CHAPTER IX--THE DICTATES OF HUMANITY
"The sweetest lives are those to duty wed Whose deeds both great and small, Are close knit strands of an unbroken thread, Where love ennobles all. The world may sound no trumpets, ring no bells; The Book of Life the shining record tells."
--_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_.
After the departure of an inmate of a family, whether that person hasbeen pleasant or otherwise, there follows a feeling of blankness, ofsomething amiss. Distance, in truth, produces in idea the same effect asin real perspective. Objects are softened, and rounded, and rendereddoubly graceful; the harsher and more ordinary points of character aremellowed down, and those by which it is remembered are the more strikingoutlines that mark sublimity, grace, or beauty. And so it was withHarriet.
Her irritability, her unpleasant remarks, her ceaseless demand upontheir service were soon forgotten. The grace and dignity thatdistinguished her from others were remembered to her advantage. Thepleasant smile, the pretty manner, the imperious bearing were idealizedin the softening glamour of absence. The mode of her departure hadpalliated whatever of resentment Mrs. Owen and Peggy might have felt forthe girl's breach of hospitality.
"I believe that I am lonesome without Harriet," declared Peggy oneevening. "Is thee, mother?"
It was the seventh day of Harriet's absence. Tea was over. The servantshad retired for the night, and mother and daughter sat alone in thesitting-room, knitting by the light of the candles.
"'Tis most natural for us to miss her, my daughter. She hath been withus so long, and with thee especially that 'tis not to be wondered atthat thee feels lost. Harriet hath many good qualities. She hath beenleft to follow her own impulses too much, but I hope that herassociation with thee hath been of benefit to her."
"With me, mother?" exclaimed Peggy flushing scarlet at this praise."Thee should not say that. In truth, I don't deserve it, mother. I wasoften vexed with her, and sometimes gave way to sharpness. I ofttimeswent to my room to gain control of myself. I have a temper, mother, asthee must know."
"I do, my child; but I know too that thou art trying to get the masteryof it. Because thou didst so strive is the reason that I believe thatcompanionship with thee will make Harriet better. She hath receivedimpressions that cannot fail to be of advantage to her. I am hoping thatHarriet will make a noble woman."
"I wonder," said Peggy musingly, "why Clifford did not write to her? Itwould have saved all this trouble had he done so."
"Thee must remember that he said in his letter that he thought they wereto stop for a time at Fredericksburg. They may not have done so, or hemay have been taken elsewhere after a short stop. Mr. Reed says thatthere was no report of any such party at any of the taverns there."
"The parole will not be given now, will it, mother?"
"I think Mr. Reed would exert himself further in the matter did wedesire it, Peggy, but 'tis best to let it drop for the present. If thereare whispers anent our having our cousins with us, 'twere best to letHarriet see to an exchange for the lad. If that could be obtained hiswhereabouts would have to be made known. For ourselves, we will livevery quietly for a time. It may be as well that the boy did not come.Should he prove a lad of spirit, as I make no doubt he is, between himand Harriet they might have caused greater trouble than she did."
"Yes," assented the girl thoughtfully. "'Tis as well as thou sayest,mother. Still, I have heard so much anent my cousin, Clifford, that Iconfess that I am somewhat curious about him. I think I should like tosee him."
"I have wondered about him also, Peggy. Is he like William, I wonder, ordoth he take after his mother? William could be agreeable at times, butone was sometimes cognizant only of his failings."
"I HAVE HEARD NOTHING"]
Thus conversing the minutes passed quickly. The house was very still,and the monotonous quiet was broken only by the click of the needles.The tall clock in the hall had just announced the usual bedtime whenthere sounded three loud raps on the front door.
"That was the knocker," cried Peggy, starting up. "I wonder who it canbe at this time of night?"
"We shall soon see," said her mother taking up a candle and proceedingto the hall. "Who is it?" she called cautiously.
"'Tis I, Sally. Open quickly. I have news," answered the clear voice ofSally Evans.
Mrs. Owen unbolted the door hastily, and Sally tumbled rather thanstepped into the hall. Her calash was untied, and her curly locks hadescaped their ribbon and hung in picturesque confusion about her face.
"Harriet!" she gasped. "I want Harriet."
"Harriet is gone, Sally," exclaimed Peggy. "Has thee not heard?"
"Gone where?" asked Sally in dismay. "I have heard nothing. She must befound, wherever she hath gone. There is news----"
"Come in and sit down," said Mrs. Owen drawing her into thesitting-room. "Now tell us what hath occurred."
"I should tell Harriet," persisted Sally, who was plainly excited."Where hath she gone?"
"She was sent to New York for communicating with the enemy," repliedMrs. Owen. "'Tis strange that thee heard naught of it. It happened aweek since."
"We have been so busy," explained Sally recovering herself a little."What shall I do? Her brother is dying in the Williamsburg Hospital."
"What! Not Clifford?" cried Mrs. Owen and Peggy simultaneously.
"Yes; Dr. Cochran, who hath been appointed director-general of all thehospitals since Dr. Shippen resigned, hath just returned from a tour ofinspection of the Southern division. At our hospital at Williamsburg hefound Harriet's brother, Clifford, who told him who he was. He was aprisoner, as we know, and was shot while trying to make his escape. Thedoctor promised to let his sister know of the matter as soon as hereached Philadelphia. He was too busy to come himself, but sent me. Oh,I ran every step of the way, and now she is not here."
"No," said Mrs. Owen. "She is not here. Oh, the poor boy!"
"Why, I have forgot his note," exclaimed Sally. She drew an unsealedletter from the bosom of her gown and handed it to Mrs. Owen. The ladyopened it at once.
"Come to me, Harriet," she read, "if you wish to see your brother alive. I am dying, and I wish not to die alone in a strange land with none of my kinspeople near me. The doctor will find a way for you. Can write no more. Come!
"Clifford."
"Would that the child had not been so hasty," sighed the matron foldingthe missive thoughtfully. "And now what is to be done? We must let herknow, of course. I will see Mr. Reed in the morning."
"But 'twill be too late for her to go to him by the time she gets theword," said Sally. "How long doth it take to send a letter to New York?"
"All of three days. More, if the roads are bad. I fear too that 'twillbe too late, but it must be done." Mrs. Owen let her head fall on herhand and sat in deep perplexity for a while. "Sally," she said abruptly,"can the doctor be seen to-night?"
"He might see thee, Mrs. Owen," answered Sally. "We are monstrouslybusy, but the case is exceptional. And that reminds me that 'tis time Iwas returning." She rose as she spoke.
"Alone? Nay; wait until I get my cloak."
"Tut, tut!" cried Sally. "An army nurse afraid? Why, I would not fear awhole Hessian regiment. Nay; I will not hear of taking thee out atnight, Mrs. Owen."
"Let us both go, mother," suggested Peggy, running for their wraps.
"And I would like to see the doctor," said Mrs. Owen as Sally beganagain to expostulate.
The walk to the hospital, which occupied the entire square betweenSpruce and Pine Streets and Eighth and Ninth Streets, was short. Peggyand Sally talked in low tones over Harriet's absence and the causethereof, while Mrs. Owen mused in silence. The lady was still thoughtfulafter her interview with Dr. Cochran.
"How did the doctor say he was, mother?" asked Peggy as they started forhome.
"Badly hurt, my child. He was sorry
for the lad's sake that Harriet wasnot here. Clifford, it seems, looks to her coming with great eagerness.'Tis his one hope of life, the doctor thinks."
Peggy fell into silence. The night was beautiful. One of those softbalmy nights that come sometimes in the early spring, leading one tothoughts of summer joys. But its sweet influence was not felt by thesetwo. One idea possessed the minds of both, and each waited for the otherto give voice to it.
"Mother," spoke Peggy abruptly as they reached the stoop of their owndwelling, "thee means that one of us must go to my Cousin Clifford,doesn't thee?"
"Yes; one of us must go," answered her mother. "One must remain here tohave the house in readiness for David should he have need of it. Theother must respond to the poor lad's appeal for his kinsmen."
"'Twill mean more whispers against our patriotism, will it not, mother?"
"It cannot be helped, Peggy. If others choose to believe ill of us fordoing a deed of mercy then we must pay no heed. We must so order ourconduct that our friends will know that we are loyal to the cause, eventhough we do minister to an English cousin. The others matter not. 'TisDavid's kin who calls, and not to heed the call were to be false to thedictates of humanity. And now which one of us shall go, Peggy?"
"Mother, I must be the one, of course. Thee must be here to look afteraffairs and in case father should have need of thee. I will go. I knewthat I must as soon as Sally told her news. But oh, mother! I have beenhome such a little while! What if something should happen to keep mefrom thee as it did before?"
"Peggy, if thee talks like that I cannot let thee go," exclaimed hermother. "If it were in either of the Carolinas I would not think ofpermitting it even to succor a poor wounded boy. It should take but ashort time to go and come. I talked it over with the doctor. He hadthought that Harriet might wish to go, and, not knowing of herdeparture, made arrangements whereby she might go with one of the nurseswho hath been here on a furlough. She returns to-morrow in a cabrioletwith her son. Thou art to take Harriet's place. Thee will not mind,Peggy."
"No, mother. I shall murmur no more. 'Tis right to go. Thee will letHarriet know, though how she can do anything I see not. She will not beallowed to enter the lines again. What time doth the cabriolet with thenurse start? Should we not begin to prepare for the journey now?"
And seeing her so willing to accept the charge the mother in Mrs. Owenwould not down. She drew the girl in a close embrace.
"If it were not right, Peggy," she murmured. "If the doctor had notalready prepared a place, or if I thought for a moment that harm wouldbefall thee, I should not let thee go. But----"
"Why, mother, there is naught else to do," answered Peggy cheerfully."Thee must not think of harm. I was foolish to give way, and so artthou, mother mine. Of course naught will happen, and it is the rightthing to do. What shall I take? And we should have supplies also, shouldwe not?"
And with the Quaker habit of self-repression mother and daughter putaside their emotion to prepare for the coming journey.