"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 sound was that of hammering. The gallows was being erected. And at that awful sound hope fled from the girl's heart. All night she had waited, hoping, believing, that something would come to prevent the execution. Now she felt that all was over. Clifford must die. Calmness settled upon her. For with absolute despair came a peace--a numbness that left her insensible to anything save the fact that she must be brave for Clifford's sake--that he was alone, and she of all his kindred was there to give him comfort. So Peggy prepared for the ordeal before her. The execution was to take place at nine o'clock. Long before that hour the people from the countryside gathered. A great concourse of farmers, and citizens from the near-by farms and villages, all conversant with the details of the affair, came to see the unfortunate victim.