“For thy country’s sake,” she entreated. “Oh, John, I can’t have thee fail because of me. Think of that poor vidette. Is thee going to do less than he? ’Tis thy duty.” “Peggy, don’t ask it,” he pleaded. “Thee is less than soldier if thee doesn’t do thy duty,” she cried, quick to see her advantage. “John Drayton, I will never trust thee again if thee fails in thy duty now.” The two young people gazed at each other through the dust of the road, the girl with earnest entreaty, determined to keep the lad to his duty in spite of himself, and the youth torn by his fear for her and his loyalty. “Go,” she cried again. “I am a soldier’s daughter. Would I be worthy the name if thee failed because of me? Go at once, or ’twill be too late.” “I’m going, Peggy,” he said with a sob. “I’m going to do my duty even if you are the sacrifice. Take this pistol, and defend yourself. Good-bye.” He bent and kissed her hand, and then without one backward glance went flying down the road and disappeared around a bend. For duty to country must come before everything, and father, mother, brother, sister, wife or sweetheart, must be sacrificed upon its altar, if need arises. There was a smile on Peggy’s lips, for Drayton had kept to his duty in spite of as great a temptation as ever assailed a man to do otherwise, and so smiling she turned to meet the pursuers. CHAPTER XXXIII—A GREAT SURPRISE “A man’s country is not a certain area of land, of mountains, rivers and woods—but it is a principle, and patriotism is loyalty to that principle.” —George William Curtis. There came hoarse shouts from the pursuing troopers as Drayton disappeared from view, and they galloped toward the girl at increased speed. There was something so fierce, so martial in their aspect that it struck terror to the maiden’s heart, and she found herself all at once shaking and quaking with fear. Dear as freedom is to every pulse, standing up for the first time before an advancing foe one is apt to find one’s courage oozing out at the fingers’ ends. And so with Peggy. The smile died from her lips, and a sort of panic took possession of her as the sunshine caught the sheen of their scabbards and lighted into glowing color the scarlet of their uniforms. Nearer they came. The girl trembled like a leaf. “I am a soldier’s daughter,” she told herself in an effort to regain self-control. “I will die like one.” Almost unconsciously her little hand clutched the pistol that Drayton had thrust into it, and, as the enemy were nearly upon her, in an agony of fear Peggy raised the weapon and fired. The foremost dragoon reeled slightly, recovered his balance immediately, and drew rein with his right arm hanging limply by his side. The others also checked their horses as a scream of horror burst from Peggy’s lips. “God forgive me,” she cried. “Blood-guiltiness is upon me! I knew not what I did.”