s, my cousin," she answered tremulously.
"But--but I will be here at the door as thee comes out. I could not
bear to have thee without a glimpse of a friend, or----" She could not
finish.

"Be at the door if you wish, little cousin. I should like that, but go
no further." He arose and held out his hands. "It's good-bye now,
Peggy."

A sense of suffocation overwhelmed Peggy, and she could not speak. He
was so young, so noble, so manly in meeting his untoward fate, and yet
he must suffer this ignominious death without the comfort of a
friend's face near him. As she found her way blindly out of the room a
passionate prayer rose insistently through all her being:

"Oh, that father would come! That father would come!"

CHAPTER XXIX

IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH

"... A darker departure is near,
The death-drum is muffled, and sable the bier."

--_Campbell._

The beautiful sunset retreat was sounding its inspiring notes as
Peggy left the guard-house, and slowly made her way across the
parade-ground. There was a note of pathos in the strain which seemed
peculiarly impressive, and all at once Clifford's words came back to
her:

"I have ever loved martial music." Then, because there seemed naught
else than waiting before her, she sank down under the tree where
Clifford and she had sat that very morning, now so long ago, to
listen to the music that he loved. Suddenly, as she listened, there
came to the girl a dim sort of understanding. There was a permeating
tonal effect in the music, striking at times, merely suggestive at
others, which seemed to breathe the spirit of bivouac and battle, of
suffering and patriotism, and the yearning of great devotion. A lump
came into her throat. An indefinable emotion swept her with an
appreciation of the spirit of a soldier which renders him happy at the
thought of dying in his country's battles. The flood-gates of Peggy's
tears were open, and she wept unrestrainedly. Presently Colonel Dayton
saw her sitting there, and came to her side.

"My child," he said sitting down by her, "I have just been in to see
your cousin. Your visit hath cheered him greatly. He bears up
wonderfully. Manly he is, and noble. Never hath a duty been so
repugnant to my feelings as this one is. Were it not just I could not
perform it."

"I cannot speak of justice, sir, when my cousin is to die," sobbed
she. "It may be just. I know not. My countrymen are not unkind; they
are not s