"Your Excellency overwhelms us with kindness, sir," she cried. "You have been nobility itself in granting this respite to my brother. I have no fear now as to the outcome of the matter. There is no doubt in my mind but that the real culprit will be delivered into your hands within a few days." "I trust that it may fall out as you wish, Miss Harriet," answered the general courteously. "As I have said, you shall have ample time for your mission." "Thank you, sir. Ten days should be more than sufficient time. 'Tis but to go to New York, lay the whole affair before Sir Guy Carleton, and return." "There are many things which might occur to bring about delay, Miss Harriet," he observed quietly. "In a case of this nature 'tis the part of wisdom to accept all that is offered. We will say two weeks; but General Carleton must give his decision by the end of that time. The matter now rests with him. I wish you all a safe journey." He bowed gravely, and, overcome by the kindliness of this great man, the three left Newburgh much happier than when they entered it. Harriet was to cross the river at Dobbs Ferry, the post where all communication between the two armies was maintained, while Mr. Owen and Peggy were to return to Chatham to inform Clifford of the result of the interview with General Washington. In high spirits Harriet laughed and chatted as she had not done for days, pausing ever and anon to admire the beauties of the river, uttering exclamations of delight at some particularly imposing view. Before them lay West Point with Crow's Nest Mountain, Butter Hill and the two Beacon mountains; on the southwest, Pollopel's Island, in use at this time as a military prison, lay at the northern entrance to the Highlands; on the east were the fertile valleys of the Mattewan and Wappinger's Creeks, and the village of Fishkill Landing; behind them was Newburgh Bay with the little village of the same name upon its shores, beyond which lay a broad champaign country. "Father and Clifford must see this before we sail for home," cried Harriet. "Oh, if I were king I'd never let the Americans deprive me of such a river!" "If it affects thee like that, lass, perchance then thee has a slight idea of how we, who are natives of the country, feel toward those invaders who try to wrest it from us." "I don't wonder at your feelings, Cousin David," she said. "'Tis only, being English, that it seems to me a mistake to give these colonies up." "We have demonstrated by force of arms that we are no longer colonies, Harriet," he reminded her quietly. "Oh, I know, Cousin David," she replied gaily. "But, until peace is declared, I cannot but regard you as belonging to us." At this David Owen laughed heartily, but his daughter's cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkled.