ir, thee won't mind if
I----"

"Not to the execution?" he exclaimed hastily.

"Clifford will not permit that, sir. 'Tis only that I may stand at the
door of the guard-house to give him a last good-bye. He is alone. His
sister would wish it."

"Is it wise, Peggy?" he asked regarding her with deep concern.

"Yes, oh, yes! 'Twill cheer him to have a friendly face near him."

"If it will be of comfort to either of you, it may be done," he said
rising. "Come in, child. Mrs. Dayton must take you in charge."

Obediently Peggy followed him to the house. The colonel's wife was
very kind, but presently left her, thinking that she slept. It was
strange that no word had come from Harriet, she mused. Was it possible
that she had indeed lost all hope after her failure to rescue her
brother? It was unlike Harriet to give up like that. Peggy could not
believe it. Why then had she not heard? And her father! Perhaps he
was even then speeding toward them. Surely, surely, something must
occur to prevent this dreadful thing from happening!

The daylight faded. Twilight melted into darkness. From the camp the
voices of the soldiers in song or story floated in to her. Peggy went
to the casement window and stood staring out into the night. Tattoo
sounded. The noises of the camp died away, for the soldiers' day was
ended. Would there never be another day for Clifford? How was he
bearing it out there alone in the guard-house? Would his high courage
remain with him to the end? That he would die bravely she did not
doubt; but to die!

For what was she watching and waiting? She did not know. She was
hoping against hope that something would happen to prevent her
cousin's death. It was the night which had brought rescue to John
Drayton at Yorktown the year before. Would it not be as kind to
Clifford? So Peggy kept her vigil, and the hours passed. Once, the
room grew close, and, faint from watching and grief, she slipped out
under the trees. There was no moon, but the stars kept watch in the
sky, twinkling down at her with quiet friendliness.

In the valley the placid river murmured softly. The hills in the
distance seemed but a darker, lower sky lost in the obscurity of the
night. From out of the gloom the tents gleamed ghostly white. It was
so still that she could hear the footsteps of the sentries as they
made their rounds. With the faint streaking of the dawn came a sound
that caused her to flee, horror-stricken, to her room. For the so