“You shall have until to-morrow, Mistress Peggy. ’Tis against all precedent, but for what you have done before I will grant your request. But there will be no further delay.”
“Thank thee, sir,” said she weeping. “I will ask none.” She spoke timidly after a moment. “What am I to do, sir? Thee will not wish me to stay for dinner if I am under suspicion.”
“Yes,” he said. “Let all go on as before until the matter is unraveled. Can you compose yourself sufficiently to wait upon Mrs. Washington? The dinner hour hath come.”
As Peggy replied in the affirmative, he called an orderly, and gave him some directions, then escorted the maiden into the dining-room. The Quaker habit of self-control enabled the girl to bear the curious glances cast at her pale face, but the dinner was a trying ordeal. She had grown to love the gay circle that gathered at the table, and to count a day spent with the brilliant men and women as one to be remembered; to-day she was glad when the time came for her to go home.
Harriet had been very vivacious all through the afternoon, but as they set forth accompanied by the same aide who had escorted them to the mansion she relapsed into silence. It had been Peggy’s intention to tell the whole story to her father and mother in Harriet’s presence as soon as she reached home, but there was company in the drawing-room, and as she stood hesitating what to do her mother hastened to them.
“How tired you both look,” she cried in alarm. “To bed ye go at once. Nay, David,” as Mr. Owen entreated a delay. “’Tis early, I know, but too much excitement is not to be endured. And both girls will be the better for a long sleep. So to bed! To bed!”
And with some reluctance on the part of both maidens they went slowly up to the little chamber under the eaves.
“He flees From his own treachery; all his pride, his hopes, Are scattered at a breath; even courage fails Now falsehood sinks from under him.”
As Peggy placed the candle she had carried to light them up the stairs in the socket of a candlestick on the chest of drawers, Harriet closed the door, and shot the bolt. Then slowly the two turned and stood face to face. Not a word was spoken for a full moment. They gazed at each other as though seeking to pierce the mask of flesh and bones that hid their souls.