“No more,” cried the youth in great agitation. “I can bear no more. ‘’Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles until death.’ ’Tis true. Do not I know it. Until death! Until death! Wretch that I am, I know it. There have been times when I would have given my life to be back in the army. Do you think it is pleasant to skulk, to hide from honest men? To know always and always that one is a poltroon and a coward? I tell you no. Do you think that I have not heard the inward pleading of my conscience to go back? That I have not seen the accusing look in your eyes? You called me a summer soldier! I am worse than that, and I have lost my chance.” “Thee has just found it, John,” cried she quickly. “Before thee served for thine own advancement; now thee will begin again, and fight for thy country alone. If preferment comes to thee, it will have been earned by unselfish devotion. But thy country, John, thy country! Let it be always in thy thoughts until its liberties are secured beyond recall.” “Would you have me go back?” he cried, stopping before her in amazement. “Why, of course thee is going back,” answered Peggy simply. “There is naught else for a man to do.” Drayton noted the slight emphasis the girl laid upon the word man, and made an involuntary motion of assent. “Did you know that deserters are ofttimes shot?” he asked suddenly. Peggy clutched at the back of a chair, and turned very pale. “No,” she said faintly. “I did not know.” “I thought not,” he said. “None the less what you have said is true. ‘There is naught else for a man to do.’ I am going back, Mistress Peggy. I shall try for another chance, but if it does not come, still I am going back.” “And be shot?” she cried. “Oh, what have I done?” “Shown me my duty,” he answered quietly. “Blame not yourself, for there hath been an inward cry toward that very thing ever since I ran away from my duty. I have stifled its calling, and tried to palliate my wrong-doing by excuses, but neither winter’s cold, nor the ingratitude of an unappreciative country will excuse a man’s not sticking by his convictions. Never again will you have it in your power to call me a summer soldier.” “Thee is right,” faltered the girl. “I—I am glad that thee has so resolved, and yet——Oh! I hope that thee will not be shot.” She burst into tears and ran out of the room. Girl-like, now that the end was accomplished, Peggy was rather aghast at the result. CHAPTER XI—PEGGY PLEADS FOR DRAYTON “‘Me from fair Freedom’s sacred cause Let nothing e’er divide; Grandeur, nor gold, nor vain applause, Nor friendship false, misguide.’” —The American Patriot’s Prayer. (Ascribed to Thomas Paine.) It was Mrs. Owen who found a way out of the situation.