. "I wasgetting better, and now you will go and leave me again. Oh, Peggy, Iwant to go too!"
Colonel Owen looked up eagerly.
"Why not?" he asked. "'Twould be the very thing! Peggy, could you nottake Harriet with you? In Philadelphia she would regain her strength. Achange from this malarious climate is what she needs. Won't you takeher, Peggy?"
"Oh, Peggy, do take me," pleaded Harriet. "I shall die here!"
But Peggy made no answer. She looked from father to daughter, fromdaughter to father thoughtfully. Over her rushed the many things thathad befallen her since they had entered her life. The father had causedthe death of her dog; had treated her mother and herself scornfully; hadlodged a spy in their very home; and had finally robbed them ofeverything the house contained in the way of food.
And Harriet! Had she not deceived them all? Her father, mother andherself? Would she not do so again if she were to be with them oncemore? Would she not spy and plot against the cause if she were givenopportunity? Could she forgive and forget the deceit, the long absencefrom her mother, the hardships and trials, and take her to her own dearhome? Could she do it?
Her heart throbbed painfully as she turned a searching glance toward hercousin. She was so thin, so wasted, so different from her formerbrilliant self, that the last tinge of bitterness left Peggy, and asudden glow of tenderness rushed over her.
"Of course thee shall come with me," she cried, catching Harriet's handsand drawing her to her. "And thee shall see how soon mother and I willmake thee well. And oh, Harriet, thee will be in my very own home!"
"Oh, I shall be so glad," cried Harriet, a faint flush coming to herface. "Father, do you hear? Peggy says that I am to go!"
"You are a good little thing after all, Peggy," observed Colonel Owen,not without emotion. "A good little thing!"
"I think that I will leave this love-feast," exclaimed Colonel Tarleton,laughing cynically. "'Fore George, but I am glad the girl is going. Alittle more of this sort of influence would be bad for my reputation asleader of the cruel raiders. Be sure that you are up betimes, MistressPeggy. I will have no dallying in the morning."
"I will be ready, and so will Harriet," cried Peggy, darting to his sideand seizing the hand of the arm that she had wounded. Bending quicklyshe kissed it, exclaiming, "I will never forget how good thee has been,sir."
"There," exclaimed he. "I have no more time to spare." And he strodeaway.
It was a snowy day in early December, fourteen days later, that Peggy,mounted on Star and Harriet on Fleetwood, left the ferry, and gallopedinto Philadelphia.
"'Tis my own dear city at last," cried Peggy excitedly. "And that is theDelaware in very truth. Thee hasn't seen a river like it, has thee,Harriet? We will soon be home now. 'Tis not much further."
And so in exuberance of spirit she talked until at length the home inChestnut Street was reached. She sprang to the ground just as Tom, thegroom, came to the front of the house. The darkey gave one glance andthen ran forward, crying:
"Foh massy sake, ef hit ain't Miss Peggy! An' Star! Yas, suh, an' Star!Mis' Owen will be powerful glad ter see yer. She am in de dinin'-room."
"Yes, it's Peggy. Peggy--come to stay," cried she, giving the bridle intohis hand. "Come, Harriet!"
But Harriet hesitated. For the first time something like confusion andshame appeared upon her face.
"Your mother?" she whispered. "How will she receive me?" She claspedPeggy's hand convulsively. "What will she say to me?"
Before Peggy could answer, the door of the dwelling opened and MistressOwen herself appeared on the threshold. There were lines of care andgrief in her face, and Peggy was shocked to see that her hair wasentirely white, but in manner she was as serene as of yore.
"I thought----" she began, but at sight of the slender maiden advancingtoward her, she grew pale, and leaned against the door weakly. "Peggy?"she whispered.
"Mother! Mother! Mother!" screamed the girl springing to her arms."Mother, at last!"
Her mother clasped her close, as though she would never let her goagain, and so they stood for a long time. Presently Peggy uttered alittle cry. "Harriet!" she exclaimed in dismay. "I had forgottenHarriet." She ran quickly down the steps, and putting her arm around hercousin drew her up the stoop toward Mistress Owen.
For the briefest second a shadow marred the serenity of the lady'scountenance. Then, as she noted the girl's wasted form, her glancechanged to one of solicitude and she took Harriet into her motherlyarms.
"Thou poor child," she said gently. "Thou hast been ill."
"I feared you would not want me," faltered Harriet, the ready tearsbeginning to flow.
"We have always wanted thee, my child, when thou wert thine own trueself," answered the lady. "But come into the sitting-room. Sukey shallbring us some tea and thou shalt rest while Peggy and I talk. Thee mustbe tired."
"Tired?" echoed Harriet, sinking into the great easy chair which Peggyhastened to pull forward. "Tired?" she repeated with a sigh of contentas the exquisite peacefulness of the room stole over her senses. "I feelas though I should never be tired again. 'Tis so restful here."
"It's home," cried Peggy, dancing from one object to another in herdelight. "And how clean everything is! Was it always so, mother?"
"That speech doth not speak well for the places of thy sojourning, mydaughter," observed her mother with a slight smile. "But tell me how ithath happened that
thou hast returned at last? I wish to know everythingthat hath befallen thee."
And nestling close to her mother's side, Peggy told all her story.
The Stories in this Series are:
PEGGY OWEN PEGGY OWEN, PATRIOT PEGGY OWEN AT YORKTOWN PEGGY OWEN AND LIBERTY
* * * * *
LUCY FOSTER MADISON
Mrs. Madison was born in Kirkville, Adair County, Missouri, but when shewas four years old her parents removed to Louisiana, Missouri, and thereher girlhood was spent. She was educated in the public schools of thatplace, and graduated from the High School with the highest honor--thevaledictory.
As a child she was passionately fond of fairy stories, dolls andflowers. Up to her eleventh year the book that influenced her most was"Pilgrim's Progress." Mrs. Madison's father had a large library filledwith general literature, and she read whatever she thought interesting.In this way she became acquainted with the poets, ancient history andthe novelists, Dickens and Scott. It was not until she was twelve thatshe came in contact with Miss Alcott's works, but after that Joe, Meg,Amy and Beth were her constant companions. At this time she was alsodevoted to "Scottish Chiefs," "Thaddeus of Warsaw" and "Ivanhoe," andalways poetry.
She doesn't remember a time when she did not write. From her earliestchildhood she made up little stories. In school she wrote poems, storiesand essays. When she became a teacher she wrote her own stories andentertainments for the children's work.
Mrs. Madison's stories for girls are:
Peggy Owen Peggy Owen, Patriot Peggy Owen at Yorktown Peggy Owen and Liberty A Colonial Maid of Old Virginia A Daughter of the Union In Doublet and Hose A Maid of King Alfred's Court A Maid of the First Century
Peggy Owen, Patriot: A Story for Girls Page 36
