"There is naught that can be done," replied Major Gordon pityingly. As the principal British officer in Lancaster he had been present that he might be satisfied that everything was conducted with fairness. Beyond that he was helpless, being himself on parole. General Hazen spoke at this moment, to the relief of all: "My dear young lady," he said gruffly, to hide his emotion, "your brother need not start for New Jersey to-day. He may remain in Lancaster for two days longer, which will give a slight respite. He must be held a close prisoner during that time, well guarded to prevent escape; but you may see him once each day. It is not in my power to do more than that, but it is something." "It is much, sir," she cried seizing his hand, and impulsively kissing it. "I thank you, sir," said Clifford courteously, quick to seize the advantage such diversion created. "I shall see you then to-morrow, my sister. Captain, I am ready." With firm step he placed himself by the side of the dragoon, who took him by the arm. On the other side of him walked the British Major Gordon, and thus they passed out of the room. The youth's departure was the signal for this most tragic meeting to break up. Quietly, showing no elation that they had been spared and another taken, their faces expressive only of sorrow, the twelve British officers, each saluting Harriet as he left, filed out of the apartment. The drummer boys tiptoed after them. General Hazen was the last to go, pausing only to say: "You shall see him twice more, my dear. I think I would go home now, if I were you. This hath been most trying. Odds life, most trying!" "You are very kind, sir," she said miserably. "I appreciate it. But--but after two days; then what?" "Child," he said gravely, with great compassion, "I cannot delude you with false hopes. After two days your brother must go to meet his fate in New Jersey. I can do naught to prevent it." He took a pinch of snuff hastily, then hurried from the room. "Peggy!" Harriet stretched out her arms to her cousin with a cry of bitterness. "What shall I do? What shall I do?" But Peggy shook her head sorrowfully as she drew the girl into her arms. What could be done? She knew of nothing. That the safety of American prisoners might be assured Congress had decreed the death of a British officer to retaliate upon a lawless act of the enemy. That the officer chosen chanced to be her cousin did not change the justice of the act. Fairfax Johnson's death had been too recent, too near to Peggy for her not to see the fairness of retribution. And yet, and yet! that it should prove to be Clifford. It seemed so hopeless, so dark, Peggy could only shake her head while her tears fell fast.